Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy) (5 page)

For a long time she didn’t move. She wasn’t going to—couldn’t—take her clothes off after that kiss. It would feel like she was undressing for him. What was the matter with her? He hadn’t been trying to seduce her—he’d only been making a point, and she knew that. So why
did she feel so confused? So abandoned? Jim was a friend. Trent was her husband.

Trent is dead. Trent is gone.
No man had touched her in five years. Feeling close to tears, but refusing to give in, she stumbled forward to curl, fully clothed, on her bed. Eyes wide, she stared into the darkness, until exhaustion claimed her and she slept.

chapter four

Sally woke much too early, chilled to the bone from sleeping on top of the covers all night. No wonder she was cold. Coming more fully awake, she remembered why she was still fully dressed and lying on the bed, instead of in it.

It was all Jim Donovan’s fault. He’d gone all
cave-man on her. She got off the bed, shivering, and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing briskly, trying to generate some warmth with frozen hands. He’d made her remember needs that she’d kept submerged for years. Where had that come from anyhow? Jim had been a platonic friend ever since she’d met him.
Well, practically
. He had asked her out that once. And now, thanks to his macho-male end-of-argument kiss, she felt unstable, unsettled, and… and sort of empty inside. She shivered again. Well, she wasn’t going to have him here when Tyler woke.

Sally opened her closet and hauled out her thickest chenille robe, pulling it on and belting it right over her sweatshirt and jeans. She ma
ssaged her feet for a moment, trying to restore circulation, and then slid them into a pair of mukluks. Feeling marginally warmer, she walked into the living room and looked over the back of the couch at Jim lying sprawled on the narrow cushions.

He was huddled under his jacket, eyes closed
, gold-tipped lashes laying thick and full against his high cheekbones. The dark-blond hair needed a trim and was disheveled. He looked younger asleep. Her gaze was drawn momentarily to his firm lips, but she deliberately looked away toward the stone hearth.

Her supply of firewood was considerably diminished. He must have been feeding the fire all night long. Sympathy stirred for the long lanky man crowded onto her narrow sofa, but she stifled it. She was the one who’d frozen all night—he’d at least been by the fire. And insisting on staying had been entirely his idea.
It was, she repeated to herself, all his fault.

She leaned over the back of the couch, speaking quietly, but with u
rgency. “Donovan... Jim, wake up.” Reaching for his shoulder to shake him awake, she found her wrist instantly cuffed in a punishing grip. His reaction was so fast, she could have sworn he responded to her thought rather than her touch. With a small cry she jumped back. Immediately the pressure on her wrist was removed.

“Sorry. You startled me.” Except for his hair, he looked and sounded completely awake. How did he manage that? No matter.

“I want you out of here, now. Before Tyler wakes up.”

“It’s still dark out.”

“The sun will come up in another fifteen minutes. Go over to the shelter. It’s warm there. You can bunk on the cot in the treatment room.”

Jim wasn’t planning on sleep—besides, the treatment room was on the wrong side of the shelter. The window didn’t face toward Sal’s place. Nonetheless, he sighed heavily, and rolled to his feet. “Fine. I’ll go over to the shelter. I can watch the house from there. But as soon as Tyler gets picked up, I’m coming back—understood?”

“Yes, fine. Just go before he wakes up. Please.”

Please? That pleading tone of voice sure didn’t sound like Sally. He slanted a puzzled glance her way. “I’m going. Any chance you’ll feed me when I come back?”

“Feed you? You get out of here before I throw you out—Tyler will be waking up any second!”

Now that sounded more like it. Jim smiled as he shrugged into his jacket, then moved his car to the lot at the shelter. Going inside, he pulled the newish purple-upholstered desk chair around from behind the counter, wheeled it across the room, and settled
himself comfortably, looking out a window that gave an unobstructed view of Sally’s house.

For some reason her anxious request had bothered him—normally she would simply have ordered him out, more or less politely depending on her mood. Never mind that he had often cursed her stubbornness to himself. He didn’t like thinking that the bastard responsible for the note and the computer stunt was affecting her behavior… Or could it have been his kiss that had softened her?
Yeah right, Donovan. Getting a big head?

