Chasing Shadows (2 page)

Kristina's eyebrows drew together. “I suppose. But what about Lena? She wasn't in a gang. She was a sweet little old lady.”

“Maybe they ran off together,” he remarked drily.

“Not according to the center's director.” Blue fire sparked in her eyes. “Something's happened to them.”

She seemed genuinely concerned. Gabe took out a pen and paper. “I'll do some checking and see if I can track Lena—what was the last name again?”

“Street.”

“Right.” He made a note. “And the janitor?”

“Frank Hayes,” she supplied.

After jotting down the name, he asked, “Where can I reach you?”

The pretty blonde hesitated long enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

She surprised him further by taking the pen and paper from his hand with just the slightest brush of skin against skin, but awareness zipped all the way to Gabe's toes. He mentally shook the sensation off and focused on what she was doing. She wrote down her information and laid the paper on his desk.

Gabe sighed. “I'll let you know the minute I have anything,” he said and motioned for her to proceed him. “I'll walk you out.”

She didn't move. “Aren't you going to check into Frank?”

Slowly he nodded as a little bubble of irritation shot through him. He didn't need her dictating his job to him. “Yes. And I'll let you know what I find out.”

She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, her tapestry bag dangling from the crook of her elbow. “I'd rather wait.”

He shook his head. He'd rather she walked back out of his life, thank you very much. “That won't be necessary.”

“I'll wait,” she repeated.

Figured
Miss Worthington
of the Beacon Hill Worthingtons would expect to have her own way. Seems the rich, pampered socialite hadn't changed. Though she'd tried her hardest to make him change when they'd dated, wanting him to be more like the rest of the people in her privileged world, his world consisted of Good Will purchases and Top Ramen. Like water and oil. Their lives didn't mix well.

Angie turned in her chair to say, “Carl Remming is an ex-con. Busted at nineteen for shoplifting and again in his early twenties for grand theft auto. Has a clean sheet after that. I'll run his credit card.”

Gabe nodded his approval. “Check with the airlines, buses, trains for both Carl and Lena Street.”

“Righto,” Angie agreed and returned her focus to the computer.

Gabe gave in and sat back down. “Are you always this tenacious?”

Kristina lifted her chin. “I find it helps in certain situations.”

He met her gaze. Ah, there was the queenly stare he remembered so well. She was some piece of work; all beauty, brains and self-confidence. Lucky for him, she wasn't his problem.

She shifted her gaze to the computer. “I noticed Frank had on very high-end tennis shoes and a Cartier watch.”

“The watch could be a fake,” Gabe cautioned, annoyed that she'd assume a janitor couldn't afford nice things. “Or he could have saved up.”

“Of course the watch could be fake.” Her tone
matched his growing irritation. “It's just…well, you'd have to meet him.”

If the man checked out, Gabe wouldn't have to meet him. He typed Frank's name into the computer. Kristina came around the desk to peer over his shoulder. Her fresh, powdery scent teased his nose and brought back memories he'd thought long gone.

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Do you mind?”

She had the grace to duck her chin sheepishly as she stepped back. He forced himself to concentrate.

Within a few minutes, a rap sheet filled with petty larceny and misdemeanor assault charges came up. Okay, so Frank wasn't a squeaky-clean janitor. Everyone had a past. But experience had jaded Gabe enough to know a criminal past usually never stayed in the past.

“So, he bears watching,” he conceded.

An I-told-you-so look bloomed in Kristina's clear blue eyes.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You're not going to at least question him?”

“In due time,” he said, rebuffing her astounded expression. “First we have to establish probable cause to bring him in. And until we have more information about Carl's and Lena's whereabouts, I'm not jumping to conclusions.”

“But he had Carl's wallet,” she pointed out. “That can't be good.”

Was she kidding? “For all we know, he found it,” Gabe countered. “Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some work to do.” He stood and pointedly waited for
Kristina to precede him. “I promise to call you the second we've found something concrete.”

“Sure. Fine. I'll just sit by the phone and wait,” she stated tartly before walking away.

Gabe had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Kristina Worthington didn't ever sit around and wait. He could only hope she didn't do anything to get herself in trouble or interfere with his investigation. Or his peace of mind.

