Hold Your Breath (Search and Rescue) (14 page)

“It’s okay,” she reassured herself more than Callum. “The door just blew shut.”

“There’s no wind.”

“It had to be the wind.” Lou released her death grip on his arm and shuffled in the direction of the door, holding her hands in front of her. “The alternative is too freaking scary.”

“I’ll get it.” Catching her, Callum gently tugged her behind him. She grabbed a fistful of the back of his coat and followed him the few steps to the door. He opened it slowly, peering around outside before stepping forward to allow Lou out of the shed.

Although it was a relief to escape the darkness, standing outside felt almost as nerve-racking. Her gaze darted around the snow-covered ground, looking for tracks of some kind or any kind of evidence to prove or disprove that someone had been here…though she wasn’t sure yet which she preferred.

“Do you think he was here last night?” She examined the packed snow around the shed entrance, looking for a boot track matching the ones under her window.

“Could be.” Callum closed the door behind him. “Or he could’ve done this two nights ago, and we just didn’t notice. When was the last time you ran your generator?”

“Three days ago?” She squinted in thought. “Maybe four? I know I didn’t turn it on yesterday, so the propane line could’ve been cut at the same time as the honey thing.”

Cocking his head, he looked at her. “But you don’t think it was.”

With a shrug, she moved around to the other side of the shed, still looking for tracks. “I’m probably being paranoid—”

He interrupted with a snort. “Are you paranoid if someone’s really after you?”

Her smile was more pained than amused. “Something woke me last night—or this morning, I guess. It’s just a feeling, but I think he was out there.”

Callum waved her toward the front door. “Let’s eat and then go to the clinic. You can call the sheriff on the way to Connor Springs.”

Climbing the porch steps, she asked, “Shouldn’t we wait for Rob to get here?”

“He knows the way, and you don’t lock your generator shed.” With a disapproving look, he added, “You probably should.”

“It has a lock,” she protested. “I’m just not exactly sure where the key is.”

He grunted, and she resisted the urge to make a face. Callum was the only person she knew who could fit a reprimand into a single wordless noise.

“Eggs,” he said, “and bacon. Can’t waste bacon.”

“Definitely not!” she agreed with appropriately theatrical dismay, and then laughed when he gave her a look. But her laughter died as Callum headed into the house, leaving her alone on the porch. Lou paused, skin prickling, and twisted her head to scan the trees. She couldn’t help but wonder if someone was there even now, watching. Waiting.

Wanting to hurt her.

* * *

It was still fairly early when they reached the VA clinic. A few people were scattered around the reception area, but there was still a sleepy feel to the place. She and Callum exchanged a glance, and he headed toward one of the waiting people, a man about HDG’s age, who was frowning at the news playing on a TV mounted to the wall.

Lou made her way to the check-in desk. “Excuse me.”

The tired-eyed receptionist with a nametag reading “Tina” gave her a smile. “Good morning. Checking in for an appointment?”

With a shake of her head, Lou said, “I’m actually here about my uncle. He had two toes amputated recently—well, several months ago—and I wanted to check if he was showing up for his aftercare appointments.”

“Did he sign the waiver giving you access to his records?”

“Of course,” she lied.

“What’s his name?” Tina asked, tugging the computer keyboard closer.

“Grant Dutton,” she said, giving her grandfather’s name.

After typing in the name, Tina asked, “Is that D-U-T-T-O-N? I’m not finding anyone by that name.”

That was because her grandfather had never been in the military, and he definitely hadn’t visited the Connor Springs VA clinic. “He, um, has some mental-health issues, so he sometimes uses a different name.”

The receptionist looked up from the computer screen and frowned. “He wouldn’t be able to use a different name here. We offer services for veterans. We don’t just take anyone off of the street.”

Lou tried to look confused. “I don’t know why he’s not in your system, then. Do you remember seeing him here? He’s about five-ten, a hundred and fifty pounds, sixty-five, gray hair, has diabetes, and he had those two toes on his right foot amputated last year.”

Tina’s lips flattened. “That describes a lot of patients, and I can’t really talk to you about anyone without verifying that they gave you access to their records. I’m sorry.”

Although she was disappointed, Lou hadn’t expected to get much information from the staff. “I understand. Do you happen to know of any local support groups for amputees or diabetics? My uncle actually lives in the Simpson area, so anything around there would work the best.”

