The Past Came Hunting (17 page)

Oh, you are too much.
Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she cocked her head to one side. “Joe.”

“I watched from the boys’ locker room. I’d already upset you enough. Why drag it out?”

“Matt got to play,” she said, testing him.

“For most of the third quarter until he got in foul trouble. I promise, I saw him. He did well. There’s times I’m on the job and can’t be there. But I’d never miss Matt’s game on purpose.”

She followed Joe’s gaze as he scanned the empty parking lot. With the exception of Aaron’s Jaguar, her Corolla and Joe’s Crown Victoria, no others remained.

“Look,” Joe said. “I talked to Rick earlier. Asked him for a favor.”

Here it came again. What was Joe up to? “I’m listening.”

“I asked him to give the kids a lift home after practice. He did one better than that. He’s taking them to a game at Mitchell. Coronado’s playing them next week, and Rick wants to scope out the competition.”

“Will they be late?”

“Home before ten,” Joe said. “I didn’t think you’d mind. The boys were thrilled to be hanging out with their coach. And it couldn’t have worked out better for me. I wanted to talk to you―explain about Saturday and what’s really going on.”

Joe had gotten to know her well. She didn’t object in the least to Luke spending time with Rick Hood. With Carl no longer in Luke’s life, he needed positive male role models. But the last comment Joe made didn’t come from a man offering an apology. His expression had turned deadly serious.

Her heart tripped. “Is it Maxwell?”

“It’s possible.”

Turning from him, she started walking. What the hell did that mean? No way was she standing around an empty parking lot when Drake Maxwell could be lurking. Thank God she hadn’t told Joe about Carl’s gun. She wanted to go home, load it and keep it ready.

“Melanie.” Joe caught up with her near her Corolla. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you on Saturday. There’s no need to panic. I won’t lie to you. We don’t know where he is. That doesn’t mean he knows where to find you.”

Her shoulders fell. Joe pulled her close, wrapping her in arms that felt like steel bands. She’d give anything to possess an ounce of that strength. Leaning into him, she whispered, “Oh god, Joe.”
We don’t know where he is.

“Let me take you to dinner. I’ll tell you everything I know. There’s been a development. No more secrets.”

Summoning what was left of her depleted inner strength, she said, “Some place quiet. No crowds.”

They took Joe’s car to a little Italian bistro up the road. It was in a strip mall, and Mel had eaten there once with her co-workers. During the lunch hour, the place was packed. The winter night told a completely different story. She and Joe were the only customers. Cops generally sit with their backs to the wall, and Joe was no exception. Somehow, knowing he watched over her made her feel better. Or maybe it was the eggplant parmigiana, or the glass of wine.

She listened as he softened his baritone voice. In the dim of the quiet restaurant, with its red and white checkered table cloths and the Italian music turned low, she fantasized for a moment what it would be like for him to whisper sweet nothings or make plans for later between them. Instead he told her about a newspaper article, a dead corrections officer and the uncooperative Cañon City Police. From there, he explained why he’d arranged the little tête-a-tête with Simon, and with nothing to go on but bad vibes and morbid curiosity, Joe wasn’t about to scare her.

Little by little, her brain and her heart accepted his explanation, and she dismissed Simon’s claim. For Joe to go to such lengths didn’t strike her as a
walk away
. As a matter of fact, efforts of this magnitude were proof that Simon hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.

Joe reached for her hand across the table. This time, she didn’t draw back. She held it, smoothed her fingers over a callus, and for the first time in two days, she felt happy. Though wouldn’t it have been nice for him to whisper sweet nothings or to plan something for later?

She shook off the notion and stuck to real life. “What happens now? I become a sitting duck?”

“Far from it. First of all, from what Simon’s told me, the police have several suspects in Ropes’ murder. Drake Maxwell wasn’t even on their radar until I tipped them off. In other words, we may be worrying for nothing. Second, Maxwell threatened his family. He went to them asking for money, they turned him down. For all we know, he’s still in California plotting against them.”

“How horrible that I’m hoping he’s still there,” Mel said, freeing her hand from Joe’s and checking her watch. A good hour and a half remained before Luke came home.

“It’s not horrible to want to stay safe,” Joe said. “Adam Maxwell has taken precautions. He’s no fool. Neither are you. But I do have some advice for you.”