Back to business—how was he going to find the guy? He’d be willing to bet he had more experience with this sort of thing than anyone on the York police force—not
that he intended to get in the way. No, his concern was simply to keep Sally and Tyler safe.
And that means figuring out who’s targeting her and putting a stop to it—myself, if need be.
He let his eyes go flat and cold, as all expression left his face. It was a look he hadn’t worn for years. He allowed a grim smile. What was it they said? “Once a Marine…”

All right already! Stop playing alpha dog and put your brain to work, D
onovan. You don’t have to go back to being who you were, to know what you knew. Think, genius.

Jim settled back in the chair, keeping his eyes on the house where Sally was getting Tyler ready for school. What did he know about the bastard doing this?

It could be someone who knew Sally well. But it was much more likely that the sicko was a casual acquaintance or even a stranger to her. And, unfortunately, it appeared she had been targeted a long while ago. The only real clue was the Marine connection, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that Sally’s husband had served in the Marines and been killed.

No, there just
isn’t enough data to go on yet. Better to focus on defense.

He was going to see to it that neither Sally nor Tyler was alone until this was settled. Once the sun was up, he would call Sally’s best friend and employer, Diana Carmichael. He could count on Diana to help. She and Sally had been college roommates and basketball teammates—though Sally had been captain while Diana claimed to have mostly warmed the bench. Sally had
even stood up for Diana at her wedding to Logan Carmichael. They were practically family.

Jim
wasn’t worried about breaching Sally’s privacy—hell, Diana owned the shelter. She had a right to know what was going on, and though he wasn’t going to give her the details about the messages, she was likely to get that from Sal.

As Jim watched Sally’s house, the
sky beyond turned golden, reflecting the light of the sun as it rose above the ridge to the east of the shelter.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Diana’s number
, but the call went straight to voicemail. So they were still in bed.
Lucky Logan.
He left a message. “Diana, it’s Jim. There’s been a problem at the shelter. I need you to get one of the volunteers out here by eight this morning. Call me.”

Half an hour later, Jim’s phone rang. A glance at caller ID told him it was Diana.

“Morning, Diana. Did you listen to my message?”

“Yes. I’ve arranged an early volunteer for this morning. What’s the problem?”

“Well, I’d rather talk face to face. Can you meet me at my office at ten?”

“Of course, but why do we need a volunteer out so early?”

“You’re going to want to have double shifts out here for a while. It would be helpful if you could get that set up as soon as possible. I’ll explain at the office, but trust me—I know you’ll agree. Will you do that?”

Diana sounded a little annoyed. “Jim, I’ll start things rolling right a
fter we discuss whatever is wrong. Would you prefer to make it nine-thirty?”

“Okay,
nine-thirty, my office.” He disconnected and, settling back, continued to watch.

Not much later, he saw Tyler walk to the end of the drivew
ay to wait for the school bus. After another thirteen minutes, as the bus rolled away, Jim rose, stretched, and sauntered back to Sally’s. The front door opened as he approached. No longer looking like a loosely knotted bundle of chenille, Sally had changed into a fresh daily uniform of jeans and a tee. She wore a medium-weight flannel shirt over the top. “You’ve still got my cell phone,” she said. Her hand stuck out toward him demandingly, palm up.

He plunked the phone into her hand and walked on by, heading straight for the kitchen. Coffee smelled wonderful.

Sally watched him pour himself a mug full and lean against the counter for the first swallow of the day. “We have to talk,” she said. “This isn’t a workable solution.”

“Works fine for me. I have enough time to change at home and still get to the clinic on time.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Jim. You can’t stay here every night just because someone sent me a note and messed with my computer.”

He looked at her as if there was nothing he needed to say.

“Even if you could, what about when the weekend comes? This isn’t workable. It’s not like there’s any reason to worry, really.”

