Soft Target (19 page)

They stayed silent through the garage and into the kitchen. She kept going toward her room. No, dammit. They were going to talk.

“You ran out of gas?”

The edge to his question made him wince. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to start.

“I thought I had half a tank. I must’ve misread the gauge.”

She wouldn’t look him in the eye. She was lying. He was tired of being lied to, of being shut out while she accepted help from everyone else.

“Jesus, Maggie. Why do you make
everything
difficult?” He slammed his finger on the number for Max’s speed dial. “Max, get around back and check Maggie’s parking space. Gas. We’re looking for leaked gas. Call Marco. Maggie’s car is on the side of the road about a mile from the house. Ask him to tow it to the station. Yes,
tonight
. It’s evidence. Get Chet to watch it until Marco gets there. Well, wake him up. He needs to keep an eye on Orrin’s front door while you’re in the back.”

“Tell Marco I’ll pay him extra.”

Gray disconnected the call. “You can’t buy your way out of this.”

“What?” she snapped.

“This is your fault. You’re a pain in the ass, and your money, or cookies, or coffee won’t fix it.”

“Don’t you think—”

“I haven’t thought straight since I got here. We’re doing this
my
way.”

She stared at him, her mouth in a thin line.

“Speaking of thinking straight. You were going to ride home with Carl after our conversation?”

“He was returning a favor. I rescued him after prom when his alternator went out. That’s what
friends
do,” she taunted.

“Your grandfather always said Nate got all the luck and you got all the brains. I’m beginning to wonder. What part of
suspect
don’t you get? How could you—”

Her face twisted into an ugly sneer. “Because he was here and you were with
Amber
.”

“Amber?”
How did pie two months ago turn into sex?

“Don’t treat me like a moron. You could’ve at least washed her fucking lipstick off your face.”

Is she jealous?
The thought gave him hope as he scrubbed his cheek.

“Do you know what it was like to work in the bar
alone
after everyone saw your name in that fucking divorce pool?”

Shit.

“I was trying to help
you,” Gray roared, his embarrassment boosting his volume.

“Who asked you to?” She might look fragile, but her voice was granite and gravel. “It was baseless gossip until you waltzed in there and made it fact.” Shaking so violently her hair trembled, she tilted her chin and spun on her heel, but not before he saw the tears pooling in her eyes.

His lungs twisted, and he grabbed her arm to stop her so she could hear his apology. She jerked against his hold.

It was too late for explanations. He dropped his hand and watched her walk away.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sunshine dappled the curtains as sparrows chirped good morning and begged for seed. Faye’s bird feeders had been the only things Maggie hadn’t maintained. It was too much trouble to drive out and refill them, and she didn’t want to promise and then not deliver. Maybe now—
No. This isn’t your home.

She stood in the hallway and listened to the quiet house. He was still asleep, or maybe he’d left for work. She sighed. No. He couldn’t leave her alone, and now he was her ride to town. Another job.

Deftly avoiding the squeaky floorboards, she closed the bathroom door and stared into the mirror. She felt like a pumpkin scooped out to make a jack-o’-lantern, and she looked worse. She climbed under the shower spray and let it beat her tension away. Breakfast would help, and maybe she could get a nap this afternoon.

When she emerged from the bathroom, the house smelled of coffee, bacon and pancakes. Graham was working at the stove while the morning news mumbled in the background about the weather in other cities. The national news always showed Chicago as the beacon of Midwestern weather. He looked over his shoulder when they mentioned a picture of the fog.
He’s eager to get home.

Her coffee cup and her favorite additions waited for her. It was an offer to return to the way things had been—an olive branch as symbolic as the one circling her finger. It would be easier to ignore it and stay angry. Just like it would be easier to take off the ring and put it in a drawer. But she couldn’t. She’d tried.

As she put the cream in the refrigerator, she heard him swear as the skillet clattered to the stove. She reached to balance it, putting her hand over his trembling one. “I have it. Let go.”

She got a good look at his face. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks.” He rolled his shoulder and then his neck, wincing with each effort. “My head hurts.”

She led him to the patio and kept him in the shade while she ferried breakfast out. “Eat, and then you can have some aspirin.”

The birds chirped around them as the morning breeze cooled their bacon.

“They seem agitated,” he said.

“They’re jealous. Where did you learn to cook?”

“My mom makes a big breakfast every morning. I never really appreciated it until I was in law school.” He shrugged and winced again. “It’s the only meal I’m not rushing through.” He set his fork next to his empty plate and drew a deep breath. “We’re going to have to arrange some sort of truce, if for no other reason than to save my liver. I can’t survive on aspirin and beer.”

“We are falling into a dismal pattern,” she agreed. “It’s wearing to lie.”

“Tell me about it.” He kept her gaze. “I’m sorry about the pool. Nate told me about it, and told me he was stopping it, but I lost my temper. I thought having my name on the board would shame everyone into stopping. Okay?”

