Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #2 (4 page)

She tiptoed out the door and hustled to her Jeep, stopping short as she saw Mick Hudson leaning on her front bumper. He straightened as he saw her approach.

Her stomach somersaulted. How had he known to find her here? She forced a calm pace until she reached him.

“I thought you'd left town,” she said.

“Came back.” His gaze made her squirm, as if he knew all her secrets.

“What do you want?”

“Tucker did say something to you out there on the mountain, and you kept it to yourself.”

Her cheeks burned. “Things happened fast. I can't really recall exactly...”

“Do you have reason to think Tucker knows the child is his?”

The words sucked the breath right out of her, and cold gripped her body. She tried to go around him. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, heavy, strong.

“Yes, you do. The little girl your sister gave birth to. Tucker's the father, isn't he?”

“Who do you think you are?” she said, fear sparked into anger as she yanked out of his grip. “Coming into my life and spouting accusations and prying into private information that you have no right to. June is mine, I'm her legal guardian and her biological father is none of your business.”

“It's Tucker's business. He's come back to take her and punish you.”

Coming for you.

Ice spread throughout her body. “June is my daughter.”

“You need to tell the police.”

“Tucker's gone. He's taken off.”

“Sure about that?”

The flat brown eyes, the arms folded across the broad chest infuriated her. “You have no right to interfere. You're not a cop.”

“I'm trying to help.”

“The time to help was when Tucker should have been under house arrest. You helped then, didn't you? You made sure he was a free man, and then he killed my sister.” The wide river of anger flowed out of her and caused him to flinch. He looked away. She would not, could not, stop. “The one thing I want more than anything else in this world is my sister back, but you can't help with that, can you?” Her throat thickened.

“I...don't want to cause you any more pain.”

“Then go away.”

He bent down and picked up a penny-size round bead. “This looks important.”

How did he know that black bead was super important to a certain little girl? “It belongs to Junie's toy cow, Mr. Moo Moo.” She quickly snatched the bead and stashed it in her pocket. “Thank you,” she managed.

“I don't think Tucker is leaving until he gets what he wants.”

She rekindled her anger. He was not about to push his way into her life or parenting decisions. “Why should it matter what you think, Mr. Hudson?” She stalked to the driver's-side and got in, pulling away without looking in the rearview mirror, though she could feel him standing there, watching. Her hands were clammy as she gripped the steering wheel.

He's come back to take her and punish you.

Mick's ominous words would not leave her mind as she drove to the old warehouse in the industrial part of town. Could he be right? Could Tucker have figured out that June was his child? Why would he care anyway? When LeeAnn had told him about the pregnancy, he'd pushed her to end it immediately. He had not wanted a baby then. And now? That he was a fugitive with a target on his back?

Oh, why had her sister ever come back to Silver Creek? She and June might be living a happy life together if LeeAnn and Tucker had never rekindled their deadly relationship.

Her worries only increased with every mile until she finally called the police. It reassured her to hear that they had instituted roadblocks and had their eyes on train stations and the bus depot, and that the frequent neighborhood patrols would continue. Should she tell them about June? She'd promised LeeAnn never to reveal the truth about June's parentage, but if Mick was right, Keeley was putting the child at risk by not breaking her vow. She had to trust someone with the truth. Her stomach churned.

She made arrangements to meet with Chief Uttley at seven, leaving her just enough time to do her job. Was it the right choice or wrong? She had no idea, so she squashed the whirling anxiety and focused on the task at hand.

Her quarry would be best photographed at the top of the empty six-story building, once the home of the
Oregon Weekly Tribune
. The building stood resolutely against the sinking sun, as if guarding the colony of bright green Quaker parrots that had set up residence on the roof of the neighboring storage facility. The ingenious avian builders had infiltrated every nook and cranny, stuffing each crevice with a mountain of twigs to build their enormous communal nests. From her vantage point, with the zoom lens, Keeley could get incredible shots of the master builders at work.

Keeley climbed up the fire-escape ladders of the newspaper building, one arduous flight after the other, until she arrived, panting, at the top. Cold wind assaulted her cheeks. The rooftop was littered with detritus, broken branches, feathers that had been carried by the breeze and deposited against the ventilation boxes and piles of weathered pallets, stacked in six-foot piles in haphazard fashion. A flicker of motion made her jump.

