Deep Cover. Sandra Orchard
rummaged through the kitchen drawers.
“What are you doing? Don’t you want to read the note?”
He pulled out a plastic bag and then carefully clasped the corner of the paper scrunched in her hand. “The police may be able to lift fingerprints. I don’t want to add more.”
As if she might take back her own fingerprints, Ginny swiped her hand down her shirt. A tangled clump of string slipped to the floor like the sinking awareness she couldn’t undo her mistake.
Rick dropped the note into the bag, using the plastic to smooth the paper flat.
Two words scrawled in red ink screamed at Ginny all over again. I know.
Rick flipped over the bag, but from the way his jaw clenched he hadn’t known another message was scrawled on the back.
One way or the other, HE WILL PAY.
Lori let out a ragged sob.
Rick shooed Mom and Lori out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry. Whoever threw that rock clearly had the wrong house.”
Desperate to stop shaking, Ginny grabbed the broom.
Rick’s attention jerked toward her. “No.” He took the broom, curled his arm around her shoulder and drew her away from the debris. “The police will want to see everything as it is. Did you notice anyone suspicious hanging around the area this evening?”
“The car.”
“What car?”
“A boxy gray car. It skulked past when you were fixing my window switch. I’ve seen it before, too.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t talking to you!”
Rick led her to the phone and dialed 9-1-1, but even with his strong arm secured around her shoulders, she couldn’t stop shaking. Maybe because his detailed answers to the dispatcher’s questions reinforced her growing realization of how little she knew him. One minute he was hanging with gangs. The next he was taking charge, making her want to depend on him.
Gangs. She shrank from his hold, snatched up the note and thrust it toward his chest. “This was meant for you, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?”
He glanced at the hole where the kitchen window used to be and motioned for her to lower her voice. “Why would you think that?”
“Because no he lives in this house. And you were the one standing in my kitchen when the rock came through the window.”
“But the ‘he’ in this note could refer to …” He hesitated. “Anyone.”
“The note says ‘I know,’ as in I know your secret. How did you think you’d get away with pretending to be Duke in this town?”
“I’m a construction worker. No one’s gonna connect me to a guy you dated over a year ago.”
“You are seriously deluded. You know that? Lori blurted your name in the middle of the town hall.” Ginny pointed to the glass scattered across the counters and floor. “Look at this mess. Someone besides me and my uncle knows your secret. What does this person want?”
Rick’s eyes shuttered.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Take it easy,” he said. “If whoever threw that rock heard Lori call me Rick, he might think he holds some power over me, but he doesn’t. Your uncle knows why I’m using an alias. Our rock thrower doesn’t scare me.”
“Well, he scares me. Isn’t it bad enough that you railroaded your way back into our lives without a thought to the emotional havoc you’d wreak on … on Lori? You had to go and bring physical danger to our doorstep, too.”
“No, never. I would never—never—endanger you or your family.” He cradled her face between his palms, begging her to trust him.
Every whisper of love she’d blocked from her mind rushed to the surface. Months of longing, fighting dreams of what might have been, filled her. She stiffened against the onslaught. She couldn’t risk letting him into her life again. He was too good at making her depend on him. And too good at letting her down.
“Please, believe me. That note and rock have nothing to do with me.”
She pushed his hands away. “Prove it.”
The sound of approaching sirens resonated through the room. For a moment, Rick looked as if he might say something, but then his expression hardened. His fists clenched.
“You can’t, can you? Because you know I’m right.”
“I’m here because I want to help you. I promise you the rock has nothing to do with me. Ginny,” he said and the low, intimate pitch of his voice trembled through her. “If you ever cared for me at all, trust me.”
She crossed her arms. All she had to do was look at the glass splintered across the floor to know he couldn’t be trusted. “No, Rick, that’s the one thing I won’t do. Ever again.”
Standing in the parking lot of the construction site, Rick shook the building inspector’s hand. Too bad convincing Ginny to trust him wasn’t as easy as convincing the inspector to rubber-stamp the proposed changes. But divulging what he knew about Laud could’ve backfired big-time, especially when she hadn’t given a second’s consideration to the possibility that the “he” in the note might be her uncle. Rick should just be thankful she didn’t share her suspicions of him with the local cops.
He flagged the cement truck to a stop and aimed the trough into a basement window.
If he did his job right, Lori would get her group home and he’d keep them all safe from the danger surrounding her uncle. If only he’d found a match for the partial thumbprint forensics lifted from the note. The fact it didn’t match Laud’s prints or those of any of the cons Rick had sent to jail, or anyone else’s in the police database, was a minor consolation.
Rick blew out a breath and focused on the steady swish of cement. Despite what he’d told Ginny’s family, he was certain the rock had been meant for them. And since nothing in the note alluded to a beef with the group-home construction, he was ninety-nine percent sure Laud’s creditors were the instigators—upping the stakes to convince Laud to pay. But knowing that didn’t help keep Ginny safe. Not when she didn’t want Rick within ten miles of her.
He massaged the kink in his neck from too many nights sleeping in his truck outside her place. In the week and a half since she’d been on this project, Ginny had managed to get her name and photograph into every newspaper in the region and had even scored an interview on the local cable station to rally support. What part of “keep a low profile” didn’t she understand?
If he hoped to keep her out of harm’s way, he needed to secure her cooperation, whether she trusted him or not.
His cell phone rang. The caller ID said private, which meant Captain Drake. Rick motioned for Phil to take over the cement trough. Then, with a finger in one ear and his phone to the other, Rick put fifty yards between him and his men. “Talk fast.”
“There was another fire last night. In Harbor Creek.”
Rick balled his hand. Had his preoccupation with Ginny caused him to miss something?
He tore off his hard hat. Obviously, he’d missed something. Laud had been close-lipped the past couple of weeks, but … “Harbor Creek? That makes no sense. Laud’s Harbor Creek complex is already half-filled with tenants. Paying tenants.”
“The building wasn’t Laud’s.”
“What?”
“You heard me. The fire marshal thinks we have a serial arsonist on our hands.”
“We already know that.” Rick watched the truck’s