Witness (41 page)

“Sam!” she cried again.

“I'll check it out,” he said, knowing she could hear the alarm, too. “It could be nothing. I'll be right back.”

He flew down the stairs, followed the warning signal into the smoky corridor leading to the kitchen and flung open the door. Growling at the sight before him, he swore loudly. Flames engulfed the kitchen, the curtains burning in seconds as he watched. Smoke filled the room.

Ollie touched Sam on the shoulder. He jerked around to face her. “Get out of the house. Fast. I'll send Julian and bring Jeannie down.”

“Can't I help?” Ollie asked.

“Don't argue. No time. Get out!”

Sam slammed shut the door, raced back upstairs, calling Jeannie's name. Julian, wearing pajamas and a silk robe came out into the hall. “What's wrong? Is that the smoke detector?”

Ignoring Julian, Sam rushed into his bedroom, retrieved
his cellular phone from his jacket, went back into the hall and tossed the phone to Julian.

“Go downstairs and out the front door quickly. I've sent Ollie out. Dial 911. Get the fire department here before this old house burns to the ground.”

“Jeannie?” Julian hesitated, but then he saw the look in Sam Dundee's eyes and, clutching the phone in his trembling hand, hurried downstairs.

Jeannie sat upright in bed, the lamp on the nightstand illuminating her frightened face. “The smoke alarm went off downstairs. Is there a fire?”

Sam lifted her into his arms. “The whole kitchen's on fire.”

She had known somehow that the alarm hadn't gone off by accident, that it signaled a true danger. The moment she heard it, she'd called out to Sam, telepathically at first, but he hadn't responded.

She saw the panic in his eyes and realized how afraid he was for her. She held out her arms, waiting for him to rescue her. Nothing could ever truly harm her as long as she had Sam.

Although his mind functioned and he'd thought out every move in a reasonable fashion, one overriding emotion dictated Sam's actions—his concern for Jeannie. He had to get her to safety!

Jeannie clung to him as he rushed out of her room, dashing down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Billows of black smoke met them in the foyer. Fire licked at the walls. Jeannie closed her eyes against the destruction, coughing when the smoke filled her nostrils and crept into her throat. Ahead of them, the front door stood wide open. Sam didn't hesitate; he ran outside, down the steps and into the front yard, where Julian and Ollie stood huddled together.

“The fire department is on the way.” Julian touched Jeannie's face and smiled. “Maybe they'll make it here in time to save the old place.”

Jeannie knew how much Julian loved the house his grandfather had built, the home where he'd grown up, the house where he'd brought Miriam as a bride. To lose this magnificent old mansion would be like losing a part of himself.

“Could the fire have been an accident?” Jeannie asked Sam, her voice a whisper against his ear. “Or do you think Maynard Reeves—?” She swallowed, her emotions momentarily choking her.

“My gut instincts are shouting Reeves's name,” Sam said. “We won't know for sure whether or not this was an accident until the fire inspector hands in his report.”

Jeannie felt Sam's frustration, his fear for her and his savage anger at Reeves. She could hear his heartbeat, loud and strong and wild. Wild from the race away from what would have been certain death had he not carried her to safety. Wild with the desire to protect at all costs. Wild with the need to take revenge against anyone who would dare harm her.

“We're safe,” she told him, and tried to draw the anger from him.

“Don't!” Tightening his hold on her, he lowered his head and nuzzled the side of her forehead. “I don't need calming or soothing. I don't want you to take away the hatred I feel. Save your strength. You'll need it later.”

 

S
AM WAS RIGHT.
She did need her strength later. After the firemen doused the blaze and saved Julian's home from total destruction. After they stayed the night at Marta's, no one sleeping, all of them waiting to hear from the fire marshal. After they found out the house had been deliberately set afire. And after the police said they could do nothing more than question Maynard Reeves.

“He's sure to have an alibi,” Lieutenant Painter had said.

