CAPTURED INNOCENCE (18 page)

             
“Turn right at the next stop sign.”

             
He sighed and turned the wheel.

###

              It had never occurred to Jo that Conley would be reluctant to accept the car as a gift. His reluctance to do so reminded her of her own misgivings to accept
his
help. The thought clinched her heart in a vise. If she hadn’t accepted his help, where would she be now?

             
The police station came in view, and she turned to Conley. His hair was mussed from the open window. The sun through the open sun-roof of the car highlighted the blond curls falling around his face. He reminded her of a warrior angel, sent from heaven, clad in a tight blue tee shirt and jeans. All he lacked was the halo.

If she looked hard enough, she’d probably find it. He still grinned, his pleasure aglow on his face, and she fought not to return the smile. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. He was like a little boy with a new toy. “Apology accepted,” she mumbled. “How’s your head?”

              “My what?”

             
“Exactly.” She opened her door and slid from her seat before he’d cut the ignition.

             
He popped the glove compartment, grabbed the box, and sprang from the car. “Jo, wait up. I don’t like police stations.”

             
She whipped around, hand on hip. This time she couldn’t resist an answering smile. “This time you need my help?”

             
“Got ya.” Conley reached around her and opened the door. Her body tingled where his shoulder brushed hers, and her face heated.

             
They entered a small room with a glass enclosed cubicle in one corner. Black letters painted on the door read Chief of Police. In the center of the room, were two other police officers sitting behind battered metal desks. Meredith sat behind a low counter, thumbing through a magazine.             

             
“Yes?” She didn’t look up.

             
“We’d like to see the chief, please.” The other woman’s head shot up, connecting with Jo’s.
How many times am I going to run into her? The hotel, the party, now here
.

             
The receptionist tossed a glance over her shoulder. “He’s busy.”

             
“He doesn’t look busy.” The chief stared at Jo through the glass before quickly ducking his head.

             
“Well, he is.” Meredith returned her attention to the magazine on her desk.

             
“Too busy to see this?” Conley opened the white box and set it in front of her.

             
Meredith gasped and rolled back in her chair. She covered her mouth with one hand and bolted from her chair.

             
“Guess we’ll have to show ourselves back.” He snatched the box and pushed aside a swinging gate, then ushered Jo across the black and white tiled floor ahead of him.

             
The chief watched them come, not moving from his desk, a frown on his broad face. The fifty something-year-old man looked vaguely familiar to Jo. Her flesh crawled. Did she remember him from her childhood or sometime more recently? Was this always going to be the case when she saw a man who triggered particles of memory? She stepped back against the safety of Conley.

He steadied her with his hands and whispered, “It’s all right. I’m right here.”

Immediately her heart steadied. “A man attacked us last night.” Her eyes flicked to the name plate on his desk. “Officer Logan. My husband was knocked unconscious. I was strangled until I passed out.”

Logan
folded his hands across his huge paunch of a stomach and leaned back in his chair. “Was this before or after the girl’s murder?”

Jo frowned. “What difference does that make?”

Officer Logan’s chair banged forward, and he propped his elbows on his desk. “Why are you waiting until now to report an assault, Mrs. Nielson?”

“It’s Mrs. Hook.” Conley rolled a chair behind her, and she fell into it.

“Mrs. Hook.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your father already called me this morning. We’re looking into it.”

“Any progress on the dead girl?” Conley pulled up another chair.

Logan shook his head. “Nothing. No one knows her or where she came from.”

“This was delivered to the house this morning.” Conley slid the box across the chief’s desk. “Know anything about it?”

Beads of sweat shone on Logan’s head as he opened the box. His lips disappeared into a thin line. “The dead girl was missing a finger.”

“Very astute of you.” Conley reached across the desk and retrieved the box.

“We need that for evidence, Hook.” Logan grabbed for the box.

Jo watched the two men in puzzlement. Conley stashed the box in his jacket.
Logan’s face flared red.

“I’ll have you arrested for obstruction of justice
.” The big man rose to his feet. “I’ve read your rap sheet.”

Conley copied him
, leaned close and planted his hands on the desktop. “You do, and I’ll blow your little operation out of the water. I know darn well you haven’t done a thing to resolve that girl’s murder. If I checked this precinct’s unsolved missing children cases, how many would I find from here and surroundings towns?”

“How dare you,”
Logan sputtered.

“Conley?” Jo’s
gaze whipped from one man to the other.

Lowering his voice, Conley continued. “Either you’re involved in what’s going on in this town, or you’re being paid to keep a lid on it. I intend to prove it.” He straightened. “Let’s go, Jo.”

Logan stepped around his desk. His speed was surprising for a man of his size. One beefy paw clamped Conley’s arm. “Just one minute.”

To Jo’s horror, several officers on the other side of the glass rose from their desks and stepped toward them.
Oh, Lord, they were going to attack. “Conley.”

“Take your hand off me, Logan.” He set his jaw firmly. A muscle on the left side twitched. Jo focused on this symbol of Conley’s anger. It seemed to beat with the same rhythm of her quickening heart.

“I’m placing you under arrest.” The man grabbed at Conley’s pocket with his free hand.

“Try it and every newspaper for miles around will know about your little game.” Conley shook himself free and straightened his jacket. “Jo?” His blue eyes bore into hers.

She nodded and followed him. She had to skip to keep up with his fast pace. Meredith’s head turned to follow them. Her mouth hung open. Jo shrugged her shoulders and scurried out the front door after Conley.

