A Chance Encounter (13 page)

Over coffee in the kitchen, Taylor told her, “You don’t go anywhere without me, Katie. Understand? I want you to stay in this apartment with the door locked until I return. If you need me, I’ll be at the police station.”

Shakily, Katie rubbed her aching temple, unable to control the stress headache that had blossomed shortly after the threatening call. She had pulled on her lavender dress and gone through the motions of making coffee. She looked up at him. “How could everything be so beautiful one second and a nightmare the next?”

Taylor throat tightened. He set his mug on the drain board and went over to her. He slid his arms around her. “It’s going to be okay, Katie,” he assured her, holding her tight against him. He pressed a line of kisses along her jaw until he found her warm and willing lips; he drowned in her sweetness. Taylor wanted to protect her, tell her how much he loved her. But that would have to wait until this crisis passed. “I want to say so many things to you, Katie,” he whispered. “I wanted to wake up this morning and love you all over again, this time slow and sweet.”

Katie nuzzled his jaw, needing his strength more than ever before. The words, ‘
I love you,’
nearly found their way to her lips, but Katie had resolved the evening before, not to saddle Taylor with such feelings. He was still healing from the past. He didn’t need any added pressure right now. She could wait, because in her heart she knew that if it was right, they would say those words to each other one day.

“Are you giving me a rain check?” she teased; but her attempt at humor was lame. Katie saw the concern in Taylor’s narrowed eyes. She knew she couldn’t protect herself from the threat issued by the caller. It wasn’t because she was a woman; it was simply that her life experience had not prepared her for such an event. Taylor had lived with the violent side of life for a long time. He knew how criminals operated, far better than she….

“You’ve got it.” He kissed her once more, hard and swift. “I’ll be back in an hour at the latest. Call Maud and let her open the bookstore for you. When I get back, you can go down and take over—unless the police want to talk to you. Okay?”

Glumly, Katie agreed.

“Now, look, Sergeant Johnson, I don’t want any more runarounds. What about this situation with Katie Riordan?”

The sergeant, a man well into his fifties who wore a bulldog expression on his florid face, set his jaw. “And I told you before, Mr. Grant, the telephone company hasn’t been able to trace those calls.”

Taylor glared down at the overweight officer behind the desk. Typical small town cop, he thought angrily. He’d like to throw the squat, dumpy little man into a certain corner of the South Bronx for a week and see how he held up there. “The caller still hasn’t stayed on the line long enough to get a trace?” he guessed, keeping a tight rein on his escalating anger.

“He’s using throwaway cell phones.” Johnson shoved a record of all the calls toward him. “You were in crime reporting, Grant. You know we can’t zero in on whoever’s doing it without a specific phone number to target. This guy’s smart.”

Taylor looked grudgingly through the data. The sergeant was right. “What about suspects? Surely you’ve got a profile on any crazies who stir up trouble here in Rio Conchos?”

Johnson shrugged his rounded shoulders. “Look, Grant, we’re not going to put in extra man-hours at the taxpayers’ expense. Not for some bookstore owner getting lousy crank calls.”

Taylor stepped menacingly forward. “Now, you listen here, Johnson. Katie Riordan pays her taxes to this city, just like everybody else. And she deserves your concern and protection.” Uttering a violent oath, Taylor slammed his hand down on the desk.

“We ARE working on it,” Johnson sputtered, shocked by the reporter’s unexpected attack.

“Someone wants to murder Katie Riordan. That’s a hell of a lot more important, Johnson.” Taylor punched his finger toward the policeman.

“I said we’re working on it.”

“All right, Sergeant. If you won’t help, then I’ll demand access to police records and I’ll find some suspects. And when I do, I’m going to track them down myself. And then your people are going to check them out.” Taylor smiled savagely, his eyes glittering slits. “It’s my right as a citizen to protect Katie, since you refuse to do your job. Believe me, when I get done with you and this two-bit department that calls itself a police station, the whole country is going to know how you operate.”

Johnson sputtered, turning the color of a ripe plum. But he only watched as the reporter turned and headed into the room where records were kept.

Katie listened in silence as Taylor told her about his confrontation with the police. She had taken a bath and changed into an ankle-length peach skirt and white Victorian blouse. The orange belt emphasized her narrow waist. She tried to behave calmly, her fingers knotted in her lap, as she listened to Taylor’s instructions.