Sam hadn't wanted to change their plans to leave at seven o'clock for Le Bijou Bleu, but she'd told him in no uncertain
terms that she wasn't leaving the mainland until they knew more details about the fire and she saw Julian and Ollie settled.

She hadn't expected the fire marshal to detect the cause of the fire so quickly. The arsonist had done nothing to conceal his handiwork. And she certainly hadn't expected Marta to find Julian a temporary home that same morning.

Sam pulled Jeannie's Lexus up in the driveway behind Marta's Mercedes. The house, a small Victorian cottage between Long Beach and Gulfport, belonged to Marta's recently divorced son, who'd asked his mother to see about renting the place until he decided whether or not things would work out with his new job in Mobile.

Unlocking the front door, Marta stepped back and waited for everyone to enter. “All their furniture is still here. Joel hasn't touched a thing since Patsy Ruth left him.”

The house wasn't half the size of Julian's home in Biloxi, but it was charming and homey and certainly large enough to accommodate Julian and Ollie for a few months until the restoration of their fire-damaged house was completed.

“I think the place is lovely,” Jeannie said. “We're fortunate you hadn't already found a renter.”

“The place is Julian's as long as he needs it.” Marta turned to Jeannie. “We'll get everything set up today. A new computer and fax machine for Julian. Luckily, we hadn't had the power turned off or the telephone disconnected. Joel left for his new job in Mobile only last week.”

“Yes, dear, you must contact me as soon as you arrive at Le Bijou Bleu and let me know all is well.” Julian kissed Jeannie on the cheek, then offered his hand to Sam. “Take care of her. Her value cannot be assessed.”

“I know that she's priceless.” Sam shook Julian's hand, and the two men exchanged stares, one man pleading, the other promising.

“Get her beyond Maynard Reeves's grasp.” Ollie placed her
hand on her hip. “If I ever see that scripture-quoting weasel again, I'll boil him in oil.”

“You musn't delay any longer.” Holding Jeannie's hand, Julian lifted it and placed it over his heart. “There's no telling what the man is capable of doing.”

“But what about you, Julian?” Jeannie couldn't bear the thought of her foster father being in danger because of her. “What if Reeves tries to harm you?”

“I'm not his target, my dear, you are.”

“But he's crazy, isn't he? That means he's unpredictable.” Jeannie sighed. “Why don't you come to Le Bijou Bleu with us?”

“I'm not in any danger.” Julian glanced at Sam, then shifted his attention back to Jeannie. “I'm needed here. I still consult at the hospital, you know, as well as being on the board. And since you can't continue your work at the Howell School, I'll keep an eye on Marta and the teachers for you.” Looking over Jeannie's shoulder, he smiled at Marta, who nodded her head in amused agreement. “Besides, I'll have to be around to oversee the work on our home. I want everything rebuilt as close to the original as possible.”

“We'll stay in daily contact,” Jeannie said. “If you need me—”

“Take her away, now,” Julian told Sam. “Before we're both in tears.”

“I don't anticipate any problems for you,” Sam said. “But if there is, let me know. I'll get Hawk or Kane back down here as quickly as possible.”

Sam forcibly turned Jeannie, draped his arm around her shoulders and walked her outside to the car. When they reached the Lexus, she looked back, saw Julian in the doorway and waved goodbye.

Sam drove down highway 90, straight to the Broadwater Marina, where Jeannie's small cruiser awaited them. He had been anxious to get Jeannie out of Biloxi and away from Reeves
before last night, but now, after the fire, he knew the only way to completely protect her was to keep her on Le Bijou Bleu until Reeves no longer posed a threat. And that meant until the authorities arrested him—or until Sam was forced to settle the matter himself.

T
HEY ARRIVED AT
Le Bijou Bleu late in the afternoon, just as the August sun began its descent into the western sky. A warm, humid wind surrounded them as they disembarked. Two smaller craft were anchored snugly a few feet away from the cruiser. All three rested in their slips. An enormous brown-skinned man, his bald head glistening in the sunshine, stood on the pier.