“There’s where you’re wrong, Sal.” He spoke with infuriating calm. “Someone has decided to target you. You’re being stalked. You don’t want to admit it—I understand that. I don’t much like the idea myself,
but facts are facts. Until we find out who it is and stop him, it isn’t safe for you to be alone—or Tyler either, for that matter. Can you have him do his homework at the shelter until this is resolved?”

Sally hadn’t thought about that. “Yes, of course I can—I will. But li
sten to me. You can’t stay here every night. I do appreciate your willingness to try to help, but this isn’t your problem.”

“If you decide to move into town or go to your folk’s house for an extended visit, or maybe stay with Diana and Logan, that’s fine with me.”

Sally shot him a look. “Well gee, Donovan, thanks for your permi
ssion, but I can’t do that. And I’m not going to let some creep run me off my own property or make me afraid to stay in my own house.”

“Good for you! Look, I’ve got to get going.” Jim set his cup by the sink. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I do not want you to stay here!”

He leaned in with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “I know, Sal, believe me. I know.” Leaning farther in, he kissed her full on the mouth. Her libido slammed into overdrive and faster than thought she found herself leaning into the kiss and opening to him in invitation. His tongue ran along her lips, tasting their fullness, but then, as Sally’s brain struggled to make
itself heard, he straightened with a satisfied smile and strode out of the house.

Stunned, Sally watched him walk to his truck. Her brain clicked in. Furious, she watched him drive away. Ooh, she’d like to wipe that smug look off his face. He’d caught her completely by surprise. Who did he think he was, kissing her like that? She hadn’t had a chance to protest or—be honest—enough time to enjoy it. She stepped back from the doorway and slowly closed the door. Given the way her heart was ra
cing, maybe she needed to sit down and think. But she couldn’t, not right now. It was eight o’clock and she had to get over to the shelter.

As she shrugged into her jacket and stepped out the door she saw a car already in the shelter lot. Sue Nelson, a fortyish mom who volu
nteered at the shelter once a week, was waiting for her by the door. Why was she so early? Sue wasn’t due here till nine.

Wait.
Jim.
He must have arranged this. Embarrassed, Sally stomped a straight line across the frozen ground between her home and the shelter door. Sue was probably shivering from the cold. Darn you, Donovan! This is one more thing to add to the list. First you go all male-dominant on me and stay the night when I told you to leave. Then you drag poor Sue over here early, all because of a mean trick on a computer and a couple of notes in the mailbox.

You have a lot to answer for, Doc…

And burying her awareness that Jim might not be overreacting, that she might actually be in danger, Sally hurried to open the shelter door.

Jim’s office at the York Animal Clinic was small and crowded with what Diana Carmichael saw as a jumble of all things veterinary. She watched him pace as he talked, crisscrossing in front of built-in bookshelves crowded with ominous-sounding textbooks—“Diagnostic Parasitology in Small Animals,” “Toxins and Mammalian Physiology,” and others even worse. The wall of cabinetry to her left had counters cluttered with a few large, shiny metal tools, stacks of papers, veterinary journals and a model of what looked like—maybe—a knee joint. Diana noticed that two of the lower cabinet doors were slightly open, probably too crowded to shut properly.

Jim came to a stop behind his desk and leaned forward, palms down on the cluttered surface. “Diana, I’m telling you this is serious. Until this guy is found and stopped, Sally could be in danger.”

Seated in a chair facing Jim’s desk, Diana adjusted the crease in her tailored wool slacks. Sally would say Jim was overreacting. She might be right. Diana raised her eyes. “Why do you keep assuming a man is responsible?”

Jim sat down in his chair. He pushed aside a large red book,
“The Merck Veterinary Manual,” and put both elbows on his desk. “Probability. Most stalkers are male.”

“It seems to me that both the computer and the note could just as ea
sily have been the work of a woman. Maybe an old girlfriend of yours—someone who doesn’t realize you and Sally are only friends. Maybe someone is trying to warn her off. “Semper fi” could mean the stalker is faithful to
you
.”

Jim grimaced. “I suppose it’s possible, though the last note made it pretty clear our guy is male. But tell me, why would you even think such a thing?