 

“Just sit by the phone and wait,” Kris grumbled as she crouched behind a stack of crates at the far end of an alley in midtown Boston. “Fat chance.”

Somewhere in the distance a horn honked. Otherwise, the streets were quiet and freezing. Late-night air seeped through her black jeans, black turtleneck and black parka. She'd bound up her hair under a dark baseball cap. Her ears were getting cold. Thankfully it wasn't snowing again. Her nose wrinkled at the many odd and unpleasant odors wafting in the air. She distracted herself the same way she had since the adrenaline rush of conducting her very own stakeout—by bringing her camera up to her eye.

The shutter silently captured Frank Hayes's every move. She'd been following the janitor for the past hour, ever since he'd left Miller's Rest in his little beat-up two-seater.

He'd eaten at a dive that served more booze than food before heading out the back door and down this alley.

Gabe wanted proof the guy was doing something he shouldn't; well, she'd give it to him.

I'm not jumping to conclusions,
he'd said. He'd “watch” Frank, he'd said. Ha! She didn't see him anywhere around.

Why she'd ever thought herself in love with Gabe Burke she didn't know. The man was even more stubborn than she remembered. And he'd acted as though he hardly knew her. Hurt rubbed at the wounds left by the summer they'd spent together. Obviously, she hadn't meant much to him.

Well, good. He didn't mean anything to her, either.

And contrary to his wishes, she was going to find out what Frank was up to. Then Gabe would have to act.

Frank, his shoulders hunched beneath his big down jacket, turned the corner, disappearing from her view. Kris hustled closer, her black boots squishing in the slushy snow. She paused at the edge of a brick building and cautiously peered around to the other side. There he was, ambling down the deserted street.

Just as she stepped around the building, a hand closed over her mouth and a strong arm cinched across her waist.

Her muffled scream echoed in her ears.

 

Frank Hayes whirled around. Body tense, his heart hammered against his ribs as adrenaline rushed to his brain, making the world shift slightly. He could have sworn he heard the scuffle of feet on the pavement. The echo of a muted scream. He searched the inky street for signs of being followed. He was alone. Or was he?

He backed up a few steps before turning and hurrying to the end of the block. Just a little farther and he'd be
done with his business. He shivered. He loathed being outside in the dark. Too many shadows, too many possibilities.

Bad things happened in the dark.

K
ris clutched her camera to her chest and used her booted heel to kick the person holding her.
Please, Lord, save me!
She whipped her head around, trying to loosen the grip over her mouth.

“Kristina! Stop!”

The harshly whispered command given in a familiar deep baritone registered. She went limp with relief. The arm around her waist held her for a moment before withdrawing. She sagged, using the brick building for support.

Taking deep, calming breaths, she allowed anger to replace her terror. “What do you think you're doing?”

The moon bathed Gabe Burke's hard expression in the muted light. He'd changed out of his suit into jeans and a dark leather bomber jacket. A knit beanie covered his honey-blond hair. “I'm doing my job. What are you doing?”

“Your job.” She pushed away from the wall. Anger warmed her face. Peering around the corner, she smacked the bricks with her palm. “He's turning the corner.”

“You need to go home.”

“No way.” She darted forward. “We have to at least try to catch up.”

Gabe gritted his teeth. Short of hauling her over his shoulder and carrying her away, he had no choice but to follow. Frank was probably gone now, anyway. Gabe would let Kristina figure it out and then he'd escort her home. Though he'd like nothing better than to throw her in jail for doing something as idiotic and dangerous as following an ex-con.

After Kristina left the station, Gabe had done a little digging and found out that Frank hung out at the HogsHead Tavern. And sure enough, Frank had shown up. Gabe had intended to follow him when he'd seen someone else doing the same. It had taken less than ten seconds for him to recognize the lithe lines of Kristina Worthington. The fact that he could still do so didn't say much about his ability to forget her.

He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her out of the middle of the street and into the shadows where they would be less visible as they followed. Thankfully, this part of town quieted down at night. But in a few hours, when the bars closed, the story would be vastly different.

At the next corner, he pushed her behind him and looked down the street. The dim glow of the moon barely revealed Frank. Gabe debated for a second about lying to Kristina and saying Frank was gone, but lying never solved anything.