Sam swept Jeannie up into his arms, lifting her off the boat, then turning to face Manton. Remembering only bits and pieces of his hours on this island six years ago, Sam wasn't sure what to expect from the man who had helped Jeannie save his life. What he saw was a seven-foot giant, his huge, muscular arms crossed over his wide chest and his green eyes focused on Jeannie.

When Sam took a step forward, she tugged on his sleeve. “Put me down and give me my cane. I want you to meet Manton again, and then, after we've settled in and I've let Julian know we arrived safely, I want to show you my island.”

Sam obeyed her request, wondering all the while if Manton would have tried to break him in half if he dared disagree with her.

Jeannie walked steadily toward Manton, who didn't move a muscle until she stood directly in front of him. A wide smile spread across his face, softening his hard features and putting a sparkle in his eyes. Opening her arms, Jeannie squealed with laughter when the gentle giant lifted her off her feet and into a bear hug.

Standing to the side, Sam watched the loving exchange and
saw an affection between Jeannie and Manton similar to that between her and Julian Howell. Though several years younger than the doctor, Manton was twice Jeannie's age and seemed to consider himself another substitute father.

When Manton set her back on her feet, Jeannie clutched her cane and turned her head. Smiling at Sam, she motioned him forward. “Sam, come meet the man who saved your life six years ago.”

The two men sized each other up, taking a full inventory. Sam extended his hand; Manton saw Jeannie's happy smile and accepted Sam's handshake. Despite his size and obvious strength, Manton did not grip Sam's hand with any undue force. His handshake was firm, quick and nonaggressive.

Looking directly at Manton, Sam said, “I owe Jeannie and you my life. Thank you.”

Manton nodded toward Jeannie, moving his hands rapidly, signing to her, then looked back at Sam.

“He's too modest to accept any thanks. He claims that all he did was help me get you to the hospital.”

“That saved my life,” Sam told him.

Manton grinned, signed again and waited for Jeannie to translate.

“He says that all the thanks he needs is for you to keep me safe.”

“I'll do whatever it takes to protect her,” Sam said.

Instinctively Sam knew that Manton understood his meaning without further words and knew, too, that this second substitute father was concerned about his and Jeannie's relationship.

He noticed that Jeannie and Manton seemed to be conversing, though Jeannie didn't speak and Manton didn't sign. They're talking telepathically, Sam thought, and wondered what they were saying.

Manton nodded, walked away and boarded the cruiser. Jeannie turned to Sam.

“He's getting our luggage.” She held out her hand, motioning
Sam to her. “Manton usually carries me from the dock to the house. It's an uphill climb from here. See the steps over there?”

Sam took note of the curving set of rock steps that led up from the beach to the hill above. From where he stood, he couldn't see the house.

“What were you saying to him a few minutes ago?” Sam asked. “I know you were communicating with him.”

“I told him to go ahead and get the luggage, that you would carry me up to the house.”

An undeniable pleasure spread from the pit of Sam's stomach to his whole body. The sensation was ridiculous, he told himself, but he could not argue against the truth. Jeannie looked to him for care and protection. Not to Julian Howell, and not to Manton. Not any longer. The girl had become a woman, gently but firmly choosing Sam, instead of either surrogate father, to be her protector.

Sam lifted Jeannie into his arms, as he had done so many times recently, but this time the ritual was fraught with deep meaning. And they both knew it. Carrying her to the house was a symbolic giving of herself, a placing of herself into Sam's hands—not only to keep safe, but to possess, to pleasure, to love.

Sam had no idea the walk from the dock to the house would take so long. No wonder Manton had always carried Jeannie. Once at the top of the rock steps, Sam drew in his breath, an appreciative sigh escaping his lips. Green grass spread out as far as the eye could see. Live oaks climbed toward heaven, while some of the limbs curled downward and grew back into the earth. Spanish moss hung heavily on the trees, dripping almost to the ground here and there. Palm trees swayed in the summer wind. In the distance, blue sky and water met.

Sam couldn't remember anything about Le Bijou Bleu except the beach. He had no memory of the docks.

