High Noon (33 page)

“What? Why?”

“I wasn't sure…I thought I might break down if I did, or worse, that you'd look at me differently. I don't know. It's not rational, it's emotional, all right? I've got plenty of goddamn emotions.”

“I'll say. Phoebe, first, if you'd broken down—”

“I said it wasn't logical.” The shove she gave him to push him back had a little heat along with it. “Don't stand there trying to make it logical.”

“Good point.” He considered a minute, then reached into his back pocket for the flask Phin had given him.

“Oh God. Thank you.” She took a short sip, then a long drink. “Oh Jesus.” She leaned back against the car. “Oh Jesus, Duncan.”

“I never…” He took back the flask for another quick pull. “It's not like I ever imagined. What happens to a person.”

“The bomb guys call it pink mist.”

He capped the flask, opened the car door for her. “You've been through it before?”

“Not like this.” She waited until he was behind the wheel. “I've been on teams, a few times, when we weren't there soon enough, or something went wrong. I've never seen…nothing like this. I was so mad at him, I was so
angry.
About him getting married again and moving to Europe without giving Carly a thought.” She rubbed the heels of her hands on her eyes. “I think it's worse, it's worse having those feelings in me for him than if we'd managed to be friends, or at least friendly. But that's what I had in me for him.”

“That's not what I saw out there at Bonaventure. You weren't thinking about how mad you were. You were thinking about saving his life.”

“Didn't think hard enough. And that's destructive,” she said before he could speak. “I know it. It's indulgent and egotistical. Duncan, are you going to consider it more crap if I tell you it's best if we don't see each other for a while? If I tell you because the man who killed Roy may decide it's more fun to go after someone current in my life, it's best if there's some distance between us.”

“Plenty of distance between you and Roy.”

“Yes, but—”

“I'd consider it crap. And if I give you the respect of admiring the fact you can handle yourself, I'd appreciate the quid pro quo.”

She said nothing, just pulled out her badge as they approached her house. “Let me ID us to the radio car first.” She stepped out, crossed over.

He waited by the car while she had a brief conversation. She'd have noticed, he assumed, that there were lights on inside the house. No one, it seemed, was getting a good night's sleep.

“I'm not telling you to go home,” she began, “because I don't want to get beaned with that shovel. I'm just going to tell you that you don't have to stay.”

In answer he simply took her hand. Ava opened the door as they stepped onto the veranda. “I'm so glad you're home!” She dashed out barefoot to wrap her arms around Phoebe. “They said you weren't hurt.”

“I'm not. Mama?”

“I'm here.” Her face gray, Essie stood a foot back from the open door. “Phoebe. Phoebe.”

So the veranda was lost to her, for now, Phoebe thought, and moved into the house quickly to take her mother into her arms. “I'm fine. I promise.”

“They said there was trouble, something bad. Carly—”

“Is fine. You know she's fine. She's sleeping.”

“And…and Carter and—”

“Mama. Mama. You need to breathe. You need to keep breathing. Look at me now, and you listen. Everyone is fine. Carter and Josie and Carly. You and Ava. I'm right here, too. Duncan's here. He brought me home.”

Even as she spoke, Phoebe could see her mother was falling into a panic attack. Her breath was short and choppy—quick, strained indrawn gasps. The shakes had started. Sweat beaded on Essie's face.

“Ava.”

Together, Phoebe and Ava eased Essie down to the floor before her legs buckled.

“Mama. I'm right here, Mama. Feel my hand?” She glanced up as Duncan draped the throw from the back of the parlor sofa over Essie's shaking shoulders. “Feel my hands, Mama? Rubbing your arms? Hear my voice? Take a nice breath now.”

It eased, bit by stingy bit, minute by endless minute.

“All right now, all right.” Phoebe drew Essie close, stroking her hair. “Nice deep breaths now. There you are.”

“I couldn't stop it. I'm so sorry, Phoebe.”

“Ssh. Ssh. It's all over now.”

“Here, Essie, why don't you drink a little water?”