“Sure.” Tina seemed relieved to be able to help with something. Her fingers tapped on the keyboard, and then she pulled several sheets of paper out of the printer. “Here you go. I included ones in the Denver area, too.”

Lou smiled as she took the printed pages. “Thank you.”

As she turned away from the check-in desk, she scanned the waiting area. Callum was leaning against the wall next to the entry doors. When she caught his eye, he shook his head. He must have struck out with the other patients. She pushed away the disappointment as she crossed to where he was standing. That had been an extremely long shot.

As soon as they were back in the truck, she shared the gist of her conversation with Tina. Holding up the support-group lists, she gave them a shake. “I figured we could check with the coordinator of each of these, see if they recognize my ‘uncle’ and know what name he was using.”

“We’ll probably run into the same privacy issues as you did at the clinic,” he cautioned.

“I know. I just like to be doing
something
to figure out who this guy is. Who knows”—she shrugged—“maybe we’ll get lucky.” When he sent her a smile, she eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

It was his turn to shrug. “You’re doing a good thing. According to the word around Station One, the cops really have hit a dead end. Sounds like the BCA and the local guys are doing more fighting than investigating.”

“We need to keep looking. I feel kind of responsible for him.”

“Because you were the one to find his body?” Callum asked, turning onto the highway.

“And because I kicked him,” she admitted. “There’s some residual guilt.”

He just shook his head at her, looking amused.

“Honestly?” She stared out the windshield. “Out here, it’s too easy to disappear, to become nothing.”

“That could never happen to you. You know that, right?”

“Not now, maybe. When I first moved out here, though, who would’ve looked for me?”

“No maybe about it,” he said harshly. “If you go missing for five minutes, every cop, firefighter, diver, and search and rescue member is going to be looking for you, and we won’t stop until you’re safe again. Got it?”

Smiling, she turned her head to look at his profile. “Got it.”

* * *

Rob was leaving her driveway when she and Callum returned. Reversing the sheriff’s department SUV, he backed along the driveway until he stopped just in front of her cabin. Callum pulled up next to him, rolling down his window so their driver’s doors were side by side.

“I didn’t get much,” Rob admitted as soon as Callum’s truck rolled to a stop. “The snow is so packed that there wasn’t much for boot prints, and I couldn’t find any fingerprints on the propane line or the doorknob to the shed. I took some pictures, and I’ll make a report, but that’s about all I can do for now.”

Callum tightened his fingers around the steering wheel. “Any idea who might be doing this?”

“No!” Lou burst out in frustration aimed more at the situation than at Callum or the sheriff. “I keep trying to think of who I’ve annoyed—other than you—and I can’t think of anyone. I look at each person who comes into the coffee shop, wondering if it could be them, but I just can’t picture anyone I know being a freaky stalker! Seriously, no guy has even asked me out since I arrived, so I don’t even have a short list of the rejected and resentful.”

There were a few seconds of silence before Callum said mildly, “I was talking to Rob, actually.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She paused before waving a hand toward the two men. “Carry on then.”

Rob smiled at her but sobered quickly. “Afraid I’m right there with you, Lou. We have our couple of troublemakers, the people we usually look at when there’s been a theft or some minor damage to property. I haven’t been able to connect any of these guys to you, though.”

With a grimace, she said, “It makes it worse, actually, that I have no clue who it is. It makes me think it could be anyone, which is why I’m mentally accusing
everyone
.”

To her surprise, Callum ran a hand across her shoulder and gently squeezed the back of her neck. In the months he had known her, he’d so rarely touched her—or anyone, that she’d noticed—that any physical contact made her jump. The sparks that lit her skin when he touched her didn’t help, either.

“Don’t get discouraged, Lou,” the sheriff said. “As a rule, most criminals are pretty dumb, and I’m guessing your guy isn’t a rocket scientist. He’s been destructive, but not violent.” He kindly left off the implied “yet.” “He’ll screw up, and we’ll get him. No one messes with one of ours.”

“Thanks, Rob.”

He shifted his truck into drive. “Let me know when he does something else. And stick close to that guy of yours.” With a final lift of his chin in farewell, he eased his squad SUV away from them and headed down the driveway.

