Soft Target (10 page)

“Carl, this is Elaine. She’ll be working nights, but she hasn’t waited tables before. I need you to help out.”

“Sure.” With that slight acknowledgment, he turned back to the griddle. “I’m not sure if I can fix this before tomorrow morning.”

Now she understood Rick’s exasperation. Left to her own devices while Carl obsessed over wiring, Shelby patrolled the gleaming kitchen. The only mess was the pile of college brochures spilling from the backpack on the center table.

The young man shot a guilty look over his shoulder. “I didn’t know anyone else would be here, and I thought I’d fill out applications tonight. It can wait, though.”

“You’re applying to college?” She flipped through the catalogs. Horticulture, medicine, pre-law, geology, engineering. Unless she’d guessed wrong, there was no way he’d get into these programs. She was never wrong. “These are ambitious degrees.”

“I need a better job.” Carl talked to the wiring while he worked. “I’m saving money for tuition and so my girlfriend and I can get married after I graduate. I don’t want to disappoint her like her last boyfriend did. He embarrassed her in front of the entire town. Left her at the altar for someone else. I made a vow then, that I’d always be there for her.”

She couldn’t blame him for dreaming. If this was her real life, she’d be sticking her head in the oven, or maybe a fork in her eye.

“Elaine?” Carl’s sharp tone indicated he’d called her more than once. She had to be careful. Her name was Elaine Thomas. She’d have to practice.

“Sorry. I’m not used to staying up this late.” Shelby made sure to yawn against the back of her hand and keep her voice hesitant. “Are you ready to get started?”

Chapter Eleven

“It was a dance.” Gray repeated the reminder on Monday morning when he parked behind the bar and looked in the rearview mirror. Staying on the dance floor had allowed him to keep an eye on her, and bidding kept her safe and narrowed his suspects. Yeah, right. It had almost bankrupted him to win a date with a woman he shouldn’t be dating.

But wouldn’t it be fun to pretend?

Gray slammed the truck door harder than necessary. He went easier on the back door. “She is not your girlfriend. It’s just another day.”

His determination dissolved when he saw her at the bar reading
The Wall Street Journal
with her coffee. An empty cup was waiting on him.

“No Nate today?”

“He went straight to the quarry this morning. He was running late.” Her shy glance over the paper ruined every bit of planning. Once again, his tongue twitched and his throat constricted. Rather than surrendering, he let hot coffee scald his taste buds.

“Faith stayed over, I guess.” That was the wrong thing to say. Now the images filling his brain were of what would make him late if Maggie was in his bed, or on his back patio reading the paper.

He stayed behind the bar, marshaling his unruly thoughts and disobedient body. “
The Wall Street Journal
?”

“Dad and I read it every morning before school. He’d have his coffee while I ate my oatmeal, and we’d build an imaginary stock portfolio and track the progress of each company. On the weekends we’d research to see what caused the changes and decide what to sell.”

“Some game. Why?”

“He liked it, and Nate wouldn’t sit still long enough. But—” she blushed as she continued “—mostly because he was teaching me to invest the money Grandma left me.”

“Anne left you her money?” He waited for her nod. “And her stock?”

“Granddad put my stock in my trust, but I got the money when I turned twenty-one. It isn’t much, compared to everything else, but it’s mine and I want to take care of it.” She buried her nose in the paper again, scribbling notes while she read.

Sure curiosity had dampened his desire, Gray took a seat. “Show me?”

The look on her face reminded him of a stray cat he’d seen in the alley behind his apartment building. One evening, he’d sat and tempted the animal with a can of tuna. The entire time it had kept its wary gaze on him—hoping for acceptance but expecting to be hurt.

He smiled like he had at the kitten. “Please?”

For the next hour, she took him through the
Journal
in a way he’d never experienced. News stories and consumer trends made her think of the impact on each considered company.

Maggie looked at investing the way Nate looked at construction.

She pointed at a specific story. “What would happen if this—” she flipped back a few pages “—occurred here?”

Gray took her pen and drew a diagram in her notebook. “That.”

“Hel-lo, Mr. MBA.” She grinned at him.

The paper was forgotten. He’d never in his life considered investments sexy, but watching her brain work was the biggest turn-on. All he had to do was lean forward a few inches.

Someone banged on the front door and she jerked away.

His grip tightened around the warm, heavy coffee mug as she accepted a delivery of white lilies. He wanted to be between her and the door, but she would never hide.

Her shoulders sagged as if the bouquet weighed a hundred pounds. When she dropped it on the bar, he brought her a new cup of coffee and they stared at the delicate flowers as if they were an experiment gone awry.