“Of course you do.” Mel smiled.

Joe grinned back. “You should keep your guard up even if no one’s after you. Put all that crap you have in the garage in storage. You’ve got some place that gives you privacy, use it. And get an alarm.”

“I’ll have you know, it’s not crap,” she said. Even so, every word he suggested made sense. An alarm system would also blow her budget. “Glad I’m about to get a raise.”

“I’ll say. Next time you’re buying. Dessert?”

She shook her head. “Even if Maxwell’s nowhere in the vicinity, he’s still winning, isn’t he, Joe?”

He signaled the waitress for the check. “Only if you let him, Mel.”

Joe’s comment and the few minutes it had taken him to drop her off at the Corolla had bolstered Mel with a new perspective. Before she left the toasty car for the frigid one she’d left abandoned all day, she leaned over to kiss him. His solid touch and interested gleam confirmed what she’d learned. She could live moment to moment, day to day, or quietly go insane. A great son, a promotion... a potential love interest... she wouldn’t let evil take the joy out of life. Besides, if Drake Maxwell had left California, how could he find her? She’d worked hard to not leave a trail. Until she spotted Joe’s scar, and made the connection through the police unit he drove, she hadn’t recognized him.

After fifteen years, would she recognize Maxwell? Would Maxwell recognize her? Swallowing back her fear, she made an effort to smile. “Thanks for dinner. Want to come over for coffee?”

Joe said, “I’ll use lights and sirens to get there.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Joe followed Melanie home from the bistro, arriving at their respective houses a short time later. She swung the Corolla into her driveway; he drew the police-issued Crown Victoria into his garage and left it inside. Then striding toward her property, he scanned their quiet residential neighborhood, finding it church mouse quiet.

I won’t lie to you. We don’t know where he is. That doesn’t mean he knows where to find you.

Joe had made the statement as much for his benefit as for her. She stayed in her car a little longer than necessary. It elevated his heart rate, but as her headlights went off and she stepped out of the vehicle, he realized what had been taking so long.

Cell phone propped to her ear, she stood by the driver-side door, saying, “Well, ask
this girl
if she’s going to pay your cell phone bill. When I call you, Luke, you need to hang up with her and talk to me.” Melanie listened, then added, “All right. Be careful.”

Joe smiled. These kinds of dilemmas he could deal with
.
“Problem?”

“My almost sixteen year old’s in love,” she replied. “The only problem is I think my future daughter in law’s name is
this girl
. Darn, he’s secretive.”

“It’s the age.”

“Does Matt talk to you?” Melanie asked.

“No, he talks to
you
,” Joe replied.

She laughed. “You’re right about that one. Matt is a minor bird compared to Luke. At least you don’t have to worry. Matt doesn’t have one girl in his life, he has several.”

“And that makes me feel better how?”

The temperature was dropping, they’d just had a lengthy conversation about taking precautions, and Joe expected Melanie at any minute to walk toward her house. She didn’t.

“Is your daughter a chatterbox?” Mel asked.

His gaze fell over the quiet street once again. “I’d say Trish is more introspective. Didn’t you promise me coffee?”

Melanie tilted her head. “Why don’t we walk instead?”

“Mel...”

“Maxwell will win only if I let him, isn’t that what you said?”

Reluctantly, Joe nodded.

She pointed to something beyond his shoulder. “And that neighborhood watch sign on that light pole, did you have anything to do with it?”

He held back a sigh. “You know I did.”

“Thought so. You made a lot of sense tonight. I’ll put my things into storage, I’ll buy an alarm, but as of tonight, I’m through being afraid of my own shadow. I want to walk in my own neighborhood.”

“Would you go without me?”

“No. But if we don’t go, you can forget about coffee.”

“That’s blackmail, Mrs. Norris.” He buttoned the top button of her pea coat.

“That’s reality, Lt. Crandall. I’m tired of being scared.”

“Can’t say that I blame you. Let’s go.”

She grinned. “Let me lock my purse in the house.”

Seconds later, Joe tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his arm and shoved his free hand in his jacket pocket. He’d only relented because of the Glock in his shoulder holster. He also suspected this outing was an experiment. Night after night during her time in the pen, Melanie had drifted off to sleep, undoubtedly, terrified. She’d obviously found a way to survive the ordeal.

