Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) (15 page)

“Where were you going?”

“To talk to Ava.”

“She’ll keep. You won’t.”

At the affection in his voice, she nearly teared up
again. She linked her fingers with his. “Thank you for saving my life. I should’ve
said that before.”

“After Chief Galt’s bombshell, you were otherwise
occupied.”

She huffed. “That man hasn’t taken seriously any of
the attacks on me. He refuses to believe—” She clutched his hand. “Wait. I just
remembered. Galt was the first cop at the barn fire scene.”

She saw the instant he understood. His expression
hardened. “How do you know that?”

“He told me. In his office. Is it possible he was
involved?
Is
involved?”

Jake’s brows drew together in his analytical
expression. He was nothing if not methodical in process. “The investigator’s
report must have that info. I just disregarded it. Galt was out on patrol. No
reason to ask for his alibi. As a police officer, he’d have known about the
fire-starting technique with the matches and cigarette used at Tyson’s. But
why?”

Bile stung her throat at what she was thinking. But it
fit. “Maybe Norman Galt was Gail’s secret lover that night.”

A dark look—his cop look—shuttered his expression. “Gail
was eighteen. He’s what? Nearly fifty? Twelve years ago he’d have been
thirty-eight or so. Not much younger than her dad. Or mine.” He shook his head.

“She said something that night I didn’t tell you.”

“Because?”

She sighed. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. At
the time, it seemed inconsequential.”

“Give.”

“It was when she was storming around after claiming
she broke up with you. She said something like she was glad to be rid of you
because you were only a
‘boring boy.’
Ouch.”

He winced as he scribbled something. “Yeah, ouch. Sour
grapes or her lover
could
’ve been older. How much older is the question.
I’ll have my contact do some more digging.” He slipped the notebook back in his
pocket.

“They’re keeping me overnight for observation but I
can go home tomorrow.”

“About that,” he began.

She sat back and freed her hand. “You want them to
keep me in this antiseptic prison?”

Smiling, he shook his head. “You have to admit that
even with new locks, your house isn’t a fortress.”

She stiffened. “I told you before I can’t—”

“Afford a hotel. I know.” Smiling, he squeezed her
hand. “The
Amy Jo
has plenty of room. Room that includes privacy.”

The heat in his eyes said privacy was an option. And
reminded her how much she’d wanted him the other night—how much she still
wanted him and liked him. He’d saved her life twice. With him she’d be safe
from harm. But staying with him in the confines of the boat’s cabin? Intimacy
with this complicated man would shoot holes in what resistance she had left.

“You could stay at the farmhouse,” she said. “Plenty
of bedrooms. And privacy. Better yet, you could prowl around all night
protecting me.”

He ran his tongue around his teeth, clearly to hide
his amusement. “Honey, protecting you is a 24/7 job.”

“A job you didn’t want to begin with.” As if he needed
reminding.

He wagged his head. “No more than you
wanted
me
to protect you.”

“You’ve saved my life yet again, Jake. And you say you’re
no good at protecting?”

“Just dumb luck. Doesn’t make up for my failures.” He
paused, as if struggling with the idea he could fail again. “For now I see no
alternative for either of us. Agreed?”

“Having me out there alone makes me bait. Wouldn’t
that help you catch our bad guy?”

He shook his head at her outrageous—yes, she admitted
it was outrageous—proposal. “You’ll still be front and center for interviews.
Live
bait is preferable to
dead
bait.” He watched his words sink in. “So,
agreed?”

“We seem to be stuck with each other.”

“Whoa, who’d ever believe I could talk you into
anything? But no 24/7 in a big old farmhouse. I need my sleep. If I have to
protect you, I’d prefer an easier location. That farmhouse is too vulnerable.”

“You installed new locks. I thought I was all set.
What else?”

“One, too many rooms to monitor.” He ticked off the
reasons on his fingers. “Two, too isolated. The public landing has security
lights. Two blocks from the police station. Three, when I go ashore, the
harbormaster and any number of boaters are there if you call for help.”

He gathered up her hand again and kissed the healed
palm. She nearly sighed at the gentle caress of his lips.