“They’re pretty,” he mumbled.

“They’re all pretty, which makes them creepier,” she sighed. “Let’s see what he has to say.”

Her knees buckled as she read. Alarmed, Gray shoved a stool beneath her before he snatched the sentiment.

I’m sorry I didn’t win the auction, but it was your last one.

She was a pale statue. Without thinking, he wrapped her in his arms. It took a minute for her to thaw and return the embrace.

“The last few hadn’t been as bad,” she mumbled. “I was hoping—I need to get these out of here.”

He didn’t release her until she’d quit shaking. This time he beat her to the flowers. Keeping a tight grip on the box, he kept the awful token as far away from her as possible.

The idea formed when they were descending the steps. Rather than stopping at the car, he walked through the parking lot and, wading into the undergrowth, beckoned for her to follow. When they reached their destination, he handed her the vase.

“Break it.”

“But—”

“Faye won’t miss them. No one wants them.”

The war played across her face, but mischief kindled in her eyes.

“I dare you,” he said, winking.

That did it. Without warning, she pulled her hands away and let the bouquet fall between them. The crack of glass on stone silenced the squirrels’ chatter.

He didn’t care water splashed on the toes of his boots and up the legs of his jeans. All he cared about was Maggie’s whoop of laughter.

“That was great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned her away from the ruined lilies and sharp glass. “Now, about our date.”

“Wasn’t that yesterday?”

“If you have to ask, it wasn’t.” With the worst of the day behind them, Gray let his laughter free. “How about Saturday?”

“Sure. We could—”

“I’ll plan it. Why don’t you go see Faye?”

Once she was gone, his smile vanished. His fingers flew across his phone, and his pulse pounded as it rang.

“Crandall.”

The lazy drawl made him grin. “Tired of grading papers, professor?”

“God, yes. These newbies are getting on my nerves. Where the hell are you? Bob said something about Idaho.”

“I
am
in Idaho. And I need a profiler. Feel like breaking a rule and helping a civilian?”

“Hot damn. What do you have?”

“Pretty woman—”

“My type of case.”

“Listen,” Gray snapped. “Pretty woman, wealthy, well loved, getting anonymous flowers every week.”

“Notes?”

“Yep. Escalating threats.”

“How wealthy?”

“Eight figures, maybe nine.”

Jeff’s whistle stretched for three syllables. “Single?”

“Yes,” Gray growled.

“Don’t get testy. I’m just asking. Flowers come from?”

“The local florist through FTD. Paid with a gift card. And the notes indicate he knows her. He’s
close
.”

“So what’s your issue?”

“There are a lot of
close
people.”

The line fell quiet, and he could hear Jeff alternately writing and typing. “He’s organized, obsessive, strapped for cash and idealistic. Has he made contact?”

“He breaks into her home at night and wanders around while she’s asleep upstairs.”

“You could’ve led with that, jackass,” Jeff said. “Send me what you have. I’ll see what I can do.” He drew a deep breath. “So you’re working off the books. Does that mean you’re ready to come back?”

“Yes.” Gray’s lungs tightened.

“Gray—”

“I need to go. Thanks for the help.”

He hung up and poured another cup of coffee. His shoulder creaked and the scars stretched and contracted across his lung. He dragged in more air until the exhales echoing through the room grew further apart. Instead of running for aspirin, he locked his feet in place. If he couldn’t get a handle on his panic, return to the life waiting on him, Ted’s sacrifice would be wasted.

The yellow walls surrounding him reflected the sunlight. Maggie’s notebook lay on the bar, her scribbles and now his cluttering a page. Her laughter rang in his ears. Would it be so bad to stay here?

Gray banished the thought as quickly as it had come. She was a friend. It was a job. He’d make her safe and then go back where he belonged.

* * *

He was still telling himself that on Saturday night, date night. He sat in the back lot and surveyed the newly cleared tree line before he stared at the door. His hands were sweating on the steering wheel as if he were sixteen and borrowing the car to take Maggie to the movies.

All week he’d come to work earlier than normal to sit with her and read the
Journal
over coffee. While he worked in the office, she stayed behind the bar and gave him quiet he no longer wanted. Too often he’d found himself staring at the surveillance monitors, watching her behind the bar while she did the simplest chores. He’d lingered longer each day, gobbling burgers in his truck on the way to a site.

