Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #1 (21 page)

THREE

R
ick maneuvered around the tricycle blocking the walkway leading up to the Watkinses' modest blue bungalow. He gestured for Stephanie to climb the steps to the front door ahead of him. Savory aromas wafted out to them like a welcoming committee. Rick's stomach contracted, begging him to feed it. It had been a long day with no food, and his shift didn't end for another two hours, and that was only if he didn't get held for overtime. Rick couldn't help but hope Val would feed him before he rejoined the search for Hale. Nothing he could make for himself or grab at a drive-through window would compare to her cooking.

Valencia Watkins came from a long line of Latina women famous for their skill in the kitchen. She did not believe a single bachelor could cook well enough to keep himself alive. All six feet five inches of her well-fed African-American husband revealed how Val loved people. She fed them, and one bite of her cooking had forever convinced Rick he would never turn down an offer to eat at her table.

“Mmm. I can smell Val's cooking all the way out here,” Stephanie said. She gave him a crooked half smile. The urge to do or say something to make that smile reach her eyes, to light up her face as it usually did, hit him hard.

It relieved Rick to deliver Stephanie here. With Hale loose, she wasn't completely safe, but he couldn't imagine her being in much danger in this place. This little blue house full of good smells and toys underfoot always felt like a haven to him.

The Watkinses' six-year-old son, Joash, answered the doorbell. His dark eyes lit up when he saw Rick and Stephanie standing on his front porch. The boy hugged Stephanie, then he turned to Rick and lifted the baseball mitt on his left hand. “It isn't raining as hard now. Wanna come out and play catch with me?”

“Sorry, Joe. Can't today, I'm working.” As he ruffled the boy's black hair, the gesture left him hollow. Although he often ruffled the fur on top of Axle's head, this time the motion reminded him of someone else.

Allie.

Rick hadn't allowed himself a conscious thought about his former fiancée in a long time. It was always safer to block memories after she called off their engagement, but every once in a while a stray one like this floated to the surface before he could stop it.

Allie had always been so proud of her glossy dark hair. She would spend hours fixing it with a pile of products and styling tools Rick couldn't imagine counting. Sometimes he would be a pest and mess up her hair on purpose, but other times it was simply an unconscious show of affection. Regardless of what his intentions might have been, Allie's response had always been the same: ducking, slapping away his hand and moaning, “Knock it off, Rick, I just fixed my hair.” He figured the rich, ambulance-chasing attorney that Allie had married this past summer never messed up her hair like that. Rick shoved his memories down deep where they belonged and commanded them to stay put, turning his attention back to his friends in the present.

Terrell stood in the doorway and waved them inside while Joash ran through the house announcing their arrival, “Mama! Stephanie and Officer Powell are here!”

Val appeared with her three-year-old daughter, Hadassah, trailing behind her. When Val saw Stephanie, she said, “Stephanie. Thank God you are all right.”

“Hi, Haddie,” Rick said to the little girl. She hid behind her mom, but peeked out around her to grin at him.

Val wrapped Stephanie up into her arms. “I have been so worried about you.”

“Thanks, Val,” Stephanie told her friend. She glanced from Val to Rick to Terrell. “I'm fine. Still a little confused about what's going on, though.”

Rick winced. He should have told her something during the car ride from the school to the Watkinses' house. Even if it were glossed over, some information would have helped to put her mind at ease, but no matter how he rehearsed it in his head, the explanation kept sounding something a little like,
Hey, Stephanie, you know that serial killer the news has been talking about for the past year. Guess what? That's Julian Hale. And by the way, I sure like your last staff photo. Hale must have liked it, too, because he has it pinned to his “People to Kill Next” bulletin board.

He had never been known for his eloquence, especially with women. Eventually she had stopped asking, making the rest of the car ride quiet and awkward. He had convinced himself that not answering her was the right thing to do. Terrell and Stephanie had a long history together. He would know best how to tell her.

They all stepped into the living room. Terrell's raised eyebrows asked Rick behind Stephanie's back,
you didn't tell her?

