Chasing Shadows (7 page)

A white-and-blue-striped ambulance arrived within seconds. The EMTs jumped out and rushed over to Gabe and Kris.

“I'm not hurt,” Kris declared to the paramedic who was trying to take her blood pressure. “Take care of him.”

“We are, ma'am,” the man replied.

After a paramedic tended to his wound by cleaning and bandaging his shoulder and putting his arm in a sling, Gabe explained the situation to the officer in charge.

“So you had a civilian with you while investigating the disappearance of a woman from a retirement center?”

Gabe flinched at the censure in Trooper Davidson's tone. A tall man with deep-set eyes and a full mustache, he had a no-nonsense demeanor that inspired confidence and undoubtedly instilled intimidation in most folks.

“I didn't expect trouble. I figured we'd find the lady safe with her relatives and Kris, uh, Miss Worthington, could stop worrying.”

“Well, sounds to me like someone doesn't want you all to find the lady.”

Gabe's shoulder burned. “Looks like.”

“I'll take you and Miss Worthington back to Boston,” said Davidson. “I've sent a car down that service road you mentioned. They'll search the area, hopefully find some casings, and if we're lucky, maybe something to nail the creep who did this.”

“How far are we from Woonsocket?”

“Ten, fifteen miles.”

Frustration pounded at Gabe's temple. “Would you take us to Woonsocket first? Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to keep us from our destination. I really wouldn't want them to win.”

Davidson contemplated him for a moment. “Not my jurisdiction.”

“You would just be transport. Nothing official.”

He seemed to consider before answering. “I s'pose we could take a detour. What happens if the lady in question is there?”

Gabe shrugged and winced at the pain radiating from the wound on his shoulder. “We verify that she's safe. Nothing else.”

“And if she's not?”

“Then I have a lot of work to do.”

“All right.” He turned toward his men. “Gonzales, Smith, stay here with the vehicle until the tow truck arrives to take it to the crime lab.”

Davidson gestured toward his cruiser, where Kris sat waiting. “Let's go.”

Gabe slid onto the front seat then looked at Kris. “You sure you're not hurt?”

“Yes. Just a few superficial cuts from the glass. You?” She gestured to his shoulder.

“Can barely feel it. Davidson agreed to take us to the Jamesens before returning us to Boston. You okay with that?”

“Of course,” she stated, her gaze determined. “We can't let the bad guys win.”

Gabe grinned, liking her spirit. “No, we can't.”

“That was close, though, you know.” A pensive look overtook her sweet face. “One of us could easily be dead right now.”

“But neither of us are.”

“By the grace of God.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Gabe abandoned the front seat and moved to sit beside her in the back. He gathered her close and marveled how right, how natural it felt to have her in his embrace. “You've been through a lot. I'll have Davidson just take us home.”

She pulled away and wiped at her tears. “No. We have to find out if Denise is safe. Because if she isn't, then neither is Sadie.”

“Then that's what we'll do.”

“Thank you.”

He lost himself in her beautiful eyes so full of trust and another emotion he could barely believe…affection. A matching emotion churned in his heart, wanting to escape. He tried to hold it back, tried to deny that his feelings for her were anything more than general concern.

But deep inside he knew he was only lying to himself.

 

Knowing they made a frightful pair with Gabe's arm in a sling and her hair tousled after attempts to extract the tiny shards of glass, Kris hoped the Jamesens would agree to talk with them. She followed Gabe up the walkway to the small cottage. Obviously upkeep on the place wasn't a high priority for the Jamesens if the chipped paint and the dark mold stains growing along the bottom edge were any indication.

The porch creaked beneath their feet. Gabe rapped his knuckles hard on the front door. The blare of a television receded and heavy footsteps approached the door.

Gabe reached toward Kris. “More glass,” he murmured as he plucked at the strands.

The door was yanked open by a rather large woman in her fifties. “What do you want?”

