Whatever Remains (21 page)

             
“Oh, you meant,” she hissed. “You knew exactly what kind of position you were in, and I was in, and you decided to be a bastard for the fun of it.”

             
“Jade – ”

             
“Don’t say my name,” she bit out through her teeth. She was shaking now. “Don’t call me. Don’t even think about me.” A little tug at her sweater reminded her how inappropriate it was to do this in front of Clara. “And don’t come anywhere near my daughter, jackass.” She put her back to him and marched up the aisle, knocking someone’s cart aside and not apologizing, fingers gripped right in Clara’s jacket.

             
“Mommy – ”

             
“Keep walking,” Jade said. “Just keep going.”

“Hold on a sec,” Jeremy said into his cell, then pulled it from his ear and covered the mouthpiece with a hand. “I can come with you, if you want,” he offered. He was stretched out on the den sofa with a glass of wine, and Jade knew he had a crush on the line.

              “No, I’m fine,” she said, zipping up her jacket. She had her paddock boots on and a pocketful of carrots. In truth, she was looking forward to a solo night check, a little cold night air filtering down into her lungs and flushing away the taint of Asher that had lingered all the way home from the store and through dinner.

             
He watched her a moment, weighing. “Call me if you need to,” he said at last. “And I mean that.”

             
Like hell was she interrupting him; he didn’t get enough time for himself, always looking after her and Clara. But she said, “Okay,” so he wouldn’t follow her down to the barn.

             
It was still raining, though softly, and she pulled her hood up against its gentle pattering. The night was a runny, watercolor black, rain sighing high in the tree tops, rustling on the pavement. There was no wind, no animal sounds, no eyes blinking along the fence line. Peaceful. Jade clicked on her big Maglite and let the beam bounce along in front of her, leading the way down the drive to the cracked front barn doors. Raindrops flared in the light, bright as crystal, there and gone again. For a moment – one brief flash that she didn’t understand – something like a cold wet hand slid along the back of her neck: trepidation. A spike of hesitancy that she waved away because she couldn’t find any context for it. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, inside her hood, and slipped through the doors.

             
A low whicker greeted her in the dark: Maverick, she knew. The switch was along the front wall and she found it by feel; the bulbs came on with a
thrum
and eight pairs of big brown eyes blinked against the sudden brightness.

             
“Hi, guys.” With the rain rushing on the tin roof, she passed out carrots and then realized she’d forgotten to throw down a bale of hay. She was up in the loft, breaking flakes off a bale of fescue, when she heard a sound that didn’t belong to her routine.

             
Clang!

             
The heavy chain on the side gate, the one that fed into the paddock behind the barn, the one through which she’d passed the night she’d found Heidi, had an unmistakable loudness to it. The thick links rattled against the aluminum tubes of the gate. A sharp, metallic sound. They slid over one another, clattering. Hundreds of times, she’d heard that latch open. She knew the sound of it well. But it had never opened all by itself.

             
The cold wet hand was back against her neck, squeezing this time. Gooseflesh prickled across her skin. In her wet raincoat, she shuddered hard, pulse leaping to attention in her ears.

             
Oh my God
.

             
Jeremy wouldn’t have gone through the gate; he would have come in the front door, whistling to himself and calling to her that he’d felt too guilty to let her go alone. Clara was in bed, asleep a good two hours now. And anyone outside the barn hadn’t been invited there.

             
Oh, shit…

             
The gate hinges creaked, the noise cutting above the rain, and something
thump
ed against the side of the barn.

             
She was up in the hayloft, up above the left side of the aisle, over Merry’s stall, and she’d be easily spotted by anyone who came in the front doors of the barn. With a startled gasp, she threw herself back between two stacks of hay and wiggled backward, putting her shoulders up against the eave of the roof. Her shaking fingers fumbled in her pocket for the flashlight and curled tight around the handle; it weighed at least three pounds and was metal. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but was better than nothing.

             
She waited, breath held, straining to hear above the static tide of water rippling across the roof. The horses stamped, restless and wanting their hay. Maverick snorted. Outside, the wind caught the now-loose chain and it hit the fence again and again.
Clang. Clang. Clang.

             
Her cell phone was in her hand before she registered reaching for it. An image of Heidi, pale and lifeless, sprawled beneath the arena lights, flashed through her mind as she hit number three on her speed dial and pressed the phone to her ear.

             
Ben picked up on the second ring. “What?” he asked, and didn’t sound aggravated. There was worry in his voice, and for some reason, that eased her chattering teeth.

             
“I’m in the barn,” she whispered, terrified to make a sound. “And I think there’s someone outside. I think – ”

             
“
Do not move
,” he said. “I’ll be there in three minutes.” And the line went dead.

14

             
S
he didn’t hear the engine approach, but Ben’s headlights cutting through the rain and falling between the barn doors soothed her erratic heartbeat. She heard the car door shut and moved up to the edge of the loft on her hands and knees. Ben came in covered in raindrops, weapon drawn, wearing an expression that shocked the fear right out of her. She hadn’t ever seen him like this: ready for battle. They’d yelled at each other, throwing emotional grenades and hurling the most hateful of glares to one another…but no glare had ever looked like this. This was a previously untapped level of intensity that had claimed him as he scanned the stalls, searching for her.

