When She Wasn't Looking (7 page)

He lowered his head until he had eye contact again. “Courtney?”

She exhaled every doubt. “You’ll find out I didn’t exist until ten years ago.”

His smile vanished. “What?”

“I think you heard me.”

He straightened up. “But—”

“You promised.”

He swore under his breath. “I’m sorry I made the deal.”

“In fairness, I tried to warn you.”

Chapter Eight

The next day Cade Willis sat in his rental car and stared across the street at the front door of a Craftsman bungalow. He’d come three thousand miles and taken almost ten years to get here.

Houses lined the quiet street, packed together with little room between them. He lived in a condo. Spent hours in a box with a row of windows on one side, only to leave and work in a bigger box.

But he wasn’t on duty now. It was just after nine in the morning. He’d flown from Virginia to Oregon for one reason, and his first attempt to get to her had failed. Cade didn’t know anything about Jonas Porter, but he would investigate. That was what he did. Researched, asked questions, studied the pieces and found answers. He’d been trained, but this was personal.

A woman, a little too old to be the
right
woman, blonde and curvy, walked up to the porch and used a key to open the front door. He glanced down to double-check the age-progressed photo in the file on the passenger seat. He flipped to the grainy one his investigator had taken last week.

He glanced up in time to see the unknown woman disappear inside the house. A long skirt and a sweater, short hair and a larger build. Yeah, definitely not the right woman.

He’d gathered hundreds of details about the woman he’d been tracking, many of which came from his memory. He’d been fifteen the first time he saw her and twenty the last time they lived in the same place. The years since passed with terrible slowness. That was what happened when you lived under a cloud, when people judged you and pointed.

In the years since it all fell apart, he’d pushed and struggled. He’d done everything to turn his life around, but the past ran just a foot or two behind him, waiting to lunge and tackle.

He tempered every commendation with the knowledge unfinished business lurked. He knew from experience hard work wasn’t always enough. Everything a man earned and accumulated, from his good name to the food in the refrigerator, could be taken away in an instant.

The person who threatened to do that to him had changed her name. Ann Peters faded away, leaving nothing behind to signal her existence except a series of newspaper articles and a few links at conspiracy-theory sites on the internet. She didn’t exist. Her social security number lay dormant. No bank accounts or credit cards. No paper trail at all.

He’d wanted confirmation. Needed to see if wild child Ann Courtney Peters had morphed into respected illustrator Courtney Allen. He admired reinvention, but he refused to live in the past alone.

She started this.

He would finish it.

* * *

J
ONAS PARKED THE POLICE CAR
in the alley behind her street, just two houses down from hers. After a night of her sleeping on his office couch while he slept in the desk chair, he winced every time he moved. He’d actually hissed when he reached around to put on his seat belt after leaving the office.

Through it all, he’d kept his part of the deal and hadn’t asked a single question about her past. Didn’t even sneak onto the computer, though Courtney would bet what little cash she had on her that he’d wanted to.

Now he stared ahead, watching the drizzle from the sudden storm hit the windshield as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. She didn’t know what song played in his head because the inside of the car stayed silent except for the rhythmic swish of the wipers.

The quiet finally broke her. “Are we just going to sit here?”

Her insides jumped around, and she’d bargain with the devil for a shower at this point. Splashing in his office bathroom hadn’t done the trick.

Jonas’s frown deepened. “I think there’s someone in your house.”

“What?” She leaned down, trying to get a clear view of her back door from the passenger side of the car. “How can you know that?”

“I saw a shadow.”

She glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t joking. The severe frown suggested not. “How can you see anything from this far away?”

He looked at her then. “You can’t?”

This qualified as one of the many conversations she’d wanted to avoid. Not that she spent hours worrying about her looks, because she didn’t, but her eye issues were a constant source of annoyance. She could sit bent over her drawing table for hours, not even twitch when her lower back cramped up and begged for mercy, but when her vision blurred she stopped. Eyestrain quickly switched to double vision, which led to balance issues.