She heaved out a sigh as a parrot waddled out from behind a crate, a long stick held in his beak. “Wrong building, bird,” she said, snapping his picture anyway. He took off, flying toward the communal nest.

After one more cautious look around, Keeley settled herself onto her stomach, her camera steadied on a tiny tripod. She zoomed the lens and took a couple of test shots to check the lighting.

Perfect. She reveled as she always did in the privilege of being able to peek into a hidden world, a secret place, and document the wild lives burgeoning around her.

A parrot with puffy white cheeks and brilliant emerald feathers alighted to preen on the ledge of the adjacent building. Keeley readied her camera.

“Hold still, birdie. One more second,” she whispered.

The scuff of a shoe behind her made her whirl around, heart thundering in her chest.

“You sound just like your sister,” Tucker Rivendale said.

FOUR

M
ick called Reggie on the way.

“I just got word from my source that he's been holing up at that newspaper building,” Reggie sniped into the phone as Mick drove after Keeley. “I'm on my way there right now. Please don't tell me Keeley is headed there, too.”

Mick had followed Keeley long enough to realize that for some reason that he could not fathom, that was exactly where she seemed to be going. “Can't ease your mind on that count.”

“And you're right behind her.” Reggie sighed. “At least you're armed.”

Mick remained silent.

“You don't have a gun?” Reggie thundered. “How are you gonna take him out before he kills the girl?”

How many times after he'd left the marines had he found himself reaching for a gun when a car backfired or a stranger approached just a little too quickly? Which was exactly why he'd promised himself he'd never again carry one.

“You've gotta keep her off that rooftop until I get there. You stay off, too.”

“I'm pulling up in the parking lot right now.” Mick disconnected. Keeley's car was there, but no sign of her. He raced to the front and rattled the doors—locked. What would her second move be? Same as his, the fire escape. He hastened to the nearest set of ladders. The rusted metal scraped at his fingers, the rungs creaked under his weight as he took the first step.

Two rungs up and a voice called out, “Hey.” Fingers grabbed at his calf.

He whirled and barely had time to check his reflexive kick as he jumped down. It was the vet guy. John something or other.

John's eyes were narrowed into suspicious slits. “What are you doing here?”

Mick's first rule: never give away any information unless strictly necessary. “Not your business.”

“If you're here because of Keeley, it is my business.” John stepped between him and the ladder.

Mick did not want to take the time. “Can't talk now. Get out of my way.”

“And what if I don't?”

He sighed. “Look. If you want to fight, we'll do it later. Right now, I have reason to believe Keeley is heading for trouble. Move, or I'll have to go through you.”

John's lips tightened, but he did as Mick demanded. Smart.

“Should I call the police?” he yelled up.

Mick's second rule: never waste time answering a question that someone already knew the answer to. Mick left him to stew over that decision as he raced up the ladder. Back in the day as a young marine, he could have made the climb easily. Now, in spite of his rigorous fitness regimen, his knee, torn and abused over the years, complained after the second floor. He pressed on.

One more flight and he was at the top. He risked a quick look and his heart lurched. Keeley stood next to Tucker Rivendale. When Tucker caught a glimpse of Mick, he darted an arm around her throat, the blade of a knife held under her jaw. She looked more perplexed than scared.

“Come on up, Mick,” Tucker called. “Might as well make this a party.”

Mick stepped onto the roof. “Did he hurt you?” he asked Keeley.

“You never did trust me, did you?” Tucker said, with a laugh.

“I did, and that was a mistake I won't make again.”

“Maybe it's her you should be doubting.” He squeezed Keeley around the shoulders. She flinched. Tucker shook his head. “She's a liar, you know. She's lied to me for three years now, trying to take my kid.”

Keeley stiffened. “June isn't yours. You never wanted her. You killed LeeAnn, and you don't deserve to be a father.”

Tucker's eyes went wide. “I'm guilty, huh, end of story? You get to decide that I don't have the right to be a father to my own kid?”

“Let her go, Tucker,” Mick said. “You killed that little girl's mother. In my book, that strips your dad status.”

“Everyone in this world is a dirty liar.” Tucker pushed Keeley away and she sprawled on the rooftop. Mick edged closer, between Keeley and Tucker. Now she had a chance; the playing field was more level. There was no way to win a knife fight without some serious bloodshed, but he could hold Tucker off long enough for Keeley to scramble down from the fire escape.

