Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2) (24 page)

Tucked nicely in her back pocket was her favorite pair of leather gloves. A spare
pair for her assistant hung from a hook along the side of the podium that she never
felt comfortable using.

A few spectators had already arrived and were browsing around the perimeter of the
main building. If they were lucky, they would catch one of the smaller rehab animals
sunning itself in the outer portion of their habitats.

An hour. She shook her head. There was just over an hour before she had to
be on
, as she thought of it. She wanted her alone time more than ever these days. She'd
worked for years keeping her mind focused on the job. It meant less time to daydream,
to think.

Unfortunately, the work was so second nature to her she couldn't completely block
out ideas—ideas like Andy might have had a point. They had both been young, not just
herself. He was stupid, she reminded herself, but so was she. Regardless, it took
everything she had back then to turn away from the nightmares and from the endless
despair, and pull herself together enough to make it to NYU. And she did it. Even
with the few scholarships she never got back. And she was happy, damn it.

To hell with Duncan for butting in. If he didn't mind his own business so much of
the time, the moments when he decided not to wouldn't be so potent. She should have
known the moment he called that Duncan would have been up to no good. Or maybe it
was some good. Shit. She shook her head quickly and noticed a middle-aged blond woman
approaching. Trying to look busy, Rose used a mallet to secure the wooden perch into
the hole.

"Hello. Dr. Piper? Hello?"

Rose smiled, but knew it didn't reach her eyes. "Good afternoon, ma'am. We have another
sixty minutes before we start."

"Oh, yes. I just wanted to know if I could ask a few questions beforehand."

"Of course." It was for the animals, she chanted in her head. "What can I do for you?

* * *

Dave and his assistant worked separately for the day. Leg work, mostly. Tips on a
man found shot near Seneca Falls had led to one dead end after another. Half the county
seemed to have motive to shoot the poor bastard. The only positive he could come up
with for the damned day was they were able to shorten their list of potential suspects.
As he listened to his assistant's summary of solid alibis, he sat at his metal desk
marking charts. He thought of how glorified his position tended to be when, in reality,
it was mostly a lot of Ps—paperwork and pounding the pavement. The intercom buzzed
and when he saw it was the lieutenant's extension, he held up a finger silencing his
assistant.

"Detective Nolan."

"Tanner here, Dave. You alone?"

"Nick's here. What can I do for you, sir?"

Lieutenant Tanner paused, then continued, "Your ex is on the way up. Uh, pretty beaten
up. Do you want me to stop her?"

Closing his eyes, Dave let his chin drop. Damnit. He thought she'd cleaned up for
good this time. Damnit. "No, sir. I'll take care of it."

"Should I leave?" his assistant asked. "We can do this in the morning. I'd like to
make a stop at a suspect's place on my way home. I missed him this morning. Maybe
I can catch him at this time of night."

Dave said nothing, just nodded in succession.

He didn't stand up when Amanda walked in. She was obviously shook up. His gut reaction
ranged from an intense need to pull her into his arms to a reddening anger that she'd
let herself fall off the wagon.

She looked around at first without speaking. Her eyes paused at the framed picture
of her on the corner of his desk. As if she was cold, she hugged her purse close to
her chest and, without asking, sat in the wooden chair across from him.

"Look at you," he judged. "We agreed it was best if you didn't come here anymore."
It pained him to see her like this. Always pained him that she chose this over him.

"Yes, Dave. Look at me. You know I'm not using. Look in my eyes."

She was right, he realized. Average-sized pupils, even though he could only see one
of them. The other was completely swollen shut. Good color in her skin. He also noticed
that the blow to her face was still bruising. The cuts on her neck were fresh. Although
taken with concern, he remained guarded. "What happened?"

"Please let me get this out. Then, I'll leave and promise never to come back. I'm
sorry to bother you at work. Sorry for... everything. I've lied to you. Kept things
from you." She looked in his eyes, then her shoulders fell. "I'm not talking about
the drugs. I was wrong to turn to that. I know that now. You know that I know that
now. I lost everything and I'm tired, Dave. So tired." Her eyes dropped to her hands.
"I lost you."

She straightened in her chair and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I didn't know what
to do. He, he killed my grandfather, said he would do the same to you—"

"Who—"

"Please. Please, let me finish. He said he would come for you," she repeated. "So,
I gave him what he wanted." Her eyes darted up to meet his. "Never that. No. I was
lucky... able to keep him from that. The money, I just gave him money. He really prefers
using his fists anyway." She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. "Rosemarie
is on television now. It's only a matter of time before he sees her. Recognizes her.
Comes for her."

Dave stood now. "Who? What are you talking about?"

"Michael. Although I'm not sure that's his real name. I can't keep her hidden anymore.
He'll come for her." She placed a fist to her lips.

"Are you talking about Rainer? You know where he is?"

"No. He comes and goes. I'm so sorry. I didn't know what else to do. He has pictures.
Of, of other girls he's hurt, other people he's killed... murdered. I gave him the
money. I didn't spend it on drugs. No, that's wrong. I spent some on drugs. A... lot
on drugs. But it mostly went to keep him away. All he has to do is see her and he'll
know. She has his eyes, Dave. The timing. He'll know. He's evil."

Her eyes glistened as she took a tape recorder from the second pocket of her apron
and set it on his desk. "I don't expect you to believe me. Or forgive me. But please
listen to this. It's as much as I could get out of him—that I could get for you. Find
him, Dave. Protect our daughter. I can't do it on my own anymore." She got up and
turned for the door. Stopping, she closed her eyes and whispered almost inaudibly,
"I love you."

