Against the Sky (13 page)

Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Nick stood on the deck in back of the house the following morning, his cell phone pressed against his ear. A heavy white cloud hung over the mountain behind the house and the air was icy cold. Nick barely noticed.

“Hey, Dylan, it's Nick,” he said as his brother picked up the call.

“Hey, bro, good to hear from you.” Just the sound of his brother's voice was a comfort. Dylan was a year older than Nick, while Rafe, at thirty-four, was the oldest.

“Listen, something's come up. I thought I'd give you a call. How's Lane?”

“She's great. She thinks we should all get together for Thanksgiving. We could all meet here. Plenty of room and the lodge is really looking good.”

Dylan had met Lane Bishop during a remodel of the old fishing lodge he had bought on Eagle Bay in the Alaskan peninsula. Lane was a Beverly Hills designer, the woman he had hired to do the interior, the lady he had fallen head over heels in love with and planned to marry.

“So Lane's, you know, adjusting okay?” Alaska wasn't an easy place to live. It was something Dylan had worried about over the weeks he and Lane had been working together on the lodge.

“Lane loves it here,” Dylan said. “She's really excited about spending her first winter on Eagle Bay.”

Nick thought of Samantha, tried to imagine her smiling as she slogged through the snow, her small feet in a pair of heavy leather boots. He tried to imagine her out on the frozen lake, grinning as she shivered inside an ice-fishing hut. But none of the images would come.

“So what's up with you?” Dylan asked.

“Remember the woman I met when I was in Las Vegas?”

“Sure. Samantha. You talked about her quite a bit. Wasn't she coming up for a visit?”

“She's here now.” He glanced around to make sure she was still in the house, hopefully still sleeping. “The thing is, Dylan, she's pregnant.”

“What? What do you mean she's pregnant?”

“Just what I said. Samantha's pregnant. That's what she came up here to tell me.”

“Wait a minute, she's not telling you it's
yours?
You were careful, right? You used protection?”

“I was careful. But condoms aren't a hundred percent guaranteed.”

“She
is
telling you it's yours. Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Not the slightest doubt?”

He thought of Samantha's colorless face when he had denied the baby, those big brown eyes filling with horrified tears. “No.”

“Do you love her?”

“Hell, I don't even know her.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don't know.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “For chrissake, I don't even have a job.”

“No, but you've got plenty of money.”

“This isn't about money.”

“No, it isn't.”

“On top of that, I'm in the middle of a murder investigation. The timing couldn't be worse.”

“I thought you were retired.”

So many people had tossed those words back in his face, Nick almost smiled. “Whatever I do, I'm not going to shirk my responsibilities. Samantha says she doesn't want anything from me and I believe her. She's a successful career woman. She wasn't even sure she was going to tell me.”

Dylan hissed out a breath. “Not good.”

“Fortunately, she came to her senses.” After he'd won back a little of her trust and they had wound up back in bed. “The kid is mine. I want some say in how he's going to be raised.”

“Could be a she.”

“Either way.”

“Listen, don't do anything rash. Just take it slow and easy. You'll know what to do when the time is right.”

It was good advice. Dylan was always solid as a rock. He looked up to see Samantha through the kitchen window, dressed for the day and heading for the pot of coffee he had made.

“I've got to go. I'll keep you posted.” Nick hung up the phone and walked back into the house.

Samantha filled a coffee mug. “Hi,” she said, her expression as wary as his own.

“Hi.” He couldn't think of a damned thing to say. But then he'd never been pregnant before. “You okay? No morning sickness, nothing like that?”

“I'm okay. Listen, Nick, do you think there's any chance we could . . . umm . . . just pretend last night didn't happen?”

His mouth edged up. “If you mean the sex, I'm not going to forget that anytime soon.” His gaze ran over her petite figure and an image arose of her feminine curves and sweet cries as he moved inside her. His body tightened. Oddly, now that he knew she was carrying his child, he wanted her even more than he had before.

“I meant the other . . .” she said. “The pregnant part. Is there any chance we could just go on doing what we were doing—getting to know each other?”

It sounded good. Too good. Could a pregnant woman actually forget about being pregnant?

His brother's words ran in his head.
Just take it slow and easy. You'll know what to do when the time is right.

“Maybe,” he said noncommittally, watching Samantha's reaction.

“We need to help Jimmy and Mary. Once we figure out what's going on with them, we can figure out what to do about . . . you know.”

He grinned. He couldn't help it. “Yeah, I know.”

“So is it okay?”

“What about sex? Because I still want you and I think you want me. I don't know much about . . . you know . . . but I know you can have sex right up till just before the . . . you know . . . is born.”

She laughed. It broke some of the tension in the room. “Could we just play it by ear?”

He walked over and took the coffee cup out of her hand, set it on the counter. Nick drew her into his arms and kissed her, softly at first, then deeper. Lust wrapped around him and squeezed like a fist.

Jesus, when it came to sex, the woman had his number. They were both breathing hard when he let her go. It took a moment for him to realize his phone was ringing.

He pulled it out of his pocket, saw it was Cord. “Hey, man, what's up?”

“Evanko's cell mate was a Russian named Orloff. But here's the interesting part. Orloff worked for a guy named Milushev. You know that name?”

“Are you kidding? Milushev's one of the most wanted men in the country.”

“That's right. A couple of years ago, when the feds got too close, he pulled up stakes and went back to mother Russia. Speculation is he's running his businesses from there.”

“Jesus. Milushev definitely had the juice to put a hit on Evanko's partner-in-crime, Richard Spicer.”

“You got that right.”

“And Evanko would owe him—big-time.”

“Could be.”