“And four,” he said, his voice low and his words
precise, “the killer has set two fires already. That we know of. No reason he
wouldn’t start another to eliminate his last possible witness. Even if she
never remembers anything. The dry wood in that old farmhouse would burn like a
matchbook.”

Eyes wide open, she smelled the smoke, felt the heat,
heard the roar and snap of flames. She never wanted to experience that terror
again. Her throat closed and her whole body shook.

Chapter 16

Late the next morning, Jake picked up Lani at the
hospital and drove her to the farm, where Norman Galt waited for them beside
the garage, the scene of the crime. She requested the appointment so she could
show the chief of police how the attack had happened. And quiz the man about
Gail.

He hustled around the Cherokee to her, but she slid
out before he could reach the door. She was still shaky and weak from the
carbon monoxide. Pale but determined. All he could do was stand by in the light
fog, thinning under the sun’s rays.

The big man stroked his mustache and hitched up his
gun belt as they joined him. Although shaded by the brim of his DHPD cap, his
unsmiling face held a skeptical look. “Glad to see you’re up and about, Ms.
Cameron. I won’t take too much of your time.”

“I’m fine, Chief.” She kept a firm grip on the garage
door handle. “Showing you what happened yesterday is important.”

“My sergeant and another officer went over this place
for evidence. Like I told you, we found nothing to suggest anyone was here but
you.” His mouth thinned as he glanced at Jake. “And then Wescott. You can see
the drag marks when he pulled you out.”

She flashed Jake a small smile before turning back to
Galt. “Nevertheless, I’ll walk you through what happened.”

Jake observed as she entered the small garage, her
sneakers scuffing the stones. No noxious odors greeted them, only earthy and
slightly musty smells mingled with traces of motor oil and gasoline. The rental
VW sat on their right. A shelf on the left wall held clippers and other small
garden tools.

Lani narrated her actions as she went through
yesterday’s events. Locking the door, hearing rustling but thinking it a
squirrel. Hearing a new noise, worrying and readying her pepper spray. Then
excruciating pain and nothing. “I never saw anything but a blur of movement in
the shadows, so I have no description. You didn’t find anything in the car? No
fingerprints?”

“Only yours. A few hairs, long and dark, like yours.
No alien fibers. My sergeant talked to Buddy. The car was detailed before you
rented it, wiped down from stem to stern. If there was an attacker, he wore
gloves.”

“
If
, Chief?” Jake said, stepping closer to
Lani, who looked shaky. She waved him off. “I saw a truck pull out of the woods
and speed away. Looked like Ford taillights.”

Galt shrugged, scratched his nape. “Can’t prove a
connection. No tracks through the field or anywhere else. You got no tag
number. Lots of Ford trucks around. Could’ve been some guy clammin’. Low tide
at the time.”

Jake had seen the truck before realizing Lani was in
trouble, so he hadn’t paid attention. But he
did
return yesterday
afternoon to go over the scene. He couldn’t refute what the chief said, even
the mystery truck. Walking the old woods road yielded nothing. Countless tire
tracks, all old in the rocky soil. Beer cans, cigarette butts, none fresh.

The assailant could’ve walked across the field or
under cover of the pines and birches between the field and the shore, the same
path Jake took the other day to join her. The same path Gail’s lover might have
taken to join her twelve years ago.

He barely heard Lani arguing a point with the chief. A
new suspicion turned him toward the pines. What if Gail’s lover, her killer,
hadn’t arrived by car? He could’ve come by boat. But twelve years later would
make sorting that out near impossible.

“You warned me about stirring up trouble by asking questions,”
Lani said, and Jake shook himself back to attention. “Now when trouble pops up
to whack me good, you refuse to believe me.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” Galt’s deep voice
lost its smooth finish as he strode out of the garage, increasingly stuffy as
the sun heated its old-style tin roof. “But there’s no evidence to follow. I’ll
keep my people on the case. Still, all this questioning riles folks.”

Lani followed him, stride for stride, skirted him, and
pinned him with her gaze. “You’re already
riled
, so I’ll ask you. Did
you know my sister back then?”