She’d suffered from the problem since she was a kid. There was a fancy name for it that she’d long forgotten and a chance the condition could worsen. It ruled out airplane pilot and a few other career choices. Drawing likely should have been one of them, but she’d refused to give it up.

A child’s doodles became a source to release the pain of early adulthood and eventually her lifelong job. Illustrating books constituted nothing less than a passion now. The fact her love also paid the bills just made her one of those lucky people whose calling intersected with their career.

Unlucky in everything else, lucky in this—and she had no intention of throwing that away over a set of bum eyes.

She settled on telling Jonas the super-abbreviated version. “I wear glasses.”

“Since when?” He acted as if they’d known each other for years and she hid a big secret.

“Always. I wasn’t wearing my contacts when you arrived and had taken off my glasses to get the door, otherwise you’d know.”

“Why didn’t you wear the glasses to answer?”

That was not exactly the piece of information she thought he’d grab on to. “Just because.”

Through the bandage over his eye and the cut near his mouth, he smiled. “Just so you know, the whole ‘boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses’ thing is a lie.”

“Oh, right. You find women in glasses sexy, I guess.”

“Sure do.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“Not yet.”

Her stomach somersaulted. “Jonas—”

That quick, his attention switched back to the house. “Does anyone else have a key to your place? Friend, family member, boyfriend?”

The guy threw her off balance every time he opened his mouth. “Don’t have either of the last two and very few of the first.”

“You don’t like people?”

“I like my privacy.”

“Understandable.” He opened his door. “I want you to stay here.”

“No.”

“Did you just say no?”

She took off the seat belt and cracked the door open before he could throw the parental safety locks. “I know you like issuing orders, but I’m done with feeling guilty about putting you in danger.”

“You did see the badge, right? This is my job.”

“I’m serious.” Before he could argue, she got out of the car and started walking toward her backyard.

From the start, she’d intended to fight this battle alone. If he insisted on tagging along, fine, but she’d ensure he wasn’t the primary target. She didn’t have a death wish, but she did have experience with naive hope and empty promises, with incompetent cops and bad lawyers. Jonas didn’t appear to fit in any of those categories but she wasn’t ready to take a chance on that yet.

She’d stood at the gravesides of her mother and two sisters and made a vow. She was determined to keep it, no matter the consequences.

He stopped her with the press of his hand against her elbow. “Hold up.”

She turned around, fire burning inside her, and let out a long, exaggerated breath. “You can’t win this argument.”

“Yeah, I get that. You’re consistent.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not exactly a listen-to-the-rules type.” He slipped a cell phone out of his back pocket with his good hand. “So, let’s skip the part where you ignore me.”

“Works for me.”

“I’ll go in and you stand in the alley. If I don’t come out or you hear anything, you call Rich and get in that car.”

“You’re very big on going in alone.”

“It’s my job.”

People once accused her of living on the blurred edge of safety. She looked at Jonas, with his injuries and clenched jaw of determination, and saw the danger simmering there. “I wonder.”

“Don’t dissect me.” He flipped her hand over and dropped the phone in her palm.

When he closed his fingers over hers, the area around her heart trembled. “Fine, but don’t be a hero. Just call for backup.”

She’d never invited the police into her life before, but this was about Jonas. His safety, making sure he kept his distance from her mess.

“I can handle a house search on my own. Besides that, I have limited resources and personnel, and my people are busy taking turns watching the hospital and investigating.” He squeezed her hand then let go. “Let’s move.”

Courtney didn’t argue. She unlocked the gate at the back of the property. Quietly and with quick steps, they slid along the side fence with Jonas in the lead. When they reached the back door, he slipped her key into the lock, careful not to make a sound. He held up his hand and gave her the do-not-move glare.

As soon as his back disappeared into the house, she followed, catching the door before it banged against the jamb. She’d memorized every inch of the house and knew where to step and where someone could hide. He needed her.

