SHE’S UNARMED—AND DANGEROUS!

Security expert Jack Arnett comes running when he hears his estranged wife, Casey, is being threatened by a stalker—and is stunned to discover he’s a father-to-be.

He’s never wanted children—still doesn’t.

But one question keeps running through his mind. With all his experience dodging bullets and bad guys, how come Casey and their unborn child are the ones who’ve brought him to his knees?

Originally published in 2004.

The Baby’s Bodyguard

Jacqueline Diamond

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

COVER

BACK COVER TEXT

TITLE PAGE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

One stuffed bear in the crib atop the yellow-and-white comforter. Check.

One set of freshly painted walls stenciled with birds in flight. Check.

One changing table with drawers, one diaper stacker and one set of white shelves—the latest addition—screwed neatly into the wall. Check.

Something was missing.

How about a husband? Casey asked herself ruefully as she replaced the screwdriver in her tool kit.

Actually, she had a husband, although not for much longer. She’d expected him to sign their divorce papers weeks ago so they could finalize the split, but so far her lawyer reported no success.

Probably Jack was off to some exotic locale providing security services for a client. You could always count on him to be there when people needed him.

Except for his wife. And the daughter he hadn’t wanted.

Tears pricked Casey’s eyes as her hand cupped the bulge. It rippled in response. Less than a month to go until she could hold the little girl in her arms, count the fingers and gaze into her loving eyes.

Casey had already picked out a name: Diane. She’d always loved the sound and flow of it, like running water in the moonlight.

She hadn’t hesitated when Dr. Smithson asked if she wanted to know the gender. There’d been enough surprises already, including this pregnancy.

Jack would be furious if he found out. He’d adamantly opposed having children. The issue had hardened into the wedge that drove them apart, although they’d had other, less obvious problems. But she believed they might have worked those out.

Toolbox in hand, Casey took one more fond look around the room before turning off the light, and that’s when she realized what was missing. Books. She wanted her daughter to grow up smelling leather-bound volumes even before she could read.

That, at least, Jack would approve of.

She went into the living room to select a couple of classics from her collection. When the phone rang, she scooped the handset absentmindedly off an end table while trying to choose among such favorites as Black Beauty, The Wind in the Willows and Little Women.

“Arnett residence.”

“Casey, it’s Gail.” Tension underscored the gravelly voice. “Remember the prowler? He’s back.”

Casey stiffened. Instinctively, she glanced through the living-room window into the darkness. But if someone lurked outside, she couldn’t tell.

Ten months ago, when she’d moved back to Richfield Crossing, Tennessee, to manage the rustic property she’d inherited from her parents, she’d loved the rental cabins and the slightly larger main house. She’d considered the property charmingly rural, not isolated. These last few weeks had given her second thoughts.

A sixtyish nurse who worked for Dr. Smithson, Gail Fordham wasn’t easily intimidated, but the prowler she and other tenants had spotted during the past month had rattled her as well as Casey.

“Did you call the police?” Unfortunately, the local constabulary consisted of one aging chief, a part-time rookie, a dispatcher shared with several other towns and a few clerks.

“Sure. They said they’d have someone swing by, but you know how much good that will do.” Quickly, Gail added, “I’m not afraid for myself, Casey. I figure if it’s Dean, he’ll get bored after a while and go away or drink so heavily we’ll find him snoozing in somebody’s hayloft.” Dean was Gail’s alcoholic ex-husband who lived in Michigan. “I just wanted to warn you so you won’t go outside and run into whoever it is.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“If you’re worried, I could come over and sleep on your couch. It’s not good for you to be alone this close to delivery,” the nurse said.

“You shouldn’t go outside while he’s around,” she warned.

“I’ve got a baseball bat. If I run into that jerk, it’ll be the worse for him.” The image of the middle-aged nurse clopping an intruder dispelled some of Casey’s tension. “And I’ll make sure you get the sleep you need.”

For a flicker of an instant, Casey allowed herself to imagine how comforting it would feel to have someone watching over her. It wasn’t Gail who came to mind, however, but Jack.

Why isn’t my own husband here when I need him?

Resolutely, she yanked herself out of incipient self-pity. She owned the property. If anyone ought to take responsibility for the tenants’ safety, it was Casey. Her parents had taught her never to pass the buck, and she didn’t intend to start now.

“I’ve got my own baseball bat,” she said. “I’ll handle him, Gail.”

“Now wait a minute! What if he’s armed?”

