“Yes,” he whispered against her skin, brushing a wreath of kisses along it, “I am. Don’t let me have it alone.”
Rayne pulled her head back just a little, her eyes finding his. “Wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, would it?”
He moved his head from side to side, his eyes never leaving hers. He stirred things inside of her, things she couldn’t begin to untangle and name. Things part of her was afraid to untangle and name. If there was no name, there could be no marker for it when it died and left her, as she knew it had to.
“’Fraid not,” he told her.
Her head raised, she kissed each corner of his mouth, then lay back again. Temptation served hot. “So what is it you want me to do?”
His hand cupped her cheek as his eyes caressed every part of her. He’d branded her and for tonight, for now, she was his. “Guess.”
Surprising him, she pushed Cole back onto the bed. With her hand resting on his chest, Rayne lightly brushed her lips against his. Quickening his pulse, hardening his desire. Evidence of both throbbed against her. Making her smile as she pulled back her head just a little to look at him.
“So, am I on the right track?”
“You are.” She kissed him again, bringing his desire to full fruition. “Damn, but you are,” he murmured.
Cole dove his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head, pulling her even closer to him. Carefully, he moved her so that her body was on top of his. So that he could feel every subtle nuance, every fiber of her being against him.
Her heart racing, she pulled her head away for a moment. It was all the time she felt she could spare. “Good, I’d hate to be in the wrong place.”
“Never happen,” he told her just before he framed her face, bringing her mouth down to his again.
She forgot all about bringing him to the hospital.
“You didn’t come home last night.”
Her hand on the doorknob of the back entrance, Rayne froze. Slowly her heels met the floor. There was no point in tiptoeing in, not when her father was standing right here in the kitchen. It was a good half hour before she knew he normally got started.
Damn it, the one morning she needed him to stick to his schedule, he’d gone for free-form.
With a shrug, she closed the door behind her. He’d had his back to her when he’d sent the remark in her direction and she looked at it now. Had he waited up for her? Or just gotten up and checked her room before coming down?
Had he worried? She didn’t want him worrying. But she was a grown woman now and shouldn’t have to submit to a verbal questionnaire just because she hadn’t filled out a form in triplicate, citing exactly where she’d be for the night.
When he turned to look at her over his shoulder, she gave him what she hoped passed for an innocent look. “No, I didn’t.”
He turned back to the cabinet beneath the counter, taking out the first of a host of pans. “Long time since you’ve felt the need to sneak in.”
He was right. She’d reverted back to behavior she’d exhibited as a teen. Staying out all hours, coming home in the morning, hoping to get lost in the crowd.
As if.
To her father, each of the Cavanaugh children was an individual and he kept track of them all as such. That included their comings and goings.
Rayne looked away. “Just working on a case,” she told him evasively.
“A case of what?” He opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice. He poured two glasses, handing the first to her. Surprised, she took it from him. “You’re on vacation, remember?”
No, she hadn’t remembered. This “vacation” thing was hard to get accustomed to. It also left her without an alibi. She put the half-empty glass on the counter, digging in. “Dad, I’m too old for this.”
Again, he surprised her. “Yes, you are. You’re your own woman now.” He laughed shortly, shaking his head. “You always were, straight from the womb.” Taking out a loaf of bread, he moved it to the side to make room for a box of waffle mix. “But that doesn’t mean you always know what you’re doing.” There was a pregnant pause in the air. Andrew turned to look at his youngest daughter. “
Do
you know what you’re doing, Rayne?”
If he’d approached it in any other way, she would have brazened it out, declared yes she knew what she was doing and saying so in no uncertain terms just before she stormed out of the kitchen.
But the look in her father’s eyes, kind, understanding, sympathetic, completely unlaced her resolve. She couldn’t get angry if he wasn’t challenging her, wasn’t telling her what to do. He was treating her like an adult and this fact took away her greatest weapon, her anger.
She knew what she was doing when it came to Eric’s case. She was looking for the truth. But as far as what was happening between her and Cole, she hadn’t a clue. “I think so.”
Andrew nodded as he took out a large mixing bowl. “Okay, then, I’ll back you.” Putting the bowl on the counter, he looked at her. “Whatever you need, you got it, you know that.”