He took two steps and stopped. His back straightened but he didn’t turn around. “I thought I told you to wait this one out.”

“And I thought I made it clear I was done being ordered around,” she said in a low hush, mimicking him.

With one arm, he scooped her behind him. The other hand held the gun. “Stay right there and keep that phone ready.”

Her head pressed against his back as they shuffled through the white kitchen she loved so much. The plates with the little daisy in the center, the ones she’d found at an estate sale and stacked in the cabinets. The small pots of herbs lined up on the windowsill. She handpicked every piece as she built her first real home as an adult.

“You okay?” he asked in a rough whisper.

“Yeah.”

She rested one hand in the deep groove between his shoulder blades. As she expected, not an ounce of fat on the guy. Trim waist and sleek muscles, a hard back and shiny hair. The warmth of his body and scent of the outdoors washed over her in a mix that was pure male. She felt him inhale.

“Damn.”

She grabbed his biceps and peeked around him as he hit the doorway into the small dining room. “What?”

“Call Rich.”

She pushed around Jonas and stood by his side. The drawers to her sideboard stood open. Looking through to the family room, paperwork spilled out of her desk and couch cushions lay scattered on the floor.

She tried to push past him. “My house.”

“Hold on.” He pressed a hand to her stomach. “Wait here.”

The guy just wasn’t getting it. She’s sat on the sidelines, passive and still, and watched her life spin. Those days were officially over. She was about to argue with him while she hit the button for Rich’s line when the hardwood floor creaked near the front door. She kept it loose on purpose. It was her first line of defense. Looked as if the system worked.

His gaze shot to hers. He mouthed the word
company
and nodded toward the back door. This time she listened. Coming face-to-face with another gun didn’t interest her.

With lightning speed, he whipped into the family room, gun up and shoes quiet against the usually creaky floor. “Stop! Police!”

The high-pitched scream and heavy thud had Courtney running into the room after him. She told Rich to hold as her gaze went to the front door. Jonas had someone pinned against the wood as he reached around for his handcuffs.

Sneakers, flowing skirt, yelling. The woman bucked and slammed her body against his as she tried to land a kick. “Get off of me!”

Instant recognition.

“Jonas, no.” Courtney reached them just in time to grab his wrist. The handcuffs jangled in his fingers. “She’s not a thief.”

Confusion fell over his face. “Who is it?”

“You’re the deputy.”

“That doesn’t mean I know everyone.”

When her friend started wiggling and mumbling, Courtney rushed to end the wrestling without more trouble. “That’s Ellie.”

He didn’t let up on the elbow pressed into Ellie’s back. “Be more specific.”

Courtney tugged on his arm to get him to back up. “Ellie Wise, best friend and landlord.”

Jonas loosened his hold then held his hands up as if waiting to get that kick he’d been fighting off. “I see.”

Ellie turned around. Fury blazed in her chocolate-brown eyes. “That’s all you have to say?”

“How about this…how did you get in here?”

Ellie held out her hand. “My key.”

Courtney felt the rush of guilt down to her toes. “I forgot she had one.”

“What’s going on?” Ellie looked at them, then around the house. “I heard you were in the hospital and came to get some stuff for you. There’s stuff everywhere. The bedrooms look even worse. You’ve got this one on guard.”

Stuff everywhere.
Panic rose in her throat. Courtney spun around and raced to the fireplace on the far wall.

Dropping to her knees, she ignored the pain assaulting her and stuck her hand up the fireplace, digging around in the ashes. Her fingers touched on the corner and she tugged. Her shoulders slumped in relief as she pulled the folder out of its hiding place and sat back on her knees with it clutched to her chest.

By the time she looked up, both Ellie and Jonas hovered over her with matching frowns.

“What are you doing?” Jonas asked.

Courtney hugged the envelope and rocked. “He didn’t find it.”

Ellie shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“Who?” Jonas asked at the same time.

Courtney decided to answer them both at the same time. “The man who murdered my family then framed my dad for it.”