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Authors: Terry Odell

Nowhere to Hide (24 page)

BOOK: Nowhere to Hide
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I know you don’t like to cook, so maybe the candles will remind you of home when the cookies are gone. Good luck, we miss you and you can visit any time. Love, Mom.

 

Visit. Colleen knew it was her mom’s way of saying she could turn around and come home instead of living across the country and she’d be accepted, no questions asked. Respecting her choice to move, yet still hoping she’d come to her senses soon enough and run back to Oregon. Tears brimmed and she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Enough. She tuned in a rock station on the stereo and started pulling things out of boxes. She hooked up the answering machine, set the date and time, wincing at the sound of her own voice when she tested the outgoing recording. She set it to mute so she wouldn’t have to listen to herself, and went back to unpacking.

The last box, the big one, she hauled to her bedroom closet. She had almost finished putting her clothes away when Harrigan’s voice from the living room sent her heart pounding. Once it registered that it came from the answering machine, she kicked the box aside and ran to her nightstand for the phone.


Hi,” she said, interrupting his message. “Sorry about the machine.”


New?”


The rest of my stuff arrived. I’ve been unpacking.” She sat on the bed, flopped back against the pillows. The sound of his voice ironed out all her rough edges. “I thought you’d be working all day. Any news?” Had he gotten her stupid e-mail?


Not much. But what I have, I’d like to share. I think I owe you a beer. You up for it?”

He sounded so calm. Like last night, comforting women, sleeping on their couches, was something he did all the time. “I guess. What time?”


How about I come by at five?”

That gave her an hour. “Sounds good.”

She heard the click as he disconnected and she hung up. She dug out a pair of cotton slacks and a long-sleeved blouse and took them to the kitchen to iron. The smell of the fabric as she slid the iron back and forth helped center her. Not quite cinnamon cookies, but it delivered the comfort of home all the same.

She put away the ironing board, got dressed, and went back to her computer. This time, it was with a stirring of anticipation, not fear, when she logged onto the Trauma message board she’d tapped into earlier When she saw six responses to her opening message, the feeling she wasn’t alone wrapped around her like a warm blanket. And she knew where she could come the next time the nightmares hit.

At the sound of the doorbell, she logged off the site. The smile playing across her face as she went to answer the door was uncontrollable, no matter how she tried to force her features into a casual expression. When she peered through the peephole, she saw a smile on Harrigan’s face as well. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open.

Blue was supposed to be a cool color, but his eyes were like a blowtorch melting her insides. “Hi,” she said.


Hi, yourself.” He held out a tall, narrow gift bag. “I brought you something.”


Come in.” She took the bag, felt a bottle inside. Wine? She grabbed it by the neck and pulled it out. When she read the label, she burst out laughing. “Balsamic vinegar. You shouldn’t have.” Without thinking, she kissed his cheek. Smooth, and smelling of some spicy aftershave. “Thanks. I’ll put it in the kitchen.” She gave him a questioning look. “It’s not supposed to go in the fridge, is it?”


No. Cupboard or counter is fine. But there’s more.”

A shake told her whatever remained in the bag was small and light. “Let me guess. Baking powder, right?”


Yep. For next time. I mean … if—”

Was he blushing? “I think we should go have that beer,” she said.


I think so, too.”


Wait a second. Let me get my GPS.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you insinuating I’m going to get lost? I live in this town, you know.”

She took the unit from the living room shelf and walked back toward the door. “Nothing like that. It just arrived, and I thought I’d start programming in some of the local waypoints. Seeing the readouts kind of drives home how far I’ve moved. Besides, I have to make sure it still works.” Because she didn’t think she was ready to deal with those blue eyes yet, she studied the display.


No problem.”


Hold this for a second,” she said. “Let me get my keys.” After she secured the door, she saw Harrigan studying the readout before he handed back the GPS.


I guess this makes you navigator,” he said.

They walked out to his car and she remembered to wait for him to open her door. For some reason, it seemed to please him, and that made her feel good.

