Private Eye Protector Page 4

  Yeah. She knew all about that. Had felt it almost every day since Chandra died and she’d become Emma’s legal guardian.

  Guilt because she had to work.

  Guilt because she didn’t spend every minute of every day caring for her daughter.

  Guilt because she hadn’t been there to see Emma roll over for the first time, crawl for the first time.

  You’re not ready to be a mother, Rayne.

  In some ways, Michael had been right, but Rayne wasn’t sure any woman was ever truly prepared for motherhood. She just had to work hard to be the best mother she could be. That would be enough.

  She hoped.

  “Do you want me to get her, Rayne?” Chance asked.

  Such an easy question to answer, but Rayne’s brain seemed to be misfiring, her thoughts scattered. “I don’t know.”

  “Then I’ll get her.” He walked across the room and down a narrow hallway, and she waited, afraid to move for fear the room would move with her.

  Seconds later, Chance reappeared, Emma resting against his shoulder. Bright red hair. Big blue eyes, slowly blinking open. Chubby cheeks. She had little of Chandra’s dark exotic beauty, though the almond shape of her eyes and the fullness of her lips reminded Rayne of her childhood friend.

  “There she is, kid. Mommy is home.” Chance shifted Emma so she could see Rayne, and the baby reached out, babbling excitedly.

  “Mamamamamama.”

  Chance set her on Rayne’s lap, and the scent of baby lotion and formula filled Rayne’s nose. It was the best kind of perfume. The most wonderful aroma.

  She smiled, kissing Emma’s soft curls, and hugging her close. “I missed you, baby.”

  Missed an entire two months of her life.

  “I see the princess is awake and raring to go.” Lila walked back into the room, carrying a tray that contained a mug and a plate of cookies and setting it on the coffee table.

  “Hopefully, she won’t stay awake when Rayne is ready to sleep.”

  Ready?

  She’d passed ready. Her eyes drooped, her arms felt heavy, and it was all she could do to hold Emma. Pain throbbed behind her eyes, speared through her skull, but she didn’t want to give in to it. Didn’t want to put Emma down or hand her to someone else.

  Eight months ago, she’d agreed to be guardian to Chandra’s baby if anything were to happen to Chandra. She hadn’t thought it through when she’d agreed, hadn’t taken more than five minutes to consider how becoming a mother would change her life, hadn’t prayed about it, hadn’t done any of the things she usually did when faced with major decisions.

  Probably because there really hadn’t been any decision to make. She and Chandra had been best friends since kindergarten, and there was nothing Rayne would have refused her. And even though the decision had been hasty, Rayne couldn’t regret it. Emma was the best thing in her life.

  “Mamamamam.” Emma grabbed a fistful of Rayne’s hair, holding it tight in her chubby hand as she bounced with excitement.

  “Careful, kid. Your mom already has a headache. She doesn’t need you adding to it.” Chance unraveled hair from Emma’s fist, smiling as the baby grabbed his nose.

  “Why don’t I take her back into the room, get her settled back down before she’s too wide-awake?” Lila reached for Emma, and Rayne didn’t have the strength to protest. She loved her daughter, wanted to care for her, but her leaden body refused to do anything but sag into the couch.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Richardson.”

  “No need to thank me. I love having a baby around the house. And you’ve always called me Lila. There’s no need to change that now.” Lila smiled as she carried Emma back down the hall.

  “Your mother seems like a wonderful lady.”

  “She thinks you are, too.” Chance grabbed a cookie and bit into it, holding the plate out to Rayne.

  Her stomach lurched and she shook her head. Regretted it immediately when the lurching sensation grew worse. She felt dizzy and sick, her thoughts sliding away.

  “Take a deep breath, Rayne. You’ve gone ten shades of pale.” Chance pressed his hand to her forehead, the warm, dry feel of his palm anchoring her to the moment.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “You’ve said that several times tonight, but you haven’t convinced me yet.” He handed her the mug, and she took a small sip of the flowery brew, her hand shaking, tea sloshing over her wrist.

  “Careful.” Chance wiped the liquid up with a napkin, and Rayne set the mug down on a coaster, not sure she trusted herself to keep holding it.

  Done in.

  That’s how she felt.

  All she wanted to do was lie back, close her eyes and try to forget the pounding pain.

  “I think it’s time to say goodnight,” Chance said, and Rayne realized she’d closed her eyes, was slumping forward.

  If she slumped any farther, she’d be facedown on the floor.

  She straightened, nodded. “You’re right. Sleep is about all I seem capable of.”

  “I’ll head out then. If you’re up to it, I’ll stop by tomorrow. I have a few questions I’d like to ask when you’re feeling better.”

  “Questions about what?”

  “The accident.”

  “I don’t remember it, so any questions will be impossible to answer.”

  “I know, but you were working with one of my clients last night. You’d told my mother you’d be back by five. When you didn’t show, she called me, and I called the client who said you’d asked for directions to the airport before you’d left.”

  “I did?” She couldn’t remember, and trying to push through the fog, grab the memories and hold on to them made her feel sick and disoriented.

