Monday's Child (3 page)

She pulled open the small freezer. “Do you want chicken curry or lasagna for dinner?”

“Either.”

“That’s no help.” She pulled out two dinners at random. She heated one, put it on a plate, and handed it to him. He’d made himself at home on the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table and the remote control in his hand. “Here you go.”

He smiled, showing a dazzling row of perfect teeth that only the Americans had. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” Sara went back into the kitchen and heated hers. She ate it at the small bench, then set the plate in the sink. That could wait until morning.

She settled down in the arm chair, not really paying attention to what was on the TV. She watched in order to avoid the male presence on the other side of the room. Just after nine, she rose and announced she was going to bed. Not giving Luke a chance to respond, she headed quickly into her bedroom and shut the door, shoving the chair in front of it. As she removed her watch, she caught sight of the date. Her breath caught. Jamie died five months ago to the day.

Tears fell thick and fast and Sara gave into them. She curled up on the bed with a pillow, her knees pulled as close to her chest as the baby bump would allow. She sobbed as her heart once again broke within her, the pain inside building to a crescendo that would never peak. Why did Jamie have to die? Closing her eyes against the tears, she poured out her heart to the Lord.

2

Sara’s eyes sprang open, her heart pounding in her chest. Were those footsteps outside the chalet? She glanced at the clock on her bedside table and breathed a sigh of relief. Of course. The footfalls belonged to DC Johnston, the night shift officer. He had a perfectly timed plan, and his tread was a lot heavier than DC Lomas, the day shift guard, although they were more or less the same height and build. The steps went away, but he’d be back. It was his custom to circle the building twice after she’d gone to bed.

The front door rattled as he reached it, and Sara shook her head and turned on her side. Of course, she locked it. Did he think she was stupid? She might leave the curtains open longer than her guards liked, but she always locked up.

The windows in the other bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and her room rattled before the steps moved away. Maybe now he’d go away and let her get some rest. Though she didn’t imagine the leftenant would like being disturbed by someone rattling his windows.

There was a brief pause, and the footsteps started again. Sara turned to her other side and punched her pillow. If he wanted to pace all night long, let him. No skin off her nose.

Sara rubbed her eyes. Was she seeing things? There was someone standing at the window. She closed her eyes then opened them again. The shadow was still there.

“All right, that’s enough. Pacing is one thing. Standing right outside my bedroom window like a Peeping Tom is something else altogether.”

Throwing back the covers, she sat up and reached for her dressing gown. Fully intending to give DC Johnston a piece of her mind, she took rapid strides to the window and pulled open both curtains in one swift movement.

She jumped and covered her heart with her trembling hand. “Jamie.”

He was standing right outside her window. He wasn’t dead.

Her feet moved of their own accord. Tossing the chair to one side, she started for the front door, running as fast as she could from the chalet, screaming his name at the top of her lungs. “Jamie!”

The figure vanished over a sand dune, and she set off in pursuit. “Jamie, wait.”

Footsteps clattered behind her, but she ignored them as well as the officers calling after her to halt. She didn’t know how Jamie found her, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here, and she had to get to him. Someone grabbed her arm and she cried out as he spun her around. “No!”

Anger flashed in Luke’s eyes, as well as his voice. “What do you think you’re doing? Get back inside.”

“Get off me.”

Luke spoke into his radio. “I got her.” He shook his head and turned to face her. “Get back inside.”

Sara tried to pull free. “You don’t understand. Jamie’s here. He was standing right outside my window, looking in. I was following him, and I could have caught him.”

“Sara…”

Sara cut him off. “He was here, and he’s getting away.”

“All right, fine, have it your way. I’ll send someone to search if you come back inside.”

“You don’t have to humor me.” She muttered under her breath as he dragged her back to the chalet. She stood outside the door, refusing to go in. “Go search for footprints if you don’t believe me. The ground’s soft enough for you to find them.”

“Sara, please, let us handle it. It’s our job. Go to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sara stormed inside, wishing she could slam the door in his face. She’d lost Jamie again. For a moment, she was tempted to go outside and hunt for him herself, but Luke locked the door and disappeared into his room with the key.

