Lost in Shadows (Lost) Read online

  “You don’t have do that.” She inserted herself between him and the shelf, moving the books he’d placed to different sections.

  “I told your brother I’d help, and I take that promise seriously. Besides, I’m not interested in catching a piece of Nate’s temper.” He put another book on the shelf. “Are you planning on helping or just following me?” He challenged her teasingly, inviting her to put that stress and strain aside. Books and authors weren’t his strong suit, but how hard could it be? The names were on the books, and he’d mastered the alphabet over thirty years ago.

  She stared into his face, studying it. Whatever she saw there made her roll her eyes. “You’re not afraid of Nate. You’re stubborn, just like him. I can see it in the set of your jaw. I suppose there’s no talking you out of this?” When he shook his head, she stalked around the room, hands waving in wide sweeps as she laid out the shelves for fiction, nonfiction, international, and reference books. She turned back at him, the expression on his face making her laugh. “What were you expecting? One long run of ABCs?”

  He picked up another book, pushing business ahead of the embarrassment of underestimating her and her catching him. He looked at the title, The Rise and Fall of the American Middle Class. Nonfiction. He put it on the shelf near the top, filing under B for boring. “Tell me what happened last night.”

  “I was on the porch Skyping with Nate.” She provided a detailed account of the events. She’d had a day for the adrenaline to wear off, a day to recount the events to authorities. She didn’t sound rehearsed, but practiced. He would take that into account as he always had with victim testimonies. Time, questions, unintentional suggestion could alter the perception of events. She spoke for twenty minutes, largely unprompted. With her hands busied by mundane filing, she described the nightmare in the hole, being herded to her aunt and uncle’s home, and the hours with nothing to do but think.

  Carolina faced him, the book in her hands hanging heavily at her hips. “I spent all last night considering it, and you know how imagination is at three in the morning. Did I buy some vase that contains smuggled drugs? Did I accidently pick up the wrong but identical purse with state secrets someone would kill to recover? Did someone mail me the original and only copy of a document that would unravel the federal government? No, no, and no. I don’t have anything in the house that I didn’t have months ago. Well, except for that frying pan.” She had the grace to give him a small, apologetic smile.

  “A deadly weapon, no doubt.” His shin still throbbed. He picked up two books, continuing to work. She relaxed with the simple activity keeping her body busy and mind peaceful. “Tell me about the phone calls and being followed.”

  A dull thud rolled through the room. He turned to see her fumbling to pick up the fallen book. “H-how do you know about that?” She stepped away, dropping her chin to hide her face behind her hair. Her arms crossed over her stomach, using the sweater as a breastplate. “Nate told you.”

  “It’s important that I know everything if I’m going to help.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nobody believes—”

  “It matters.” When her gaze snapped to him, he locked onto her pale blue eyes and refused to release her. “I believe you.”

  Her breath hitched. On a deep inhale, she tossed her hair back and straightened her shoulders. “The phone calls are just dead air. It used to be on the house phone. When I cancelled that line, it started on my cell phone. Before you ask, my phone says only ‘restricted.’ No number. No name.”

  It was his turn to lose his breath. The woman in front of him, working so hard to hide herself, was one of the most beautiful he’d seen. Her lower lip was swollen, and that straight-up pissed him off. “How did you get hurt?”

  “Hurt?” She retreated again, hair back in her face. “I…nobody hurt me.”

  It was probably the exact wrong thing to do, but Jeb went to her. He cupped her face, soothing her lips with his thumb. “I don’t like this,” he said, holding her there when she would have retreated again.

  “I bit it.” She closed her eyes, not leaning in to his touch but no longer pulling away.

  The beginning of trust.

  “Restricted isn’t necessarily bad. People working in law enforcement use restricted accounts to protect their home addresses. Now, anyone at any time could block their phone number from appearing to the recipient by dialing *67 before the number. You can still block restricted calls from coming through.”