Kris involuntarily stepped back as Gabe stepped forward, blocking the doorway and flashing his badge. “Detective Burke, Boston P.D. We have some questions. Are you Mrs. Jamesen? Edna Jamesen?”

“Yeah,” she replied in a wary tone.

“May we come in?” Gabe asked.

Her suspicious gaze roamed over Gabe then darted between them before going over Kris's shoulder to where Davidson waited in his marked cruiser. “Yeah. Fine.”

Once inside, nausea threatened to turn Kris's stomach. The house reeked of cigarette smoke and some unidentifiable odor Kris hoped wasn't food. Something that smelled that bad couldn't be healthy.

“We're looking for Denise Jamesen. Is she here?” Gabe inquired, his voice stern.

“No, she's not here and wouldn't be welcome,” Edna Jamesen indicated in a raspy voice, hands on her ample hips. Her light brown eyes were yellowed at the edges and bloodshot as she stared down at Kris and Gabe.

Taken aback by the woman's hostility, Kris stared at the bleached blonde, wondering how anyone could be so cold.

“Have you heard from her recently?” Gabe continued.

Tim Jamesen answered from his place in an overstuffed recliner. “Naw, I haven't spoken to my aunt
since my brother Tommy died of an overdose twenty years ago.” He was a big man, with a burly chest, thick arms and legs. His receding hairline exaggerated the size of his forehead.

“Did you and your aunt have a fight?” Gabe guessed as he jotted on his notepad.

“You could say that. She'd wanted to get my twin, Tommy, into rehab but he wouldn't go. She thought I should have made him. Like I'm his keeper or something. He was never anything but trouble,” Tim said. “But he was auntie's favorite. When he died, she cut me out of her will altogether. Not that I think the old bat has much to leave anyone, what with that fancy place she lives in.”

“You've checked up on her?” Gabe pointed out.

“Not Tim, me,” Edna clarified. “I tried to see her a few years ago. Wanted to make her change her mind about cutting us out.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “She said we weren't family anymore.”

Tim hoisted himself out of his chair. “Why you asking all these questions?”

“She's missing. Someone at the retirement center suggested she'd come to visit you,” Kris informed. But obviously Ms. Faust was wrong. Or had lied.

That one's up to no good,
Sadie had said. Was it true?

“Well, I'm sure she'll turn up. Bad pennies always do,” Edna remarked.

“Thank you for your time,” Gabe said as he steered Kris back to the car.

Davidson opened the vehicle's back door as they approached. Gabe went around to the front this time, leaving Kris in the backseat alone. She missed having
him so close. She settled against the seat and stared at the houses going by as they left the rural neighborhood.

“That was horrible,” she observed. “Those people were so callous. Just because they'd had a spat with Denise doesn't mean they shouldn't care what happens to her.”

Davidson glanced in the rearview mirror. “I take it she wasn't there.”

“No, she wasn't,” Gabe confirmed.

Kris wrapped her arms around her as the cold seeped in. “It's just so sad that one's family could be so very distant and have such anger between them.”

Gabe glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Family issues can get complicated.”

Somehow she had the feeling he wasn't just referring to the Jamesens. “Yes, they can.” Hers certainly had. Her parents wanted her to be one way while she fought to be another. A subject that kept a wall between them.

Gabe faced forward and lapsed into a silence that deepened with the passing miles. Just as they neared the city limits, the distinctive music of Beethoven's Fifth filled the car and jolted Kris's nerves. She scrambled to dig out her cell phone from the bottom of her purse. Moving aside the powder compact and lipstick, her wallet and a tin of breath mints, she finally grabbed her compact flip phone. She checked the caller ID. Her mother. What timing.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Kristina, you have to come home now,” her mother said, her voice full of anxiety.

Panic slammed into Kris. “Mom, what's wrong?”

“It's—”

The phone made a dinging noise that indicated the call was dropped. She tightened her hand around the phone. She tried calling back but the message “call failed” kept playing across the screen.

“Kris?” Gabe asked.