With as much vehemence as she could manage, Sara picked up three cushions and hurled them one at a time across the room and into the wall, screaming with each soft thud against the wooden barrier.

She flounced back into the bedroom and slammed that door shut, too. Her anger spent, she flung herself onto the bed, leaving those curtains open in case Jamie came back. Jamie lived. She knew it. She saw him.

She shivered. Who or what had they burned to ashes? Jamie had left instructions in his will stating his desire to be cremated. She’d seen to his wishes and when the police brought her his ashes, sprinkled them into the sea. Or so she’d thought. But if that was the case, whom had she seen tonight?

She’d been too sick to view the body and, as was tradition, it was a closed casket funeral. She shook herself. She wouldn’t let doubts fill her confused mind. Jamie was alive and that was that.
Lord, forgive my outburst. I acted like a child, what must the leftenant think of me? But it was Jamie, I know my own husband. Why won’t they believe me?

****

Sara opened her eyes as a pale grey touched the sky. She lay still, hoping the sick feeling would pass. She hated feeling nauseous at the best of times and this certainly didn’t rate as that.

Leaving it as long as she could, she got up and made a rapid dash to the bathroom. She threw up several times before leaning against the cool tiled wall, catching her breath, and wiping her face with a cool, wet cloth. Shouldn’t morning sickness have worn off by now?

By nine, the sickness dulled, and Sara ventured into the kitchen to make coffee. Last night’s dinner dishes were nowhere in sight, and she assumed the leftenant had done them. Sara poured the coffee and leaned against the counter, sipping it. She was grateful the leftenant had slept in. She didn’t want him knowing about the baby.

Footsteps tapped on the wood floor. Speak of the devil. His beaming smile lit the room from here. How could the American be so cheerful this early in the day? “Morning, Leftenant. I owe you an apology for my outburst last night.”

“Morning, Sara. No apology needed. How are you doing?” Before she had chance to answer, there was a knock at the door, and he moved across the room to unlock it.

She scowled as he let Wilcox into the chalet. This was her home, not his. She ignored his greeting and drew her brows closer together. “I assume you didn’t find Jamie since you’re alone.”

“We did a thorough search. There was no one around. It was probably—”

“My imagination?”

“Kids.”

Sara shook her head and scoffed. “I know what I saw. It was Jamie.” He didn’t look like he believed her, but there was nothing she could do to convince him. Heaving a sigh, she softened her tone. “What about the footprints?”

“There are footprints outside your bedroom window.”

“And they’re Jamie’s. You should put all the cops out on the streets to search for him, including the leftenant here.” She noticed the way the eyes of the two officers met and scowled in annoyance. “What?”

Luke cleared his throat. “Sara, what if the man outside your window last night was Austin? What if he gets in? I need to be inside, with you. Always.”

“Austin? Oh, pl-ease. Don’t you think I’d recognize my own husband when I see him?”

Sara folded her arms across her chest and turned back to Wilcox. “I don’t suppose the leftenant told you, but I have to go shopping in town this morning. I need new clothes.”

The officers exchanged a long silent glance, during which Sara was convinced they’d say no, before Wilcox turned to her. “Fine. You can go. Straight there, straight back, don’t let your escort out of your sight, and…”

“And no talking to any strange men,” Sara finished. “Yeah, I know the drill. I’ll get my coat.”

Sara went into the bedroom. She put on her coat and grabbed her bag. A light rain started falling as she left the chalet. DC Lomas joined them, and the two men led her to the car.

Sara tuned out the men’s conversation as the car made its way down the narrow country lanes. She gazed out of the window. Rain trickled down the outside of the glass, and she rubbed her sleeve over the inside to clear the condensation. The scenery changed as they drove, from small beachside village to fields and wind farms, then converted to the built up resorts of the seaside town.

Lomas parked the car off the High Street and then rounded the vehicle to open her door. She got out as Luke glanced around, obviously checking the area. She pulled the umbrella from her bag and put it up. “Do we go clothes shopping or have coffee first? There’s a nice café up here on the right.”