  “I know. I did my research, and people with legitimate reasons for having restricted phone numbers do call me. I won’t block my clients because of some…deviant.” She blew out a breath, the hair framing her face flowing in the breeze. “Do you ever get the feeling that someone is staring at you? Like you’re being watched? That happens to me.”

  He turned back to the shelves, giving her space. “A lot?”

  “What’s a lot? It’s hard to describe because it’s so nonspecific. Except…a few months ago, I drove my neighbor and her friends to a museum. The next day, I found a small box on my porch. It had a pin in it that I had admired in the gift shop. I assumed one of the ladies dropped it off as a thank-you, but no one seems to know anything about it. It was…” She shook in an exaggerated shiver.

  Jeb respected the results of a lawful investigation, having invested so much time on cases himself. But he was there as a fresh set of eyes, an independent opinion. If the events Carolina described were presumed to be true, the next natural thought was that the break-in was an escalation of the prior events. “This feels…passionate. Who has strong enough feelings for you to do this?” He prompted when she shook her head. “An ex-boyfriend? Lover?”

  She shook her head while looking at his boots. “No. There’s no one.”

  “Former coworker? Nate said you won awards. Someone jealous?”

  She shook her head faster. “Why do you think this is personal?”

  “There is a difference between a crime of business—efficient, clean, little collateral damage—and one of hate—inefficient, messy, emphasis on damage. The words you recalled sounded businesslike, but why trash the kitchen? Why break the dishes? Better to go in and out undetected. Nate didn’t say, but is anything missing?”

  “Two dozen cookies and three bottles of water so far. I haven’t gone through the entire house. I had just gotten back from my aunt and uncle’s and was starting to when…”

  He cringed inwardly as she trailed off. He’d scared the crap out of her minutes after she’d returned home. Good way to make her feel safe. “I am sorry about that. I rang the doorbell. Twice.”

  “I heard. I didn’t want visitors, hence I didn’t answer the door.” She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him, princess to peasant. “Do you always take an unanswered door as an invitation to break in?”

  One golden brow arched in question, the aristocratic scoff not at all diminished by her looking up the few inches to his face. He crossed to her, and she folded in on herself. He cursed himself and stepped back. She displayed the symptoms of victimization. They could have been a response to the break-in, but her stance, her style, even her house implied that she’d lived like this for a while. “If I’m going to help, Carolina, I need to know everything. Has someone abused you?”

  “No. Of course not. No one has ever laid a hand on me.”

  Unexpectedly, he needed to know if her hair was as soft as it looked. His fingers reached for a curl sitting on her shoulder. He caught himself, and, not wanting to further distress her, tucked his delinquent hand behind his back. “I had…the best intentions. I was going to begin my investigation. I am sorry I frightened you.”

  With a quizzical expression, her gaze followed his hand until it disappeared from her view. “We can ask my uncle…”

  He shook his head. “We’re keeping this between you, me, and Nate. Tell me about him.”

  Her gaze snapped to his face. “Uncle Mitch? He’s… He means well.”

  His attention was drawn beyond Car
olina to the beam of light crossing through the darkened evening. He tackled her to the safety of the floor.

  “Expecting visitors?” Jeb felt her head shake against his shoulder. “Do what I say.” He put her to the side and removed his jacket. He slipped out of the vest and draped it around her shoulders. “Put it on.”

  She threaded her arm through the hole, letting him fasten the vest, her eyes wide with shock. “They came back?”

  “We don’t know that. We’re not going to jump to conclusions.” He scrambled to the window and watched the car silently roll to a stop. “It’s a car. Not a van. Light colored. They had to see my truck out front.” He moved along the wall to the window she had been fighting with. He pulled a knife with a wickedly efficient blade and cut the screen in an X.

  “What are you doing?” She whispered the admonishment.

  He crept back to her. “Lock the door behind me while I check this out. Stay out of sight. When I come for you, I’ll call out first—”

  “Like a code?” Carolina crowded his body. “A password?”

  “Yeah, just like that—”

  “What’s the code? How will I know it’s you?”