Galt blinked. Backed up a step, as if remembering the
lecture she delivered yesterday. Jake ran his tongue around his teeth and
studied his shoes.

“I remember you twins.” The police chief’s expression
shuttered into cop blankness. “Hard to miss two girls so identical, but that’s
all. Never spoke to either of you that I recall. Had my own troubles that year.
Went through a rough time with my divorce.”

*****

“What do you think about Galt’s answer?” Lani asked
later in Jake’s SUV. After the unsatisfying meeting with Galt, she’d packed a
bag and they were driving to the harbor.

“He didn’t much like your question,” Jake said. “Hard
to know how much his divorce colored his response. What do you want to do?”

She relaxed against the headrest. “No one has
mentioned ever seeing my sister with Galt. No whisper about him. Only my
suspicion because he keeps warning me away. I’d like to look into the
possibility.”

“Galt’s background check came back. Honorable service
record in the navy, then came home to join the DHPD. Been divorced twice.”

She sat up straighter. “Wonder if he was sleeping
around.”

“My thoughts exactly. My old guys at the cafe might
have a line on that.”

Lani had another idea, but the library would have to
wait until another day.

*****

Jake stared out the porthole at the wispy clouds
netting the gibbous moon and listened for sounds from the other berth beyond
the canvas curtain.

He’d smothered a chuckle as Lani stowed away
essentials for what she called her “protective custody” on the
Amy Jo
.
For supper they ate the general store’s potato salad and chicken thighs he
grilled on deck.

Fatigue was one of the fallouts from carbon monoxide
inhalation, the doctor had said, so no surprise when she fell asleep in her
deck chair. He bundled her below and into her berth before crawling into his. A
little early for him, but he needed to assure himself she was all right.

He heard the shuffle and slide of cloth as she changed
from her shorts and tee and slid between the sheets. Was she wearing her bra
and panties? Or a silky nightgown? Or only her skin wrapped in the sheet and
thermal blanket?

The remembered feel of her breast in his hand stoked
his yearning to see her, all of her, and had his hands itching. Images scrolled
through his imagination in an erotic PowerPoint presentation. Heated to simmer,
he tossed off his sheet and adjusted his boxers to accommodate his hardening
body.

He held his breath as he listened, feeling like a
voyeur. But hell, it was his boat. Sort of. More rustling as she settled. A
murmur or two. Then silence. He exhaled. Tried to relax. No go.

Having her so near, hearing her sighs, catching her
scent, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep even counting the pings of the
halyard against the neighboring sloop’s mast.

That was earlier.

Now after midnight the groan of the old boat and the
slosh of water still kept him awake. An occasional gull squawk punctuated the
quiet. He flopped around on his pillow. A breeze through the porthole brought
cooler air and the night’s salty scents. But he still couldn’t sleep.

Lani was becoming increasingly important to him, more
than was safe. For either of them. He’d do his damnedest not to let harm come
to her, although his track record kept his gut in knots. He flopped around on
his flattened pillow.

He was just drifting off when the swish and whisper of
sheets popped open his eyes. Agitated murmurs accompanied the continued
shuffling. She groaned, first softly, then louder in clear distress. He’d be
surprised if she
didn’t
have nightmares. He swung around and lowered his
bare feet to the deck. Maybe he should leave her alone.

“Noooo!”

Heart pounding, he launched himself off the bunk and
flung aside the curtain. Lani sat upright. She gasped for breath. Her owl-wide
eyes glinted in the porthole’s dim light.

He stood by the berth and watched her as awareness
kicked in. “You okay?”

She nodded and sucked in a deep breath. As pale as
moonlight, she looked small and vulnerable in a long tee adorned with orange
flip-flops. A bandage held a gauze pad to the back of her right hand, where the
saline drip had fed her bloodstream. The reminder of how close she’d come to
dying made his gut twist.

“Nightmare?”

She glared at him. “No, Sherlock. A murderer crawled
through the porthole and attacked m-me.” Her trembling lips negated her
bravado.

“And you tossed him right back out. I heard the
splash.” He crossed to the edge of the berth and waited, unsure of his next
move.