Essie looked over as Duncan crouched to offer a glass. “Oh, Duncan. I'm so embarrassed.”

“Sip a little water. I'm going to go make y'all some tea.”

“Oh, but—”

“You're not going to make me feel like company, are you, Essie?”

A tear dripped down her cheek as she shook her head. “Phoebe, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to come home and worry like this about me. You look so tired.”

“We're all tired. Come on now, Ava and I are going to get you up and get you to the sofa.”

“Ava, you should go in and make that tea. That poor man. What must he think of this household?”

“Don't worry about Duncan.” Ava helped Essie to the sofa. “Are you cold?”

“No, I'm fine now. I—” She passed a hand over her face and grimaced at the sweat. “Look at me! Like I had the mother of all hot flashes.”

“I'm going to get you a cool cloth.”

“I couldn't stop it,” Essie told Phoebe when they were alone.

“I know.”

“You wish I'd take the medicine, but most of the time I'm fine the way things are. I was just so worried. We were both so worried. Then wouldn't you know when you're home and I know you're safe, I have a spell like that.”

She reached out, touched Phoebe's face. “Something very bad happened.”

“Yes, something very bad. Mama, I've got some of the pills. You could take one. I don't want you upset.”

“I'm all right now. You said Carly and Carter and Josie weren't hurt. Or Dave?”

“Dave's fine.”

“Okay. Okay. I'll be all right with anything else.”

Ava came back with a small white basin and a damp cloth.

“You better sit down, Ava.”

She told them about Roy. Though Essie's face went sheet white again, she didn't have another attack. She and Ava sat together on the couch, gripping hands. Duncan said nothing when he came in, just passed around the tea, then sat while Phoebe finished.

It was Essie who rose to sit on the arm of Phoebe's chair. She put her arm around her daughter's shoulders, eased Phoebe's head against her and stroked.

“Oh, Mama.”

“I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. What a terrible thing. Poor Roy. Poor Roy. The man was useless as tits on a bull, but he didn't deserve to die like that.”

“Mama!”

“People who say not to speak ill of the dead are hypocrites, because you can take it to the bank they're thinking ill.”

Essie looked over, saw Duncan struggling against a grin. “And look at you, just worn out, too, aren't you? But the house is all locked up. Locked up tight and we're safe inside it. You need to rest awhile.”

“Yes, we all need to rest.” Phoebe took Essie's hand. “I'd never let anyone hurt you.”

“We'll all go rest. Duncan, you're going to stay. It's safe in the house, so you'll stay. Come on, baby girl. Duncan's going to stay in with you so you're not alone. You'll sleep better.”

When Phoebe lifted her eyebrows, Essie just shook her head and continued to walk her out of the parlor. “As if I had no idea the two of you haven't found your way into bed together already. Sun's going to be up before long. We'll all get some rest. We'll have a late breakfast.”

Ava nodded at Phoebe over Essie's head, then slid an arm around Essie's waist. “Eggs Benedict? Won't that be fine, Essie? And fresh berries.”

Phoebe sighed as Ava walked her mother down the hall to Essie's bedroom. “She's closed the worst of it out of her mind for a while. It's too big right off, so she keeps it out.”

“Sounds like a healthy idea to me.”

Phoebe turned into her bedroom. “If she can keep her mind on something else like eggs Benedict, she won't panic. But eventually, it'll claw its way in.”

“Phoebe.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, looking up wearily as she pulled off her shoes.

“I'd say what happened tonight, and the overall threat of what could happen? That earns a good dose of panic.”

“Hard to argue. God. I'm too tired to get undressed.” She simply lay down on top of the spread, curled on her side.

Duncan slid in behind her, spooned her. “Didn't expect our first overnight would end up with us both fully dressed.”

“Duncan? I want to say that I appreciate the fact that you shovel away the crap when I get into one of those get-away-and-let-me-do-this-all-by-myself spells.”

He smiled into her hair. “I'm going to buy a couple of spare shovels tomorrow.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” She took his hand in hers, pressed it between her breasts.