             
“Jade?”

             
“I’m up here.”

             
His head snapped toward her and for one bald moment, the warring relief and panic in his eyes sat her back on her heels. He’d come in less than three minutes – she’d checked: his own one man cavalry, completely panicked. The knowledge did dangerous things to her insides. She pressed her hands to the plywood loft floor to keep them from shaking.

             
His gaze moved away, scanning again. “You okay?”

             
“Fine.” She took a deep breath, grateful down to her bones to have him there. “It was the side gate, the one between the drive and the arena. Someone opened it.”

             
“Okay.” His hands were steady on the gun, but his head was on a swivel. She could see the lift of his shoulders as he breathed. His heart was knocking like hers had been. “Stay there. I’ll check.” He glanced at her again. “If you see anything -”

             
“I’ll yell.”

             
He nodded and went gliding out of the barn every inch the graceful Marine.

             
Jade waited a long, tense handful of seconds; she listened to Ben re-latch the gate, the sounds reassuring this time. When he returned, he was stowing his gun in the waistband of his jeans and that was when she noticed what he was wearing: jeans, threadbare t-shirt, boots, a crappy old windbreaker. He’d been at home. His hair wasn’t just dusted with rain, it was wet and slicked back. He’d just climbed out of the shower when she called. She had a fleeting wonder if he’d had dinner; he was looking a little too thin around the waist these days.

             
“I didn’t see anything,” he said, voice back to normal, frame relaxed as he put his hands on his hips and did a much more casual sweep of the barn. “The gate was open. You sure you didn’t leave it open when you fed?”

             
“I
never
leave it open.”

             
He nodded, but she didn’t know if he believed her. He stared off into near space and she could swear she saw his brain working. “Come on down and I’ll walk you back to the house.”

             
She stood – as well as she could under the roof – and brushed hay off her knees. “I’m not finished.”

             
His brows twitched.

             
“I’ll be just a second. I’ve gotta throw their hay.” Not because they needed it, but because she and Jeremy had been in the habit of it for years now. So many colic cases were caught in the late night hours, so they went through the motions of one last night check, every night, to make sure all was well. Because it seemed unfair to wake them for no reason, they’d taken to tossing a flake of hay to each horse. It was a time-honored tradition in barns everywhere. And weird night stalker or not, Jade wasn’t skimping on it now.

             
Ben stood sentry, silent and thoughtful, while she maneuvered down the ladder and chucked hay into the stalls. When she’d brushed stalks off her jacket and pulled up her hood, he was waiting in the open doorway, watching the rain. Jade lingered beside him. “What?”

             
“We arrested a guy today,” he said, almost to himself. “If he killed Heidi, then who the hell was here scaring you?”

             
She’d had the same thought, but didn’t want to admit it. “It could have been some kid looking for a good make out spot. Or, you know…just your run of the mill burglar.” Jade felt her cheeks color. “I panicked; I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you – ”

             
He cut her off with a glance. “
Always
call.” In the blue-white glare of his headlights, his eyes were obsidian, sharp and focused; she could feel the energy coming off of him, filling the space between them. “If more women called, I’d be out of a job.”
Call him, or call 9-1-1?
she wondered. Was this about being a cop? Or about the two of them? She had a feeling she knew which, until… “I don’t ever wanna get called to a scene and find you or Clara” –  he swallowed; she could hear it – “under Doc Harding’s flashlight.
Always call
.”

             
She shivered.

             
“Come on and I’ll walk you up.”

             
Ben leaned in his car and shut off the engine; then he hovered a hand at the small of her back as they started up the drive. The night was still a spilled-ink mess of dark sky and endless shadows. The rain was lashing now, pelting at her face under the hood; Ben would be soaked by the time they reached the house. But Jade was calm, his presence a shield against the terrors that lay hidden along their path.
Safe
. It was one of the things, back when, that had cut above all the unsettling aspects of the man: he made her feel safer than she had at any point in her life. With no small amount of surprise, she realized that she could have called Jeremy – he wasn’t a helpless damsel when it came to this dark-of-night stuff – but instead she’d called Ben. Without thinking, on instinct, she’d reached for him when she was frightened. What did that say about her? So much for moving on.

             
At the door, he hung back on the mat, rain pelting him as she stepped into the kitchen and stripped off her jacket. “Don’t just stand there and get wet,” she admonished as she hung her jacket on its peg and shucked her boots.

             
Ben put a hand on the doorjamb and made a face. “I should probably…”

             
She didn’t want him to go. That was a stupid sentiment, most like, but she didn’t care at the moment. “Did you have dinner yet?”

             
His face twisted into something more comical. “I was gonna grab something – ”

             
“I dragged you over here,” Jade said, and put her back to him, going to the fridge in the hopes that playing it casual would work better than the doe-eyed routine. “I can at least feed you.” She flipped a quick glance over her shoulder, hand on the fridge door. “I’ve got leftover Alfredo bake. With chicken and broccoli. It’s good stuff.”