Besides, he had a strong hunch she would just do this again. And he may not be there to protect her.

Clutching her slender, cold hand, he pulled her
around the corner and kept to the shadows. Ahead, Frank paused and whirled around.

Gabe reacted swiftly, pulling Kristina into his arms and angling his body to shield her from view. Gabe bent his head close, suspended inches from Kristina's lips while keeping his gaze on Frank. He heard her sharp intake of breath.

The man either didn't notice them or saw what Gabe had intended, a pair of lovers stealing a kiss in the moonlight. Frank continued on.

Gabe should have stepped back, far away from Kristina right then, but she was so soft and pliant in his arms. Her sweet breath fanned over his face causing a yearning to kiss her lips that gripped him in a tight vise. And suddenly he was back to those warm summer days when he'd been a rookie cop wild about a girl way out of his league, yet sure a future together wasn't impossible. That maybe he'd found what his mother insisted existed.

But then reality had set in and he'd walked away.

And kissing Kristina now would only cause him more pain than he was willing to endure.

Using every ounce of self-control he possessed, he released her and stumbled back.

She blinked up at him with wide, confused eyes. “What was that?”

Refocusing on the situation, he put his finger to his lips. “Shh. We better hurry.”

Taking her hand again, they moved forward, keeping close to the buildings. Up ahead, Frank slipped down a side alley. Gabe and Kristina ran for cover behind a parked car where they had a clear view of the alley. They
watched as a man stepped out of the deeper darkness. He was of medium height and build with short cropped hair and a goatee on his pointed chin.

Kristina raised her camera.

“Hey, be careful,” Gabe admonished softly.

“I will.” She snapped some shots.

In the alley, Frank was handing the man an envelope. The man ripped the envelope open and spilled the contents into his hand. From this distance, Gabe couldn't see what had come out.

Just then, Frank spun in their direction, seeming to stare directly at them.

Gabe grabbed Kristina and pulled her into a crouch.

“I don't think he saw me,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

Gabe clenched his jaw tight. He scrambled onto his belly and watched the two men from underneath the car. The two spoke for a moment more, then the man handed Frank something before Frank scurried down an adjacent alley while the other man disappeared back the way he'd come. Gabe listened hard, but he didn't hear a car engine start. Which meant no plates to run. He shoved himself to his feet and brushed himself off.

“Aren't you going to arrest him?” Kristina asked.

“For what? We don't have any idea if he's up to something illegal and I don't want to spook him. Let's see where he goes now.”

Cautiously they followed Frank back to his little car.

“I parked over there.” Kristina dug into her pocket for her keys.

Gabe took her hand. “We'll take mine.”

He led her to his black 4x4. Once settled inside, he pulled out of his parking space and followed Frank's car onto the tollway back to Miller's Rest.

“Nice ride,” she commented, her tone bland.

Unsure if she was mocking him or not, he said, “I like it.”

“It suits you.”

“Meaning?”

“All of our choices in life reveal a little about us.”

She'd become philosophical in the past eight years. “And what does my rig say about me?”

“You like to be in control and have a lot of power. Black is the absence of light. It's mysterious, serious and dramatic.”

He wasn't sure exactly how to take that. “And you know this…how?”

She waved a hand. “Just one of the many things I learned in college.”

“Ah, yes.” She'd been enrolled at Boston University when they'd met. He couldn't remember her major. “You a psychologist or something?”

“No. Just took some psych classes.”

“So what color car do you drive?”

She gave a small laugh. “Oh, my car won't reveal anything about me. It's my grandmother's car.”

He glanced sideways, taking in Kristina's profile, liking the straight line of her nose and the arch of her brows. Her cheekbones were high and her jawline strong yet feminine. She'd actually grown more beautiful over the years.

She'd taken off her black cap. Her long blond hair
fell over her shoulders, the strands illuminated against her black clothing.

Gabe slowed the car as Frank parked at the retirement center and hurriedly entered the facility through a side entrance. “Investigation's over tonight.” Unless Gabe wanted to break in and follow, which he didn't. He made a U-turn and headed back the way they'd come.

“Did you find out anything about Carl and Lena?” Kris asked.

