Agent Daddy. Alice Sharpe
is where I live,” Faith said as the rain pounded the fiberglass roof of the lean-to. Holding tightly to Colin and the diaper bag Trip had left in the school office, she took Noelle’s hand. “Let’s run between the raindrops to the front porch, okay?”
They dashed the ten feet to the feeble overhang covering the door. Faith struggled to keep up with Noelle, her left leg protesting a bit at the unevenness of the ground.
Juggling baby and belongings, Faith dug for her keys. She found they were unnecessary, as the door pushed open when she touched the knob. Had she forgotten to lock up when she left that morning?
No way. She couldn’t take the children into a compromised house. For a second she stood there, unsure what to do.
As she raced through her options, the porch light went on and the door opened wide.
Faith gasped as Noelle shrank back against her legs. A man of about twenty stood facing them. Dressed in black denim jeans and a torn black sweatshirt with a metallic lightning bolt bisecting the front, muscles bulged in his arms, jet black hair flopped over his forehead. He held a hammer in one hand.
“David,” Faith said, catching her breath and laying her free hand on Noelle’s damp shoulder. “You scared me.”
“I came to fix the cabinet you told Ma was bothering you.” His gaze slid to Faith’s hips and stayed there.
“Did your mother let you into my place?”
“I have my own key.”
“Your own key? Who gave you a key?” she demanded.
“I’m helping Ma. I’m taking care of things around here from now on. I’m taking care of you.”
Like hell you are, Faith thought. “Are you finished with the cabinet?”
“Almost.” He turned and walked back into the heavily shadowed room, disappearing into the kitchen alcove.
“Let’s get out of the rain,” Faith said, shepherding Noelle inside, turning on lights, trying to dispel some of the gloom. The basement, which she’d rented furnished, looked even worse with bright lights. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration, and Faith could only imagine how cheerless it struck a five-year-old. The child stayed right against her legs as a few banging noises came from the kitchen.
“It’s done,” David said, appearing in the opening between Faith’s very modest living room and the kitchen. “You want to check it?”
“No. I’m sure it’s fine.”
David looked at Noelle again, then at Colin. “Ma said no kids.”
“I’m just watching them—they don’t live here.”
“Oh.”
“Well, thanks. But next time, please make an appointment.”
He lifted one lip, revealing a pointed incisor.
The door opened behind Faith. She and both children swiveled to look at the newcomer. Ruby Lee bustled into the room, closing the door behind her, sandwiching Faith, Colin and Noelle between herself and her son. She wore a black rain coat and silver rain boots, a silver rain hat riddled with holes, tied under her chin. Her makeup looked as though it been applied with a trowel. If today ran true to form, within six hours she’d be drunk, pounding on Faith’s door, makeup sliding down her cheeks.
“You fix the cabinet?” Ruby asked.
David’s reply sounded sullen. “Yeah.”
“Then go check the bathroom door.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Faith said quickly.
“You told me it wouldn’t lock,” Ruby said, narrowing her eyes.
“It doesn’t, but right now I have guests—”
“Now or never,” David said, stepping closer to Faith, his overmuscled body radiating a primal heat that made Faith want to gasp for air. She retreated toward Ruby. He added, “No time like the present, right?”
“I said no kids,” Ruby said, staring at Colin. For the first time, Faith realized Colin’s tiny fingers had clutched her coat collar so tight it strained against her throat, half choking her. Could the baby sense the tension?
“Will you please both leave?” Faith asked.
“There’s work to be done. David is here now,” Ruby insisted, her eyes slightly unfocused, as though she’d started drinking early today.
“Then we’ll leave,” Faith said.
“You don’t gotta go,” David said, lifting the hammer, flexing his muscles. “Come show me what you want done. Ma can watch the babies while I…service you.”
“I’m not watching no kids,” Ruby said.
Faith’s mouth had gone dry at the innuendo in David’s voice. She looked at Ruby again, hoping her landlady would intercede; but that was dumb, help wasn’t coming from that quarter. She repeated, “If you won’t go, we will. But before we do, let me make myself clear. I don’t like people having keys to my home, not even you, David. It undermines my feeling of safety.”
“This ain’t your place, it’s mine,” Ruby reminded her. “And what’s mine is David’s.”
David advanced again, his gaze challenging. “Maybe you want me to come back later tonight after you dump the kids. Maybe you want a little one-on-one.”
It was all Faith could do not to punch him. She gritted her teeth and said, “Absolutely not.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You too good for me, is that it, Miss Bishop?”
At that particular moment, Faith didn’t know what to do about this situation, but she did know she wasn’t going to subject either child to another moment of it. Without answering David, she reached around Ruby and opened the front door. Noelle practically bolted, running back to the car heedless of the rain or the puddles.
Even Colin’s enraged screams as Faith backed down the driveway were a better alternative than one more moment in that basement hellhole. She glanced back once to see David standing in her open door, holding the hammer in one hand, tapping it into the open palm of the other, his belligerent gaze tracking her retreat.
THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME since Trip had returned to Shay that he’d had cause to go to the police station. The accident he’d been involved with earlier in the year had been handled by the highway patrol, while the fire that claimed the life of his sister and her husband had been investigated by the sheriff’s department, since the ranch wasn’t within the Shay city limits.
He’d heard rumors the department wasn’t run very well and, as he stepped up to the counter and found himself eye-to-eye with a kid wearing a slipshod uniform and reading a comic book, his expectations fell even further.
“I want to talk to whoever is in charge of the Gina Cooke investigation,” Trip said.
The kid looked blank. “Gina who?”
“Is there a detective here, maybe? Your boss?”
Now the boy looked more comfortable. “You want to talk to the Chief?”
“Sure.”
The boy nodded, turned around and hollered, “Chief Novak? Someone here to see you.”
“Thomas Novak?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
At that moment, a ticked-off-looking man about Trip’s age strode into the front area from the back. He wore a tight green uniform, buttons straining down the front. Heavy black frames perched ponderously on the bridge of his nose. Glaring at the teenager, he said, “Damn it, Lenny, how many times have I told you come get me, don’t shout?” He looked up from the cowering Lenny, met Trip’s eyes and