“Yes, mine too, which tells us the men are traveling together. They come to Stone’s place again, we have them.”
“We should authorize Melvin to have a team follow Stone, the next time he shows up if he comes home alone,” Caleb Benedict said. “I think the Town Trust will approve the expense. Mother?”
“Of course. If Adam and Jake believe this Jerry Stone is involved, then following him is the right thing to do. He might decide to hide that villain somewhere else.”
“That’s got to be a lot of money.” Ginny looked around at everyone. “I can’t ask you to—”
“Now, Ginny Rose,”—Grandma Kate patted her hand—“you’re not a member of the Town Trust
yet
, dear, so you don’t get to have a vote in these matters. Besides, there’s principle involved. We don’t let people mess with our own. It’s just
not
tolerated.”
“Damn straight it’s not,” Jake said.
“Kate’s right,” Samantha Kendall said. “We’d be setting a dangerous precedent if we let this situation go untended.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Ginny fought back her tears, determined to repay this overwhelming generosity by at least appearing to stay strong.
“Jon, Mike, and I have taken shifts watching your apartment. We’ve hired Alvin Jessop and Harvey Parker to lend us a hand. Harvey’s there now. We’ve set up our base in the pink house across the street. Now, we don’t have any surveillance inside your apartment itself, but we have the main entrance and the back one on cameras.” Caleb leaned forward and looked at Adam, and then Jake. “So we do have eyes on your place, but it’s not ideal. Ideal would be if we could move you out of the apartment into a house—preferably one that’s at the end of a cul-de-sac, with open fields behind it and trusted neighbors on either side.”
“A house? I don’t know if I can afford that.” She counted herself lucky to have her apartment, with its all-inclusive, modest rent.
“You’re thinking of Uncle Northrop’s house,” Jake said. “It’s been empty for a couple of years and, quite frankly, a pain in the ass to keep an eye on all the time. Actually,”—Jake gave her a wide grin—“that would be ideal on so many levels. You’d actually be doing the Town Trust a favor by living there.”
Ginny knew when she was being handed a load of bull. Jake was good, but she was better when it came to detecting hooey when she heard it.
She took a moment to meet the earnest-looking gazes of the people sitting and standing around her. If the safety of her son and herself wasn’t an issue, Ginny would argue long and loud about accepting charity—even well-meaning charity offered by those who cared about her.
But safety was the main issue at the moment, and these people had obviously gone to a lot of work to form this plan. How could she refuse?
She met Jake’s gaze. “You’re telling me I just unpacked and now I’ve got to pack again?”
“We’ll help. It shouldn’t take us long to get you and Benny moved in. It’ll take Adam and me even less time, as some of our stuff is already there.”
Ginny felt her heart thud. Adam and Jake would be living there, too. She licked suddenly dry lips. Apparently, people had been busy in her short absence.
She wasn’t much ashamed to admit that having Adam and Jake close at hand certainly wouldn’t be a hardship.
Well, I’ve already decided to try and make this work, haven’t I
?
“All right, we’ll get started immediately. Is there anything else?”
“Tomorrow, we’ll make sure there’s someone keeping an eye out at the school during the day,” Mike Murphy said. “That slime bucket threatened the boy, too. Until he’s in custody again, we’re going to make sure you’re both safe.”
“Thank you.” It was the only thing Ginny could think to say in response to such a great gift. The entire town had invested itself and its money into protecting her and her son from a problem she’d essentially brought on herself.
“You’re welcome.” Samantha slipped her arm around Ginny. “Now, let’s have some tea, and then we can all get started moving you and Benny into your new house.”
Chapter 11
Jake hadn’t known that his mother and Kate had planned to move Ginny into Northrop’s house, but he didn’t mind rolling with it. When he’d announced they’d move in, too, no one, except for Ginny, batted an eye.
He knew their woman well enough to understand that if she didn’t want them there, she’d have spoken right up.
Despite what she might think of herself and her past, Ginny Rose was no pushover.
The year before, Jake had moved into one of the smaller houses a couple of blocks off Main Street. Then, when he and Adam had understood that Ginny was the woman they’d both fallen in love with, Adam had moved in. They’d tossed about ideas for taking on one of the larger houses owned by the Trust. Northrop’s had definitely been on that list. They’d even discussed building their own, brand-new house on the outskirts of town.
Their Uncle Northrop had lived with his wife, Constance, in a house he’d had built especially for his British bride just after they’d gotten married. They’d made it large enough to house a good-sized family, but sadly, Constance never conceived. In fact, his aunt had died of cancer when Jake had been but a baby.
Northrop never remarried. Jake remembered the man as the tall, fun-loving older brother of his fathers, the man who’d come to every Christmas dinner and birthday celebration bearing gifts and hugs, and as a peculiarly unfair umpire. It wasn’t until Jake had gotten older he’d realized how alone the man had been in his later years.
Northrop Kendall had been like Adam in that he, too, tended to collect strays, and always stood ready to look out for the underdog.
Jake thought Northrop would approve of Ginny and her son moving into his house.
Now, standing in front of the two-story Queen Anne Victorian, he had to admit he’d forgotten how big and, well,
Victorian
the place looked.
He could hardly wait to see Ginny’s reaction to it.
He’d come ahead to the house so that he could have a moment to speak to Melvin Richardson alone. He and Adam had both decided not to mention the fact that they’d asked Melvin to have someone keep an eye on Maggie Morrison.