And within moments, Essie proved right. Phoebe did sleep better with him there.

With Carly curled in her lap,
Phoebe rocked and stroked as she used to when Carly was a baby. She knew what it was like to lose a father, to be told he was gone and never coming back. The hitch and jolt of it, the impossibility of the concept of death and forever to a child.

But she didn't know, couldn't know, what it was to lose a father she'd never really had. Or to lose anyone to such sudden and stunning violence.

No matter how she'd softened or edited the details, it was still horrible. And those details would eke through, like fetid water through a crack in a wall—widening little by little from the whispers of neighbors, the blasts on television, the questions from other children at school.

There was no shoring it all up, blocking it all out. So it was best, always best, to be as honest as possible.

“Did it hurt?” Carly asked her.

“I don't know. I just don't know. I hope not.”

“How come he had to die here when he didn't live here?”

“I'm not sure. I'm going to try to find out.”

Carly nestled in closer. “Is it bad I didn't love him?”

“No, baby.” Phoebe could only hold tighter. “No.”

“I didn't love him, but I didn't wish he would die.”

“I know. Me, too. I know.”

“Poppy's granddad died, and she went to the funeral, where he was dead in a big box. Do I have to go to the funeral?”

“No. I don't know if there's going to be one, or where or when. We weren't…it's not up to us. If I find out and you want to go—”

“I don't. Is that okay? Please, I don't want to.”

“That's fine.” The quick fear in Carly's voice had Phoebe rocking again. “You're not to worry about that, sweetie.”

“What if he hurts you? The man who hurt Roy, what if—”

“I'm not going to let that happen. Carly—”

“The other man hurt you. He hurt your face and your arm.” Tears trembled now as Carly rubbed her hands on Phoebe's cheeks. “What if he comes back and hurts you again, or he kills you like Roy got killed? Mama.”

“He's not going to come back and hurt me. The police are going to make sure he doesn't. Isn't that what I do, Carly? You have to trust me to take care of you and Gran and Ava, and myself. Even Carter and Josie. We're going to be careful. Don't cry now, listen to me. Listen, okay? We're going to be so careful,” Phoebe said gently. “We're going to have police right outside the house for a while, even inside if it makes you feel safer.”

“If he comes into the house, will they shoot him with their guns? Will you?”

Oh, well, God. “He won't get into the house. But if he did, we'd do whatever we had to do to be safe. I promise you. We're all going to be careful, right? So you'll remember everything I told you about talking to strangers, and getting into someone's car—even going near the car. No matter what they say to you, no matter what they tell you. What do you do instead of going near the car?”

“I yell
no
as loud as I can and I run away.”

“That's exactly right. We're all going to be fine, baby, because I'm going to find out who did this to Roy. Then he's going to go to prison. And he'll never get out again.”

“Will you find out soon?”

“I'm going to try. And Uncle Dave's going to try. All the police I work with? They're all going to try.”

Satisfied, comforted, Carly laid her head back on Phoebe's breast. “Are you sad, Mama?”

“I am. I am sad.”

“Are you scared?”

Truth, Phoebe thought—but simple truth. “I'm scared enough to be careful, and to work really hard to find out why this happened. You know what happens when I work really hard?”

The smallest hint of a smile curved Carly's lips. “You get the job done.”

“That's exactly right.” She gathered Carly close, spoke almost to herself. “That's exactly right.”

 

She got the call, and had to go. It was difficult, more difficult than she'd prepared herself for to leave her family. Cops on the door, she reminded herself. But none of those cops was her. She'd consider the control issue some other time, Phoebe told herself. But right at the moment, she wished that she could split herself into two parts, and that one of them could stand watch over the house and everyone in it.

She hated, too, that she'd had to ask Carter and Josie to move in temporarily. It was safer, and more efficient to have the people she considered most at risk under one roof.

But it was still a hell of a thing to ask a couple who were basically still on their honeymoon.

