The Lawman's Nanny Op (6 page)

Her head ached. Heck, her entire body felt as if it had been beaten by a gang of thugs with bats and she just wanted the comfort of her own bed.

The room was cool, Portia being clad only in the open-backed gown. But she didn’t know if her chill was from the room temperature and her attire or thoughts of what had happened out on the road.

She heard footsteps approaching and breathed a sigh of relief. Good, maybe she was finally going to be released. The curtain swung open and Caleb came in.

“I thought you were the doctor here to release me,” she said.

“He’s looking at your X-rays now. You feel up to answering a few questions?” He stepped closer to her and his eyes radiated with a sympathy that made her suddenly feel like crying.

“Okay,” she replied and wrapped her arms around her middle, seeking some warmth. Her chill intensified as she prepared herself to answer his questions.

“How are you feeling?”

“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst I’ve ever felt in my life, I’m about a twelve,” she replied. “I’m sore in places I didn’t know I had muscles.”
And scared,
she mentally added. As she thought of those moments on the dark, narrow highway when the truck had hit her, fear overwhelmed any soreness in her body.

“Before they loaded you in the ambulance, you said whoever hit you did it on purpose.” His gaze was intense as it lingered on her.

“He did.” The chill intensified. “It was a truck. I’m pretty sure it was a pickup. It tapped me in the rear end the first time but I managed to maintain control, then it hit me again harder and the wheel spun out of my hands.” A sob crept up the back of her throat, but she swallowed hard against it.

She was surprised to realize that what she wanted more than anything at the moment was Caleb’s strong, warm arms around her. But she had to remind herself that it had been years since she’d found comfort in his arms.

“Could you see the driver?”

“No, it was too dark and whoever it was had the brights on. There was a terrible glare. But it was definitely a dark-colored truck.”

“Black,” he replied. “There were black paint chips on your bumper.”

“Gee, that should narrow things down,” she said wryly. Half the men in Black Rock drove black pickup trucks. “Joe drives one,” she said suddenly.

“I’ll check it out. Whoever hit you will have damage on their vehicle. We’ll alert all the body shops in the area and check every truck that fits the description.”

At that moment Dr. Debar walked in. “Caleb,” he said with a nod. “If you could excuse us, I need to talk to my patient.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind if he stays,” Portia replied. She doubted that the doctor had any information about her condition that she’d hate for Caleb to hear.

“You’ve suffered a mild concussion. I’d like to keep you overnight for observation,” Dr. Debar said.

“No, I don’t want to stay. You said it was a mild concussion. I just want to go home,” she replied.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Dr. Debar said.

“I’ll be fine,” she said more firmly. “Please, I really just want to go home.”

“You want me to call your mother?” Caleb asked.

“Are you offering to make things worse?” she retorted. He knew that her relationship with her mother was trying at best. The last person she wanted to deal with at the moment was her mother. “Really, I’m all right. I just want to go home and go to bed.”

Dr. Debar shrugged and looked at Caleb. “I can’t force her to stay.” He looked back at Portia. “While you get dressed I’ll get your release papers signed, but if you have any dizziness or nausea you need to come right back.”

Portia nodded wearily and breathed a sigh of relief as they left her alone to get dressed. What was happening to her life? She could have died if she hadn’t had her seat belt on, if the air bag hadn’t deployed.

Had the Swansons saved her life by being there? Had the driver of the truck had intentions of stopping to see if she’d died in the crash? And when the driver had found her still alive, would he have ensured her death somehow?

This was a nightmare with a very real, but shadowy, boogeyman she couldn’t imagine the identity of. All she knew was that for the first time in her entire life she was truly afraid.

A glance at the clock let her know it was almost one. If it wasn’t so late she would call Layla and invite her to stay with her, but she hated to bother her friend at this time of night.

Surely she’d be safe in her own house until morning. She had good locks and strong windows. Still, the idea of being alone for the rest of the night scared her more than she wanted to admit.