“I wish you’d told me so I could’ve been prepared.” She met his gaze across the table. “I’ve handled Kate for years, Graham. Don’t keep me out of my own life.”

He nodded. “I’ll talk to you more.” He dropped his gaze to his shoes, and ran his hand back through his hair. “I didn’t meet Amber. I saw an ex-girlfriend in Boise. She was passing through, and I met her there because I didn’t want her near here.”

Maggie thought about all the times she’d smelled that horrible perfume. “She passes through a lot.”

“She won’t anymore. I wouldn’t have seen her at all except that I work with her, and I’d rather not deal with her when I get home. I’ll have enough to deal with as it is.”

His last statement was muffled as he twisted his neck and tried to reach his shoulder with his opposite hand. The sunlight angled under the eaves, and he squinted and flinched away. A truce required action on both sides. He’d been honest. She could try to help him.

Moving her chair by lifting it rather than scraping it along the stone, Maggie stood behind him. The webbed scar tissue was thick and gnarled, and the healed exit wound was visible from the back. She warred between the desire to help and the fear of hurting him.

Holding her breath, she spread her fingers and rested her hands on his shoulders. He flinched.

“Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head violently and curled in on himself with a groan.

She kept her hands still until he straightened. “You’ll tell me if I’m making it worse?”

“Yes,” he moaned as she explored his neck and then down his shoulders, being gentle on his left side.

He dropped his chin to his chest. “I won’t break.”

She increased the pressure, working to his shoulder blades, only to jerk away when he flinched again.

“It’s not painful.” He looked over his shoulder. “Please.”

Starting again, Maggie kneaded the muscles in his neck and worked at the base of his skull. Finding a knot, she pressed into it with her thumbs. From there, she followed the tense path to his shoulders and down his spine. She worked with no noise other than nature.

His skin heated, and muscles rippled and softened under her exploration. When his breaths sped, mimicking hers, she thought of things she shouldn’t. Wrestling her imagination into submission, she returned to the tendons in his neck, feeling them respond as his chin lowered. As a finale, she worked up his scalp, tugging his damp hair.

His voice was gravelly. “I hate fighting with you.”

She was mesmerized by the silkiness of his hair and the almost blue tint of it in the light. “Me too.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“It was late, and everyone has someone at home.”

“
Me.
Why didn’t you call me?”

She swallowed her ready retort. He was out of pain. She’d finally done something right, and she wasn’t going to undo it.

With a sigh, he stood and walked into the house, returning with their phones in his hand. He put his on the table and dialed hers.

His phone vibrated, sounding like a jackhammer as it danced on the granite surface and the alert light strobed. “Flight of the Bumblebee” blared across the porch, silencing the sparrows. It went on forever. She arched her eyebrow.

“It’s the most annoying song I could find.” He winked before he sobered and put his hand over hers. “I will always answer you.”

“I’m not used to—”

“Get used to it.” He tempered the blunt statement with a quick smile.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled away. No matter how much she’d like to, she shouldn’t get used to that.

She stood and gathered their breakfast dishes. He stayed on her heels until they reached the kitchen. Once her hands were empty, he took hold of her shoulders.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t refuse. He was warm and tall, and his cologne tickled her nose. But above all else, his touch made her toes curl. She raised her gaze to his sad, somber stare.

“I never meant to hurt you, Maggie. I’m sorry. Can we start over?”

Her heart thudded. “How far over?”

“From the Grand Canyon.”

That had been her favorite day. After discovering the trip was on both of their bucket lists, they’d taken a helicopter tour from Vegas and spent the day sharing an adventure. All day long they’d held hands and she’d fought the urge to kiss him.

“Trust me. Please?”

Trust him? When he stirred every dangerous feeling in her body? When she craved him the way he craved coffee? No one in her life, past or present, had the bigger potential to break her heart.

But she wanted to trust him more than anything. Balling her fingers into fists, she nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

Against his instincts, Gray took her to Marco’s garage, approved a sensible rental and watched her drive away. Then he went to the police station.

As he entered, Max looked up from his file. “This is the second time he’s tried to hurt her on my watch. I’m starting to take it personally.”

“I know how you feel.” Gray sat on the corner of the desk. “Could it be Carl? He was way too eager to take her home last night.”

Chet walked into the room. “I don’t think so. He was here Monday night when the rocks went through the windows. He’d spent all day at the vet with an injured stray dog, and he had to change before he went to work at the truck stop.”

Damn. Carl had been his best suspect. Organized, obsessive, poor—with an alibi. Could Chet be wrong about the time, or the date? Could Carl have broken the windows on his way out of town? Could it have been Max?

As Gray’s brain shuffled suspects and evidence, he left for the hospital. He had a promise to keep.

The hall of the small hospital made him claustrophobic. He hated these places, with their sounds and smells and their cold, but he’d promised Sarah he’d visit every day. Forming a smile, he walked into her room.