She smiled. No matter what he said to the contrary, she knew her father was in her corner. That was just the way he was. “Yes, I know that.”
He crossed to her, worried the way only a loving father could be. “But be careful, Rayne, be very careful. Don’t step on the wrong toes.”
She held up her hand as if she was taking a pledge. “Just the bad guys, Dad.”
No one told them about this part, Andrew thought, when they became parents. No one said that from that day forward, even the best of days would contain a nugget of concern, of worry burrowed into it. It was just the way things were.
He nodded toward the counter with its array of ingredients waiting to be turned into something tempting. “Hungry?”
She grinned. “I could eat.”
Andrew gestured toward the table as he crossed to the stove. “Then sit down. Be nice having you the first one at the table for a change instead of the last.”
Taking a seat, Rayne smiled to herself. “Yes, Dad.”
Chapter 12
R
ayne frowned at the cell phone in the palm of her hand. She’d just snapped it closed.
That was the third one.
The third time someone had called to warn her off the investigation. Each warning was a little more harsh, a little more graphic in its threat. This one had known exactly where to hit. This one had threatened her family.
“What is it?” Cole wanted to know. He’d already asked her once, but she’d said nothing in reply. Concern began eating away at him and he debated pulling off onto the shoulder of the road to conduct a deeper inquiry. But the clock in his head continued ticking, diminishing the minutes his brother had left before the trial. He kept driving.
“Rayne, what is it?” There was no mistaking the demand in his voice.
She looked at him as if she were coming out of a daze, her mind vibrating, jumping from thought to thought, trying to sort things out. Trying to put things into perspective.
It had been two days since they’d initially made love. Two days in which they’d alternated between ignoring the elephant in the living room and assuming a kind of tense truce between them, a truce that had its share of isolated, intimate glances, intimate touches, all of which fled almost faster than they materialized.
It wasn’t a comfortable place to be, but then, she’d never gravitated toward the comfortable, the complacent. That wasn’t her style.
And she had a feeling that it wasn’t his.
Throughout it all, she tried to keep the case involving his brother paramount. After all, there was a life at stake, not just a heart, or whatever it was that she felt was at risk in her private world. But now that same case was threatening what she held most dear. Her father, her siblings.
Her back stiffened.
“Who was on the phone?” Cole pressed. He wasn’t about to be put off.
“I don’t know.” Frustration clawed at her. “The same person who called before.”
“Anything new?” He knew the answer to that before he asked. Her expression had gone flat.
“Yeah.” She pushed out the word on a long breath. “There’s something new.” She looked at him. “Mr. Metal Voice threatened my family.”
“Which means we
are
getting close to something.” Cole slanted a glance at her before looking back to the road. This was his fight, not hers. He couldn’t ask her to put anyone in her family in jeopardy for him, even if they were all part of the police department. “I’ll take you home.”
There was too much traffic for him to switch lanes to get in the extreme left-hand side to make a U-turn, but he could probably manage it by the end of the next long block.
But Rayne shook her head. “Date’s not over yet, Romeo. Just keep going the way you were going. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”
Cole stole another glance. He wasn’t convinced yet. “But—”
“I’ve made up my mind. Nobody threatens the Cavanaughs.” As soon as she said it, she knew it sounded like something out of a grade-B Western, but it didn’t make it any less the truth. They’d all sworn to uphold the law, every last one of them. There were consequences to that oath, but that didn’t stop them from taking it. From believing in it. It’s what made them what they were. “We can take care of ourselves.”
Damn it, who did she think she was, John Wayne? “Rayne—”
She wasn’t about to have him try to argue her out of it. She’d known the risks when she’d started this, had known them better than he did.
“Look, someone’s cut your brake lines, someone’s been playing dial-a-threat with me. And—” she glanced up into the rearview mirror “—if I’m not mistaken, someone’s been following us ever since you pulled out of the hotel parking lot.”
His eyes darted up to the mirror. Two vehicles lurked behind them. The white sports car directly behind them did not look familiar, but the beige car trailing after it was the typical kind of car used for surveillance work.
Cole was sure, now that he thought of it, that he’d seen the car pulling out after them when he’d left the hotel parking lot. But was he letting the situation get to him and becoming paranoid? The beige car could very well just be a coincidence.
