unheeded.
That cat was the darling of Kirstie’s life, next in line to Lynley, of course. No one took Lynley’s place. John could see why. Despite his initial resistance to a growing friendship with a living, breathing woman, Lynley’s calm determination and gentle spirit had wrapped themselves around him from the first time he met her, and he’d been unable get her image out of his mind when he closed his eyes at night. She was first in his thoughts when he woke up the next morning.
Though he was firm in his determination to remain single, this threat against her life both enraged and stunned him with the depth of caring he’d developed for her in these past months. It wasn’t what he’d intended. He’d moved here to be close to his cousins—plus the challenge of being the police chief and only policeman in a town of eight hundred had been difficult to refuse.
He saw Data climb to the upper deck and sniff around the railing—as if he picked up an unusual scent, perhaps? John tapped the window. The strikingly beautiful cat stood outside the glass, and his gold-foil eyes, white face and pink nose with a black splotch on his head made John smile. He’d never been a cat person, but these cats of Kirstie’s had shown him anything could happen.
He stepped into Kirstie’s library, where she kept a list of birds she’d seen in the area. Beside the list were her binoculars. He took them back with him to the door and studied the woods, from the rehab center to the creek and beyond. No figure was in sight.
Sliding open the upper deck door to lure Data back inside, he watched for Vance’s truck to come around the curve above the house. As soon as the cat darted in, John shut and locked the door, eager to get back downstairs to reassure Lynley that Data was fine. What was it about having friends in physical proximity that made one feel all would be well?
He knew better. If he let down his guard, no one would be safe. He followed Data to the stairway and saw Lynley coming up, her dark brown eyes filled with relief when she saw Data.
“You little scamp. You just did that to show me you could.” She flipped his jauntily curling tail as he raced past her, then gave John a smile. “Thanks. I don’t want Mom worrying about two of us at the same time.”
John swallowed hard. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t be distracted by a sweet smile or a deep gaze from dark brown eyes. How long had he been lying to himself about her, trying to convince himself they were good friends. Buddies. Nothing more?
This was the moment he must see himself as nothing but her protector.
Sandra would likely be cheering right now if she knew he’d begun to feel a shift in his mind-set, but he was not cheering. Something about losing a wife to death left a man feeling married and wanting to be faithful. Yes, it also left him lonely, and he knew that wasn’t what she wanted. In fact, he’d expected to recover from his loss long before now. It wasn’t until the fourth year after her death that he realized there would be no recovery. Life would continue whether he wanted it to or not, but he’d lost a vital part of himself when Sandra died, and contrary to what everyone had tried to tell him, time was no healer.
He just couldn’t move forward. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Lynley met John halfway up the wide staircase and felt her body lean in his direction as if her mind and body were somehow disconnected. She refused to respond to the attraction she felt. Right now she was depending on him for her very life, so of course she wanted to hold on to him. Anything to connect to. Right?
He placed an arm around her, but didn’t draw her close, as if he knew where her limits were, and had put on his professional persona. How instinctive this man was. Not pushy. Not overtly affectionate, even though she had no doubt he cared about her. What was it about him that could translate his thoughts and intentions to her without his having to say a word?
“This time Gerard really is on his way down with Kirstie. I saw someone downhill near the creek a moment ago,” he said. “By the time I reached the binoculars, whoever it was had disappeared, but I’m suspicious. And something else about the note doesn’t ring true.”
She turned and looked up at him. “True in what way? I’ve been rereading it, studying every word, but I’ve read it so much the words are bleeding together.”
“I want to show it to Gerard when he gets here with your mother, then we can talk about it. They were delayed by a missing child. He’s been found.”
She felt a jolt of fear. “How long was this child missing? John, what if the person who left this note had seen—”
“No, he wasn’t gone for long.”
“But there are so many children up there so close to us. What if they’re in danger, too?”
He placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Want me to make you a cup of chamomile tea?”
“No time. I’ll take a GABA. I think Mom has some L-theanine in her stash of supplements.” She felt so out of control, and she couldn’t afford that right now. She sighed, dreading the moment Mom entered the house. “Does she know?”
“Not yet. When we tell her, I want her to start spreading the word around town. Megan’s going to question everyone who might’ve seen anyone on the decks this morning.”
Lynley’s breath tumbled out. “You’re taking this to the public? But John, the note said—”
“We aren’t going to allow anyone near enough to you. That letter writer will not touch you.” His green eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Lynley. I can imagine how frightening this is—”
The thump of a car door startled her. Another followed. An injection of adrenaline shot through her arteries and tingled along her arms and hands. There was no more time to give in to fear. She hurried to the door just as her mother unlocked it and pushed it open.
Lynley fell into her arms, unable to hold back the trembling that set itself up deep inside her. This was a living nightmare.
“Sweetheart?” Mom drew her close, her whole body tensing within Lynley’s grasp. “What is it?”
“Mom, some idiot stuck a ransom note for me on the back door.”
Kirstie jerked away. “What!”
Gerard and John guided the two of them toward the cluster of sofa and recliners, and Lynley heard the door lock behind them. It wasn’t until John pressed a tissue into her hand that she realized she was crying, and for a moment the tears were so abundant she could barely make out his face. This wasn’t how she’d intended to behave.
Mom looked up at John, then Gerard. “What on earth?”
“We’re checking into it,” John said.
Lynley wiped her face, blew her nose, accepted another tissue from John, furious with herself for behaving like a weak-kneed little girl.
“Why don’t we sit down?” John drew Lynley forward, sharing a meaningful look with Gerard that Lynley couldn’t miss.
They’d obviously already put some plans into place.
Lynley sank into the sofa cushions between John and Mom. John touched her shoulder,