“Are you decent?” Caleb’s voice called from behind the curtain.

“As decent as I get,” she replied.

He swept the curtain aside. “You’re all set to go. Dr. Debar said to contact him tomorrow if you feel like you need some pain meds and he’ll call in a prescription.”

“I don’t need pain meds, I just need you to find out who’s doing this to me,” she exclaimed.

“I’ve already got Benjamin checking the system for anyone who has a black pickup registered in their name in the area.” He took her by the arm. “In the meantime, I’ll take you home.”

“What happened to my car?” she asked as he led her down the hallway to the exit.

“I had it towed to Wally’s. He’ll keep it in the garage until we get samples of the paint chips off the bumper and it can be fixed.” He tightened his fingers around her elbow. “You could have been killed.”

“That thought has crossed my mind more than once in the last half hour,” she said. Although she’d never really quite forgiven Caleb for breaking her heart years ago, she was grateful for the warmth of his hand on her, the nearness of his body as they stepped out of the building.

She was beyond exhausted and had yet to really process what had happened. The idea that somebody had intentionally tried to kill her was as alien as the spaceships old Walt Tolliver, the town kook, insisted landed in Black Rock on a regular basis.

Who could want to hurt her like that? What had she done to make somebody so angry with her? Question after question tumbled in her aching brain.

Caleb led her to the passenger’s side of his patrol car and opened the door for her to ease inside. The minute he closed the door she was enveloped by the familiar scent of him, a scent that instantly reminded her of carnation corsages and hot kisses and a night of making love that she’d thought was the beginning of her future.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, weary beyond words as a headache banged in the center of her forehead.

“You okay?” he asked as he got in and started the engine.

She looked at him beneath half-closed eyelids. “Of course I’m not okay,” she snapped irritably. “My head aches, my body hurts and somebody tried to kill me.”

Everything felt wildly out of control and she didn’t know how to cope, what to do to make herself regain some modicum of control.

He pulled away from the curb and was silent. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she said apologetically.

He cast her one of his charming half smiles. “If anyone has a right to snap right now, I’d say it was you. You’ve had a rough night.”

“It’s not just tonight. It’s a combination of the flyers and the break-in and now this. I just don’t understand what’s happening to my life right now.”

“We’re going to figure it out,” he replied.

She leaned her head back and once again closed her eyes, comforted by the ringing confidence in his voice. Despite any personal reservations she might have about him, she knew he was a good lawman. All the Graysons were good at what they did.

Within minutes they were at her house and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Caleb, for everything,” she said as she opened the door and got out of the car. “You’ll stay in touch with me as far as how the investigation is going?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed as he got out of the car. He hurried around to her side and grabbed her elbow to escort her to the front door.

With each moment that passed, the aches in her body grew more pronounced and she felt as if her feet each weighed a hundred pounds.

“How’s your head?” he asked as they reached the front door and she dug into her purse for her key. She was grateful that he’d thought to grab her purse from the car before it had been towed away by Wally.

“I have a headache, but I’m not feeling dizzy or nauseated or anything like that.” She pushed the door open and turned back to him. “I’ll be fine now,” she said.

“I know you’ll be fine. Because I have no intention of leaving you alone for the rest of the night.” He moved past her and into the house. “Come on, Portia, let me help you to bed.”

Caleb saw the faint glint of fire that lit her eyes at his words and realized at that moment there was still something between them, something hot and crazy that the years hadn’t managed to douse.

“That’s not necessary,” she protested, but it was a weak protest.

“You heard the doctor. You aren’t supposed to be alone now. You don’t want to call your mother and I’m here, so that’s that.”

She closed the door and locked it. “I have to admit, I was kind of dreading being alone tonight.” She walked over to the sofa and sank down on the cushions. “I’m not quite ready to go to bed yet. My head is still spinning with everything that’s happened.”

She looked small and vulnerable and a surge of anger filled Caleb as he thought of the person responsible. He walked over and sat next to her, fighting the impulse to pull her into his arms and promise to spend the rest of his life keeping her safe.