Numbly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Something's wrong at my parents'. I can't get through. The call keeps failing.”

“Did she say what?” He handed her his cell phone.

“No.” A terror-inducing thought struck Kris as she dialed her parents' number. “You don't think that whoever shot at us went after my family, do you?”

A look passed between Gabe and Davidson. Davidson used the car radio to dispatch a unit to the Worthington address.

Clearly they thought it was a possibility. Kris's stomach knotted and fear lodged in her throat. With frustration she hit the end button. “Now it's busy.”

Davidson hit the siren and pressed on the gas pedal. The car shot forward. As the world outside whizzed by in a blur, Kris sent up a silent prayer of protection for her parents.

What had she dragged her family into?

T
he white-and-blue-striped Boston Police Department's cruiser's flashing lights announced their presence as Davidson brought the car to a halt twenty minutes later. Glad to see the call for backup was answered in such a timely fashion, Gabe helped Kris out of the car.

He put a restraining hand on her arm as she tried to rush toward the red brick, multi-leveled home in the middle of the block. “Let me check out the situation.”

The sight of tears gathering in her eyes knocked around his chest, making him ache to pull her close. He settled for giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Hurry, please,” she whispered.

“I'll stay with her,” Davidson stated as he came around the front of his car.

Grateful to the trooper, Gabe nodded and hurried toward the front door. He flashed his badge for the officer standing guard before entering. Muted, angry voices assaulted him as he stepped inside.

He focused on a gold gilt mirror that dominated one wall of the entryway and reflected the opposite room
where Mr. and Mrs. Worthington were loudly arguing with two officers.

The Worthingtons appeared unharmed.

Light coming through the arched windows revealed the multitude of books shelved on the floor-to-ceiling, built-in cases. A massive desk with a leather captain's chair dominated the center of the room. Charles Worthington and his wife, Meredith, stood facing the door, making it clear they were angry at the official intrusion.

Relieved that, for the moment at least, there was no immediate threat, Gabe paused. The house was just as he remembered it. Just as stunning, overwhelming and way out of his league. High ceilings, marble floors, a gleaming wood banister and intricate crown molding on warm, beige walls. He didn't belong in this place. He'd known that the first time Kris had insisted on bringing him here.

A seriously miserable ordeal for him. Not only had he regretted not wearing the suit Kris had bought, but he'd surmised that even with the suit, he'd have been sorely out of place. Drinking from crystal glasses and eating off gold-trimmed china wasn't something he'd experienced before. His nerves had been shot by the time the evening ended and he had made the decision that he and Kristina Worthington weren't a match.

No matter how much he'd wished they were.

With a little jolt, he realized he still harbored the illogical yearning.

With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, Gabe slipped into the study. “Officers, may I?”

The patrolmen turned in unison. After a quick scan of his badge, the officers nodded and took their leave.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Worthington demanded. He wore wool slacks and a thick cable-knit sweater which made his salt-and-pepper hair and light blue eyes stand out. His tanned complexion suggested time spent outside someplace other than Boston in the winter. He narrowed his gaze. “Don't I know you?”

Surprised, Gabe gave a short nod. That Mr. Worthington recognized him after all these years and after only having met once was impressive. “I'm Detective Burke. Your daughter Kris is a friend. She was very worried when she received what to her sounded like a panicked call from Mrs. Worthington.”

“Burke? Gabriel Burke?” Mrs. Worthington peered at him for a moment. She was a stunning woman with honey-blond hair, her figure trim in navy trousers and a red fuzzy sweater set. And a complexion as equally tanned as her husband. “What happened to your arm?”

“A superficial wound.” He braced himself as she inspected him.

Obviously she, too, remembered the unacceptable man her daughter had once brought home. And clearly, judging by the slight curl to her lips, she still didn't find him acceptable.

“Where is my daughter?” Mrs. Worthington asked, her tone suspicious.

“Outside. Why did you call?” he questioned, still unsettled by the shooting.