Rick shook his head negative.

“Come eat,” Val said. “You, too, Rick,” she instructed. “Everything will seem better on a full stomach.”

Rick's grinned, “Well, if you
insist
.”

“I insist,” Val informed him as she ushered Stephanie out of the living room and into the kitchen to help her put the meal on.

“You didn't tell her anything about Hale yet?” Terrell asked him as soon as Stephanie was out of earshot. When Rick shrugged his shoulders, Terrell rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Didn't know you were a coward, Powell.”

“Ha!” Rick pointed a finger at Terrell. “You just wish I had gotten it over with so you wouldn't have to break it to her yourself.”

“Guilty as charged. Hopefully Val is telling her now.” Terrell clapped a large hand on Rick's shoulder. “Well, you heard the lady. Check out for your lunch break, and let's get in there and eat.” Then he added, his signature goofy grin back in place, “Like I always say, don't try to catch a serial killer on an empty stomach.”

“That's what you always say, huh?” Rick chuckled and then checked out on his radio. He would have thirty minutes to eat before he had to get back to work. He hoped an urgent call wouldn't come over the radio before he got to taste what he could smell. Lunch break or not, he had to run when certain calls came over the air, even if it meant leaving Val's amazing cooking behind.

Joash ran into the room and tugged on his arm. “Can I say hi to Axle?”

“If there's time, I'll get him out for a bit after we eat, but Axle and I and your dad have some important work to do today.”

Joash beamed and smacked an imaginary ball into the baseball mitt he still wore. “Officer Powell, can I sit next to you at dinner?”

“Sure, bud.” Joash was such a cute kid, with his missing front teeth. Rick had tried to get Joash and Haddie to call him by his first name long ago, but Terrell had put the kibosh on it, insisting the kids remain respectful and use his title. Rick wondered how Stephanie had managed to get them to call her by her first name.

Haddie reached her little arms up to her dad. Terrell swung her up to his shoulder one-handed. Haddie squealed, delighted.

The domestic bliss of this house hit Rick the way it always did: with envy. It was the future he had dreamed of having with Allie, although now that he had moved past the initial pain of their breakup, he could admit there was nothing about this scene that Allie would have wanted. While he had been dreaming of backyard barbecues, T-ball games and ballet recitals, Allie had been dreaming of foreign cars, exotic vacations and a sprawling home in Medina where she could host cocktail parties.

But even if she had wanted this kind of life, the scars on Rick's stomach reminded him of the danger and demands of his job. Could he blame Allie for walking away? Some guys learned how to be a cop and maintain relationships, but the statistics proved that not many did it well. Terrell Watkins had it figured out, it seemed, but Rick didn't know the secret.

“Duck your head, baby girl,” Terrell said before he led them through the arched doorway.

Entering the kitchen, Rick's eyes found Stephanie's pale face. Her lips were tight, as if she were afraid to breathe. He looked at her hand gripping the countertop, and he knew that she knew.

* * *

Val had wanted to eat before talking, but Stephanie wouldn't have it. There was no way she was going to sit patiently through a meal pretending that there wasn't a weighted secret hovering above everyone's heads. As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, she'd grabbed Val's arm and demanded to be told the truth.

“All three of you know something you aren't telling me,” she had insisted. “I'm a big girl, Val. What is going on?”

So Val had held her hand and told her everything she knew about Julian Hale. Now Stephanie wished she could take it back. Maybe she wasn't such a big girl, after all, because she didn't want
this
truth. Stephanie held on to the edge of the counter to steady herself. The solid surface squeezed between her fingers and thumb gave her something real to grasp when everything around her felt dreamlike.
Julian Hale is a murderer. I've been alone with him many times. He has killed before, and he wants to kill me.

Another question nagged at her subconscious, begging to be answered.
Why hasn't he tried to kill me already? He's had so many opportunities.
Somehow she knew that today had been the day he planned to do it.