Once they were back in the car, she asked, “What’s going on? What ma
kes you think Logan knows anything about this?”

Conley laughed. “I didn’t know anything until now. I played on a hunch.”

“They aren’t going to look for who killed her, are they?” She looked at her folded hands lying in her lap. With Conley’s next words, her heart stilled.

“They already know.”

              They passed Blake’s house. Firemen sprinted toward the building. The strident ringing of fire truck alarms bounced off Jo’s eardrums. The flashing of red lights cast a glow on the crowd of onlookers. Black smoke billowed above the mansion’s red-tiled roof, turning the blue sky an ashy gray.

             
Conley stopped on the side of the road.

             
“Alex!” Jo fought with the door lock before yanking on the door handle and shoving the door open.

             
The top floor of the mansion blazed with scarlet and orange flames. Black smoke billowed from the shattered windows. Firefighters labored under yellow jackets and heavy hose.

             
Getting the door open, Jo leaped from the car and sprinted across the lawn, dodging firemen and sightseers. Her breath labored in her chest. Her attention remained focused on the beacon which was her son. Someone grabbed her arm, halting her and she jerked free, shoving aside an elderly lady who paused in front of her.

             
“Jo.” Hands clutched at her again, tighter. “Jo.” Conley spun her to face him. “He’s there. Alex is with Blake.”

             
She took a deep shuddering breath and turned. Blake smiled at her and lifted her son into the arms of another man who quickly deposited the boy in the backseat of a car. Alex cried out, reaching for her, and Blake slammed the door closed.

“Alex
.” The words burst from her in a wail, tearing at her throat.

“It’s for his own safety, Jocelyn.” Blake stalked across the lawn, brushing soot from his jacket. “I’m sure you don’t want him around all this commotion. What if he were to be trampled?”

“I want to speak with him.” She took a step toward the parked car.

“Jo, wait.” Conley placed a hand on her shoulder.

With a mighty groan, the mansion’s roof collapsed, shooting sparks, flames, and smoke higher into the air and over the heads of the spectators, casting the bright autumn day into cloudiness.

Jo screamed and ducked
. She folded her arms over her head. Scarlet embers rained upon her, and she shrieked when one landed, burning her arm. Conley arched his body protectively over hers and drew her close to his chest.

Pandemonium reigned as firemen rushed closer
to aim thick streams of water at the fire. Policemen ushered spectators further away, yelling and pushing them to the other side of the street. A child’s cries rent the air.

Jo peered from
under the cover of Conley’s arms. Blake stood rigid, a thin smile marring his otherwise stony features. His eyes shone, reflecting the flames, and Jo shivered.

An explosion rocked the afternoon and she screamed again, burying her face in Conley’s shirt. Debris rained down, thudding against the car which held Alex. With a squeal of the tires, the car backed from the drive and roared away.

Blake uttered a short grunt and plucked a shard of glass from his thigh. He frowned, staring down at the blood staining the silk fabric of his suit. With a curse, he tossed the glass to the ground and spun, limping to the paramedics.

“He’s a mad man,” Jo whispered, her voice hoarse with horror. She straightened, her eyes locking with Conley’s. “He’s crazy.”

Conley nodded. “And all the more dangerous because of it.”

“He was smiling as he watched the house burn.” She shook her head. “Like he enjoyed it.” A sourness seared her stomach. She looked down the street in the direction Alex had gone. “Alex could have been in the house.”

“He wasn’t.” Conley handed her the inhaler from his pocket before marching to the burning embers. A fireman reached out to stop him and Conley said a few words Jo couldn’t hear. The fireman stepped back.

With the house fallen to rubbish, and the majority of the flames extinguished, the spectators soon grew bored
and drifted away in small groups and low murmurs. Blake argued with the paramedic who wanted to cut away the leg of his trousers. Shaking his head, the man stepped back and waited for Blake to roll up the pant leg.

Blake cursed and fell back onto the stretcher when the fabric wouldn’t roll past his knee. The paramedic sliced scissors quickly through the fabric and tossed the remnant on the ground. Blake’s eyes locked with Jo’s
.

He smiled; a thin, cold smile that robbed Jo’s bones of what autumn warmth the day provided. She folded her arms tightly around her middle.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Conley stepped beside her, tucking her hair behind an ear, out of her face.

She nodded, numb, and allowed him to lead her back to the Mercedes. She glanced back once more as she bent to get in the front seat. Blake still smiled at her as he sat, one bare leg wrapped in gauze
. A small red stain spread across the white fibers.

###

              Conley spread the comforter over a sleeping Jo’s shoulders. He cupped one silken cheek in the palm of his hand and closed his eyes—just for a moment he pretended she loved him. That they had a regular marriage built on mutual love and respect. Bending, he placed a kiss on her forehead, then turned and left the room, locking the door behind him.

             
The rest of the house was quiet, its residents deep in slumber. The sole of his gym shoes thudded dully against the carpeted stairs. When he paused at the bottom, he could hear the soft whir of the heater as it spread warmth through the house. A night light on the wall stretched his shadow ahead of him.

Conley eased open the kitchen door leading to the garage and tensed as it creaked slightly. He paused
and listened for someone to call out. He rubbed his hand along the rough surface of the wall for the light, located the switch and flicked it, illuminating the garage with a flash of light.             

             
He searched the walls, astounded at the barrenness of the place. No lawn tools hung from the painted plaster. No paint cans stood stacked in a corner. Complete opposite of the garages he was accustomed to.