“Six years ago, I didn't wash up near the pier, did I?” he asked.

“No, I found your body on the other side of the island. Manton carried you to the boat.”

“When they tossed me overboard, I didn't think I had a prayer.” Sam caressed the top of her head with his chin, then turned his head sideways and rested his cheek against her hair.

“You have to put the past behind you,” Jeannie said. “It can't be changed.”

Halting his steps momentarily, Sam closed his eyes. With the hot sun and warm wind on his face, he allowed Jeannie entrance into his thoughts. The moment they connected, his eyes flew open and he gripped her fiercely. It would be so easy to let her take away the painful memories, at least for a while. He wanted to forget, but how could he allow her to experience the guilt for him?

“No,” he said, mentally and emotionally withdrawing from her. “Don't. I can handle it.”

“All right. If that's what you want. But sooner or later, you're going to have to deal with the pain you've buried deep inside you.” She touched his cheek. He flinched. “If you share it with me, I can help you put the past to rest.”

The sound of Manton climbing the rock steps reminded Sam that he and Jeannie were not completely alone. “Where's the house?” Sam asked.

“Look straight ahead. You can see the roof through that grove of trees.”

With Manton at his side, Sam carried Jeannie across the wide, seemingly endless stretch of verdant ground leading to the house. The two-story raised French cottage had been built on the top of a rise, giving the occupants a view of the ocean from all sides.

A menagerie of animals greeted their arrival. A half-dozen cats of various sizes, colors and ages were curled around the
banisters, their curious eyes staring at Sam. Four panting mixed-breed dogs, tails wagging playfully, rounded the side of the house.

Jeannie spoke to the animals, calling each by name. They purred and woofed in unison, welcoming their mistress.

Manton hurried ahead of them, rushing up the steps and onto the huge veranda to open the front doors. The rooms were large and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows and double French doors leading to the veranda. The windows had been opened, and the warm breeze fluttered the lace curtains as it filled the rooms.

Jeannie reminded Sam to set her on her feet when they entered the front parlor, a spacious room with clean white walls, Victorian sofa and chairs upholstered in cream damask, and a baby grand piano in the corner.

He slid her slowly down the length of his body, allowing the intimate contact to linger. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gazed up at him dreamily. He wanted to kiss her. She closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss.

Manton paused in the doorway long enough to make eye contact with Sam, then proceeded to carry the luggage down the hall to the bedrooms. Jeannie cleared her throat. Sam grinned.

“Is he going to be watching us the whole time we're here?” Sam asked.

Opening her eyes, Jeannie frowned. “Manton will be here all the time, but he won't be watching us. We'll feel his presence, because he is a part of this island. As much a part of it as the earth and the trees, the flowers, the birds, the animals.”

“I think I'll have a difficult time considering him just part of the scenery.” Sam kissed the tip of her nose, and chuckled when she wrinkled her nose and frowned at him. “Where does Manton sleep?”

A tentative smile began spreading across her face. “He has
rooms downstairs on the lower level.” Her smile widened. “Our rooms are on the main level, just down the hall.”

Lowering his head, his breath mingling with hers, he brushed a light kiss over her lips. “Are we going to need separate rooms?”

She drew in a quick breath, then released it on a deep sigh. “No.” That one word said it all. The acceptance of the inevitable. The promise of ecstasy. The knowledge that no power on earth could keep them apart.

But as surely as Jeannie knew that Sam Dundee was destined to become her lover, she knew that he would never be free to love her as long as his past possessed his soul. Every time she touched him, she sensed his unease and uncertainty. He wanted her with a fierce and desperate hunger, but he was afraid of her, of her special talents—and he felt unworthy.

How could she ever make him understand that she was as afraid as he was? The power of Sam's primitive nature, his savage strength, his iron will, all just barely concealed beneath his sophisticated surface, made her doubt she could ever possess him, truly possess him, heart and soul.