 

*****

 

Graham managed to find a parking spot not far from the Ale House entrance. Colleen walked alongside, close enough so he could have held her hand if he’d been willing to risk a rebuff.


My turn,” Colleen said as they approached the door. She grinned and pulled it open.

He stepped into the dimly lit restaurant, immediately punched by the noise of the sports bar crowd, the smells of beer, grease, and burgers. Once they were seated, Colleen clicked a button on her GPS. “Okay. Now I can locate this place any time.”


Why do you carry that?” he asked. “Or, should I ask how many other bars and pubs you have programmed?”

She flashed the smile that lit up her eyes and warmed him lower down. “None. I did a lot of hiking, backpacking and camping in Oregon. Back there, latitudes are in the mid forties. Here,” she looked at the display again, “they’re in the upper twenties. Longitudes are in the eighties here. Not like the mid one-twenties. I have come a far piece, as my grandfather used to say.”

Something clanged in his head. “Let me see that.”

She passed the unit across the table. He considered the numbers, then dismissed his hunch as too neat and tidy. “Never mind.” He handed it back.


You were thinking something. I could see it. Share.”


Jeffrey had some numbers written in his bird field guide. For a while, I thought they might be safe deposit boxes, or bank accounts, but they didn’t make sense. Looking at those numbers made me wonder if they might be coordinates, but they’re all too much the same. They’re all six digits, all start with eight zero. We’re at eight one.”


You think they’re longitude numbers?” She was leaning toward him, resting her elbows on the table. “If they are, eight zero won’t be too far away.”


Even if they are, they don’t do much good without latitude, do they?” When the server arrived, he ordered a Guinness and some onion rings. “There should be enough rings to share, or do you want something else?”


Sounds fine.” She smiled at the server. “I’ll have a Guinness as well.” Once the waitress left, Colleen’s expression turned more intense. “You said you found the numbers in a field guide?”


Yeah. I was flipping pages and found his life list. The numbers were in the margin of one of the pages.”


Maybe that’s where he saw the birds,” she said.


Most likely. But if these were longitude, he’d need latitude. Why wouldn’t he have listed both sets?”


Who knows?” Their server came back and set their food and drinks down. Colleen’s eyebrows lifted. “Not bad. Even a shamrock in the head. Nice touch.” She raised her glass. “
Slainte
.”

He gazed into her green eyes. Her earlier nervousness was gone. “
Slainte
,” he repeated. After taking a moment to watch the bartender’s artistry fade into the thick foamy head of his drink, he took a sip.  “Warmer today, isn’t it?”


Back to the weather, are we?” She lowered her gaze to her glass.

They munched on onion rings and sipped in silence. He watched Colleen, who seemed engrossed in the cascading bubbles. Frustration gnawed at him. “Damn it, Colleen I don’t know where to start. I’m afraid to ask how you are, because I don’t know how you’ll take it.”

Finally, she met his gaze. “I’m better. I’ve never been good at talking about my feelings, but I found a website and started typing about them. It’s not a cure, but it’s loosening things up.”

He read the honesty in her eyes, and something loosened for him too. “I’m glad.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “And if you ever want to talk, I’ll be there.” In the back of his mind he was aware of the ambient noise in the restaurant—he’d chosen this place for that reason. And, although he shouldn’t have been able to hear her hesitant voice above the din, when she finally spoke, it seemed there was nobody but Colleen in the room, and until she spoke, nothing but silence. The sound of his given name cut through everything else.


Yes?” he said, seeing color rise to her face.

She spoke more to her onion rings than to him. “You were right last night. Thank you.”

Something grabbed inside his chest. He wiped the grease from his fingers and clasped both her hands in his. “Look at me.”

Her gaze lifted, lowered, and lifted again before fixing on his.


That was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he said. His voice was barely audible to himself, yet he knew she heard every word. “And when the time is right for you, I hope I’m the one you’ll ask.”