Gut instinct told him that it wasn’t.
They were on their way out of town, traveling to a small town located up the coast. Bainbridge-by-the-sea. The man who lived in the apartment directly above Kathy Fallon’s, Matthew Klein, still hadn’t returned home so they couldn’t question him. He’d been gone since the day after he’d given his initial statement to the police. The woman at the apartment complex’s rental office had reluctantly given them the name of Klein’s employer who in turn had told them that Matthew Klein had taken an unexpected vacation.
It went a long way toward fueling Cole’s suspicions. Had the man seen something? Was he in fear for his life? Rayne had to agree that the scenario wasn’t nearly as farfetched as it sounded. Covertly tapping into the phone company’s records had allowed her to discover that Klein had made reservations at a bed-and-breakfast inn located up the coast.
“If he’s fleeing for his life,” she’d commented to Cole after making the discovery, “he’s certainly doing it in a novel fashion.”
They were driving toward Bainbridge-by-the-sea now.
Was the beige car going there, as well?
Turning back around in her seat, Rayne looked at Cole. She was willing to bet the man had more than one trick up his sleeve, and more than one good twist. More than that, she was counting on it. “Are you up to some fancy driving?”
He seemed to read her mind. If she had any doubts, the smile he gave her erased them. Gripping the wheel, he advised, “Just hold on to your seat.”
She’d rather that he hold on to it, but kept the thought to herself. Now wasn’t the time.
That it might never be the time was something she would deal with later.
With the aplomb of someone with several defensive driving courses under his belt, Cole took twists and turns through the northern end of town that would have left a racer breathless. Rayne kept one eye open for the local police, but no squad car appeared, no bright dancing lights shadowed their journey as they detoured off their route several times before finally managing to lose the beige sedan.
It had taken them the better part of forty minutes, but it was well worth it.
“Where the hell did you learn how to drive like that?”
He thought of Bogota, of driving while guerrillas shelled the vehicle from all sides. It was the closest he’d come to being part of a miracle.
Until the other night,
a voice inside him whispered. He ignored it.
“A story for another time,” was all he told her.
She wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Cole saw the shadow of a diner up on the road ahead of them. He felt as if he were running on empty. A good strong cup of coffee would go a long way to filling that space. The diner was approximately twenty feet away from the freeway on-ramp. He’d be willing to bet whoever ran it made a nice piece of change on the through traffic.
“You want to stop for something to eat?” He began slowing the vehicle, a rental he’d gotten at the hotel, anticipating her answer. He already knew what his was.
Rayne flashed a grin. “Always.”
“Always it is.” Making a right turn, he drove toward the diner and eased the car into one of the three last available spaces. Getting out, he glanced around the dirt-lined lot. For an off hour, the diner seemed to be doing brisk business.
Brisk was also a good way to describe the wind as it followed them inside the diner. Rayne unbuttoned her jacket, but left it on.
She wasn’t sure just when she actually became aware of it. Whether it was immediately upon entering the diner or on hearing the voice of the woman behind the counter. Or when she looked up into the waitress’s face. Looking back, she definitely felt as if she’d stepped through some kind of looking glass, not knowing what it was that made this moment different from all the moments that had come before, only that something
was
very, very different and would continue to be that way from this day forward.
At first, her thoughts were completely centered on the beige car and the wild-goose chase they’d just led it on. They progressed without ceremony onto the unsettling cell call with its blunt threat. Had her brain not been in a million different places at once, it would have honed in on the feeling instantly rather than several beats later.
But it was there, unmistakably.
One minute her thoughts went elsewhere, the next, they had inexplicably leaped back to her father and his never-ending and unrealistic quest to find her mother.
Maybe it was because she’d glanced at the photograph of her mother before she’d left the house that morning.
Or maybe it was something else.
All she knew was that she was suddenly looking into the face of a person who, had she not known better, Rayne would have sworn was her mother. Not the way Rose Cavanaugh had looked that last day she had seen her alive, but the way her mother would have looked now, with fifteen years accrued between visits.