Not only did the vast differences in their basic natures stand between them, but so did Sam's guilt-ridden conscience and Jeannie's endangered existence. No matter how they might long to be together, Jeannie knew she had no choice but to accept the likelihood that she and Sam had no future together.

Jeannie shuddered at the realization.

“What's wrong?” he asked when he felt her tremble.

“We're safe for now, aren't we? Here on my island, no one can harm us. We can be happy for a while.”

His kiss combined the elements of passion and protectiveness and sent ripples of excitement through her, while at the same time, it soothed her concerns. Pulling away from Jeannie, Sam looked into her eyes. Warm, compassionate brown eyes that had haunted his dreams six long years.

“Yes, we're safe,” Sam said. “You're safe here on your island,
and I'm going to make sure nothing goes wrong. The authorities back on the mainland will monitor Reeves. They'll know where he is at all times. Besides, he has no idea where we are.”

“Then we can truly relax here on Le Bijou Bleu, and spend our days and nights—”

“Making love.”

His next kiss sent shivers of desire rocketing through Jeannie's body, hardening her nipples, flushing her face, moistening her femininity.

Sam sensed her arousal and knew she had tapped into his, increasing her own passion. She gripped his shoulder with one hand. While standing on tiptoe, she dropped her cane onto the hardwood floor and caressed his neck with her fingertips. He lifted her off her feet, cupping her hips as she threaded her fingers through his hair and sighed deep in her throat as he deepened the kiss.

Manton knocked softly on the doorpost, announcing his presence. Slowly, reluctantly, Sam eased Jeannie back down on her feet, ending the kiss gradually. Holding on to his forearms, she stepped back, separating their bodies. Clasping Jeannie about the waist with one hand, Sam bent over and picked up her cane.

Manton glanced at Sam, giving him a brief but thorough inspection, then looked at Jeannie. Smiling, she nodded, then laughed aloud. Sam had no idea what they were saying to each other.

Jeannie wondered how long it would take Sam to realize that Manton approved of him, that he was actually encouraging Jeannie to explore her feelings for Sam.

I think a romantic dinner on the veranda would be appropriate,
Jeannie told Manton telepathically.

Leave everything to me,
Manton responded in the same nonverbal manner, his green eyes sparkling with delight.
He has returned to you, as I knew he would. Now, little one, you must claim him. Once you do, he will be yours forever.

The danger hasn't ended for me, or for Sam,
Jeannie said.
I don't know how much time we'll have here on the island together, but however long we have, I want to make that time special
.

I understand.
Manton nodded.

Sam shook Jeannie's arm gently. “What's going on here?”

Turning her radiant smile on Sam, Jeannie hugged up to his side. “We were just planning dinner for tonight.” She tugged on his hand. “Come on, let's change clothes before I give you a tour of the house and then the island.”

“Change clothes?”

She looked him over from head to toe. “You don't plan on wearing a suit while we're here, do you? After all, Ollie went to a lot of trouble this morning, washing your new casual clothes before she repacked them.”

“What should I wear?” He followed her out of the parlor, nodding cordially to Manton as he passed him in the doorway.

“Put on some shorts and a T-shirt. And sandals.”

Jeannie led him down the hallway, stopping in front of an open door. “This is my room.” She pointed to the next room down, directly beside hers. “And that's your room. To come to my room, all you have to do is walk out on the veranda. Every room in the house has access to the veranda.”

He jerked her into his arms. Gasping, she gripped her cane, but did not resist him. “Why don't you come to my room with me?” he asked, with a playful leer.

“Go change clothes, and I'll meet you in your room.” Pulling away from him, she gave him a shove in the right direction.

Turning around, not waiting to see if he obeyed her request, Jeannie slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. Sam waited for a couple of minutes, then walked to his room. Inside, he found a sunny space of beige-and-yellow warmth. The center point of the room was an old walnut tester bed without a canopy. Black-and-white ticking material had been fashioned into a coverlet and into pillows that mixed with beige-
and-yellow down pillows. Sam's clothes bag lay across the foot of the bed; his carryall rested on the seat of a large overstuffed chair.