Chapter Twenty-three

 

 

Graham groaned at the sound of the telephone. Who the hell was calling him at the ungodly hour of—? He glanced at the clock by his bed. Holy crap, it was ten-thirty in the morning.


I wondered if you wanted to go for a drive,” Colleen said, brightening his mood considerably. She no longer sounded flustered, but there was a hesitation there, one he wished she didn’t feel when she talked to him.


I’d like that. Anywhere in particular?” He tucked the handset under his ear and shuffled out to the kitchen to start some coffee.


Near as I can tell from the coordinates, somewhere about an hour or so from here.”

He stopped measuring the coffee and grabbed the handset before it dropped from his shoulder. “What are you talking about? Colleen, you didn’t—”


Didn’t what? I asked Doris if I could check out a bird in one of the books in Jeffrey’s office. It’s a pretty safe bet the numbers you showed me yesterday were longitudes, and now I have the latitudes. I’m going to drive over there to satisfy my curiosity. I thought you might want to come along.”


You’re damn right I want to come along.” His pulse was racing and he tried to convince himself it would turn out to be nothing more than some bird sighting locations. Still, he’d be doing something that might relate to the case, and he’d be doing it with Colleen. “I need a quick shower, but I’ll be ready by the time you get here.” A very cold shower.

He was finishing his first cup of coffee when the security buzzer rang. He gave Colleen the entry code and poured a second cup into a travel mug. After a leisurely dinner and a second beer last night, he’d taken Colleen home. She hadn’t invited him in, and he hadn’t pushed, but the kiss she’d shared with him at her front door had lingered with him most of the night. He’d made a huge batch of chicken soup, worked on his Harley, and tried to distract himself with some whiskey and channel surfing before he crawled into bed. The clock had inched from three-thirty to five before he’d finally managed to reach a state of something he’d consider sleep.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he’d met Colleen.

The doorbell rang, and he screwed down the top of his mug as he walked to answer it. Colleen stood in his entryway, her red hair ponytailed through a baseball cap. Wearing jeans and a thin blue T-shirt, she had a plaid shirt slung over one arm. Instead of her usual sneakers, she wore light hiking boots. The straps of her backpack strained the fabric of her tee and he could make out her stiffening nipples. He tried to avoid thinking of what he wanted to do to them and managed to tone his grin down to a casual smile.


Hi. Want some coffee? Black and sweet, right? I’ve got an extra travel mug.”


Sure.”


Mind if we take my car? You can do the GPS thing and I’m more familiar with the area.”

She took the mug he offered and her dimple peeked out at him. “I printed the maps. We need to end up somewhere north of Highway 46 and east of 95.”

They walked around to the back parking area and Graham smiled as she waited for him to unlock the passenger door. Damn, he wanted to kiss her. He walked around to his side, and she had pulled a small stack of papers from her pack by the time he got there.

He took the computer printouts. She’d circled an area that appeared to be in the middle of almost nowhere. “Looks like this might be birdwatcher heaven,” he said. “At least it doesn’t look developed.” He handed her the papers. “Got your magic GPS?”

She bent down to the backpack at her feet and pulled it out. “Roger that, Deputy.” When they reached the road, Colleen reached for the radio knob. “Can we have some music?”


Be my guest.”

She punched the buttons and settled on a rock station. He had hoped they could talk, but he’d wait. Especially since he wasn’t sure what he should be talking about. Last night, she’d admitted she needed help and was taking the first steps. Her breakdown still hung like a curtain between them, but rays of light were beginning to penetrate.

He steered onto Interstate 4 and headed toward Sanford. “This might not be the most scenic route, but there aren’t any tolls,” he said. “And on Sunday, it will be quick.”

After about half an hour, he exited onto State Road 46. Within minutes, they were passing fields, swamps and open space. Horses and cows grazed nearby.


I didn’t expect to see cows and horses in Florida,” she said. “Alligators maybe.”

BOOK: Nowhere to Hide
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