Tucker's mouth twisted. “Listen, man. I know you've been helping them all this time to find me.”

“True. You're a murderer, you deserve to be incarcerated.”

“I deserve plenty, but not the blame for killing LeeAnn.”

Mick grunted. “Save me the sob story. You're going to prison where you belong.”

Tucker pointed the knife at Mick, eyes narrowed. “I thought you were different.”

“Because I was gullible enough to be manipulated by you?” Shame flooded his insides until he shut it down. “Take your best shot, Tucker. You're only going to get one.”

“Don't want it to be this way.” Tucker weighted back on his heels, crouched low.

Mick did the same, hoping his reflexes were a match for his younger opponent. He had plenty of hand-to-hand combat training, but his arm still throbbed from the wound Tucker had given him before. If he'd had a gun, as Reggie supposed he did...

Something sailed through the air and over Tucker's head. He jerked as Keeley reached for another bit of broken wood that littered the rooftop and hurled it as fast as she could, fury convulsing her face. Her aim wasn't good. Many of them plunked into Mick's shoulders and one struck him in the cheek, but it was enough to get Tucker off balance.

As Tucker raised an arm to shield his face, Mick reached to pull her away.

A gunshot exploded from behind the pile of pallets.

Mick launched himself at Keeley and brought her to the ground, covering his body with hers as another shot sent bits of the concrete roof flying through the air. The bullets sent the parrots on the next building into a cacophony of panicked squawks and flapping wings. The air was alive with green feathery bodies.

When the shots died away, he dared to lift his head and look up. Tucker was not visible from his line of sight. He scrambled to his feet and took Keeley's hand, pulling her around the back side of a ventilation duct, some small protection from whoever was unloading bullets in their direction.

Keeley sucked in a breath, face dead white. “Is someone trying to help? Or are they aiming for us?”

* * *

Mick's face betrayed the same disbelief that Keeley was sure hers did, only he showed no trace of the wild fear that beat in her own heart. There was only rage in the taut lines of his jaw and lips. He held her wrist tightly, almost painfully so, crouched as if to leap up at any moment. “Stay here,” he whispered.

“Okay. My legs have turned to rubber anyway,” she whispered back.

His lips quirked for a moment. Then he was gone.

Keeley pressed close to the air duct, trying to steady her quivering muscles. She could hear the parrots still screeching from the nearby trees at the violation of their nesting area. She felt as if hers had been violated, too. First Tucker, appearing like a horrible nightmare, and then some crazy rooftop shooter. Was she dreaming? No, the convulsive squeeze of her panicked heart was all too real.

Where was Tucker? Even now, was he circling around behind her with his knife? She scooped up a board knocked loose from one of the pallets. It would have to do. If he wanted to kill her like he had her sister, she sure wasn't going to make it easy for him.

The sound of running feet made her breath hitch. She readied the board. Mick appeared around the corner, a trickle of blood running from the wound on his cheek. Something had changed in the stern lines of his mouth. “Come on out.”

“But...” She found she was talking to his back as he strode toward the spot where Tucker had been moments before.

A dark-haired man with an eye patch stood there, one hand on his hip and the other still gripping his gun.

Mick bore down on the man, seeming larger in his anger, his wide shoulders like the prow of a battleship.

“You could have hit her, Reggie,” he snarled. His voice didn't grow louder, but the man shrank back a pace.

“Not my fault.”

“Your finger on the trigger, your fault.”

Reggie shook his head and swore.

“And Tucker's gone,” Mick added. “Made it down the back fire escape. Took off on his motorcycle. What were you thinking?”

“Please.” Reggie snorted. “Blame me if it makes you feel better, but I hauled myself up three flights of a fire-escape ladder because you are too thickheaded to carry a weapon. I made it up here in time to see Tucker with a knife and then Keeley starts throwing stuff, so I have two seconds to squeeze off a clean shot, only Wonder Boy messes it up.”

“Who...?” Mick started.

Keeley was flabbergasted to see John emerge from behind a ventilation duct holding a half-empty bag of pretzels between his fingertips. John's eyes were wide with shock. “Tucker's been hanging out here, on this roof.”

“You don't say,” Reggie spat. “What I want to know is who you are and why did you interfere?”

John blinked. He looked at Keeley. “Are you okay?”