  “That’s how I was able to find you. I retraced the route to the airport and spotted your car in the ravine. Do you have any idea if you were expecting a friend or family member to fly in?”

  “I…really don’t know.” It was possible, though. She couldn’t remember anything after leaving Arizona, but she remembered everything prior to that. Remembered all her friends who’d promised to come for a visit.

  Maybe one of them had.

  Thoughts swirled and whirled, images flying through her brain too quickly to grasp.

  Darkness. Bright light.

  Fear.

  The accident?

  “It’s possible, but if I’d picked someone up at the airport, wouldn’t he or she have been with me in the car?”

  “Maybe you didn’t make it to the airport. The police think you lost control going around a curve in the road. The pavement was covered with a sheet of ice, so it’s impossible to know which direction you were heading.”

  “Then whoever was waiting would have called to find out why I wasn’t there, right?”

  “For someone with a concussion, you’re thinking fast. Want to check your cell phone?” He smiled, handing her a familiar black purse.

  Finally, something she remembered.

  Of course, she’d had it for a couple of years, so that wasn’t such good news after all.

  She pulled out her cell phone, scrolled through her call history. “The last call came in at five last evening. It’s not a number I know.”

  “That would have been a few minutes before your meeting. How about we call and see who it is?”

  “Okay.” But concentrating on the numbers made her head spin, and she handed him the phone and leaned back against the couch cushions.

  “You’re done in. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I’m going to write down the number, though. I have a friend in the police department who might be able to trace it for us. I’ll give him a call and see what he can come up with.”

  “It would be a lot easier if I could just remember.”

  “Memories or not, we’ll figure out what happened.”

  “We?” She looked into his eyes, felt a quicksilver moment of awareness, knew that she’d looked into his eyes before, been drawn into his gaze.

  “Why not?”

&nbs
p; Because she had a feeling spending time with Chance could be dangerous. Because she could get lost looking into his eyes and forget all the reasons why relationships weren’t for her. Because she had three rules—three perfectly good rules—for heart-healthy living, and there was no way she planned to break any of them.

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Then how about we just go with it for now?” He patted her knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through her slacks and into her chilled flesh.

  The rules, Rayne. Don’t forget about the rules.

  But they were hard to remember with her head pounding and her stomach churning. Hard to remember when she was looking into Chance’s eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch. She wanted to lean on him. She really did. And that terrified her.

  “Since I’m too tired to argue, I guess we will.” She tried to smile, knew it fell flat. She needed him to leave before she threw herself into his arms and begged for him to stay.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Chance asked, and she nodded, because she had no choice. Emma depended on her.

  A welcome responsibility, even if it was a heavy one.

  A responsibility Michael hadn’t wanted.

  His response to Emma had taught Rayne just how careful she needed to be with her heart. Not just because she didn’t want it broken again, but because she couldn’t risk Emma attaching to a man who would turn his back and walk away when things got tough.

  Rayne closed her eyes, wishing she could block out pain and worry as easily as she could block out the sight of Chance.

  “Good night.” Fingers brushed her cheek, there and gone so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined them. A door opened, cold air whipping into the room before it clicked shut again.

  And then she was alone.

  Just Rayne and her thoughts.

  Fun.

  She shifted so she was lying down, her head on a throw pillow, the blanket clutched around her shoulders.

  She’d wanted her new life to be fun, exciting and filled with adventure, but a car accident, a concussion and amnesia were more of an adventure than she’d bargained for.

  “You could cut me a break, Lord,” she whispered, then became aware of the muted sound of a woman singing drifting into the room.

  Lila singing Emma to sleep?

  It had to be.

  The knowledge warmed her.

  Perhaps her prayer had been answered before she’d even uttered it.

  Rayne had fallen far before she’d moved to Spokane, her once-charmed life crumbling around her. But as she listened to Lila’s quiet singing, felt the comforting warmth of the old farmhouse settling around her, she couldn’t help thinking that in the midst of all the falling, God had found her a very soft place to land.

  FOUR

  Coffee.

  About a gallon should do it.

  Chance reached for the pot, filled a mug and sipped the hot brew. It used to be he could pull an all-nighter and feel just fine. Not anymore. Now he needed sleep about as much as he needed food and air.

  He scowled, topping off his coffee and grabbing his coat from the back of the kitchen chair. He had a meeting with a client at nine, and he needed to check in with his mother before then.

  Check in with Rayne before then.

  He couldn’t get the image of two men standing in an ice storm out of his head.

  Couldn’t shake the words that kept echoing through his mind.

  Someone was in my room.

  He’d called the hospital, spoken to security personnel and gotten the head security officer to look through surveillance tapes. He’d confirmed what Rayne had claimed. A man had stood in the doorway of her room for several seconds, then hurried away as late-night visitors walked into the hallway.

  The knowledge had fueled Chance’s search, and he’d called the number from Rayne’s phone—hadn’t been surprised when no one answered.

  He didn’t like loose ends, and that’s all a night of searching had uncovered.

  Loose end after loose end after loose end.

  Which didn’t sit well.

  As a matter of fact, it made him downright irritable.