As they made their way up the block, Joe found himself de-stressing, too. A few of the residents had gotten into the holiday spirit. White and multi-colored Christmas lights twinkled from dormant trees and rooftops, but for the most part, the neighborhood was cloaked in black.

They talked about Mel’s promotion, what it would entail. She asked about his day. He told her about the robberies, about the grueling joint agency sessions that afternoon, and naturally the playback reminded him of his phone call with Simon.

“Mind if I ask you something?” he said.

Casting him a sideways glance, she closed one eye, leaving the other open. “Could I stop you?”

“Are you considering the warden’s proposal?”

“How could you possibly know about that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Today while we were insulting each other, he mentioned it. Kind of ruined my whole day, ya know?”

Melanie smiled and bit her lower lip. “It did?”

“You don’t have to look so happy about it.”

“Do you remember last week when I asked you if you were getting back with your ex-wife?”

Keeping his eyes peeled, he nodded.

“And you said you don’t kiss a woman when you’re thinking of someone else?”

He nodded again.

“The same applies to me. I don’t take late night strolls with a man with incredible eyes, if I’m planning to marry somebody else.”

“You like my eyes?”

She laughed. “I have since the... well, since the second time I met you. No, Joe, I have no intention of marrying Simon.”

Joe had known this on some level, but with Melanie facing a potential life and death threat, he wouldn’t have liked it, but he wouldn’t have blamed her either. Still, the fact she so adamantly rejected the idea pleased him so much, perhaps that’s why he said to hell with scoping out the area, and pulled her into his arms. Sliding his hands through her soft auburn hair, he kissed her. She clutched the lapels of his jacket, he held her even tighter. Outside it was cold, inside he was a furnace.

Ending their kiss, he touched his forehead to hers. And when they drew apart, her eyes shone as bright as any of the luminaries decorating the nearby houses.

“How can I blame Simon for caring about you when I feel the same way?” Joe said as they continued walking.

She snuggled closer. “Thanks, Joe.”

They’d reached Lakewood Elementary School, when he said, “We still have a little time. We could go back to my place.”

She surprised him with, “I think I’d like that.”

Feeling younger than he had in some time, Joe wrapped an arm around her and they headed home.

They rounded the corner where the first car he’d seen all evening made its way down Serendipity. Its headlights hit one of the few vehicles parked alongside the street, and that’s when Joe saw the lone figure slide low in the driver’s seat.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

His first impulse was to get her inside as quickly as possible, but a different alternative came to mind. Now came the time to see what she was made of. “Mel?”

“Hmm?”

“See the Taurus parked perpendicular to your house? Do you know who owns it?”

“I’ve seen it around. Why?”

“There’s someone inside. It’s set away from the street lights, and I can’t make out the plates.”

Her breath hitched.

“We’re going to keep walking. Like we haven’t seen him, all right? I don’t want to spook him and have him take off.”

She nodded, but he didn’t miss her shudder. “Is it Maxwell?”

“We’re gonna find out. You all right?”

Her head bobbed once.

At the path to her doorway, they stopped. “I need you to go inside, lock the doors and dial 911. Give them your name and address, tell Dispatch you’re with me and I said, ’possible intruder.’ I want lights, no sirens issued to your address. Got it?”

“Possible intruder. Lights, no sirens,” she repeated.

“Good girl.” Keeping the dark-colored Taurus in his peripheral vision, Joe kissed her cheek. “Casual now. Go.”

Melanie moved slowly up the walk. At the front porch she turned and waved. A good actress, Joe thought. She let herself into her house. He pivoted, not daring to look at the Taurus on his way home. Inside his entry, he flipped on lights, shucked off his jacket and raced to the kitchen back door.

With the vehicle out of sight, worry stabbed at his chest. Drawing his Glock, Joe eased out the rear entrance, then scrunched low between their two houses.

It had to be Maxwell.

Relief shot through him when he saw the Taurus was still in position. Glancing at his watch, Joe forced himself to wait. If he sprinted from his location, he might be able to surprise the bastard behind the wheel, but it’d be more prudent to have assistance. Joe estimated the distance from where he stood to the Taurus to be about two hundred yards.

Two hundred yards to ending Melanie’s nightmare.

So where the hell was his back up?