“I contacted Dale Stemple’s parents yesterday to see if they’d seen or heard from Dale since his release from prison. They insisted they haven’t had any contact with their son since he went to prison. I asked around town and nobody else has seen him. It’s possible Sam was mistaken.”

“Which puts us back to square one—who can hate me enough to try to kill me?” She rubbed the center of her forehead and released a sigh that pierced through to his heart. “Maybe Sam wasn’t mistaken and Dale is here in town but just hiding really well.”

“Maybe, but, Portia, we aren’t going to solve anything tonight. You’ve been through a pretty major trauma. What you need right now is rest.”

She nodded and winced. “You’re right. I’m going to bed. The guest room is made up and you can help yourself to whatever.” She stood and sighed once again. “Hopefully this headache will be gone in the morning.”

He stood, as well, wishing he had some words of comfort to offer her, some assurance that no more danger would come to her. But he refused to offer her false promises. “You can get into bed all right on your own?”

She offered him a faint smile. “I’ve been doing it on my own for a long time,” she replied and then headed down the hallway.

It was ridiculous how her words hinting that she’d always slept alone filled him with an unexpected pleasure. He knew she dated a lot, but apparently those dates hadn’t led to any real intimacy.

Since Laura, Caleb had dated, as well, but he’d also avoided any intimacy with the women he casually dated. He didn’t want to get close, knew that lovemaking could evolve into heart involvement and he simply didn’t intend to ever go there again with any woman.

At the moment his lack of a personal relationship in his life was the last thing on his mind. He needed to find out who was after Portia and why. And the disappearance of Brittany continued to haunt his mind.

Knowing that nothing could be accomplished until morning, he checked the locks on the doors and windows, then headed down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

The room was as inviting as her living room with a bright red spread across the bed and throw pillows in yellow and sky-blue.

He grabbed a pillow from the bed, checked the hall closet and found a sheet and then went back into the living room. He’d bunk on the sofa and sleep with one eye open.

Even though he didn’t really anticipate any more trouble for the rest of the night, he’d err on the side of caution.

It took him only minutes to make up the sofa, then take off his jeans and T-shirt and slide in beneath the sheet.

It was late and he was tired, but sleep refused to come as his head filled with thoughts of the woman in the next room. Were there secrets in her life she hadn’t told him about, secrets that might hold a clue to what was happening to her now?

Black Rock was like any small town; the gossips loved to talk and everyone listened. He’d always assumed there were few secrets in Black Rock, but the truth was that nobody knew what went on behind closed doors or in somebody’s mind.

He then realized that he’d always thought of Portia as his. She’d been his first love, his first lover and even though they’d only had a single night, prom night, together, it had indelibly written her name on his heart.

Even though it had been years since they’d been a couple, even though he had no hope that they would ever be a couple again, he wouldn’t rest until the person who was tormenting her was behind bars.

He must have fallen asleep for he awoke with a start and immediately checked his watch. Just after six. Despite the shortness of his sleep, he felt rested and ready to face a new day.

He pulled on his jeans and then crept down the hallway to Portia’s bedroom. Her door was open and he peeked inside. She slept on her side facing him, her features soft and relaxed in slumber. Her hair was a spill of brown and copper against the pillow and the sheet had slipped down to expose the skimpy top of her emerald-green nightgown.

She looked beautiful and there was nothing he wanted to do more than crawl in next to her and kiss her awake. He’d love to stroke her silky skin until she was gasping with pleasure, but that would be the biggest mistake he could make. Instead he turned and headed back to the bathroom where he washed up and then went into the kitchen to make some coffee.

When the coffee had brewed he poured himself a cup and then stood at the window and frowned. The house backed up to a wooded area and there were trees on either side of the house, as well.

It had been easy for somebody to break into the day care without being seen. Her neighbors were far enough away that nobody would have heard the noise. It would be relatively easy for somebody to break into the house without being seen or heard, as well.