Yet they'd come. There was little, she knew, Carter wouldn't do for her. And less yet, Phoebe thought, he wouldn't do to make sure his wife was safe and sound.

And still, come morning, they'd all have to go on—to some extent—with their lives. To work, to the market, to the bank. She'd keep Carly home from school—just a day or two of indulgence there—until she was confident her daughter could be protected outside the house.

For now, she went downstairs to tell her family she had to leave. And was surprised to see Duncan huddled in the parlor with Carter and Josie. She'd assumed he went home after she took Carly upstairs to tell her about her father.

They stopped talking when she stepped in, and every eye turned to her.

“Plots, plans?” she said, in a halfhearted attempt to keep it light. “Duncan, I didn't realize you were still here.”

“Thought I'd hang around awhile. How's the kid?”

“She's a tough little bird. She'll be okay. She went down the back way to see my mother in the kitchen. Carter, Jo…Lousy situation, that's about all I can say. I have a number I'd like both of you to log into your cell phones. Direct line to the precinct, and a situation room set up for your protection. Anything, anything at all strikes you as off, you call it. Duncan, I'd appreciate it if you'd log in the number, too.”

“Do you really think this lunatic would try to hurt one of us?” Josie asked her.

“I'm not going to take the chance.” Stress, Phoebe noted, around Josie's usually cheerful eyes. Death threats weren't the norm for a hospice nurse who marries a schoolteacher. “You're on a case now, right?”

“Yeah. I'm taking the seven-to-four shift, cancer patient. Private home on Bull Street.”

“Good, close to my cop shop. If you could write down all the particulars, all the names—the other nurses, the people in the house, your routine, it'll be helpful. Same for you, Carter—your class schedule, meetings, everything. Duncan—”

“I'm probably a little less structured, schedule-wise.”

“Have you considered private security? Just temporarily.”

“I'm not having some hulk walking two steps behind me. My house is covered; I've taken care of it. You've got enough to worry about. I'll worry about me.”

“I'm not egotistic enough to say this is happening because of me. It's not. But I'm pissed enough—and I'm good enough—to say I'm going to find out who's trying to get to me through the people in my life. And doing that is one of the reasons I have to go.”

“You're going out?” Carter moved forward immediately to take her arm. “Phoebe, the point is he's trying to get to
you.
Herding us up eliminates his being able to hurt any of us. And gives him more reason to go straight at you.”

“If and when, I'll be ready. Carter, I've got a child who needs me. I don't intend to be careless or stupid. Dave's coming by to pick me up, and I'm going into the station house, where I'll be surrounded by other cops.”

“Being surrounded by cops didn't stop one of them from sending you to the hospital,” Josie pointed out.

“No, and I won't be that easy a mark again. Arnie Meeks is the reason I need to go in. He's being brought in for questioning. I need to be there. I need you to stay here, to keep everything as calm and normal as possible.” She touched Carter's cheek. “Roy wasn't prepared. Why should he have been? But we are. And we're going to get through this. It's what we do, isn't it? Get through.”

“Mama's scared to death.”

“I know.” Nothing could be done about it. “I'm counting on you. And I'm resting easier on that count having a nurse in residence. You're taking a lot of weight off me, Josie.”

“We'll be fine,” Josie assured her. “We were just talking about what we could do to keep things as normal as possible. Food, games, music. Business,” she added with a quick smile at Duncan.

“I thought Essie and I could come up with a business plan.”

“Good. That's good. Keep them busy, will you? And when they ask, tell them I'm with Dave. I'll be back soon. Duncan, maybe you could walk me out.”

“Sure.”

She waited until they were on the veranda. “It has to be said,” she began. “You'd be smarter, safer and certainly saner if you went home, kept your distance. Not only from me, but from my family.”

He nodded as he studied the lovely tree-lined street. “Didn't help Roy much, did it?”

“No.” Blunt help, she discovered. Straight to the point. “You have the resources to go anywhere, and for any length of time. You could get out of Savannah for a while, and those resources would also ensure no one outside your inner circle had to know where you are.”

