He growled, his body tensing. No one crossed him and lived to tell. Maybe he ought to teach that young cop a lesson on who runs this town.
Calm yourself,
a voice in his head cautioned.
Rash decisions cause costly mistakes.
True, he agreed. He’d been living fast and loose too much lately. Time to rein it in. No more playing. Time to work.
Samuel closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After a few more times, the anger receded and he was able to think clearly.
Which, given this current situation with Dr. Black and his missing brat, was a very good thing, indeed.
Seems he’d underestimated the good doctor’s resilience and dedication. He had two choices: one choice would create a sworn enemy; the other would possibly create an ally.
The choice was simple, really.
But how to execute was the question....
Chapter 21
“H
ow’d it go over at the police station?” Darcy asked, once they were in the car. “Did you talk to McCall?”
“He wasn’t available. I had to talk to the chief,” Rafe answered, his eyes never leaving the road. Something was bugging him, something that happened at the station. She didn’t want to pry since that would have been the height of hypocrisy when she’d shut him out all day from her own private struggles. But she sensed whatever it was, was big. “How’s the dog?” he asked.
It was polite interest, not genuine concern, Darcy knew, but she appreciated the effort. “Good. He needs to stay a few nights, but the veterinarian seems to think he’ll pull through, and the vet has agreed to adopt him himself. He took one look at Brando and said he reminded him of a dog he’d had as a kid. He was very dehydrated, but not as bad as we’d thought. The vet estimated that he’d been without water for about four days.”
“Four days?” Rafe seemed troubled. “But Liza’s been gone at least two weeks. That doesn’t seem to add up. Do you think someone, maybe a neighbor, has been bringing the dog food and water?”
“I don’t know. There weren’t too many neighbors that I could see,” Darcy said, dubious. “Probably the dog was drinking whatever was left over from when Liza disappeared. It was a pretty deep water dish.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. So a few more days?” he asked, no doubt picturing the monstrous bill that would come home.
“I’ll pay for his vet bill,” she offered, feeling slightly guilty for thrusting this new development on Rafe, but what could she do? Darcy had always had a soft spot for animals and couldn’t imagine just turning the pooch over to the pound for an uncertain future given what he’d already been through.
He flashed a brief smile and reached over to rub her knee. “It’s okay. I can handle the vet bill. I’m just glad he’s going to be all right, and that he’s found a good home.”
“Really? Are you sure?” she asked, her guilt still nagging at her. Or maybe it wasn’t just guilt about the dog. “I feel bad,” she admitted.
“Bad? Why?”
She shrugged. “I sort of bulldozed you into this position with the dog. The least I can do is pay for the bill.”
He chuckled. “You didn’t bulldoze me,” he assured her. “I was worried about the dog, too. Besides, Liza would want someone looking after Brando, and Liza was a good patient. I don’t mind helping out.”
She smiled, warmth spreading in her chest. Rafe was such a good man. Anyone who would shoulder the burden he was carrying and yet had strength enough to add a homeless orphaned dog was a champion in her book. Darcy reached over and caressed the back of his neck, secretly basking in the love she felt for this man. And yet something sat between them, her secret.
Her instinct told her Rafe wouldn’t hold it against her that Samuel was her father. However, he might be hurt that she’d withheld that information this long from him yet had freely told Ford McCall. Was it like pulling off a bandage? A quick rip was far better than a tentative pull? Should she just come out and level with Rafe and let the chips fall where they may? Logic said, yes. But her heart screamed,
Are you crazy? It’s too big of a risk!
“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Rafe remarked. “Everything okay?”
“No,” she answered, biting her lip. “But I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“That’s a cryptic answer.”
“Sorry. It’s all I’ve got.” She sighed, hating how she sounded. She’d never been the type of woman to play coy games but she knew that was how she came off at the moment. “It’s something personal and I’m trying to decide the best way to handle it,” she said, trying to smooth over the rough edges of her previous statement. “I know that’s not a fair answer, but I promise I will tell you when I think it’s time.”
“Now you’ve got me worried,” Rafe said, his brow furrowing. “Maybe if you talked it out, you’d find the answer more quickly. I’m a good listener.”
“I know you are. The problem isn’t you, it’s me.” He cast her a semiplayful look and she chuckled at her choice of words. “I know, that’s a classic relationship line that’s been used in countless movies and books, but in this instance, it’s true.”
“Okay,” he allowed, backing off to give her the space she needed and desperately appreciated. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, I should tell you something else that happened at the station,” he said, switching tracks, for which she was absurdly grateful. “I told Fargo I wanted more resources put on my son’s case and that you and I were together.”
“Whoa. Back it up. Those are two bombshells. First, how’d he take the demand for more resources?” she asked.
“Not well, but in the end, he saw things my way. He’s agreed to post a bulletin with Devin’s picture tomorrow. I just have to bring him the photo.”
“Funny how he never offered to do that before,” Darcy said, not trusting that creepy chief farther than she could throw him. “Don’t you find his sudden helpfulness suspect?”
“Of course, but he didn’t come to this newfound helpfulness without a little prodding on my part.”
“Well, whatever you did, I hope it works.”
“Me, too.”
“And how did he take the news that you and I were an item?”
“Worse than the other. He looked mad enough to chew nails, which tells me that Samuel’s been putting serious pressure on Fargo to get you to play ball.”
Darcy shuddered. It was a Greek tragedy just waiting to happen. Good gravy, the idea was…simply appalling. “Well, maybe he’ll lay off and leave me alone now.”
“Maybe. Let’s hope.”