The full impact didn’t hit Rayne until she was seated at the counter beside Cole and the woman sailed by, a coffeepot in her hand, on her way to refill several cups. As she moved passed them, the waitress dealt out two plastic menus along with a flash of a smile that she shot in their direction.
It was the smile that did it, that triggered the memories.
Her mother smiled like that. Quick, bright, one side higher than the other.
“You know, you’re getting positively spooky,” Cole told her, keeping his voice down. He’d been talking to her for about two minutes without any indication from Rayne that she’d heard a word of it. “That’s the second time you’ve spaced out on me this morning.” He leaned his head into hers. “You see someone?”
She couldn’t take her eyes off the woman, searching for similarities beyond the strange feeling that made her heart stop. “Yes.”
As covertly as possible, Cole looked around the small diner. There were more than the usual handful of truckers mixed in with an elderly couple talking earnestly in a booth and another booth occupied by two parents obviously on vacation with their three children, all under the age of seven. The parents looked ready to surrender.
“Who?” He dropped his voice down to a whisper. And then he saw that Rayne’s eyes were riveted on the waitress. “You know her?”
Rayne pressed her lips together. Doubt warred with certainty that had no roots, no foundation. Just an unshakable feeling.
“Maybe,” she murmured, then raised her voice. “Excuse me.” The woman, still holding the pot of coffee, turned in her direction. Her inquiring smile caused something strange to tug at Rayne’s emotions.
Maybe she was just stressed out, she tried to tell herself.
It was a lie and she knew it.
“Yes, honey?”
The voice, even the voice was the same. It seemed to echo back to her from the past.
Was she going crazy?
As the woman crossed to her, Rayne looked at the name tag that was pinned jauntily to the waitress’s blue uniform. It told her the woman’s name was “Claire.”
Vaguely aware that Cole was watching her, Rayne took her first hesitant steps across the tightrope. “Are you by any chance related to the Cavanaughs?”
“Cavanaugh, Cavanaugh…” The woman called Claire rolled the name on her tongue, as if tasting it first to see if it was bitter or sweet. And then she smiled again as she shook her head, dark blond curls swaying around her heart-shaped face. “Nope, can’t say I know them.” Another smile came and went, like sunshine rolling along the plains. “Wish I could help.” The waitress held up the pot in her hand, her eyes moving from Cole’s face to hers. “How about some coffee?”
Rayne was vaguely aware of numbly nodding her head.
Cole waited until the woman moved away again. “Rayne, what the hell is going on here?”
She wanted to tell him, to have the words come pouring out. But what if she was wrong? What if whatever fever had caused her father to hang on to hope all these years had become infectious? What if she’d caught it, too? She didn’t relish looking like an idiot. Not without some kind of proof to offer beyond a feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Nothing.” Turning her stool in the opposite direction, she slipped off. “Excuse me for a second.” Before Cole could ask her where she was going, she made her way over to the older woman seated at the cash register on the opposite end of the diner.
The woman looked up from the book she was reading, her expression quizzical.
She had questions, however absurd, that needed answering. But because they were so strange, she didn’t want to ask them where she could be overheard. When she saw Cole begin to follow her, Rayne waved him back to his stool, then waited until he complied before turning back to the cashier.
“Cute little thing,” Claire commented, filling his cup. “You two together?”
“What? No, just here on business,” Cole said, watching Rayne, wondering what she was up to.
“You should always make time for a little pleasure,” the woman told him. “Life goes by too quickly.”
She had a point, he thought. But right now there wasn’t very much he could do about it. He took a sip of the inky liquid, letting it work through his senses. Rayne was back before he had a chance to finish. “What was all that about?”
Her heart was still racing. What she’d found out had raised more questions, questions that didn’t have any immediate answers. But they reinforced her initial feelings.
“Just checking something out.” She saw the way he looked at her. “About another case,” she added, “not your brother’s.” She wasn’t any more forthcoming than that.
It grated on his nerves, even as he told himself that if it was about another case, she had every right to keep it to herself. All he cared about was what concerned his brother.
It didn’t quite ring true. For better or worse, she had been added to the mix.
They ordered and ate a light brunch. He noted that Rayne spent the remainder of the time looking at the waitress. It took effort to keep his questions to himself, but he knew that in her place, he would have appreciated it.