Only the patrolmen knew he stayed far after closing, watching the back door while they watched the front. He might as well do that since he couldn’t sleep. The nightmares were worse. Before they’d at least been consistent. Now they were remembered sounds and scenes jumbled together with the faces of men and women who’d lost everything while he stared from the other side of his desk. Maggie played a role, too, adding laughter and music. At times Shelby stood atop skyscrapers covered in plastic ivy and snow.

Maggie had dropped constant hints about casual outdoor activities for a daytime date. In response, he’d become determined to plan something more traditional. In the end, he’d compromised.

He’d spent the morning in the park with the Humane Society. Knowing Chet Miller, another officer, was Maggie’s clandestine guard at the kitten rescue had made it easy for Gray to relax and meet Fiddler residents while he washed their dogs. He and Maggie had eaten lunch in the park with the other volunteers.

Now they were on their own, and he wasn’t sure if he still smelled like dog shampoo. Too late to fix it now. Opening the door he swung out of the rental car, feeling like his knees were up to his chin.

The sleek, black car signaled the death of his objectivity. He didn’t want Maggie climbing into a truck scratched by gravel and sand, with a suspension beaten into submission. Or on the back of the bike, bundled against the weather and silent under her helmet. He didn’t want to drive her car. He wanted to pick her up and take her somewhere to eat with a roof and china. He wanted to spend time with her without another motive. He wanted a real date with Maggie Mathis, and he was about to get his wish.

Lifting the book from the passenger seat, he set it on his knee and tapped his finger on the cover. It was stupid. He should leave it in the backseat and return it to the library tomorrow. No one brought things on a first date anymore. He’d never taken Shelby anything other than extra ammunition when they’d met at the shooting range.

Ammunition.
He shook his head. A book was an improvement over that, anyway.

He rang the bell. Her door closed, her steps clicked down the stairs, and she stopped. He held his breath as the door between them opened.

The dress reminded him of the foam on hot chocolate, and the fabric begged to be touched. It also clung to her every curve. High heels, makeup, lip gloss, wide hazel eyes staring up at him. She was beautiful, and terrified.

He knew the feeling.

“I was at the library this afternoon.” He thrust the book between them. “This is the new one in the series you’re reading, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “I called about it today, and they said someone had already grabbed it. How did you know?”

“You shove your books under the bar, and no one starts reading a series at book five.”

As he explained, she flipped it open to read the synopsis. A smile curved her lips as her fingers tightened around the spine. He’d bring her a new book every week.

“I’d suggest changing our plans and staying in to read,” he teased, “but we have reservations.”

She put the book away before locking the door and falling into step beside him. When she stayed quiet, unease crept under his skin. Maybe she really would rather stay in. A light touch on his hand stopped him, and he looked down to see her waiting on his attention.

“Thank you,” she said in a husky alto.

His nerves sparked, twitching his fingers. She’d used that same voice, those same words, when they’d danced, when he’d forgotten his lie and become a man dancing with a beautiful woman.

She wrapped her fingers around his hand. “No one ever brings me presents.” Her lips twitched in a wry smile. “At least not ones I want.” The dry humor faded, leaving the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “That was a very thoughtful gift. Thank you.”

He laced their fingers together as his body surged to life, firing like a long-dormant engine, impulses dragging heat in their wake. Staying in suddenly sounded like the perfect idea.

The late afternoon sun glanced off a back window and the blue and green security company logo. Tightening his grip, he tugged her down the stairs and to the rental car. “I’m glad you liked it. Are you ready to go?”

As they crossed the city limits, she wrapped her fingers around her purse and stared in the rearview mirror.

“Relax, Maggie. I’m not kidnapping you. Is Italian okay?”

“Romanelli’s?”

He nodded and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. “I love it there. Thank you.”

A pothole reminded him he was driving and jarred his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and waited on the pain to subside but he lost the momentum of the conversation. After five minutes of awkward silence, an abandoned building caught his attention. “What was that?”

“The building? I think it’s been empty all my life.”

“For thirty-five years? Haven’t you ever wondered why? Was it the site of some awful massacre?”

“In Fiddler?” She snorted. “Maybe it was a stagecoach stop that poisoned travelers on their way to the gold rush.”

“And they haunt it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Every night they come out looking for horses.”

“Or brains. Maybe they’re zombies. Everything seems to be a zombie lately.”

They laughed for the rest of their trip, coming up with increasingly ridiculous stories until they’d regained their footing. In the restaurant parking lot, he helped her from the car and kept hold of her hand. He wanted to start the night over.

“I’ve looked forward to this all week, and you look beautiful. Thank you for coming with me for dinner.”

“Thank you for asking me, or for winning I guess. And I’m not just saying that because—”