“I’ll take you downstairs now, Katie.” He handed her a list of addresses gleaned from the police files. “I’m going to call you once an hour to see how you’re doing. If you don’t answer that phone, I’ll be on my way back to the bookstore in an instant. If you see anyone who looks even remotely suspicious, call the police. Before I left there, Johnson promised to send a patrol car out if you called.” He forced a smile, noting how pale she had become. “I’ll be back at noon, and we’ll have lunch together.”

Katie nodded jerkily. “Do you really think all these elaborate precautions are necessary, Taylor? I mean, this guy has been calling for weeks and he’s done nothing.”

Taylor gripped her elbow, guiding Katie to her feet. She looked beautiful this morning, and Taylor wanted to tell her so. Frustration ate at him; there was so much he wanted to say to her and so little time. “We don’t know if he is or isn’t, Katie. I’m not taking a chance that he isn’t serious.” His voice trembled slightly as he led her to the door and opened it. “I care for you too much to let anything happen to you. You’re the first decent thing to happen to me in a decade, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to risk your being hurt by this jerk. Bear with me. I’ve got the names of five men who are known to have made telephone threats in the past. Four were recently released from mental hospitals. The fifth is a convicted arsonist, out on parole. Maybe I can turn up something with one of them. They all live in Rio Conchos.”

She gripped his hand. “Be careful.”

Taylor smiled. Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss on Katie’s ripe lips. “I have you to come home to. I’ll be very careful.”

Maud eyed Katie. “Girl, if you don’t settle down, you’re going to wear yourself out,” she warned gruffly. All morning, Katie had been arranging books in alphabetical order by subject as Taylor had suggested she do well over a week ago. Today, Katie welcomed busy work.

She wiped the dust off her fingers with a towel and rose from her knees.

The store was taking on a slicker look, a look that bespoke organization. That was Taylor’s influence, Katie acknowledged with a small smile. She went to the teakettle and placed it on the hot plate.

“I need some chamomile tea to settle my nerves,” she told Maud.

“Make it two. My nerves are shot, too.”

Katie glanced up in surprise because Maud seemed her normal, unflappable self. The older woman sat at the desk sorting order forms from a dozen or so different publishers; she seemed surrounded by a fortress of paper.

“What’s your feeling about this telephone threat, Maud? You’re always a good one for gut instinct.”

“Humph! You ask me, this is serious. I’m glad Taylor is doing something, even if the lazy, good-for-nothing police department ain’t!”

Katie smiled gently, setting out two china cups and saucers. It was the first time Maud had called Taylor by his first name. Clearly Maud was softening in her views. When the kettle began to whistle, Katie poured the boiling water into the cups, then added the tea bags. She placed Maud’s cup on the desk and leaned against it.

“I really care for him, Maud,” she confided.

“Humph! That’s been obvious for quite a while.”

Katie’s eyes sparkled. “Can’t fool you, can I?”

“You weren’t trying.” Maud laughed and sipped at her tea contently. “At first, I didn’t like Taylor Grant. He was out for himself, a real selfish type. Later, he changed.” Maud looked around the bookstore. “When he started helping you get this place organized, I decided to sit back and watch—listen. He didn’t try to tell you how to run your place, Katie. He showed you different methods and left the decisions up to you. He’s not as pushy and domineering as I first thought.”

The warmth of the teacup felt good to her cool fingers, and Katie blew gently on the tea. “He’s special to me, Maud.”

“I know, lamb.” Maud smiled up at her. “And it’s obvious he feels the same way about you. I caught him looking at you plenty of times. He always had the most wistful look on his face…That hard face of his melted, Katie. You’re good for him. He’s good for you. Each of you has changed under the influence of the other.”

“Taylor has mellowed.”

“You could tell he was hurting bad by the way he behaved,” Maud pointed out. “Being around you has changed him. He’s more himself now, I’d venture. Not so hard. Not carrying that chip around on his shoulder anymore.” The old woman chuckled. “He loves you, Katie girl.”

Heat rushed to Katie’s cheeks and she avoided Maud’s twinkling brown eyes. “I’m not sure….”

“Well, I am!” Maud rubbed her hands together. “Ain’t been around all this time not to be able to know love when I see it. Yes, I can hear those wedding bells ringing already.”