Lou was blushing. From the heat she could feel radiating from her cheeks, it was quite a bright blush, too. Although Callum didn’t say anything, she could sense his gaze on her very red profile.

“Shut it,” she growled.

“I didn’t say a word.”

And that just made it worse. “Yeah, well, you were thinking some words.”

“Yeah. I was.” The look he gave her made her cheeks fire even brighter, and she scrambled out of his truck. The sound of his laughter followed her all the way into her cabin.

Work dragged. Lou tried very hard not to look at each customer as a potential threat, but it was difficult. Plastering on a fake smile, she attempted to keep her suspicious glares to a minimum.

During the mid-afternoon slump, she was cleaning the bathroom when the sleigh bells on the door jangled.

“Be with you in a moment,” she called as she stripped off her rubber gloves and washed her hands. Lifting the hinged portion of the counter, she slipped through to find a deputy waiting. He looked familiar, with a compact frame, reddish-blond hair, and a cropped mustache. She couldn’t remember where she’d met him until she read his nametag.

“Deputy Lawrence,” she greeted him.

Although his nod was a little stiff, he looked pleased to be recognized. Lou wondered if he’d forgotten that he wore his name pinned to his coat. “And you’re…?”

“Lou,” she finished when he paused. “Lou Sparks. Dive team. We met in passing the other day at the…um, reservoir.” She’d discussed the event so much with Callum that she didn’t know how to politely refer to finding HDG when talking to others.

“Right. You were the one who discovered the body.” His face screwed up in a grimace. “That’s created a lot of work for us.”

She blinked, unsure how to respond to the hint of accusation in his tone. “Um…sorry to hear that. Would you like something to drink?”

“Yeah, a large mocha with whipped, please.” His gaze dropped to her chest. “So…you’re on the dive team.”

“Yes.”

“As what? The mascot?”

She choked and almost spilled the steaming milk. “Uh, no. As an actual, real-life diver.”

“Seriously?” His tone told her how very much he disapproved of that.

“Seriously.”
Deputy Jackass
, she added in her head.

Although she was pretty sure Deputy Lawrence was not going to be one of her favorite people, she kept a pleasant expression on her face as she prepared his drink. “How’s that investigation going?” she couldn’t resist asking as she topped his mocha with whipped cream.

“I can’t talk about the case to civilians,” he said stiffly.

“Of course,” she said, ringing up his order with a mental shrug. So much for sharing information among the search-and-rescue family.

“Although,” he said slowly as he pulled out his wallet, “there have been some interesting developments.”

“Like what?” She accepted his cash and handed back his change. None of the money made it into her tip jar.

After pocketing his wallet, Lawrence leaned closer, resting his elbows on the counter. “There’s a possible connection with a motorcycle gang.”

“Really? The club in Liverton?” Despite the deputy’s rather slimy manner, she couldn’t resist the lure of new information.

“
Club
,” he repeated with a slight sneer. “They can call themselves whatever they want, but it won’t change what they are—a law-breaking gang of thugs.”

“Um…okay. So, what’s the connection?”

He leaned even closer, and Lou had to resist taking a step away from him. She wasn’t sure why he had to be so close. It wasn’t like there were any other customers in the shop who could possibly overhear. “There was an item caught on the weight holding down the body. It has the gang’s symbol on it.”

“Really?” She was quiet for a few seconds as she processed this. “That seems sloppy of them.”

“We think it might be a signature. You know, the killer wants everyone to know not to mess with the club.”

“Gang, you mean?”

“Yes, of course.” He eyed her suspiciously but didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm, because he continued, “This information needs to be kept confidential, since those Hells Angels wannabes have their guys planted everywhere, even in the county emergency services.”

That confused her for a few seconds until realization hit her. “You mean Ian Walsh?”

His mouth twisted like he’d tasted something sour. “Fire should’ve never let one of them join. His loyalty is always going to be to his gang of criminals.”

“Why can’t he be loyal to both?” Lou asked with true curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, Ian’s a good firefighter.”

Lawrence drew back, his lips pulled into so tight a line that they pretty much disappeared. “You can’t play both sides of the law.”

“But—”

“Excuse me.” He pushed away from the counter abruptly. “I have to go. We’re really busy with this murder case.”

“Okay,” she said to his back as he hurried to the exit. “Thanks for coming.”