The shirt had slid to the side, baring her left
shoulder and giving him a glimpse of the elusive tattoo. But only a curved
shadow. He jerked his gaze up to her too-round eyes.

Easing onto the mattress, he propped a pillow and
leaned back. When he opened his arms, she snuggled against him and didn’t object
when he wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.
Draped her left arm across his chest.

She smelled of his deodorant soap as well as her
shampoo. The combination was somehow more erotic and hardened him
again—automatic where she was concerned but at the moment not convenient. If he
made a move on her, she’d dump him overboard. She was frightened and still
healing. She needed him. For comfort and not for sex.

He pulled the sheet over his legs and lifted his right
knee. “Yesterday’s attack or the fire? The dream, I mean.”

She shuddered. “The fire. It’s always the fire. Lately
with a new twist.”

Always
. Seemed she had nightmares on a regular
basis. “Want to tell me about it?”

She pressed closer to him and he tightened his hold.

“Okay,” she said on a deep breath. Her grip locked
onto his ribs as if she were clinging to a life preserver. “There’s not much to
tell. I’m on the porch. I smell smoke and feel the heat. Then I see it—him.”

He tensed, every cell alert. “
Him?
You saw the
arsonist?”

Shaking her head, she leaned back and propped herself
up on one elbow. Her eyes were luminous. “I don’t know what I saw. If I saw
anything.”

“So what
did
you mean?”

“In the dream, I see a fire monster, a sort of dragon.
Since the first dream after that night, always the same until now.”

“What’s different?”

“The dreams continue but no more dragon. Funny, now
that I’m in Dragon Harbor.”

“A dragon maybe originally
because
of Dragon
Harbor.” Maybe her return was transforming the imaginary dragon to the reality
of memory. Not a good idea to lead her to that conclusion. “And now?”

“Since the threats—or maybe just since I came back to
the farm—the fire monster has morphed into a giant flaming Bigfoot. He towers
over me at the door to the barn. And then he roars and—” She sniffed and shook
her head. Her dark mane curtained her face, hiding the facial scar.

Maybe she did see the arsonist. Maybe she
was
starting to remember. He swept her hair from her cheek. Tucked it behind her
ear. Gently caressed her head. While trying not to notice the silkiness beneath
his fingers or her softness against his side. He clenched his teeth so hard his
jaw popped.

When she relaxed onto his shoulder, he gave her a
minute, then said, “Is that what made you cry out, when you saw the monster?”

Releasing her grip on his side, she laid her hand on
his sternum. “I cried out?”

“Loud enough to wake the guests up the hill at the
inn.”

He felt her smile against his chest. “I don’t know
what made me yell. The last thing I remember in the dream is seeing Gail on the
barn floor. I start to run toward her but my legs won’t move fast enough. Maybe
I’m dragging her out and I can’t make it. I don’t...”

“It’s all right, honey.” He snuggled her closer. “You
always second guess your bravery in trying to save your sister. Only natural
but you did all you could.” More than most would. More than he did. “Grief
eases with time but guilt is another matter. Even unwarranted guilt.” He knew
from experience. But Lani was tougher than he was.

“I know. Counseling after the fire helped me see the
truth but the guilt never goes away completely. I’ve never told anyone but my
counselor about the nightmare.”

“Thanks for trusting me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Smiling, he felt her settle into the bed, using his
chest for her pillow. Her hand threaded through his chest hairs, rippling
current along the skin. She hooked her left leg over his. Her smooth, slim,
bare leg.

She was all relaxed now, soft and pliant. Never mind
the blaze in her nightmare. He’d need the fire departments from three towns to
extinguish the conflagration in his body. He was about to slide down and kiss
her, but she’d fallen asleep. Her hand rested lightly on his chest. Her jaw was
slack and her breathing regular and easy.

If he left now, she might wake up. Or the nightmare
could return. He’d be back here anyway, so he might as well stay. He eased down
in the bed and blinked, resigned to a night of no sleep.

Things between them had changed, but he should be
careful of what new direction they went. He liked her. He wanted her. And vice
versa. Probably. But he couldn’t allow himself to mistake lust and respect for
love.