  Not the best way to begin the day, but since he hadn’t ever really ended the previous night, Chance wouldn’t hold it against himself.

  He grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard, took another quick sip of coffee and walked outside. A thick layer of snow blanketed the ground and clung to barren apple trees. In the distance, a plow moved slowly along the main road, and gray smoke drifted from the chimney of Old Man Jefferson’s house.

  Every part of the landscape, every bite of cold wind, every waft of burning wood whispered home, and Chance relaxed for the first time in hours. He hadn’t planned to ever return to Washington to live. He’d left for college at eighteen, gotten a degree in theology and joined the army as a chaplain. He’d traveled the world, visited big cities and rural towns.

  He’d met Jessica.

  Married.

  Separated.

  Become a widower.

  Never once had he thought about returning to Green Bluff and the family orchards.

  Strange how the thing he’d least thought he wanted was exactly what he seemed to need.

  Or maybe not so strange.

  God had a way of moving His people in the direction in which He wanted them to go.

  No matter how much they protested.

  The porch light still shone as he pulled into his mother’s driveway, and Chance frowned as he eyed the house’s dark facade. It had been a late night. More than likely, everyone was just sleeping late, but it wasn’t like his mother to keep the light burning past dawn.

  He jogged up the porch steps, bracing himself as he stepped into the dark foyer.

  Silence.

  His pulse jumped, and he veered into the living room, stopping short when he saw Rayne.

  Dressed in well-worn jeans and a fluffy-looking blue sweater, she sat in the old rocking chair, Emma lying against her shoulder, both of them relaxed and content.

  And beautiful.

  Something unfurled in his chest, warmth moving in and setting up camp.

  Warmth toward Rayne.

  Toward Emma.

  Toward the picture they made sitting in his grandmother’s rocking chair.

  This was what he’d once imagined coming home to—the stunning beauty of a mother nurturing her child. In those heady days after he’d married Jessica, he’d thought of building a family, believed that he’d walk in on scenes like this one over and over again.

  It had never happened, of course. Jessica hadn’t wanted anything to distract from their love. That’s what she’d said.

  But in Chance’s mind, the more love was given, the more it grew.

  “Is she sleeping?” he asked, and Rayne nodded.

  “Finally. She’s been awake and grumpy since four.”

  “Then you didn’t get much rest.” He settled onto the couch. No blankets there. No pillow. No indication that Rayne had ever slept.

  “Neither did your mother. I feel terrible for causing so much trouble.”

  “I’m sure my mother doesn’t think it was trouble. Is she around?” The unease he’d felt when he’d pulled into the driveway was still there, nipping at his heels.

  “She’s out getting wood for the fireplace. I offered to help, but she called me an invalid and told me not to move a muscle while she was gone.”

  “How long has she been out there?”

  “A few minutes.”

  A few minutes to grab a couple of pieces of wood from the back deck?

  “I’ll give her a hand.” He hurried through the house, stepped out onto the deck, his heart lurching when he realized his mother wasn’t there.

  Had she gone for a walk?

  Run into trouble?

  He’d lost his father and brother in a car accident two years ago. He didn’t want to lose his mother, too.

  Footprints led him across the yard and past the old barn. H
is mother stood a hundred feet away, leaning on the gate that separated their property from the forested hills beyond and talking to her farmhand, Fred Jagusch.

  “Isn’t it a little cold to be outside today?” Chance called, and both turned to face him.

  “I could say the same to you, Chance. What are you doing here so early?” His mother hurried over, her cheeks pink with cold.

  “It’s almost eight.”

  “Maybe it just feels early because of all the chaos last night.” Fred walked over. A fixture on the farm for as long as Chance could remember, he helped during apple-picking season and did odd jobs the rest of the year in exchange for room and board.

  “Speaking of chaos, I need to get back to the house to pull the biscuits from the oven before they burn. Come in when you’re done, Fred, and have some breakfast.”

  “Now, Ms. Lila, you know how I feel about imposing.”

  “How is it imposing to accept a meal from a friend?” Chance’s mother threw the question over her shoulder as she hurried away.

  “That woman sure has a way of bossing people around,” Fred grumbled, but Chance knew he’d take the food as he had every weekday morning for the past few decades.

  “She’s got a way of feeding people she cares about.”

  “That, too. Saw her out getting wood when I came to look at the back gate. Next thing I know, she’s trying to help me.”

  “Is something wrong with the gate?”

  “Nope, but someone drove past my house last night. Took him a long time to realize that this road dead-ends at the farmhouse.”

  “How long?”

  “Good thirty minutes. I just figured your mom was having visitors until she called from the hospital and said Rayne had been in an accident. Figured maybe kids cut the lock on the gate and went snowmobiling through the woods, but the gate is just fine.”

  “What time did the car drive by?”

  “Must have been around nine. Your mother called me close to ten.”

  “Strange time for someone to be driving unfamiliar country roads,” Chance said, more to himself than to Fred.

  “That’s why I thought it was kids. What kind of moron drives dark, windy roads in the middle of an ice storm?”

  Maybe the same kind of person who snuck into an unconscious woman’s hospital room and stood watching her.