Nick looked up as the sound of a siren in the distance caught his attention. It was a rare occurrence this far out in the country. Following the sound, Samantha hurried out of the kitchen, crossed the living room, opened the door and went out on the porch.

An instant later, she rushed back in. “Oh, my God, Nick! Mary and Jimmy's house is on fire!”

“Gotta go. I'll call you back.”

Nick hung up the phone and ran out of the house, with Samantha right on his heels. The two of them raced up the hill toward the fire. This time of day, Jimmy would be at school. Nick prayed Mary wasn't home, either.

Or that if she was, she had gotten out okay.

 

 

Bright red-and-orange flames crawled out one of the windows at the side of the house and smoke formed a thick black plume, rising in a column that climbed above the roof.

As she drew closer, Samantha's heart, already pounding with fear, kicked up another notch. Jimmy would be at school, but Mary.... What if she was still inside the house?

The fire truck was parked in front, the firemen already at work, hoses extended, shooting a stream of water onto the orange flames licking out of the window. A billowing cloud of smoke rolled out with the flames. It only took a second to realize which room it was.

“Oh, my God, Nick, it's the study.”

“Stay here. I need to find Mary.”

“Oh, God.”

Nick took off running, but Samantha was right behind him. Her hiking boots felt clumsy, but at least she was wearing the heavy socks she had taken from Nick's dresser drawer so her feet didn't hurt.

Nick paused to speak to one of the firemen, then disappeared through the front door, where only a thin wisp of smoke trailed out. Samantha stopped beside another fireman.

“Is . . . is everyone out of the house?”

“We didn't find anyone inside.”

“What about the dog? A golden retriever? He might have been in the mudroom.”

The fireman shook his head. Beneath the brim of his helmet, his face was black with soot. “We didn't see any sign of a dog. The fire started in the office. We've been able to contain it there.”

“Thank God.”

Several minutes passed as she waited anxiously for Nick to reappear. She felt a wave of relief when she spotted him walking toward her from around the side of the house, Duke trotting along at his side.

“I checked the garage. Mary's car is gone. Duke was in the side yard. He was scared but he's okay. Apparently, there's a doggie door coming out one of the downstairs rooms. He's fine.”

“The fireman said the blaze started in the study. They've been able to contain it there.” She exchanged a glance with Nick. Lisa Graham was working on the flash drive, but they hadn't heard from her yet. Samantha wondered what could have been in the office that was worth setting fire to the house to destroy.

She glanced back at the big log structure. There were firemen inside. The flames were dying but smoke still rolled out the window. “You don't think whoever did this might have done something to Mary?” She couldn't help thinking of Jimmy stuffed into the trunk of a car.

“I don't think she was here, but we need to find her. Pulling out his cell, he started going through his contact list. “I've got Jimmy's number. Maybe he knows where his aunt is.”

Samantha stood nervously as Nick phoned the boy at school. He told Jimmy about the fire, told him that Duke was okay and that the fire department had the blaze under control. “Your aunt isn't here. Do you know where to find her?”

Samantha couldn't hear the reply, but Nick was nodding.

“Tell her everything is being handled, but she needs to come home.” Nick hung up the phone. “Mary was at the school. Parent-teacher conference. Jimmy thinks she was heading straight back home. He's going to call her.”

Samantha felt a surge of relief. “So they're both okay.”

“Looks like.”

Nick turned back toward the house. “I have a feeling whoever started the fire was watching the place, waiting for an opportunity to get inside without being noticed. They aren't worried about Jimmy causing any more trouble, but maybe they decided to play it safe, get rid of any evidence that might still be in the office.”

“Thank God we got the flash drive.”

His features hardened. “Yeah.”

Samantha turned as a silver pickup roared to a stop behind the fire truck. Cord threw open the door, climbed out of the truck, and strode toward them.

“What's going on? Where's Mary?”

“She and Jimmy are both okay,” Nick said. “Neither of them was home when the fire started. Mary's on her way here now.”

The tension eased from Cord's face. “I heard what Samantha said when I was talking to you on the phone. I was working a case that took me out to Birchwood so I wasn't that far away.” He glanced over at the smoke still creeping out the window, looked back at Nick. “This isn't a coincidence, is it?”

“Not likely.”

“I think it's time the two of us had a serious conversation.”

Nick just nodded and the two men walked away.

 

 

Nick didn't bother to ask why his friend had come. He'd noticed Cord's keen look of interest the morning he had met the exotically beautiful woman who lived up on the hill. It was a look Nick had only seen on his friend's face once before. Her name was Jillian. Cord had fallen like a brick for Jill. The bad news was, she couldn't handle marrying a cop and eventually the relationship came to an end. Cord had never completely gotten over her.

Now he wore that same expression when he looked at Mary George.

“We need to bring in the cops,” Cord said as soon as the two of them were far enough away that they couldn't be heard. “Someone's going to get killed.”

“We bring in the police, someone is definitely going to get killed.”

Cord shook his head. “We've got Jimmy's story. The kid was abducted and threatened, right? Now we've got a suspicious fire in his house. We should take this to Taggart, get the department involved in the investigation. Or maybe call the State Troopers.”

“What about Mary and Jimmy? You willing to risk their lives?”

“We could get them a protection detail.”

“There's no way Taggart's spending tax payer dollars with no more to go on than a kid's wild story and a fire that could have been an accident. And what about Jankowski, Sorenson? Taggart's not stirring up trouble with big donors like that—not without proof. Hell, we don't even have a murder victim. All we have is a guy who died from natural causes.”

“We could protect them ourselves.”

“We could. But we can't be two places at once. We need to follow the leads we've got.”