She was going to answer, but Reggie broke in. “No thanks to you. You dived at me. I could have killed her or Mick.”

John flushed. “I saw you start up the ladder. I didn't know who you were. I followed you up and saw you take out a gun. What was I supposed to think?”

“Aww, man.” Reggie jammed his gun into the holster. “It doesn't explain what you're doing here in the first place. Who are you anyway? Maybe you're working with Tucker, huh? Maybe you had a reason you didn't want me to shoot the kid.”

“I'd be happy to let you shoot him,” John said.

“Then explain yourself before I throttle you,” Reggie shouted.

Mick raised his palms. “Let him speak his piece.”

“I'm Dr. John Bender. I'm a veterinarian, and I've known Keeley and her sister for a long time. I called Aunt Viv's house to check on Keeley. Viv told me Keeley took a job photographing the parrots. There's only one place you're going to find parrots around here, so I knew where she was going.”

“But why did you follow me?” Keeley watched a wary look settle into his eyes.

“I thought you might need someone to keep tabs on you, with Rivendale back in town.” His chin went up. “I was right, too. Tucker might have killed you.”

“I might have killed her, thanks to you,” Reggie snapped. “You need to stay out of this, Doc. Am I making myself crystal clear?”

John stiffened. “Are you a cop?”

“Parole officer, and I know Tucker Rivendale well. Very well.”

“I know him well, too.” John leaned closer until the two men were close, glaring into each other's faces. “He murdered the woman I loved.”

Reggie cocked his head. “I get that, and you're desperate to be a man and be all protective and such, but you're going to get yourself into trouble by poking your nose in. Stick to the animals, Doc.”

John started to fire off a retort until Keeley put her hand on his shoulder. “I know you meant well coming after me. Thank you.”

He broke off staring at Reggie to give her a nod. “I'm glad you're okay. I would never put you in harm's way. You know that, right?” He took her hands.

“Yes.” Keeley gave his fingers a squeeze and then detached her hands from his.

“While you were down there, did you call the cops?” Mick said to John.

John shook his head. “I decided to investigate first. I'll do that right now.” He stepped away a few paces and dialed his phone.

Reggie stalked away to examine the rooftop.

Silence stretched between her and Mick until she grew uneasy. “I'm, um, sorry I hit you,” Keeley said, pointing to the gash on Mick's face. “Seems like I'm either running over you or clobbering you with something.”

“No problem.” He smiled, and the action lit up the satin depths of his eyes, a transformation she never would have thought possible. It swept away the flicker of what she hadn't recognized before. Under the anger, he had been afraid, but not for himself. For her. Why? Maybe because he hadn't been fearful enough about Tucker, about what he was capable of doing to her sister. The ache spiraled afresh, pounding a trail through her nerves. If he'd only been more worried about what Tucker might do before he got the tracking device removed. “I've got some Band-Aids in the car, but I think they might have rubber duckies on them.”

“I'll pass, but thank you.” The lightness left. “I'm going to check something out. Stay here.”

The irritation rose again. Stay here. Do this. Go here. He was very free with the directions for a guy that she didn't invite into her life and never would.
I call the shots in my life, Mick. Get that straight
. Mick went to the far side of the building and climbed down the fire escape. She hugged herself, watching Reggie prowl the rooftop, scowling. John appeared to be finishing up his phone call.

Dead leaves skittered across the roof. The faraway distressed call of the birds still drifted on the wind. Her heart returned, as it always did, to June. Junie, precious child. What was she doing right now? Playing with clay? Using her chubby fingers to create wild paintings of scenes in bold stripes of red and yellow? Had she noticed Mr. Moo Moo was missing an eye? She allowed herself for one moment to imagine what her life would be like if Junie was suddenly snatched away, gone without so much as a goodbye embrace, like LeeAnn had been. Bile rose in her throat, pulse edging upward with the horror and shaking her courage. Who could she trust to get her out of the mess?
No one. You're going to have to do it yourself, so stop letting everyone order you around.

She found herself following Mick's path down the fire escape.

John called something out to her, but she didn't stop. All her energy was spent in keeping her sanity; she had nothing left over to handle John's immense sadness or the animosity between him, Reggie and Mick. The ladder rungs bit into her palms, but she welcomed the movement, pain and all. One flight down and she realized there was an open window, halfway ajar, through which Mick must have squeezed.