“What business is it of yours? Did you send those officers barging in?” she inquired.

“Your daughter was concerned. She couldn't reach you after your call. She asked for help.”

Mr. Worthington gestured toward Gabe's arm. “That happen in the line of duty?”

Gabe inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”

A flash of respect in the older man's eyes unnerved Gabe. “I'll let Kris know it's safe to enter,” he said and made a hasty exit, glad to be away from the disquieting stares.

He stepped outside, took a deep breath of cool air and motioned to Kris. She rushed over.

Her blue eyes searched his face. “Are they all right?”

He nodded. “Yes. I don't think the call had anything to do with…”

She held up a hand and let out a relieved breath. “Good.” She started forward then stopped; her big blue eyes stared at him with anxiety. “Do I look okay? Not too disheveled? We can't tell them. They'd only be upset.”

“Let's just find out why your mother called,” he suggested, not willing to promise her that he wouldn't tell her parents of the danger threatening their daughter. “And you look beautiful as always.”

A tinge of pink touched her cheeks as she made a face before going inside to her parents.

Gabe thanked Davidson before the trooper took off. Gabe then called Angie, filled her in and gave her the Worthingtons' address so she could pick him up. He hoped to convince Kris to stay here where she'd be safe.

He found the Worthingtons had moved into the living room, an airy space with more windows showing off a large patio filled with bare bushes and covered furniture now dusted white with snow. Comfy couches and armchairs in muted pastel patterns were placed strategi
cally before a large open fireplace. Flames danced from the gas fire, emitting a pleasing warmth. Kris had taken off her coat and was sitting beside her mother on the couch. Mr. Worthington stood off to the side, a perturbed expression on his face.

Feeling like an intruder, Gabe cleared his throat to get Kris's attention.

All three Worthingtons stared at him. The heat in the room seemed to rise. He resisted the urge to loosen his tie.

“The ‘emergency' Mother called about was a fundraiser that she wants me to attend next Saturday,” Kris stated, suppressed anger echoing in every word. “A whole week and a half away.”

“Ah.” He was glad it wasn't anything serious…but a fundraiser had required a panicked call?

“It's very important we fill our table. The Corring-tons canceled. It's so like them. Why we stay friends with them is beyond me. Very last minute. Quite rude,” Mrs. Worthington elaborated. “I'll really need to let the organizers know the guest list. I expect you there, but you'll need to bring a date.” She glanced toward Gabe, her gaze assessing.

Kris shot him an apologetic look before addressing her mother again. “You'll have to find someone else to fill your table. I'm not interested in going.”

“Surely you're not doing anything you can't get out of. We have a family obligation to fill this table,” Mrs. Worthington insisted, her voice rising slightly.

Shaking her head, Kris stared at Gabe with a “see what I have to put up with” expression. He felt for her. Clearly she didn't want to join her parents. Her mother
was being overbearing. He remembered Kris's comment about wanting autonomy. Now he understood.

Seeing the beseeching look on Kris's face, Gabe heard himself say, “Actually, Kris and I already have plans for next Saturday.”

What? Okay, that came out of left field. Dating her wasn't on his agenda, but he couldn't stand to see her railroaded into appearing at a function she obviously didn't want to attend. He felt as protective of her now as he did when bullets were slamming into the car.

He'd take her to a basketball game or…the ballet. She used to like that. Some place social, public. Where there was no chance of letting the situation become emotional.

The small, surprised smile on Kris's face made his stomach do a funny little flip. He lifted his uninjured shoulder in a half shrug to convey he was as surprised by his words as she was.

“Then change your plans. You'll both join us. You will have to wear a tux. These affairs are formal,” Mrs. Worthington instructed as if the matter were settled.

He choked and covered it with a quick cough.

Kris jumped to her feet. “Mother! No. I don't want to attend your function.”

Mr. Worthington cleared his throat. “Ladies, we'll discuss this at a more appropriate time.” He turned to Gabe. “Was there something else you needed, Detective?”