  Jeb gritted his teeth; he needed to move. He looked into eyes putting brave in front of scared. “Goldilocks, we’re out of porridge.”

  She nodded. “Goldilocks, we’re out of porridge. Goldilocks, we’re out of porridge. Goldilocks, we’re out of porridge.”

  “You hear anyone else, you go out this window.” He handed her his keys. “My truck is in the driveway, right near the front porch. Take it and go straight to the sheriff. Got it?”

  “Straight to Uncle Mitch. Got it.” She reached out as he turned to leave. “Please…don’t get hurt.”

  He smiled. “Not going to happen. Lock the door behind me.”

  This was the mode he liked best. Though the situation was tense, he resided in a place of absolute calm. He considered several courses of action, deciding on the dining room as the best advantage to handle someone entering through the kitchen. His next step kicked something. A light came on, blindingly bright in the darkened room. He picked up Carolina’s phone, slid it into one of his pockets. He disappeared into the shadow, his weapon at the ready, an extension of his body.

  Somewhere in the distance he heard a noise. Someone was impersonating an alley cat, maybe using it to signal a partner. In the noise, he recognized a melody. Someone was singing.

  The kitchen door pushed open, and the final notes of the enthusiastic song bounced off the walls. “Carolina, I’ve brought your car back early. Goodness, you forgot to turn your lights on again.” The high wattage kitchen lights popped on. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph help us. Carolina? Carolina!”

  He stepped from his vantage point, studying the woman wearing a Hawaiian shirt and hot-pink leggings. “Goldilocks, we’re out of porridge.”

  “Who are you?” The women readied her purse for use as a cudgel. “Where’s Carolina?”

  Carolina raced up the hallway and ran into the woman’s arms. Jeb quietly left the kitchen, stepping into a bathroom. He stowed his weapons in his holster, hopefully where they couldn’t be seen but could be reached if the need arose. He looked in the mirror, and his own ghoulish appearance shocked him. He turned on the water, splashed it on his face to wash away the caked-on flour. The phone in his pocket rang. Carolina’s phone. The display screen read “restricted.”

  He accepted the connection and listened. Slow, deep breaths hummed in his ear, heated his blood. Somebody had to speak, so he took the initiative. “Who is this?”

  A gasp. The breath sped up, nearly panting, but didn’t say a word.

  “Stay away. This is your only warning.” He ended the connection. The caller was a coward. With any luck, he’d scared the guy off, but he didn’t believe in luck. Looking back in the mirror, he set a look of deep concern on his now clean face, preparing to manage the story Carolina would tell. He manufactured a small smile and reentered the kitchen. “Carolina? Sorry if I scared your friend. I looked a fright.”

  The woman was old enough to be Carolina’s mother. Her gaze flashed between Carolina and Jeb several times. Those sharp brown eyes noticed the unbuttoned shirt, hard muscles, and the possessive smile—just the way they were supposed to.

  He stepped carefully across the mess of a floor, wrapped his hands around Carolina’s waist, and lifted her to sit on the counter of the center island. “Jeb McCormick. I’m Carolina’s boyfriend.”

  She squeaked like a dog toy.

  “Now, honey, we don’t need to keep it a secret, especially from your friends.” He spoke in a slow, smooth drawl, enjoying when the color on Carolina’s face deepened. “Here you go, I found your phone.”

  She rocked side to side before attempting to slide off. He planted his hands on either side, forcing her to settle. “T-thank you, Jeb.”

  “Emmaline Frye. I’m Carolina’s next door neighbor.” Emmaline held her hand out to Jeb. After he shook it, Emmaline leaned in to Carolina, whispering, “Is he one of those internet guys you were telling me about? If I’d known you weren’t locked up in this house alone, I wouldn’t have dragged you to the movies all the time. What is that new vest you’re wearing? It looks like something from TV.”

  Carolina looked at Jeb for an answer but was saved from lying as Emmaline picked up a fractured piece of a once-happy cookie jar. “What in the world happened? Did you two do this?”

