Protective Instincts Page 8

  The house was still silent as she slipped into the hall, the quiet creak of floorboards as familiar as sunrise. She’d been hearing it for so many years, the sound barely registered. Samuel must have heard. His door opened, and he peered out, his face drawn, his eyes glassy with what looked like fear.

  “Hello,” Raina greeted him. “Did you sleep well?”

  He nodded, his gaze jumping to a spot just beyond her shoulder and settling there. She knew what he was looking at. The family photo that hung on the wall. There’d been plenty of times when she’d thought about taking it down, but that had felt like too much of a betrayal, so she’d left it hanging.

  “My family. I’m the only one left,” she said.

  “We are both left,” he responded, his English thickly accented but very clear. He looked so young hovering in the doorway, a crutch tucked under one arm. She wanted to touch his forehead, see if he was still hot, but she was afraid of moving too quickly and too soon, of pushing herself into his life when he’d rather be left on his own. She was afraid of trying too hard and of failing, of proving to herself and to Samuel that she really had lost her ability to mother a young boy.

  “We are together now,” she pointed out. “So I guess neither of us are left anymore.”

  He nodded solemnly, but she wasn’t sure that meant he agreed.

  She ran a hand over her hair, feeling unsure of herself and hating it. “So how about we go have something to eat and then I’m going to bring you to the doctor.”

  “No,” he replied.

  “No to food or no to the doctor?”

  “No doctor.”

  “I’m sorry, Samuel, but you are going to the doctor. You have an infection, and if we don’t get it healed, you won’t be able to be fitted for your new leg.”

  “No doctor,” he repeated as if he really thought he was the one who’d be making the decision about it. She supposed that made sense. He’d told hospital workers that his mother and father had been killed when he was six. He’d been making decisions for himself for a long time, surviving what most children wouldn’t have.

  “Samuel—”

  The doorbell rang, and Samuel grabbed her hand, his eyes wide with fear.

  “What it is?” he asked, and she could hear the slight tremor in his voice, feel his muscles trembling. Something in her heart went soft, the feeling similar to the one she’d had when she’d seen Joseph for the first time, his newborn baby face red from his frantic cries.

  “Just the doorbell,” she reassured him, gently squeezing his hand. “Someone is here for a visit. I need to go see who it is.”

  “I will come, too,” he said stoically, and she wondered if he thought he would need to protect her from whoever stood on the other side of the door.

  “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. You get ready for our doctor’s visit.”

  “No doctor!” Samuel muttered under his breath, but he hopped back into his room and closed the door.

  Gently.

  Thank goodness.

  The doorbell rang again, and she ran down the hall, peering through the peephole. Andrew stood on the front porch, uniform hat pulled low over his eyes, hands shoved in his coat pockets. He didn’t look happy.

  She opened the door, her stomach churning with nerves. “Andrew! What are you doing here?”

  “Freezing,” he replied drily. “Mind if I come in?”

  “No. Of course not.” She gestured for him to enter. “Is everything okay?”

  “You want me to beat around the bush or just give it to you straight?”

  She wanted him to tell her that nothing was wrong, that he was just checking in, making sure that she was okay. That wasn’t going to happen, though. She could see it in his eyes—bad news and sorrow. “Give it to me straight.”

  “Butch is dead.”

  The words were so blunt and so unexpected she couldn’t quite process them. “What?”

  “Butch Hendricks. He’s dead.”

  “I just saw him a few hours ago. He was fine.” Even though he’d repeated it, she could barely comprehend that the man who’d been part of the community, who’d stood on Main and Third asking for handouts for as long as she could remember, was gone. “Are you sure it’s him? Maybe—”

  “Raina,” Andrew interrupted. “Do you really think I’d be here telling you this if I wasn’t sure?”

  “I... No. What happened?” She dropped onto the couch, and he took a seat across from her.

  “The medical examiner will determine that.” He rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. He looked exhausted, his eyes deeply shadowed, his jaw scruffy with the beginning of a beard. He hadn’t shaved, probably hadn’t been home.

  “You must have some idea, Andrew,” she pressed. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “There was no sign of foul play, but I don’t like the way this is shaping up.”

  “The way what is shaping up?” Jackson walked into the room, still dressed in the jeans and black T-shirt he’d been wearing the night before. Just like Andrew, he was sporting a day’s worth of beard growth. It didn’t make him look tired or worn. It made him look...masculine, rugged. Sexy.

  “Miller,” Andrew acknowledged with a slight nod in Jackson’s direction. “We were discussing Butch Hendricks. Specifically, his death.”

  “What happened?” Jackson walked farther into the room, his movements lithe and powerful. Even without trying, he looked strong. Even when there was no danger, he looked like the kind of guy who could face down just about anything or anyone and come out on top.

  “He died sometime early this morning. That’s all I know.”

  “He was right as rain when he left the church. That was only six hours ago.”