“Not yet.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “This isn't some game, you know.”

“I'm not playing a game,” she said with a huff.

“You can't go around sneaking through the night like some superhero looking for danger. Eventually you'll find it, and then what?”

She batted her lashes at him. “I'll call you.”

The mockery in her tone made his lips twitch but deep down he did want to be the one she turned to.

As she had today.

Pushing away that errant thought, he had to make her understand that putting herself needlessly in danger was
not
a good thing. “Listen, Kristina. I appreciate your loyalty to your grandmother and her friends, but you can't go around sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.”

“No one else will believe Grams,” she asserted defensively.

“It's difficult to believe such accusations without concrete proof.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to do, find proof,” she shot back.

“But you could get hurt.”

“I didn't.”

Gabe sighed.

She touched his arm, drawing his gaze. There was no mistaking the sincerity in her eyes. “God sent you to protect me.”

Gabe's stomach sank. “That kind of thinking can get you killed.”

 

Through the slit in the curtains inside his apartment at the far end of the retirement center, Frank watched the dark vehicle's taillights as it left the parking lot. His gut churned. What should he do?

After turning on every light, he grabbed the phone and punched in a number.

A few moments later a groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

“It's me, Frank.”

“Do you know what time it is? What do you want?”

“I've got a problem. I think Sadie Arnold's granddaughter followed me tonight. I think she saw me.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Why would she do that?”

“I don't know,” he whined. “She's been at the center a lot lately. I don't like the way she looks at me.”

“Have you been careless?”

He plopped down on the old blue couch that had come with the room. “No.” At least he hadn't thought he'd been. “What should I do?”

“Stop worrying. She'll be taken care of.”

“She will?” Frank breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't have to do anything. “Good. Okay, good.”

“Now, good night, Frank.”

He hung up and hugged his waist, trying to settle the gurgling in his stomach.

 

The headlights of Gabe's SUV sliced through the dark to illuminate the road back into the city. Gabe glanced at Kristina's pale hand still resting on the sleeve of his jacket. His words hung in the air. “He flicked a peek at her face and met her gaze.” With the faint bit of moonlight, he could see the stunned concern in her expression.

“How can you say that?” Kristina finally asked, tightening her hold on him.

He forced his gaze forward to the road. “You can't count on God to send someone every time you get in trouble.”

“I trust He'll provide what I need. Tonight, He provided you.” She tapped his arm before withdrawing her hand. “God takes care of those who love Him.”

He glanced her way. The earnestness in her expression made Gabe tighten his grip on the steering wheel. “You sound like my mother. She's always saying things like that.”

“So I take it you don't believe in God.”

Concentrating on the road ahead, he replied, “I don't believe in anything I can't see, touch, taste or smell.”

“What a Doubting Thomas you are. Don't you put stock in gut feelings?”

He frowned. “Of course I do. I've had plenty and they've kept me alive. But that's not God.”

“How do you know?” she challenged. “How can you be sure those feelings weren't God warning you?”

“I just am.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Once his ex-partner, Brody McClain, had asked him the same question, right after they'd survived a shoot-out.

Gabe had felt something, an inner knowledge things were about to go bad, a feeling that had made him pull Brody back from the door just as the wood exploded in a spray of gunfire. The incident still puzzled him.

But God protecting him? No way. God hadn't been there when Gabe had been a child and needed Him. Why would God suddenly take an interest in him as an adult?

“So after college…what?” he asked, needing to change the subject. He hadn't divulged information about his childhood to her the first time around and he had no intention of doing so now.

“I'm a photographer and I love it.” She shifted toward him, her face animated in the moon's glow. “I was fourteen when Grams gave me my first camera. I never went anywhere without that little Nikon.”

“I remember.” She'd carried the thing with her all the time. He hadn't given it much thought then.

“Drove my family crazy because I was always snapping off shots.” She looked out the front window. “Every summer my parents sent me away to Camp Greenleaf. The only thing that made camp bearable every year was my camera and Meg McClain.”

“That's how you two met?”

“Yep.
She
liked going there.”

“And you didn't like camp.”

She plucked at a wayward strand of hair. “Not really. I wasn't used to the rustic life, which earned me a lot of teasing.”