Katie sat at her desk in the bookstore, preparing to lock up in half an hour. She wanted to close before it got very dark outside. She frowned and went to the door. There to the west, was a huge, roiling mass of bruised clouds. Her eyes widened with happiness: a thunderstorm! During the five years she had lived in Rio Conchos, she had seen only three of them. They were rare in this area, she discovered, and she missed them acutely. She watched as the sky dimmed, the clouds advancing on the town like an army. She was glad she had sent Maud home at six, when Taylor left to track down the last of the five suspects.

Some of her fear had abated during the day. She had received no further threatening calls. Normally she got several each day. Had Taylor scared one of those five suspects so that the culprit stopped frightening her? She hoped so as she began her nightly accounting of the day’s business.

But her mind refused to remain on the figures. Instead, her gaze moved to a copy of the
Messenger
, a large, weekly paper. Taylor had brought it with him when they had shared a quick evening meal upstairs. His article and photos had been picked up by several syndicates and now were on the wires to other newspapers.

She heard the first warning rumble of thunder, far in the distance. The sky had turned inky in the dusk, and Katie saw streetlights going on down the block and people running for shelter. The storm would be brief, but Katie would enjoy the lightning display—she always did. And soon the engorged clouds would send their deluge earthward….

By eight o’clock the storm had passed. Sidewalks and road gleamed wetly in its aftermath. Katie got up and locked the door, turned the sign to Closed and shut off the window display lights. The phone rang.

“Unicorn Bookshop.”

“Is this the chief unicorn?”

Katie smiled and perched a hip on the desk, cradling the phone in her hand. “It is.”

“Then I need you,” Taylor said.

A shiver of desire coursed through her as his voice dropped to an intimate murmur. “You do?”

“Sure do.”

“You must be hungry again.”

“For you, princess. Only for you. Listen, I’m done for the evening.”

“Did you find the fifth guy?”

“Yeah. Your typical sleazeball.”

Katie shivered, wondering how Taylor could deal with such people. “What do you think?”

“None of these guys are stellar human beings,” he answered dryly. “Any one of them could be your caller.”

“Or maybe none.”

“Right. Look, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. How about if I treat my favorite lady unicorn to a hot fudge sundae at the Carousel Ice Cream Shoppe?”

Katie brightened. Taylor knew about her fondness for ice cream—the one non-health food she allowed herself—and she desperately wanted to put this whole sordid affair behind her, if only for a little while. “I’d love it!”

Taylor laughed. “There’s no secret to pleasing you, is there?”

She sobered, cradling the phone in both hands. “You please me, Taylor. You make me happy.”

“I know…I didn’t know dreams could come true, Katie. You’re my dream, you know that.”

“Hurry,” she whispered, “I miss you so. I’ll meet you upstairs. I’m closing the store now.”

“Twenty minutes,” Taylor promised, “and I’ll see you at the apartment.”

She had no more than hung up the phone when the lights suddenly went out, leaving her in total darkness.

“Oh,” she muttered, inching her way around the desk, “that darned storm.” California didn’t get many electrical storms. Katie speculated that an errant bolt of lightning had found its way to a transformer east of Rio Conchos, knocking out the electricity momentarily. Where was the flashlight? She knelt behind the desk, groping through each drawer. Where had she put it? Why hadn’t she listened to Taylor? He had said to keep the flashlight in a handy place, or near the fuse box….

“Candles…that’s it!” If she couldn’t find a flashlight, she did know the candles were in the back classroom where people brought their pets to be healed. Katie got up, hands outstretched. With Taylor’s help, they had completely rearranged the room, and she was still unfamiliar with the new layout. Twice she bumped into desks, bruising her hip. Katie rubbed the tender area, her attention swinging to the front door. She turned around. Through the plate windows in the door, she saw the dark shape of a man. Her heart picked up in cadence, and one hand moved to her throat. It couldn’t be Taylor—barely three minutes had elapsed since his phone call.

Terror rooted Katie to the spot. She watched the man jerk savagely at the door. The glass shook in its frame as he continued his powerful assault. Katie’s eyes widened as she saw him back away and move to one of the display windows. Ice formed in her veins as she saw him light a rag that was stuffed into the mouth of the bottle in his hand. It was the caller! Oh, Lord, she had to escape! The back door was locked, and the key was in the desk. There was no way out except through the front door where her assailant stood. Panic clawed through Katie, and she screamed as the window erupted into jagged shards of glass. The Molotov cocktail sailed through….