He paused by the door. “What time do you get off?”

“Uh,” she said, trying to think of a way to deflect. “By the time I get done cleaning and closing, it’s pretty late.”

“I don’t mind late. How about I give you a”—his grin was so slimy that it made her want to smack him—“police escort home?”

Swallowing the urge to gag, Lou forced a polite smile. “Thanks, but Callum already offered. Some other time, maybe?”

His lips tightened again underneath his mustache. “Sure.” The palm of his hand smacked against the door as he plowed through it.

“Bye!” she called after him, but the only response was the flat jangle of the sleigh bells as the door closed behind the deputy.

She took a step toward the bathroom to continue cleaning and then stopped, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled up her contacts list and tapped on Callum’s name.

“Sparks,” he answered after a single ring. “Everything okay?”

She could hear voices in the background. “Sorry, are you busy?”

“No, hang on.” There was some muffled talking and then silence. Several seconds later, he spoke again. “I’m glad you called when you did. That meeting with the regulator reps was over a half hour ago, but they wouldn’t
leave
.”

“No problem.” She grinned. “I’m shocked you didn’t just kick them out.”

“I try to be diplomatic.”

“You do? Since when?”

“Why did you call?” She could tell he was trying to sound irritated, but amusement leaked through into his voice.

“Deputy Lawrence paid me a visit,” she said. “He made a big deal about not being able to give me any information about the HDG case, and then proceeded to tell me there was something with the Liverton MC’s logo on it attached to the weight holding down the body.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s what I thought. Lawrence had a theory that the murderer intentionally left this item so no one would risk messing with the MC, but it doesn’t seem to fit. Lawrence really wants the killer to be in the MC, though, since he has his hate on for Ian Walsh.”

“You caught that?”

“Hard not to.” Although he couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes. “He came right out and said Ian shouldn’t be a firefighter since he’s also in a, and I quote, ‘gang of criminals.’ How do Rob and Chris stand working with this guy?”

“I don’t know,” Callum said. “But ever since the bison-versus-squad-car incident, Lawrence has had it out for Walsh. I think it’s a combination of embarrassment and the fact that Ian makes me look tactful in comparison.”

She snorted. “I almost feel bad for Lawrence, except that spending time with him just wiped away any possibility of sympathy for the man.”

After a grunt of agreement, Callum abruptly changed the subject. “Did you get your report done on the incident last night?”

“Almost.” Finishing the report was next on her list after the bathroom was cleaned. “Give me a half hour unless I get an unexpected rush of customers, and I’ll email it to you.”

“You there alone?” he asked sharply.

Lou made a face. She’d been hoping to delay this conversation. “Right at this moment?”

He didn’t respond to her evasion but just waited until she spoke again.

“I’ll talk to Ivy.” She sighed. “She was just in such a cranky mood when she was in here earlier, so I didn’t want to ask her to put another person on this shift to close with me.”

“When will you talk to Ivy?”

“Soon.” At his silence, she sighed again. “Tomorrow.”

“Fine. See you tonight.”

“About that…” she started, but then realized he’d already ended the call. With a shrug, she pocketed her phone and headed for the bathroom to finish her cleaning. She’d worry about their ever-increasing intimacy—and how much she was starting to like it—later.

After pulling on her rubber gloves, she started scrubbing the sink, humming a little in an effort to distract herself from thinking about Callum. She turned on the hot-water tap and heard the clang of sleigh bells.

“Frick,” she muttered, stripping off her gloves again. The bathroom was never going to get cleaned. She washed her hands and left the restroom.

“Sorry for the wait.” She forced a cheery note into her voice as she headed for the front desk. “What can I get…” Confused, she looked around the shop. No one was there. Frowning, she looked out the window, but the parking lot and street were empty. In fact, there were no people in sight, at all. She’d sworn she’d heard the bells, but she must’ve imagined it.

“All of this stalker stuff is driving me crazy.” After a final puzzled glance around the empty shop, she returned to the bathroom.

* * *

Callum showed up a half hour before closing.

“You know,” she said, reaching for his travel mug, “your phone etiquette could use some work.”

Arching an eyebrow, he relinquished his cup. “Decaf, please, or I won’t sleep.”

“Normally,” she continued, filling his mug, “one says ‘good-bye’ before ending a call.”