Of course, if Ginny asked them if there was a possibility her aunt would need protection, well, then they would certainly reassure her that as remote a possibility as they all believed that was, they’d taken steps.
Under normal circumstances, that possibility
would
be remote. There was only one fact that made it a possibility worth considering, and that was the nature of the fugitive himself.
Deke Walters was a bully through and through.
Jake knew quite a bit about bullies. He’d encountered one when he’d been in college. Because he’d never met a creature like that man before, Jake had researched the topic of bullies. That had been hard—ten years ago, the Internet wasn’t the mega-personal researching tool it was today.
He never had come up with an answer as to why a person would be that way, and he still didn’t have one, but there was one thing he knew to his bones. Most bullies were cowards at heart, and would never choose to face an opponent of equal or greater strength. They’d always prey on the smaller, the weaker, and the defenseless.
Jake had no doubt that given the choice between coming at Adam or him, or going for Maggie, he’d pick Maggie.
The sound of a car approaching had him turning to watch as Melvin drove up. Adam—and most of his family—was with Ginny and Benny, helping her get their things together to come over here.
I wonder what she’ll say when she finds out that Mom and Kate mean for her and Benny to have this house, period
.
It would be an interesting moment, no doubt.
“Well now,
that
is a house with attitude.”
Jake grinned. “It’s something, isn’t it? The Town Trust just finished repainting the outside of it about five months ago. We kept to the original colors that Constance Kendall had chosen, based, allegedly, on her family home back in England.”
“The turret is a nice touch, and I like the big bay window. The veranda looks inviting, too.”
“Which one, the lower or the upper?”
“Does the upper come off the master suite?”
“It does.” Jake recalled that the master suite took up one half of the top floor, with its balcony spanning from the front of the house, along the side, to the back.
“Then I like both.” Melvin took a step closer. “Is that chimney covered with terra-cotta?”
“It is. You’re looking at a
very
dedicated Queen Anne Victorian, right down to the hunter green with sienna-red trim and burnt-yellow accents.”
Melvin gazed at the house for just another moment longer, shaking his head. Then he turned to face Jake.
“My associate, Carmelita Hill, from an Atlantic City agency, has set herself up as a temporary resident of the Leprechaun Inn in Wildwood Crest, New Jersey. She’s contacted the borough police, shown them her credentials, and given them a photograph of Walters.”
“How’s Ms. Morrison taking the invasion?”
“According to Melly, once the lady knew we also had lots of people protecting her niece and great-nephew here in Lusty, she was fine with it, if a little disbelieving the service was actually necessary.”
“That’s good, then. You’ll keep us apprised?”
“Absolutely, as developments unfold.” Melvin turned and looked down the street. “It looks like a parade coming this way. That’s my cue to leave.”
Jake grinned, because Melvin’s assessment, as usual, was dead on. It did look as if a parade was coming down the street.
“Right on schedule,” Jake said.
“I’ll be in touch.” The investigator raised a hand in greeting to Adam as he headed back to his car.
His brother had driven his Jeep, instead of the cruiser, likely to allow for extra room for Ginny and Benny’s things.
Most of the furniture that had been in her apartment, Jake knew, had been left over from when Kelsey had lived there. That meant that moving Ginny and her son really was just a matter of clothing and smaller items, and likely more than two cars wouldn’t have been necessary.
But this was Lusty, and family liked to get involved in just about every damn thing—which is why Adam’s car was followed by Morgan’s and then his mother’s and then Jordan’s.
Jake shrugged to himself as he stepped aside so Adam could get the Jeep in the driveway. He waited till the car stopped, and then reached out, and opened Ginny’s door.
Their woman’s mouth stayed agape as she slowly got out of the car. Her gaze never left the house.
“Well boy howdy, would you just
look
at this place?”
Benny fairly jumped out of the car and came to stand beside his mother. “Wow, it’s like a gingerbread house! Is there a witch inside, do you think?”
Ginny laughed and hugged him. “My goodness, I hope not! It does look like a house out of a storybook, though, doesn’t it?”
“The colors are a bit much,” Jake conceded. “But they’re the original ones Uncle Northrop and Aunt Constance chose for the place when they built it back in the seventies.”
“No, I like the colors,” Ginny said. “They say something, don’t you think?”
Jake did, but he wasn’t willing to speculate as to exactly
what
they said.
The sound of car doors slamming preceded people walking toward them, some carrying bags. Those who were empty-handed began to pull things out of the Jeep. Adam had come around the hood and stood next to Ginny so that they had her between them.
“It’s just a house, sweetheart,” Adam said.
Morgan walked past them, carrying a suitcase. “It really is just a house, and happy, I’d bet, to no longer be standing empty.” He headed inside, as did the rest of his brothers, each carrying things, not waiting for Ginny to enter first—or even for her to catch her breath.
Jake met Adam’s gaze, and he had to hold back a laugh.
Likely, the game plan had been to just carry things inside and make the move a done deal before Ginny even set a foot inside the house.
“I’ve always loved this place.” Jake’s mother came up to them. He noted the way she very casually put her arm around Ginny and started to walk toward the house with her. “There’s lots of room out back for running and playing,” she said, “and a swing set with a monkey bars and sandbox that have all been inspected very recently, so they’re safe. The house is furnished—you would
not
believe the warehouse of stuff we have accumulated over the years. If anything doesn’t suit, just let Adam and Jake know. They’ll take you over and let you pick your own.”