  “Somebody broke in yesterday. I spent last night and today at Uncle Mitch and Aunt Joy’s house. I haven’t started tackling the cleanup.”

  “You should have called me. The one night I stay at Mary’s and this happens.” All expression fell from Emmaline’s face. “I hate to add more bad news to your plate, but your car was broken into. The rear passenger window is smashed.”

  Carolina gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “When did it happen?”

  “Just this evening, outside my friend’s house. It’s a nice neighborhood, but when I went to put a bag in the back seat, it was littered with glass.”

  “Are you certain it was this evening? Could it have been yesterday?”

  Emmaline frowned. “Now that you say that…it was chilly driving to Mary’s after aerobics class.”

  …

  “When you told me you were going to try that online dating, I expected it to be filled with unsavory people. You know the kind, criminals and odd characters looking for a sweet girl to take advantage of. I had no idea you could meet men with such big…shoulders.” Emmaline stopped scrubbing the cabinet door and looked at Carolina over the congealed mess of flour, sugar, and grease. “Maybe you should show me how to get online. I could use a man with big…shoulders.”

  Carolina dropped the sponge she used on the countertops, choking on an unexpected laugh. She had known Emmaline her entire life. More a favorite aunt than neighbor, Emmaline was sixty-eight years old, plump as a goose, and sharp as a fox. And apparently, a cougar on the prowl.

  Jeb surged into the room on long, fast strides, looking every bit the man of action even with a mop and bucket. Emmaline’s gaze followed his movements and gave a sharp nod of approval. Carolina smiled broadly as he readied to tackle the next section of floor with the fresh bucket of water. He set up behind her, giving her hair a tug before he put mop to floor.

  “That’s a first.”

  Initially, she jumped at the little gestures he made, playing the boyfriend role for Emmaline. Now they intrigued her. She moved closer just to see what he would do next. “First what?”

  “Smile.” His hand found the nape of her neck and gave a quick squeeze. “That’s the first smile I’ve seen since I got here.”

  “Carolina? It’s Uncle Mitch. “The booming voice echoed through the first floor.

  She tensed and then forced herself to relax. She was ashamed at the reaction, especially after her uncle saved her the night before. Since her father died, her uncle seemed to come around solely for the purpose of giving orders. When her mother was ali
ve, they would laugh about his antics. He left faster if they let him think he was having his way. Without her mother, her uncle was just bossy. She loved him, she just wasn’t sure she liked him.

  “How did he get in?” Jeb asked.

  “He has a key.” She put some space between them then took a breath to fortify herself before calling out. “We’re back here.”

  She heard his footsteps. There was nothing quiet about Mitchell Walker. In his day, he was the broad-chested captain of his college football team and held the team bench press record. Today he was sheriff of Warren County, Kentucky, and wore his muscle considerably further south. Mitch’s gaze honed in on the new face in the house. “And you are?”

  “Jeb McCormick. Carolina’s boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?” Disbelief dragged the word out. He looked Jeb up and down and then snorted.

  He knew Jeb wasn’t her boyfriend. They both knew Carolina couldn’t hold the attention of a man like him.

  “How did you two meet?” Mitch crossed his arms, his feet planted wide.

  Carolina let Jeb answer. It might not have been polite, but she was a rotten liar. As if he knew it, Jeb pulled her close.

  “Nate introduced us. I served with him. When I got out, he said I should give his sister a call if I was in the neighborhood. The son of a bitch never told me what a beautiful woman she is, or I would have been here years ago.”

  She looked up at him, charmed by the compliment, even if he didn’t mean it. He leaned down then, and drew his lips across her forehead in a gesture so sweet she forgot he was pretending.

  Mitch rested his hand on the butt of his gun. “Watch your language, boy. There are ladies present. Ms. Emmaline.”

  “Hello, Mitchell.” Emmaline climbed to her feet, her hand going to her lower back. “I hope you brought plenty of elbow grease.”