“Cut and run.”

“It's not running, and you'll still have your balls in Tahiti or wherever.”

“Easy to say when you don't have any balls—so to speak—in the first place. I'm not going to Tahiti. Savannah's my home, and I have projects in the works I'm not prepared—okay, not willing—to put on hold. And I'm not ditching the redheads to go drink mai tais. But you knew that.”

“Deduced that,” she corrected. “Still, it had to be said. I also have every confidence you'll take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean I won't worry—and you knew that. So I need to ask you to check in, every two hours. A quick call, a text message, I don't care how you check in, but I need you to do it.”

“I can agree to that, if it's reciprocal.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You want me to check in with you?” Brows still lifted, she flipped back her jacket where her badge was clipped to her waistband.

“Yeah, real pretty. I call you, two hours later you call me, two hours later, back to me. That's how it works.”

She tapped her fingers on her badge as she studied him. “You might be good in my line of work. That's agreed. Here.” She handed him a piece of paper. “Emergency number's on there. If you could make sure everyone inside has it on both cells and the house line, I'd appreciate it.”

She turned, scanned the street, the trees, the cars, over to the park. “He could be watching the house. He could be anywhere.”

“Let's give him something to look at.” He pulled her close, covered her mouth with his.

As he started to ease her back, she wrapped her arms tight for one hard embrace. “Don't take any chances. Zero chances. If it even seems like it might somehow be related to taking a chance, don't.”

“Yoo-hoo!”

Phoebe's nerves were stretched tightly enough that even recognizing Lorelei Tiffany's voice, she laid a hand on the butt of her weapon. But her tone was easy when she turned and waved. “Hey there, Miz Tiffany.”

“Don't you two make a picture! That's a handsome man you got there, Phoebe. Few years ago, I'd've stolen him right out from under you.”

Decked in daffodil yellow, with little Maximillian Dufree coordinating with leash, collar and bow tie, Mrs. Tiffany sent Duncan a flirtatious smile.

“Ma'am. When the woman's as delicious as you, I'd be the one doing the stealing.”

Mrs. Tiffany let loose a girlish giggle. “Oh, you! Better keep a hold of that one, Phoebe. Maximillian Dufree and I are about to take a turn in the park, if y'all like to join us.”

“I wish we could.”

“Don't blame you. I'd find something more energetic than dog-walking to do if I had a handsome man like that around. Bye now.”

“Normal,” Phoebe murmured when the pair clipped off. “There's still a lot of normal in the world.”

“Savannah's a world where a dog in a yellow bow tie's pretty normal. I saw that hairless dog humping a pink toy poodle across the way a while back. I guess that's normal, too.”

“For Maximillian Dufree, it is. The pink poodle would be Lady De-lovely, who carelessly seduces Maximillian Dufree—despite his lack of essential equipment—and all the other dogs—including several females of her acquaintance—with wanton regularity.”

She watched Mrs. Tiffany, in bright yellow glory, breeze into the park. “I wish we could do something as nice and normal as walk in the park and watch a couple of silly-looking dogs.”

Duncan ran a hand down Phoebe's arm when Dave's car pulled in. “You take care, Phoebe. We'll get down to some normal of our own real soon.”

“Counting on it.” She took one last look at him, one last look at the house, and walked down to Dave's car.

“Everybody okay?” Dave asked her.

“Holding.”

“Mr. Lucky appears to be sticking.”

She glanced back, saw Duncan still standing on the veranda. “He does. I think that's one of the things he's good at. He's good at sticking. So are you,” she added. “You stuck by my whole family, all these years. Which makes you a target, Dave. You're as close to me as any of my family, a hell of a lot closer to me than Roy was.”

“I'm taking precautions.” He took one hand off the wheel to pat hers.

“Be sure.” She shifted toward him. “You've been my father since I was twelve. The one I looked up to, depended on and, in a lot of ways, the one I've tried to emulate. If he knows me, and he must, he knows that.”