Joe’s relief was short-lived. The Taurus’s engine turned over. His only hope was that Maxwell had switched on the engine to keep warm.

Fifteen seconds. Joe would give patrol that much time.

No such luck. The vehicle’s headlights switched on, the car’s interior panel illuminated, and with the occupant cast in the shadows, the Taurus swung from the curb.

Joe muttered, “Shit,” and broke out running. His footsteps were loud in contrast to the quiet night, and alerted every dog in the neighborhood. Stopping in the middle of the street, he planted his legs apart, raised his weapon and shouted, “Stop. Police!”

The driver accelerated.

Heart hammering, Joe dropped and rolled, narrowly missing being taken out by the Taurus’s bumper.

That’s when the squad car showed up, barreling down the street. Joe sprang to his feet, and in wide circular motions, directed the officer to follow the fleeing vehicle.

Porch lights switched on and neighbors ran out of their houses, and into the street, among them Melanie. Hands on his knees, Joe bent to catch his breath.

“Oh, my God, what happened?” one of the neighbors shouted.

Wrapping an arm around Melanie, Joe informed the gathering crowd, “We had a prowler, folks. An officer’s in pursuit. We’ll get him.”

“If it’ll happen in
this
neighborhood, it’ll happen anywhere,” Mrs. Kearney, his elderly neighbor said in her unmistakable Texas drawl. “I mean, a cop lives over yonder.”

“It’s over, folks,” Joe replied. “But I’d appreciate everyone keeping a lookout. If you see anything unusual, you have my number, or if you can’t reach me, call the police.”

Mel raised a hand to his brow. “Joe, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. C’mon, let’s get you taken care of.”

A few minutes later, Joe held a towel to his head while sitting on his bed and listening to Dispatch on his handheld radio to determine whether they’d caught the suspect. Brooks Morris was the cop in pursuit, a longtime police officer and proficient in doing his job. Finally, with complete explanations getting lost among operators, codes and signals, Joe tossed the radio, reached for the phone and called Morris’s cell phone.

“You lost him? You weren’t thirty seconds behind him.”

“That’s correct, sir,” Brooks said. “But traffic was heavy. I had to take safety into consideration before engaging in a high-speed pursuit.”

“Did you get plates?”

“Yes, sir. Missouri. We’re running them now.”

Missouri?
“Anything else? Broken taillight, dents, bumper stickers?”

“Negative, Lieutenant. Your average run-of-the-mill dark blue to black Ford Taurus with Missouri plates.” Brooks hesitated. “I did form one impression though.”

“What’s that?”

“Our boy could drive. He knew how to negotiate traffic, like he’d had training.”

A migraine was forming behind Joe’s eyes. Could’ve been the bump he’d sustained, still, he recognized stress when he felt it. Drake Maxwell had robbed convenience stores. He wasn’t afraid to apply the gas when he had to. “What are you saying, Brooks?”

“Just that, sir. He drove like a pro or maybe a cop.”

A cop
. Well, that put a different slant on things. After their conversation today, could the warden have hired someone to protect Mel? No. As much as the two were at odds, Simon would have alerted Joe. He’d check with the prison head, but Joe suspected it would be a wasted phone call. “Thanks, Brooks. I appreciate the backup tonight.”

“Sorry I let you down, sir.”

“You didn’t. If anything, the driver knows he’s under surveillance.”

Joe hung up, then notified Dispatch to have a unit patrol his neighborhood. He withdrew the towel from his head, finding it soaked with blood. Damned head injuries, they were the worst. They could be nothing, but it took forever to staunch the flow.

Mel rummaged through Joe’s bathroom,
the one downstairs, then reluctantly searched Matt’s bath upstairs. Joe’s son was a typical teen. Nearly tripping over his basketball shoes, she could barely find the floor. The bathroom obviously doubled as Matt’s hamper. Soap scum caked the sink, while miscellaneous toiletries lay beside it. She had no trouble locating the hydrogen peroxide and bandages. They were the only two items inside the medicine chest.

She left the bathroom, encountering as she went, more family pictures in the hallway. Focusing on the striking brunette and an equally pretty little girl, Mel saw firsthand that Trish was the image of her mother. Matt wore his typical grin, Joe his charismatic smile. What Mel couldn’t take her gaze off was Joe’s ex-wife’s hand resting possessively on his shoulder.