* * *

Rose spoke about the Birds of Prey Action and Research Center, the latest east coast
conservation efforts and, of course, about Gracie. She was uncharacteristically worn.
Days with too much to think about and nights with even more. She wanted Andy to hurry
and finish with the project. Or, was it that she wanted to drag it out?

He knew. His reasons for not telling her made sense. Too much sense now, which obviously
meant she wasn't thinking clearly.

Grace stood next to her in her usual painted-on jeans with her own set of thick, leather
gloves as she was being groomed as a handler herself. Rose demonstrated how to hold
the bird away from her face and angle her arm so that when she stretched her wings
for balance, they wouldn't tangle with the handler's head. Try as they might, so far
Gracie wouldn't let anyone touch her except Rose. The wooden perch would have to suffice
once again for this portion of the presentation.

The middle-aged woman raised her hand and asked, "If it's a bald eagle, why doesn't
it have a white head and tail?"

Weary, Rose wanted desperately for some time to herself. How many times had she answered
that question? A vacation would do the trick. Somewhere she could lie on a hammock
and be alone. Working to sound sincere, she lifted her chin. "Bald eagles don't get
their white plumage until between the age of four and five when they become sexually
mature." Juvenile giggles rumbled through the crowd. She was relieved when a young
man asked a halfway intelligent question.

"Why do you tether her?"

She looked toward the back and tried her warmest smile. "Area biologists recently
held a virtual meeting to discuss that very predicament. The decision was that, due
to the human intervention mentioned, Gracie here missed the stages of upbringing when
she would learn to recognize those of her species and, in fact, learn that she herself
is an eagle. Therefore, in order to best ensure her survival, she'll be trained as
an education bird and spend her life in captivity. Since her aviary isn't finished
yet, each time she is outdoors, we tether her."

The young man leaned his head to the side before he nodded, then asked, "Did all of
the biologists agree?"

She chewed on the side of her cheek. "Biologists rarely all agree."

Murmurs of laughter, once again, waved among the small crowd.

"How did you—" He leaned farther before a hand appeared on his shoulder and nudged
him aside.

In the vacated spot, Andy stepped into view.

Andy.

Was here.

Of course he was here. He must have been working on the aviary, the young man an employee
of his. She noted the absence of the thousand-watt smile for the crowd or even a wink
for her. Solemn and hard as stone, he spoke loudly and finished his employee's sentence.
"How did you vote?"

No part of her body moved as she played back the former questions evidently coached
by him.

The fog that had clouded her weary mind for weeks parted as if burned away by the
sun. She looked to his ever-so-sincere caramel eyes. And she understood why he would
ask a question he already knew the answer to.

* * *

Amanda sat alone at her kitchen table, staring over her cold dinner with a frozen
bag of peas on her eye. She thought about cleaning up the mess in the garage. Other
than the shambles left from where she flew along the top of the work cabinet, no sign
of Michael's presence remained. Then, she realized Dave would likely send someone
out to inspect the scene. Of course, he would. She just wasn't thinking clearly yet.
There would be no prints. Michael was far too thorough.

Charcoal stayed close to her feet. Her faithful watchdog. And ears and nose dog. She
refused to be afraid in her own home. Dave had evidence and a voice print now. He
knew to look across state lines. He would find him. He had to.

Sitting at the kitchen table in the quiet, she wondered how her life became like this.
The kitchen still had the same soothing yellow paint and the same small, square table,
but she was alone. Charcoal growled low, sending her on alert. She'd set the alarm.
The power hadn't been cut. The knock at the door made her jump anyway, tossing her
chair.

Charcoal took off for the door, barking cautiously.

She knew she was likely just jittery from her day. As she walked to the door, she
felt a relief in the fact that, even after her horrific day, she knew she would not
turn to chemicals to get her through. Reaching for the handle, she gave the grumbling
dog the command to, 'lay.'

* * *

Rose's croppy red hair framed her alabaster face, setting off the intense blue of
her eyes.

Andy could see that beautiful mind of hers racing. Making connections. He realized
he was looking at the most incredible woman he would ever know in this lifetime. The
conversation that took place between them was silent and powerful and long enough
the crowd parted on the brittle grass to see who she was looking at.

Her eyes began to fill as she answered, "I voted to let her go."

Baiting her further, he asked, "Why is that?"

Rose closed her eyes, allowing the first tear to spill before nodding with sentiment.
"It would have been a risk," she said before opening her eyes. "I love this animal.
I didn't want to let her go." Pressing her lips together, she kept her eyes on his.
"She might have failed. Starved or been hurt, but I voted to give her the chance to
live. To become what she was born to be."

Tears flowed freely then and, as if watching a tennis match, the crowd moved their
gaze back to him.

* * *

Charcoal sniffed the base of the door, then lay without protest. Amanda patted his
head before looking through the spy-hole.

Dave.

Her forehead dropped against the wood. He came to look at the scene himself. Of course.
He would do that. How long had it been since he'd been at the house? Instead of allowing
her mind to continue down that path, she stood tall and opened the door for him.

The look on his face frightened her. She'd never seen him look so worn. The color
had drained from his face and was a direct contrast to the red in his swollen eyes.
Her brows pulled together. "What is it? Are you all right? The girls?" She lifted
a hand to him, then let it fall to her side.

He collapsed to his knees in front of her. Wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled
her into him, clinging as he pressed his face against her.

The years of walls she had meticulously built and guarded turned to instant dust and
crumbled at his feet. She stood with her arms still at her side, squeezing her eyelids
tightly. Slowly, she wound her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. In his
hair. In his smell. She'd never forgotten one part of the dizzying scent of leather
and metal and of the only love of her life. Tremors radiated from his body to hers
as this large man shuddered in front of her.