“Not if one is irritated that his…ah, the other one will be alone at work again, after repeatedly being asked to have someone there with her.” He accepted his coffee. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She changed topics. “Any thoughts about the whole thing I mentioned earlier? Before you hung up on me?”

“I didn’t ‘hang up’ on you. ‘See you later’ is an acceptable way of ending a call.” He took a sip of coffee and shot a glance at a couple sitting at a corner table, who were trying to act as if they weren’t avidly listening to his and Lou’s conversation. “And yes. We’ll discuss that when we get home.”

“Which home?” She started taking the pastries out of the case in her usual preclosing ritual.

“Either works for me.” Eyeing her over the top of his mug, he continued, “Just thought you preferred to stay at yours.”

“I do. At least, I did.” Grabbing a plate, she plunked a cranberry white chocolate scone onto it and set it in front of Callum. “Eat this. It’s going to be another forty-five minutes before we get out of here. Wait.” She snatched the plate back as he reached for it and popped the scone in the microwave. At the gentle
ding
, she pulled the scone out and put the plate in front of Callum again. “Now eat it. It’s better warm. Thinking about having some crazy dude wandering around my house while we sleep is creeping me out. I’m not sure whether it’s better to be there or not while he’s doing his stalker thing. And that just makes me mad, since my cabin’s been my sanctuary since I ran away from Connecticut.”

He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of coffee before speaking. “Ran away?”

Going back to relocating the pastries, mainly so she’d have something to focus on besides Callum, she shrugged. “My parents were a little controlling, and I was a lot passive. They picked where I went to school, what courses I took, who I dated, which law school I attended…”

He choked a little on a bite of scone, so she leaned over the counter and smacked him on his back. Clearing his throat, he repeated, “Law school?”

“Yes.” Lou made a face. “It was so boring. I don’t know how I made it through, much less passed the bar exam.”

“Bar exam?”

She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “You okay? You’re repeating everything I say. It’s not like you.”

“I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect… You are not very lawyer-like.”

“I’m not. I hated it—law school, the firms where I interviewed, everything about it. But I’d just floated along, doing what my parents said, until I was twenty-six.” Making a face, she studied a crumb that had fallen onto the counter. “Pathetic, huh?”

“No.” At his answer, she looked up and caught his gaze. He didn’t look judgmental—more…thoughtful. “A lot of people do what others expect of them, even if they hate it. At least you realized you wanted out and made it happen. Why move here, though?”

She laughed, feeling lighter at his easy acceptance. “I knew they would never follow me here, or even visit for too long. It was Simpson or Alaska, and I didn’t think I could stand the twenty-three hour nights, so here I am.”

“You’re rather remarkable.”

A blush worked its way up her neck. “Thanks, but I’m really not.”

“You are. Staying alone in your cabin, working here, joining the dive team… You’re surviving and helping others in a place most people can’t imagine living.”

Clearing her throat, Lou glanced at the couple who had given up all pretense of not listening. “Hey, guys, we’re closing in a couple of minutes. Can I get you anything else for the road?”

“No, thanks,” the woman said, tossing her long dreadlocks over her shoulder. “And way to find your own soul’s path.”

“Yeah,” the guy agreed, standing up and gathering their empty cups. He had matching dreadlocks, although his were slightly shorter. “That’s awesome.”

“Thanks.” Slightly bemused, she watched them leave, the sleigh bells bouncing merrily against the door as it closed behind them.

“So my house, then?” Callum’s words brought her attention back to him.

“Yeah. Maybe we could alternate—one night at your house and then one at mine?” He nodded, and she gathered the pan of dirty dishes and carried it into the back. “It’s a plan, then. I’m going to stop by my place tonight and then first thing tomorrow to feed the woodstove.” As she returned to the front, she grinned at Callum. “There is one good thing about this.”

“What’s that?”

“I get another crack at that whiteboard of yours.”

* * *

Dressed in flannel pajamas—this pair light blue with lavender fish printed on them—and thick, fuzzy socks that did not match each other in any way, Lou stood in front of the whiteboard, brown marker in hand. After leaving the coffee shop, she and Callum had stopped by Lou’s cabin to feed the woodstove and pick up her overnight bag before heading to his house. He’d made dinner—a very tasty stew. Who knew that Callum was a genius with the Crock-Pot?