Waking Nightmare (17 page)
Together they surveyed her car, and if anything, her expression grew grimmer. There was a hole roughly eight inches in circumference through the driver side windshield, and the rest of it was a mass of cracks. Ryne went to the driver side door and peered in the window. A brick sat in the seat.
“I’ll call it in,” he said, already taking his cell phone from his pocket. Abbie just nodded, her gaze never leaving the car. He didn’t mention the question uppermost in his mind. Not then. But he couldn’t help wondering how someone who’d been in town a matter of days had been targeted not once, but twice.
His call completed, he slipped the phone back in his pocket. Before he was through today, he’d have the answer to that question, and whatever else it was that Abbie was holding back from him.
Abbie slouched in the front seat of Ryne’s black vintage Mustang. Ordinarily she would have taken a moment to appreciate the sleekly restored vehicle. She wouldn’t have pegged him as a car buff. But she was too busy dealing with the welter of emotion crashing inside her.
She could no longer doubt that her sister was in Savannah. Useless to ask why she’d followed Abbie here, or what had prompted Callie’s behavior this time. Figuring out why her sister did the things she did was beyond Abbie, regardless of her degree. Far more practical to focus on the problems her presence presented.
Callie was off her medication; that was clear enough. When she didn’t take her pills, she could seem fine for weeks at a time. And then the inevitable crash occurred, and everyone close to her would feel the repercussions. Abbie had lived with those repercussions all her life. Callie was capable of far worse than a vandalized wardrobe and a brick through a car window. And it was that fact that had her worried.
Should she call Dr. Faulkner? She hadn’t talked to her sister’s psychotherapist for four months, approximately the time Callie had stopped seeing him. He hadn’t been able to tell Abbie that, of course. Callie had long since stopped signing agreements to release information to her sister. But Abbie had been able to read between the lines of his guarded responses.
In the next moment she decided against it. If Callie was responsible for the acts against her, it was plain she wasn’t under a doctor’s care anymore. Abbie had lost count of the number of times this cycle had been repeated. The best thing to do was to meet her face-to-face. Sometimes that had a calming effect on her. At least for a while.
She slid a look at Ryne. He’d slipped on his sunglasses so she couldn’t see his eyes, but his expression was neutral. It was hard to believe, however, that he wasn’t wondering what the hell was going on, and she braced herself for an onslaught of questions.
“So are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Mentally preparing herself to do battle, she said, “What?”
He turned to grin at her. “That maybe Barlow paid someone to throw that brick just so you’d stop beating the hell out of him in front of his friends?”
That surprised a laugh from her. “Somehow I doubt it. He’s good. I can tell he trains.”
“I hear he was on the amateur circuit before joining the academy. From all accounts, he made a name for himself but chose police work instead.”
From there, the conversation turned to her training in Muay Thai, the gym facility, and eventually to Ryne’s car, which he confessed he’d bought because he’d always coveted one when he was a teenager. And the talk of innocuous subjects had something in Abbie easing. She didn’t have to explain her family to Ryne or anyone else. Which left her time to worry about how she was going to get Callie to meet her face-to-face and try to convince her to go back on her medication. To return to therapy.
And for now she wasn’t going to consider just how she was going to accomplish either task.
“Thanks for the ride.”
Ryne got out when Abbie did and reached into the backseat to retrieve her gym bag. She hadn’t bothered to change before accepting his offer of a ride home. For that matter, neither had he. After filing the police report and then an incident report for the gym, she’d been ready to call it a day. She still needed to contact the rental agency and order a replacement vehicle. Not to mention dealing with the insurance hassle that was sure to follow.
Her mood darkened again at the thought. It didn’t improve any when Ryne ignored her outstretched hand and instead carried her bag to her back door. He had been suspiciously good-natured about the events of the day. But now that she was home again, she was anxious to have him gone, a fact that made her feel churlish.
So she squelched the urge to tell him she could handle things from here and took the house key from her bag to unlock the door. He walked through it and she immediately regretted her action.
The man had a presence that left an indelible impression. The only other time he’d spent here had been brief, but ever since, she’d pass through a doorway and have a mental flash of him framed in it. Each time she looked at the pictures on the mantel, she’d have an image of him standing in front of the fireplace, studying each photo in turn.
Those brief flashes were disturbing, made all the more so by the knowledge that they were powered by her awareness of him. The awareness was unwelcome. And more than a little unfamiliar.
She reached to take the bag from him, intent on sending him on his way. “Thanks again. Hopefully I can get the rental agency to deliver another car yet tonight.”
He gave an absent nod, studying the glass that had been replaced. “Stanley Glass didn’t overcharge you?”
Something about his manner had wariness circling inside her. “You can’t be interested in the details of the replacement pane.”
“No, you’re right. He leaned a hip against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “I’m more interested in the details you’ve been keeping from me since the break-in. Like the name of the person who’s been targeting you.”
