Out of Circulation (Hemlock Creek Suspense Book 1) (6 page)

Mom picked them up in her small Toyota, wiping at her eyes the entire trip home.

"It's okay. I'm okay." Katie kept up a stream of reassurances, but Mom's uncharacteristic silence hung like a weight in the car. When Esther Sue McClure's bubble of cheer was popped, the only way she could deal with it was to retreat into herself. It had happened only once before that Katie remembered, for the entire year following Dad's death. She had prayed Mom would never have to go through such grief again.

But then again, maybe Dad's decisions had brought these mobsters to town. Had he stolen that money, regardless of the heartache it might cause his family? She couldn't believe that.

She felt an urge to call her brother. Maybe Dad had mentioned something to him? It had been too long since she'd seen Brandon's familiar red-bearded face on Skype. She would call him tonight.

But for now, she and Ace had work to do.

After a brief lunch, Katie called Mom's best friend to come and stay with her a while. If anyone could offer wisdom in a tough situation, it was Jeannie Young. Jeannie had lost her son in Afghanistan, yet amazingly, her faith in God had only grown stronger since.

She pocketed keys to the storage building and boat. Mom shot her a questioning look from the couch.

"I thought I'd show Ace the marina while he's here, take a break from all the library stuff." It wasn't the whole truth, but Mom didn't need to hear about Dad's possible corruption right now. "My cell phone is charged if you need me. I'm feeling fine, Mom—I promise."

Mom offered a resigned nod. "Yes, you might as well get out of the house."

As Katie sank into the cozy Lexus seat, Ace remained quiet. His eyebrows furrowed as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders.

She was beginning to feel like the designated situation-lightener. "Don't worry. You did your job and made sure I was all right. And I am."

He shot her a dubious look. "But you shouldn't be. Someone blew up your car, Katie. Doesn't that bother you?"

She sat back, stung by his harshness. "Well, of course it does. But what can I do about it, besides what we
are
doing?"

He ran a hand through his hair, creating dark, disheveled spikes. She was possessed by the strangest urge to reach over and smooth it back down.

He continued. "What I mean is, aren't you worried about losing your life? You only get one shot at it, you know."

So that was what was on his mind. "I know where I'm going when I die, so I'm not scared. Of course I want to live a long time—don't we all? And yes, we only get one go-round on this life. So I want to make the most of it." She paused, letting the reality of her words sink in. Yes. She wanted to make the most of this life God had given her, not cower around wishing she could be Molly or anyone else.

He didn't say another word as she directed him to the storage facility. Once there, he pulled into the empty lot and parked outside the barbwire fence. She took Mom's key and unlocked the gate.

When she opened the double doors to their unit, she peered into the jam-packed space and apologized. "Sorry this is so full of junk. Knowing Mom, we probably still have bins of baby clothes in here."

It was stuffy as all get-out as she tried to maneuver deeper into the building. Ace hung back, propping the doors open and taking a long, measuring glance around. "Tell me where your Dad's things are."

Stumbling around bed frames, lamps, and camping supplies, she finally managed to locate Dad's boxes. She swept her arm out. "His things are from about here on over."

He nodded and pointed to the left. "How about you take that half, I'll take this?"

They pawed through box after box for over an hour. She wished she'd packed something to drink in the parching heat. She was about to suggest they hit the nearby Wendy's when his phone rang.

He checked the caller, then motioned to his car. "I have to take this."

As he strode outside, she couldn't help but wonder. Was it some kind of private call from a girlfriend?

Minutes slowly ticked by. The combination of stifling building, thirst, and repressed shock from the morning's car bombing began to weigh on her. Things began to get dark around the edges and she felt herself slipping from the box she sat on.

Abruptly, Ace's strong hands gripped her, shifting her entire body into his massive arms. "I'm taking you out to the car." He carried her to the leather car seat, where he positioned her with her head over her knees.

As he started the engine, air-conditioning hit her face full-blast. She gasped and nearly clobbered her head on the dashboard.

"Take it easy," he said, gently pushing her head down again. "You nearly passed out. I'm going to find something to drink for you."

He seemed to know where he was going, whipping around the winding mountain roads like a native. Good thing she didn't get car-sick, like Molly. Pulling into the Wendy's drive-through, Ace barked orders for four waters. At the next window, he practically threw a twenty-dollar bill at them, then grabbed the bottles and passed one to her. She eased into a sitting position.

"Drink this, slowly. And breathe deep," he said.

She did as told and started to feel a bit refreshed. Not to mention, utterly humiliated. She was so weak.

"I'm so sorry—" she started.

"Don't apologize. It was my fault. Paid too much attention to my phone call and not enough to you."

"Who was it?" Why did she feel the need to pry?

"My boss." He didn't elaborate, just sucked down half his water bottle.

"So sorry—I'll bet you need to head on back to New York. And here you are stuck in West Virginia." She should dip into her savings to help Mom pay him for his services.

He took another gulp of water and turned to her. Those blue eyes pulled her in, like specks of ocean in land-locked Hemlock Creek. He stretched out a hand and cupped her cheek.

"You have more color. That's good. I didn't realize you had so many freckles until you blanched out back there." He gave her a half-smile. "Let's go back to the building and finish up. You're a trooper for doing this, especially when we're getting nowhere." His voice roughened. "And by the way, you have a habit of apologizing for things you don't have any control over. I don't want you ever to apologize to me again."

"Never?" She grinned. "Must mean I'm perfect."