  “A lot can happen in six hours, Miller. I think you know that. The medical examiner is working on cause of death. I’ll let you know his findings once I have them.”

  “You don’t think it was a coincidence and you don’t think he died of natural causes, do you?” Jackson asked, dropping onto the sofa next to Raina.

  “I’m not going to speculate.”

  “Sure you are. You’re just not going to do it on the record.”

  “You want off the record?” Andrew scowled. “I’ll give it to you. He either died of an overdose or was murdered.”

  Murdered?

  Raina tensed at the word, every muscle balled up so tight she thought she’d shatter if she tried to move.

  “Relax,” Jackson whispered, his breath ruffling the hair near her ear. “Everything is going to be fine.” He smoothed a hand up her arm, his fingers kneading the muscles in her neck.

  Andrew noticed.

  Of course he did.

  Raina should have cared, but she didn’t.

  “Were you the one who found Butch?” Jackson asked, his palm resting against the corded muscles in Raina’s shoulders. She was wound up tight, her eyes shadowed, her face drawn. If she’d slept at all, it hadn’t been much.

  “No. Another officer found him while the evidence team was processing an abandoned blue Jeep that fit the description and photo you provided.”

  “Kent mentioned that you’d found the Jeep,” Raina said quietly.

  “I saw him drive past in that fancy sports car of his. Didn’t realize he was on his way here.”

  “He wanted to check on Samuel,” Raina said, and Andrew laughed.

  “Right.”

  “He did,” Raina protested, her hands fisting in her lap. In Jackson’s opinion, she needed some of the chamomile tea Grandma Ruth was always drinking. According to Jackson’s mother, it was great for calming nerves.

  “Maybe, but he also came to see you. He’s a good guy, Raina, and there’s nothing wrong with spending some time with him.”

  It was J
ackson’s turn to tense up.

  He didn’t like the idea of Raina and Kent getting together. He didn’t like it at all.

  “Except that I don’t want to spend time with him, so how about we get back to what you came here for.”

  “Right.” Andrew sighed. “We pulled a couple of prints from the Jeep. We’ll try to run them, but it was reported stolen from D.C. about a month ago. It could have been in any number of hands since then.”

  “D.C.?” Jackson’s pulse jumped and he met Raina’s eyes. “Isn’t that where your friend’s boyfriend lives?”

  “Are you talking about Lucas Raymond?” Andrew asked, and Raina nodded.

  “He’s the only one I know who owns a blue Jeep.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. He’s been driving that thing for years.” Andrew pulled a notebook from his pocket and jotted something in it.

  “You’re not actually going to question him? If he were going to do something like this, don’t you think he’d use a different car?” Raina sounded horrified.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Criminals make mistakes all the time. This might have been his.”

  “Destiny will have your hide if you call him.”

  “Why would she?” Andrew shrugged. “They broke up two weeks ago.”

  “What?” Raina jumped up, and Jackson stood with her. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “You were getting ready for Samuel’s arrival. She didn’t want to add more to your burden.”

  “She’s my best friend!”

  “And she was trying to protect you.” Andrew stood, tucked the notebook back into his pocket.

  “I don’t need protecting.”

  “Tell her, then. I’m going to the office. I want to make a few phone calls, see if Lucas was home last night. I’ve never really liked the guy, and I wouldn’t put it past him to pull something like this in order to force himself back into Destiny’s life.”

  “How would chasing me through the woods accomplish that?” Raina asked.

  “He’s a psychiatrist. Maybe he’s hoping to be called in for help with the case.”

  “Sounds like a stretch,” Jackson said, and Andrew shrugged.

  “Stranger things have happened, Miller, and as far as I’m concerned everyone is a suspect until I can prove they aren’t.”

  “Are you including me in that?” Jackson asked, following him to the front door, Raina just a few steps behind.

  “According to my sources, you’ve been here since six this morning. Butch died sometime after that, and since you obviously weren’t the one driving the Jeep that almost ran you down—” he stepped out onto the porch “—I think I can remove you from my list.”

  “Thanks,” Jackson responded drily. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Now that we’ve gotten that cleared up, I’ve got to head out.”

  He jogged down the porch steps and got in his squad car. Jackson wanted to get in his SUV and follow. He had more questions to ask. About Butch’s death, about Lucas Raymond, about the stuffed dog that had been left in the woods.

  “You know what I need?” Raina asked so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

  “What?” He looked into her eyes, saw the fear and anxiety there, wanted nothing more at that moment than to chase it away. “Name it, and I’ll get it for you.”

  She cracked a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corner, a tiny dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth. “You’re tempting me to ask for the moon.”

  “If I could, I’d wrap it in a bow and put your name on it.”

  “Don’t be so charming, Jackson,” she responded, the smile faltering but not quite disappearing. “It could get us both in trouble.”