In the inner recesses of her mind she could hear the sound of a trap snapping shut. The easy conversation, the offer of a ride . . . this had been his intention all along. She’d been a fool to think that a man like Ryne Robel would let any of this go. He’d only been biding his time.
Manufacturing a tired shrug, she said, “We really aren’t going to do this again, are we? I’ve had some bad luck, but—”
“Bullshit.” The steel in his tone had her blinking. “Someone followed you here, or maybe they came with you. But whoever it is has a major hard-on against you, Abbie. And you’re going to tell me who and you’re going to tell me why.”
Abruptly dropping the charade, she folded her arms across her chest, mimicking his stance. “No,” she said baldly. “I’m not.”
He was upright in an instant, moving toward her. He took her elbow in his hand when she would have walked away from him, and he shoved his face close to hers. “This is my case, and I don’t need anything or anyone screwing it up. If you’ve got some kind of problem that could potentially impact it . . .”
“The case?” For a moment she was nonplussed. “This has nothing to do with the case.”
He looked unconvinced. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
She pulled free of him. “This doesn’t concern the investigation, or you. It has to do with my life, and as such, it’s my business. Have you seen one example of me being distracted? I spend nearly as long hours as you do at headquarters.”
“Maybe it hasn’t affected the case yet, but it could. I won’t know that until you come clean about what’s happening. And if you won’t tell me,” he added, forestalling her next refusal, “I’m going to Dixon and ask to have you removed.”
Shock flared, followed quickly by anger. “He won’t remove me. You know why? Because you’re overreacting. He’ll realize it, even if you don’t.”
“Maybe not.” She didn’t like the looks of that satisfied smile on his lips. “But he’ll ask you the same questions that I am. Who do you want to explain it to, him or me?”
That stopped her short. She was certain it was meant to. Of course she didn’t want to be having this conversation with Commander Dixon. Only slightly less than she wanted to be having it with Robel.
She sent him a look filled with dislike. “You’re pushy.”
He inclined his head. “It’s been mentioned.”
“Not to mention manipulative.”
He made a c’mon gesture with his hand. When she remained silent, he said, “It was a guy seen running away from your car today. So who is he? An ex-boyfriend? Husband, maybe?”
“Neither.” Still fuming, she picked up her bag and carried it into her bedroom, dropped it on the floor. She turned and found him standing in the doorway. Elbowing past him, she walked back out into the living room. Her gaze went involuntarily to the pictures on the mantel, and a sense of resignation filled her.
“So you’re claiming you don’t know the guy who shattered your windshield.”
She shook her head, her mind filled with too many scenes from the past. All fraught with drama. All that had left her with a lingering sense of despair. “He could have been anyone. She would have paid him or made some other sort of exchange.” Promiscuity was just one of the destructive behavior patterns that emerged when Callie was off her meds.
“She . . . who?”
“My sister. She’s bipolar, and when she isn’t under a doctor’s care, her behavior can be . . . erratic.”
Although she didn’t look at him, she could tell her response had surprised him. And for the moment she was too caught up in the past to resent his prying. Callie was the only real family she had, although they were more like survivors of a natural disaster than
sisters
. The complexity of their relationship would keep a good psychotherapist busy unraveling it for years. She barely understood it herself.
sisters
. The complexity of their relationship would keep a good psychotherapist busy unraveling it for years. She barely understood it herself.
“She lives down here?”
“No.” Then she corrected herself. “I don’t know. She moves around a lot. And she hasn’t been in communication for a few months. I leave her forwarding addresses, so she knew where I’d be.” But she hadn’t expected Callie to follow her here. She never had before.
“Would she try to hurt you?”
Her gaze snapped to meet Ryne’s, surprised at the question. Surprised at the immediate denial that rose to her lips. Few knew the lengths Callie had gone to in order to protect Abbie when they were children. Fewer still understood what it meant to owe such a staggering debt. She’d been paying it, in one manner or another, all her life.
Suddenly chilled, she hugged her arms. “I’m not afraid of her. When she’s ready, she’ll reach out.” At the doubt in his gaze, she added, “I’ve been handling her all my life, Ryne. Despite the fact that she’s older than me, I was named her guardian for a time. This is a complication for me, but it isn’t a complication for the investigation.”
He was silent for long moments, moments that had tension settling through her shoulders. Then he gave a slow nod. “All right.”
Irritation spiked. “Glad the sordid little details of my family drama could put your mind at rest.” It was more, far more personal information than she’d shared with anyone in years, with the exception of Adam Raiker, from whom very little could be withheld. And she fiercely resented Robel for forcing her hand.
She walked by him, headed for the door, ready to show him out. As she would have passed by him, he halted her with one hand on her arm. “I’m sorry.”
Warily, she stared at him. “For prying into something that was none of your business?”
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