Her gut ached as she watched Terrell lifting Haddie off his shoulders. Yes, she wanted to return to Africa and to mission work, but she also dreamed of being married someday. She dreamed of having a family of her own like this one, with kids like Haddie and Joash, and a husband who loved her the way that Terrell loved Val. If Rick Powell hadn't shown up exactly when he had, Julian could have killed her today. He could have blotted out her future completely.

Then she remembered the worst of it.
He is still out there. They haven't caught him yet.
Fear swam through her, blurring her vision.

Val ushered the two kids to the sink to wash their hands for dinner. Stephanie glanced at them, making sure they were out of earshot. “Thank you, Rick,” she squeaked out. “Thank you for finding me in time.” The words were inadequate, but she didn't know what else to say.

Rick sucked his lips inward and breathed through his nose deeply. His hand curled as if he were fighting the urge to punch something. “You're welcome, Stephanie. I wish we had caught him so you wouldn't have to be afraid.”

As their eyes met, Stephanie tried to send her gratitude across the space between them. An unexpected urge to walk right into his arms overcame her. She longed to be held by someone stronger than she was, to have muscular arms wrap around her, making her feel safe again. It was a silly thought, though, and if she acted on it she would look like a fool. Rick was nothing more than an acquaintance. After he ate this meal, he would leave. He would return to his own life and his own problems.

Her throat thickened as loneliness joined her fear. She needed family to turn to, but she didn't have anyone close enough to help her. She had Val and Terrell, but they had a real family of their own to worry about. Her sister was in Africa, and the last time Stephanie had spoken to her immature and unreliable mother, she was living in Eastern Oregon working at some casino. Stephanie sneered at the thought of calling her. Somehow her mother would find a way to spin Stephanie's problems into being all about her, anyway. And her father wasn't an option, either. He had walked out on their family when Stephanie was the same age as Haddie. She couldn't even remember what he looked like. There was nobody. There never had been.

Stephanie had always taken care of herself and everyone else, as well. Her mom had fallen apart after her dad deserted them, leaving Stephanie to raise her little sister. Stephanie had paid her own way through school and Emily's Bible college bills, too. She had never expected anyone to take care of her, but nothing she had faced up to this point had felt so big and so completely beyond her own ability to handle.

All of her energy was gone, her arms suddenly too heavy to lift. “I don't know what to do,” Stephanie admitted. Tears pooled, threatening to fall.

Val's arm circled her waist. “We'll figure it out together, honey.” She guided Stephanie into a chair at the table. “And in the meantime, we eat.”

Chairs scraped across the hardwood floor as everyone took a seat, crowding around the small round oak table. Val and Terrell nestled close together, and Haddie and Joash sat beside each of them. Rick scooted his squeaky chair in next to Stephanie, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his leg. The realization of his nearness made heat move through her own body to her cheeks.

She couldn't count how many times she had been in this house feeling like a third or fifth wheel. That is, unless someone had been playing matchmaker, then of course she would be sitting next to some awkward blind date. But this felt different, comfortable even. If the reason they were here together wasn't so heavy, she would choose to stay in this moment for a long time.

You are grasping for security, Stephanie O'Brien. You are scared, and Rick saved you today. That's all this is. Don't read any more into it than that.

Stephanie wiggled in her chair. Thank goodness no one could read her mind and see her silly fantasy. Rick Powell wasn't even her type. He couldn't be. He had a career in Seattle and a purpose to fulfill here. She wasn't his type, either. If she could stay alive long enough to do it, she was moving to Liberia full-time. Stephanie wanted a life like the one her sister had found when she married Ty and started their mission work together. The right man for her would want that, too.

She caught Rick's profile in her peripheral vision. His espresso-colored hair was cropped short on the sides, but he kept it a bit longer and messier on top. She liked how his strong square jaw saved him from looking too cute. She had never been a fan of men who looked like catalog models. The skin around his hazel eyes crinkled kindly as he smiled at a story Joash was telling him.

Stephanie sighed. As good as it felt to forget about Julian Hale for a minute and pretend she was here with this attractive man in a uniform, it could never be more than a fun diversion. They were two people on different life tracks.