  “I love trouble. Ask Stella. She’ll tell you all about it.”

  She shook her head and sighed, hooking her arm through his and tugging him into the kitchen. “Then I guess it’s a good thing for you that all I want is a cup of black coffee and three minutes with absolutely no drama.”

  “That,” he said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, “can absolutely be arranged.”

  EIGHT

  Raina got her coffee.

  She even got her three minutes without any drama.

  Things went downhill from there.

  It started with Samuel having a major meltdown about the doctor visit and ended with an endless battle with Jackson about whether or not she needed an escort.

  “I don’t need you to come with me,” she said for the fiftieth time as she grabbed her coat from the closet. “I don’t,” she repeated.

  “Okay,” he responded, finally conceding the point.

  “I’m glad you’re finally seeing it my way,” she responded, but she didn’t feel glad, she felt anxious and antsy.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” he responded, helping her into her coat and pulling the collar up around her neck, his fingers sliding against the tender flesh behind her ear. “If you want to go off unprotected with a vulnerable young boy, that’s your business, and it’s on your head if something happens to him.”

  “You’re playing dirty,” she accused, but he had a point, and she knew it. Samuel was her responsibility, and she couldn’t risk his life because she needed a little...breathing room.

  “I’ll play any way I have to to keep you and Samuel safe.”

  “Fine. You can come,” she agreed, and she didn’t feel nearly as irritated about it as she probably should have.

  “I’m glad you’re finally seeing things my way,” he said with a grin. “I’m going to check in with Stella. You get Samuel. I’ll meet you back here in five.”

  He bounded up the stairs, and she headed down the hall, not realizing she was smiling until she reached Samuel’s door.

  She shook her head, exasperated with herself.

  If she wasn’t careful, Jackson would charm his way deeper into her life than he already had.

  She shouldn’t want that to happen, but there was a tiny part of her heart that didn’t think she’d mind much if it did.

  She knocked gently on Samuel’s door. “Ready to go, Samuel?” she called.

  He didn’t answer, and she turned the knob, frowning when she realized it was locked. She knocked again, cold air tickling her bare toes.

  Had he opened the window? “Samuel?”

  Still no answer, but she could definitely feel cold air drifting under the door.

  She ran back to the kitchen and out the door, rounding the corner of the house at breakneck speed, her breath catching as her worst fears were confirmed. The window was open, the room beyond empty.

  “Samuel!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, pivoting to the left and right, trying to decide which direction she should go. She thought she saw a speck of color in the trees at the back edge of the property, and she raced toward it, screaming his name so loudly the sound tore from her throat.

  She’d hung his coat in the closet the night before. He didn’t have a hat, gloves. He didn’t know the area, knew nothing about the climate. He could get lost in the woods, be stranded all night without any way to keep warm.

  She raced into the trees, and it was like her nightmare, branches snagging her shirt and poking at her legs, her heart pounding frantically. She fought through the foliage, searching the trees for signs that Samuel had been there.

  “Raina!” someone shouted, but she didn’t have time to stop. If she didn’t catch up to Samuel now, he could be lost for good.

  “Raina!” Jackson grabbed her arm, yanking her to a stop. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To find Samuel.” She tried to jerk away, but he didn’t release his hold. “He climbed out his window and—”

  “He’s in the house.”

  “No. He’s not.” She yanked harder, but hi
s fingers were firm around her biceps, the grip tight without being painful.

  “He is. He came out of the bathroom as I was heading down the hall.”

  “Are you sure? I could have sworn I saw him running through the trees.”

  “Positive.” His hand slipped from her arm, burrowed under her coat and rested on her waist. She could feel its heat through her cotton shirt.

  “I can’t lose another child,” she said, the words like shards of broken glass—hard and brittle.

  “You won’t,” he responded, pulling her close, pressing her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating beneath her ear, and she wanted to close her eyes, pretend she was in a place where she could believe forever existed, believe that love could last, believe that her heart would never be broken.

  “I’m okay,” she said, but she didn’t move. Her legs were too shaky, her head still filled with memories of the nightmare and with fears of what might have been if Samuel really had wandered away.

  She took a deep breath, inhaled masculinity, soap and some indefinable scent that reminded her of safety and of home.

  Her eyes burned with tears, and she forced herself to step away. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I just had a major freak-out over nothing.”

  “His window was open. You thought he’d run away. That’s not nothing.” He glanced around the copse of trees, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, a niggle of fear crawling up her spine.

  “Probably not.”

  “That’s not the same as definitely not.”

  It wasn’t, because Jackson wasn’t sure that there was nothing wrong Something felt off. He could feel it in the air—a hint of danger. Even in the middle of the day, light streaming through heavy branches and boughs, the trees were thick enough for someone to hide.

  He didn’t like that.

  Didn’t like it at all.

  “How about we head back to your place?” he said, avoiding Raina’s comment.