Luke shook his head. “Clothes shopping. You were told straight here and straight back. You can have coffee at home.”

This time Sara rolled her eyes. Shopping relaxed her. “Spoilsport.”

She set off in the pouring rain, heading towards the mall. Christmas music spilled from the speakers, and tinsel and baubles hung from the ceiling. A huge tree sparkled and glittered with lights and decorations in the center of the mall. Sara paused to admire it. Christmas was less than a month away, though it wasn’t going to be much of a celebration this year. She was alone with only a fake husband and ten other cops to share it with.

In the dress store, Sara picked out several outfits. She took them into the changing rooms, while the two men stood guard outside. She was two sizes bigger than she had been. She wasn’t sure how she managed that, despite the pregnancy, with all the meals she skipped since she started having morning sickness.

Sara exited the mall into the High Street laden with bags. The rain had stopped, and a pale watery sun filtered through the clouds, reflecting off the wet streets. She checked both ways and crossed the road, drawn by the smell of coffee from the café, to the window of an expensive boutique next door. She gazed at the dress in the window and smiled.
If I wore something that glamorous and revealing, Jamie would call me mutton dressed as lamb
.

She shifted her gaze and caught a glimpse of a reflection in the glass beside her. A man walked up at a slow pace and pushed his hood down. His eyes glittered with hatred it took only a second to recognize, and his long hair framed a face which sported cruel thin lips curled into a snarl. He raised his fingers and pretended to shoot her as he mouthed her name in slow motion. “Sara.”

Sara gasped in terror. Blind panic filled her, but she kept her mind well enough to reach for Luke and grab his elbow. “Do something….That’s Austin.”

She glanced back, but he’d gone. She looked around terrified.

“Let’s get you inside and off the streets.” Luke wrapped an arm around her and spoke to Lomas as he guided Sara into the café. “See if you can get a location on him. Did you see him?”

“Yeah, but I thought he was window shopping.” Lomas swore as he raised his radio and moved off to search. “This is Lomas. I need back up. Target spotted.”

3

Sara sat at a table in the café, her hands shaking too much to drink the coffee Luke bought her. He sat next to her, his hand inches away from hers. Sara’s mind whirled. Austin had found her. She was no longer safe.

Detective Inspector Wilcox came over, jerked his head in greeting to Luke, and sat opposite Sara. “Tell me what you saw.”

“It was Austin.” She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her shattered nerves. “He stepped up to me, said my name, and pretended to shoot me with his fingers.”

“I see.” He looked at Luke. “And where were you?”

“He was standing right there, all right, Inspector? Both of them were. I hadn’t gone off on my own. I resent this protection thing at times, but I’m not stupid.”

Wilcox stared at her, then looked back at Luke. “Well?”

“I was as close to her as I am now. We both were. We thought the guy was window shopping.”

“We’ll talk more back at the chalet. Sara, DC Lomas will drive you and Luke back now. Chances are Austin knows where you’re staying, especially after last night. So I want you to pack. We’ll move you out tonight.”

“But it wasn’t Austin.”

Wilcox gave her a long ‘I’m not going to be argued with’ stare.

Sara sighed. It wasn’t Austin she’d seen the previous night. It was Jamie. He’d found her, only no one believed her, so she wasn’t going waste her breath. “All right. Where am I going?”

“Let us worry about that. You and Luke go home and pack. There will be uniformed officers outside. If Austin knows where you are, there’s no point in concealing the uniforms, but we’ll maintain the illusion of husband and wife. That’s essential for the duration of this protection program.”

Sara let Luke lead her out to the car. She gave him the bags and got inside, wrapping her arms around her middle. She didn’t care what Austin did to her…but her baby was another matter. She sat there in silence as Luke got in next to her, and Lomas drove back to the chalet.

Sara carried the bags from the car and struggled to pull out her key. Her trembling hands made unlocking the door impossible.

“Let me.” Luke took the key from her, his fingers warm against her frozen skin, and opened the door. “Go and start packing. Mine won’t take long. Would you like more coffee?”