He gazed at her just a second too long. "It's not that much of a stretch."

****

This was getting too stupid. How dare his boss call him in the middle of the day, knowing he was probably with Katie? Not only that, but he had simply repeated his earlier threats, as if those hadn't come through loud and clear with the last call.

Katie
was
a trooper, going back into the storage building. The relentless heat had completely plastered his oxford shirt to his back, forcing him to strip down to his T-shirt.

And for what? A search for money that probably wasn't there.

Now they'd taken another half-hour to rummage through the remainder of Sean's boxes and even his T-shirt was soaked. Katie looked okay but was still peaked, even as she sipped at her water. He needed to get her out of here.

He stretched and made a proclamation. "That's enough. We've been through every box. There's nothing to find here."

She handed him the building keys in an exhausted silence, then limped out to the car. He followed, turning on the engine so she could sit in the air-conditioning while he locked up.

She was speaking on the phone when he returned. She wrapped up her conversation, turned off the phone, and explained. "I called Reba. She's hanging in there, but she's closing the library for the rest of the week. So we can take our time checking Dad's boat. Thanks so much for doing all this." She smiled, at first hesitantly, then that blinding-wide smile that made him feel like a hero.

Couldn't be further from the truth. Her hero was a villain.

****

Dad had been a member of the Sutton Lake Marina since Katie had turned twelve. His Cabin Cruiser boat, the
Vixen
, was the one thing he had splurged on for himself with his earnings. At least she hoped it had been his earnings.

She treasured memories of summer nights she'd camped on the deck in her sleeping bag, picking out constellations as the boat lightly bobbed beneath her. Back then, she'd felt like she could do anything, be anyone.

After her accident, she'd stopped visiting the
Vixen
, mostly because she felt off balance and feared she'd pitch overboard like a klutz.

Again. Fear. She had begun to see it for what it was, to name it. This frantic race to find the bank money was driving her to overcome those fears...that, and the confidence of having Ace Calhoun by her side.

As they stepped onboard, she took the steadying hand he offered, glancing at his face. His Yankee candor seemed to have been replaced with reticence since the explosion. It was like he had gone inward, and she really wished she knew how those gears in his head were churning.

She fiddled with the rusty lock on the cabin door, finally jiggering it open. They stepped into the small space that smelled faintly of mildew. Mom had never cared much for sailing, so it hadn't been cleaned for a while.

"We need to get looking or we'll melt in here." She propped the door open, then gestured to the cabinets by the small refrigerator. "You check the right side, I'll check the left. Or should I say, you check starboard and I'll check port."

He cracked a smile. "Well, aren't you all nautical?"

"I'd forgotten how much I love this. I used to wish I could live on a houseboat, like MacGyver."

"You watched that show?"

"Just the re-runs."

"I didn't know you were a retro TV girl. I'm a big
A-Team
fan, myself."

They fell into a companionable silence as they began to plunder the cabinets.

Bypassing cans of Spam and pork and beans that were probably three years expired, she pulled up a zippered pouch. "Hey, what's this?"

He was by her side in a moment. His cologne made it hard to concentrate, and she couldn't ignore the way his damp T-shirt draped his muscles. Seriously, the guy could probably beat up three men at once.

After unzipping the pouch, she pulled out folded bank statements and handed him half of them. She felt somewhat traitorous sharing them with someone outside the family, but it was for the greater good.

They read over the papers, finally coming to the conclusion that nothing looked amiss. No out-of-the-ordinary deposits or strange payments had been made.

"It's hopeless." She yanked out another drawer. The heat was so smothering, she had the ridiculous—and inappropriate—urge to strip to her unmentionables and jump in the lake. "Let's go on deck and get some air," she suggested instead.

Outside, Ace didn't hesitate to sprawl out on the warm wood deck, and she carefully lowered herself to join him. But it only took a few moments to realize the blinding sun was going to scald her pale skin. Ace probably couldn't feel it—he had that skin color that seemed to maintain a perpetual tan. She struggled back to her feet. "We might as well get going. Mom's probably working on supper soon and I don't think there's anything here."

"Let's jump in first."

Had he read her mind? It was so hot...

"We can't go home all wet—" she started.

But he had already begun stripping off his T-shirt. He laid his holstered guns on the deck, then boosted himself over the back railing and began to doggie-paddle in the dark lake. He grinned up at her.

"Come on in—the water's fine!" He splashed water on the deck.

How could she resist?

She carefully slid off the port side and did a butterfly stroke to him. She'd forgotten how swimming seemed to erase her limp.

Good grief. She would have never guessed a couple weeks ago that she'd be swimming in Sutton Lake with a personal bodyguard. Especially not with one who looked a whole lot like Superman.

"Are we friends?" The question popped out before she could stop it.

"Of course." He floated languidly, drops of water flecking his sleek chest.

"Good." His companionship had almost been like a security blanket these past few days.

She dove into the cool water, paying no attention to the sopping blouse and pants that weighed her down. She felt like a carefree kid again.

Boldness filled her and she voiced something she'd been curious about. "So...Ace is an interesting name. Is that your real name?"

He swam closer, his look unreadable. Why had she felt compelled to ask that? She did a few strokes backward, wishing she could vanish.

But his lips curled into a smile. "Yes, believe it or not, it's real. My dad was heavy into baseball. 'Ace' is a term for the best starting pitcher on a team."

"So did you play baseball?"

"Only a little. I wasn't the best at it and I surely wasn't a pitcher. My dad came to one game and as I recall, he left early."