             
One boot stepped over the threshold. His cheek twitched like he couldn’t decide.

             
“Either way, shut the door because there’s rain coming in everywhere.”

             
He came in, and something gave a happy flutter in her chest.

His eyes wanted to follow her. Humans, each their own animal, had patterns of movement, unique muscle memories. Women were an odd combination of light and firm, self-assured in their own dainty ways. He’d always liked watching women, and not in a lecherous way. There was something comfortable about it. Jade was as beautiful spooning up leftovers as she was in the old photo he kept in his nightstand, the mostly-naked one she’d howled at him not to take. She was in black leggings and an obnoxiously big sweater with gaping sleeves she’d pushed up to her elbows. Slender, long-fingered hands pressed microwave buttons and her lashes flickered down against her cream cheeks as she worked: efficient, relaxed, homey. She wasn’t nervous about him at her table, dripping rainwater all over everything. She looked to have recovered completely from her ghostly white perch up in the hayloft.

              Damn, he’d been raging. The quivering whisper of her voice over the phone, the thought that she might be in some kind of danger…His reaction had knocked the breath out of him. He hadn’t breathed deeply again until he’d seen her face – wide, startled blue eyes – staring down at him above the stalls. On the drive to her house – sliding through puddles and hydroplaning and damn near killing himself – he’d known that getting to her, seeing that she was alright for himself, was all that would calm his roaring pulse. He was spinning through theories like crazy: someone seeing her at the precinct and following her home, someone thinking of moving on from children to pretty brunettes.

             
“Did anything else strange happen today?” he asked as she pulled his plate from the microwave.

             
She set it in front of him and pulled off the paper towel; rich-smelling steam licked up from the pasta and he realized he was starving. Jade handed him a fork with a frown. “Well…I don’t think it’s related.”

             
“Tell me anyway.”

             
Her frown deepened; she folded her arms under her breasts and propped a hip against the table beside him. “Clara and I stopped at the store on the way home. We ran into Asher.”

             
Ben froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. “You
what
?”

             
“It was no big deal,” she said, holding up a hand. “He was there buying stuff for his…kids, or whoever…he said he’d been meaning to call me. I told him off and left. End of story.” She sighed. “He didn’t sneak over here to rattle chains and scare me.”

             
He snorted his disagreement and shoveled in a bite of Alfredo bake. It was heavenly, with just the right amount of pepper. “Don’t be so sure,” he said around a mouthful. “Asher’s a liar, and the problem with liars is that if they’ll tell one, they’ll tell ten. He hid his marriage from you; how can you trust he isn’t out there right now playing Jacob fucking Marley and trying to get a rise out of you?”

             
“Why would he do that?” she asked from the fridge as she grabbed a bottle of white wine. “Cheating on his wife I can understand. But the other…?” She waved the bottle in offering. “We don’t have beer.”

             
He nodded and she pulled down a glass, thankfully a tumbler and not fancy stemware crap. “How many times have I told you?” he said. “Freaky creeps don’t walk around with ‘freaky creep’ tattooed on their foreheads, Jade.” She stood at his elbow with the wine and made him reach for it, still frowning. “No offense, honey, but he’s fooled you all along. He might still be doing it, is all I’m saying.”

             
Her fingers went white on the glass as she squeezed, and glared at him before she handed it over. “I’m not stupid.”

             
“I didn’t say you were.” He plucked the wine away before she shattered the glass.

             
“And I’m not some love-desperate, pathetic…
I’m not
.”

             
“Didn’t say that either. But you have a habit of thinking the best of people.”

             
Jade whirled away with a low growl deep in her throat. “Do I?” she asked as she crammed the wine bottle back in the fridge door. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

             
It was better to see her angry than frightened. He kept eating. “You don’t?”

             
“Of course I don’t!” She spun again, fridge slamming, eyes flashing. “How could anyone who’s ever met
you
have rose-colored glasses, Ben? Answer me that.”

             
Silently, startling both of them, Jeremy appeared in the hall door, empty wine glass in one hand, cell phone in the other. He looked between them like someone’s disapproving mother. “And you’re here, because…?”

             
“I called him,” Jade said, before Ben could launch into him. “I was down at the barn and I heard a noise; I got scared and freaked out and called him.”

             
“Him?” Jeremy said, appalled. “I was right here! Why didn’t you call me?”

             
“I didn’t want to bother you – ”

             
“Oh, so now he gets to bother us?”

             
“Shut your – ” Ben started, and Jade cut him off.

             
“Remy,” she said, voice tight, “just stop, okay? I don’t have the energy for this.”

             
He looked wounded, and not shy about it. He took his sweet time backing out of the room, watching them like they were errant children. Afterward, Ben heard a door
click
somewhere down the hall.

             
“Has he got PMS all the time?” Ben asked, spearing a thick chunk of broccoli on his fork.