Sick children should be surrounded by other children, but the facility lacked a pediatric unit. At least Sarah had a private room, and the Mitchells had made the best of it. A colorful wad of balloons clung to one corner of the ceiling and a herd of stuffed animals filled one chair. The little girl was dwarfed by tubes and machines, but she was sitting up so she could look out the window when she was awake. Her kitten was curled on her lap.

Jerry stood as he came in. “Congratulations on the wedding! You two sure didn’t waste any time.”

“Sometimes you just know it’s the right thing to do.” Gray took the vacant chair and kept his voice low. “I can watch her if you need a break.”

He knew his friends had done the same for his parents after the shooting. He had vague memories of his mother sleeping on a nearby cot while Jeff spun wild yarns at his bedside.

“She looks forward to your visits, and we can’t thank you enough for recommending Doctor Myers. She and Doctor Simon are coordinating a treatment plan to get her strong enough for an operation.”

Gray looked at Sarah, pale in the sunshine. “Children shouldn’t be sick.”

“They shouldn’t. She’s excited about Chicago. She’ll probably pester you with questions.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gray offered, “but I’ve arranged for you guys to have my apartment while you’re there. My friend Bob will meet you at the airport. He has the keys.”

“Wow.” Jerry sagged. “No wonder Maggie married you. I’m going to get lunch. I’ll bring you a sandwich. You have my number, right?”

Gray smiled and shooed the father out the door. Once alone, he sat in the quiet and waited. Sarah’s naps were never long. When she woke, her weak smile was hidden under her respirator. Gray swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hi, Sleeping Beauty. It’s a pretty day today.”

She looked out the window. “I wish I wasn’t sick.”

He remembered staring out his window, bored out of his mind, and terrified he’d never heal. No matter how many people visited, he’d always felt alone.

“Did you know I was sick, too?”

Sarah turned away from the window. “You were?”

He nodded. “I spent a long time in the hospital, but I finally got well and got to go home. I did exactly what my doctor told me to, even if it hurt or made me tired.”

She stroked the kitten curled on the blanket between them. “Did you have a cat to play with?”

“Nope. I have to admit, that’s pretty cool.”

“Were you scared?” she asked as big tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

He took her tiny hand in his. “All the time, Sarah. It’s okay to be scared. But sometimes you get past the scary stuff and everything is much better. That’s what happened for me.”

A shadow fell across the room, and Gray looked up to see Maggie pushing a book cart through the door. She slid to a stop when she saw him. He waved with his free hand.

“Do you think I’ll get better?” Sarah asked.

“Yes,” he stated flatly, and then prayed he was right. “Why don’t we pick a book?”

Maggie brought the cart closer, and caught his hand in hers. “Hi, Sarah. What do you want to read today?”

“Gray can pick.”

He reviewed the selection, taking a moment to catch his breath. She was so weak. Maggie squeezed his fingers, and he squeezed back as he pulled
Pippi Longstocking
from the shelf.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Maggie whispered before she looked over his shoulder. “‘Bye, Sarah. Make sure he doesn’t skip any good parts.”

Gray read until he was hoarse, finishing a chapter just as Jerry came back into the room. It was time to leave for the stone yard.

“Gotta go to work,” Gray said to Sarah. “I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

* * *

After a long day, he arrived at Orrin’s to Maggie’s unreadable expression.

“Can we talk for a minute?” She was already halfway to his office, but she stopped and waited on him.

He ignored the teasing leers from the guys and reversed direction. She closed the door.

“You’re exhausted,” she said. “You don’t have to work like this.”

“I like it, Badger.” She and Nate worked hard. He should, too.

“Badgers are fat.” She rolled her eyes. “And they’re related to skunks.”

“They’re also short, intelligent and capable of wearing out animals twice their size.” He yawned. “And you fight like one that’s been cornered.”

“Max is here. I’m fine.” Her boardroom voice softened, and it warmed his muscles and wormed into his aching head. “Go upstairs, to the bed not the sofa, and get some rest. Leave the door open if you’d like.” Her smile was soft and real, and she stayed close instead of pushing him out the door. “Please, Graham.”

When he yawned again, he gave up and climbed the stairs.

He stripped and climbed under a hot shower, examining the product bottles like they were evidence. He sniffed everything, his brain and his body warring between memory and exhaustion. Even the water tasted like how he remembered her. He turned the temperature to cold and stood under it until he had gooseflesh and his lips were blue.

Her bed was covered with a brocade quilt and a lace bed skirt pooled on the floor. An abundance of pillows was crowded between the lamps. It was the most romantic bed he’d ever seen.
Please, Graham.
What he wouldn’t give to hear those words up here. Instead, clean and shivering, he slid beneath the quilt and sank into the soft mattress. Burrowing his nose into her pillow, he fell asleep.