Clearly, Mr. Worthington didn't want a witness to the family drama. “I need to speak with Kris in private for a moment,” Gabe explained.

“Anything you have to say to
Kristina
can be said
right here,” Mr. Worthington replied in a voice that implied he was in control.

“Actually, sir, I can't. It's private.”

“Are you and my daughter seeing each other?” Mr. Worthington demanded.

“Dad, please. Enough. My love life is none of your business.”

“I beg to differ,” her father corrected. “Are you dating Detective Burke?”

“No,” Kris said, her voice wavering.

Mr. Worthington pinned Gabe with a fierce look. “Then what are you two doing together?”

Faced with the pointed question, Gabe sought Kris's gaze.

What had he gotten himself into?

 

Kris's stomach dropped. Gabe was going to bolt, just like last time. He had that same trapped, itchy expression as the night he'd broken up with her. Anger formed a knot in her chest. She had to get him out of here and fast, before her parents alienated him further.

“She needed a ride,” Gabe answered.

Turning a disapproving frown onto Kris, her father said, “You should have called us.”

“Next time I will.”

Hoping to divert the conversation, Kris said, “May I borrow one of your cars?”

Mom frowned. “What's wrong with your grandmother's? Did it break down?” Without waiting for an answer, she rolled her eyes. “I knew it. We should have insisted you have a new car and not use my mother's
ancient model.” She threw her husband an irritated look. “Charles, we need to get Kristina a new car right away.”

Kris sighed, hating that this old argument had to surface. Ever since she'd returned from Europe, her mother had been on her about driving Sadie's car. “Mom, I don't need a new car. Sadie's car is fine for me. It's being serviced.”

Like getting four new tires. Not that she was going to tell them as much or why the tires needed to be changed out. She didn't want them to worry or interfere any more than they already had. If they knew what was happening, they'd yank Sadie from Miller's Rest and the mystery of the missing residents would go unsolved.

She slid a glance at Gabe. No, he wouldn't give up on the missing people.

But he gave up on you,
a nasty voice in her head whispered. She resolutely shook the thought away. The past was the past.

“Never mind about the car. I'll just rent one,” Kris decided. “Can you give us a ride to the rental place?”

“I have a ride coming,” Gabe interjected. “Angie's on her way.”

“Oh, well, good then.” Why did she feel this burst of jealousy? Angie was his partner, not his girlfriend. At least Kris didn't think she was. She remembered the assessing way Angie had studied her. At the time she'd thought the scrutiny had been a cop thing, but maybe it was a woman thing.

Didn't matter. Not her concern.

Right,
an inner voice mocked.

Gabe had intervened on her behalf with her parents
by saying they had plans for next Saturday. What was up with that? Did it mean anything to him?

She had to find out because the gesture meant more than it should for her.

“Of course, you can borrow a car. No need to rent one. I'm glad to see you are being responsible. Car maintenance is very important,” her father said, rare approval in his tone. “You'll find the keys in the cabinet by the garage door. Take the Volvo.”

Pleased by her father's offer, she went to give him a hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

She gave her mother a hug, as well. As she pulled back, she said, “And, Mom, we are not attending the fundraiser.”

Her mother sniffed in disapproval.

Kris moved to stand beside Gabe. “Walk me to the garage?”

“Of course,” he said and extended his good arm. “Mr. and Mrs. Worthington.” He acknowledged each with a nod.

Since she didn't want to embarrass herself any more than she already had in front of Gabe, Kris chose to ignore her mother's frown and the pensive expression on her father's face as she led Gabe from the room.

Taking the key from the cabinet, she pushed open the door leading to the garage and preceded Gabe out. She hit the automatic door opener and moved past her father's red Jaguar coupe and the big black Mercedes, to unlock the metallic gold Volvo. She opened the door but didn't climb in. Leaning on the car door, Kris searched Gabe's face and asked, “So what did you mean about Saturday night?”