They finished the ride to the house in silence, each locked in their own thoughts. Darcy appreciated that Rafe had claimed her as his own, but she couldn’t help but wonder if that might backfire on them both. From what she’d learned thus far of Samuel, he didn’t take setbacks lightly and he really didn’t handle jealousy well.
A part of her wondered just how shocked Samuel would be and what he would do if she came out and said, “Hey, Samuel, sorry I’ve been ducking you and ruining your little plan for seduction, but here’s the thing—I’m your daughter.”
What made her equally sick to her stomach was the chance that Samuel might find the idea of sleeping with his own daughter intriguing. As twisted as he was…she couldn’t discount the possibility.
The next morning, Rafe went to grab his photo of Devin and found it missing.
“Darcy!” he called out, dread rising in his voice. “Have you seen my picture of Devin?”
Darcy appeared, drying her hair. “I thought you kept it in your wallet?”
“I did, but I took it out a few days ago because I planned to scan it into my hard drive so I would have more than one copy. I put it here on the desk.”
She responded with a solemn shake of her head and apprehension in her eyes. “No, Rafe. I haven’t seen it.”
“It was right here,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He started shoving papers aside and tearing open drawers.
“Right here!”
He swore. “How could I be so stupid?”
“You think someone took it?”
“Damn straight, I think someone took it. It was the one piece of evidence I had of Devin being real when everyone in this godforsaken town has been trying to convince me that he doesn’t exist.” Angry tears pricked his eyes and he ground them out with the heel of his palm. That corpulent bastard Fargo got someone to come into his house when he and Darcy were gone and snatched it. And Rafe had made it damn easy for him, too, by keeping it in plain sight. Rafe was sick to his stomach. He wanted to storm into that police station and shake the information out of Fargo, but he knew that would likely get him shot, and probably just the thing Fargo would love to do so he could claim self-defense. He had to throttle it back before he lost his mind. “Darcy, please call my patients and reschedule. I’m taking a personal day,” he said before stalking from the house. He needed to run, to clear his head, or else he was going to do something crazy.
Darcy stared as Rafe left the house in a black rage. She didn’t begrudge him the freak-out, but seeing him so lost was unsettling. The knowledge that someone had invaded their home made her feel vulnerable. She glanced around the familiar surroundings and wondered where they’d gained entry. Instead of standing around being scared, Darcy was propelled to do something. She went around the house and checked every possible door and window, looking for a sign of forced entry. She checked the front door and found nothing, not that she expected to—most thieves don’t walk up to the front door, brazen as you please, and kick it in. But she checked it anyway, looking for tool marks. Then she did the same for every door in the house. She went to the garage and found the doorjamb splintered. Darcy swore under her breath. She’d watched on a police program how the garage door was the most vulnerable as it usually only had a flimsy lock to the outside and was made of cheap wood. A person could practically put their foot through the door if they had enough force. But all it takes is a good kick, and it’ll splinter the jamb, which is what had happened.
And because the garage door had been locked, they hadn’t bothered to lock the door leading into the house.
It’d been foolish and she felt partly responsible. But she supposed placing blame wasn’t going to help, so she simply prepared to be as supportive as possible when Rafe returned. In the meantime, she had phone calls to make.
By midafternoon, Rafe had found some semblance of calm, though a lake of red-hot anger seethed beneath a thin, barely there surface. When his cell phone rang, he was tempted to ignore it, but when he glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Virgil Cruthers, his good sense prevailed and he took the call.
“Playing hooky today, I see,” Virgil said with good-natured humor. Unfortunately Rafe couldn’t find it in him to banter. Not today.
“How can I help you, Virgil?” he inquired politely.
Sensing Rafe wasn’t in the mood to joke, Virgil got straight to the point. “How would you be interested in heading the OB department in the clinic?” he asked, shocking Rafe into stunned silence.
When he found his voice, he said, “What about Dr. Bulger?”
“Rolf is no longer with us. He decided to retire to Florida.”
“That seems sudden. I just talked to him. He never said anything about retiring to Florida.”
“Yes, well, who knows what was going through the mind of that crazy Hungarian. Anyway, it’s a done deal. He’s gone and we need someone with experience. You seem to be working out well at the clinic and we’d love to have you. Of course, we’d have to discuss fair compensation because you wouldn’t have time to operate your practice.”
This was all too much to take in. He needed time to process. “Virgil, I’m flattered, but I’m going to need to think about it. Can you give me a few days?”
“Of course, but don’t take too long. Opportunities like this don’t fall out of the sky.”
No, they happened when someone disappeared, creating an opening. “Thanks, Virgil.”
“You bet. I look forward to nailing down the specifics,” Virgil said as if Rafe’s acceptance was a foregone conclusion. Before Rafe could clarify his position, Virgil had hung up.
“What was that all about?” Darcy asked.
“I was just offered a job as head of the OB department at the clinic,” Rafe said, pocketing his cell. “Dr. Bulger retired to Florida, suddenly.”
Darcy stared. “Florida? Maybe that’s where Liza went, too. Seems a nice way of putting murder.”
“We don’t know if they’re dead,” he reminded her, but the admonition rang hollow. He didn’t hold much hope that Liza was alive, and now, hearing about Bulger, he didn’t have a good feeling about the older Hungarian, either. “The last time I saw him, something was bothering him, but he wouldn’t talk about it.”
Darcy exhaled, shaking her head. “People are disappearing at a rapid rate around here. Maybe we ought to get the hell out while we still can.”
He looked at her sharply. “Not without my son.”
She nodded, almost miserably. “I know. It was just a thought.”
“You should go,” he said, looking away. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m just saying you’re not going to be much good to Devin if you’re dead, and it seems people who piss off Samuel Grayson end up six feet under somewhere,
vacationing
in Florida.”