She would have to mention that. “I’m just going to take a look around. At least we could settle once and for all whether it’s Dean.” Although she’d never met the man, she had Gail’s description of him as balding and in his sixties.

“Think about the baby. You can’t take any risks with her!”

“She’d be proud of her mom. Don’t worry, Gail. I’ll be careful.”

Despite the fact that she’d taken self-defense classes while living in Los Angeles, Casey had no illusions about her own invincibility. But the situation brought home the fact that she was going to be raising a daughter by herself. Suppose this creep lived around here and got the idea that he could make Casey and her tenants—who included several retired people—cower in fear.

Not on her watch.

Okay, so she had sometimes acted on impulse. Like marrying Jack two months after she’d met him. And sleeping with him eight months ago when she went back to L.A. to hammer out the details of their divorce, resulting in a pregnancy that she hadn’t told her husband about and hoped she wouldn’t have to.

Sometimes her lack of foresight got her into hot water, Casey conceded. But this trespasser made her mad. And the last time she’d called the police, it had taken them forty-five minutes to show up.

The only problem, she realized, was that some gardening tools that might serve as weapons lay tucked in the storage shed behind the carport. They could only be accessed by going outside.

Why not take her camera? In the darkness, its flash might ferret out a suspect she couldn’t see and it would certainly provide a means of identifying him. She wouldn’t need to attack anyone or even get close.

Jack would hate the idea. If he were here, he’d warn her, as Gail had, that the man might be armed. But this wasn’t L.A.; it was Richfield Crossing, a town of around five thousand people where crime consisted mostly of fistfights outside the Whiskey Flats pool hall. Most likely the prowler would turn out to be a mixed-up teenager or a transient looking for food.

Casey threw on a sweater against the April coolness and retrieved her digital camera along with a flashlight. She also took a key and locked the door, although normally she left it open.

On the porch, as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she breathed in the perfume of blooms mingled with the scent of newly plowed fields a short distance away. A cool, moist breeze reminded her of last night’s fast-moving rainstorm.

Casey’s heart swelled with love for this place. Six years ago, she and her best friend, Sandra Rawlins, had moved west, full of dreams and fantasies. It had taken many changes and the breakup of her marriage to make Casey realize that Tennessee was where she belonged. More than ever, she appreciated the fact that her parents had bought this property, the Pine Woods Court, for their retirement. She just wished they’d had more time to enjoy it.

Still, if only Jack had agreed to have a family together, she’d have stayed in L.A. with him. The more she’d pleaded, however, the more he’d withdrawn, until nothing remained between them but a strained civility. That, and the white-hot passion that had flamed at their last meeting.

Casey didn’t regret what she’d done, because she loved her daughter even before birth. And she felt glad that at least she had a beautiful place to come home to, where Diane could grow up surrounded by old friends and lots of open space.

Unfortunately, right now that space had been compromised by someone who was obviously no friend. Someone about to be captured for posterity in all his digital ugliness.

As her vision adjusted, nearby dogwood trees came into focus, their pink blossoms appearing white in the dimness. Eager to catch the culprit before he escaped, Casey descended the steps in her rubber-soled shoes.

The four cabins, former motel units that her parents had remodeled into rentals, lay scattered about the wooded property behind the main house. To reach Gail’s place, she followed a footpath along rising ground, leaving her flashlight off to avoid attracting attention.

As she walked, the muscles of her abdomen, perpetually sore these days, tugged from the weight of the baby. Ignoring them, Casey listened for the crack of a twig or the brush of leaves.

She was nearing Gail’s place when she heard a creaking ahead, like that of a wheelbarrow or perhaps the hose storage reel. The trespasser might have bumped into something, or perhaps a raccoon was poking around with its dexterous little hands. The creatures abounded in the woods, along with possums, squirrels and deer.

“Gail?” Casey risked calling out, since she didn’t want the tenant to attack her by mistake. “Is that you?”

No answer.

When she emerged from the tree-lined path, the illumination seeping through the cabin windows intensified the surrounding darkness. Now Casey remembered what else she should have brought—her cell phone—although the darn thing didn’t always work up here, anyway.

She heard another squeak behind the cabin. Treading lightly, she angled closer.

In the shadows, a dark figure moved. Holding her breath, Casey lifted her camera and pushed the button.

As the flash ignited, a blast of icy water caught her full in the face. She staggered backward, dropping the camera and fighting a losing battle for balance. Her arms flailed as she tumbled, out of control.

Fear for the baby’s safety stabbed through Casey, followed by the jolt of her rear end hitting the ground. Ahead, scurrying noises marked the prowler’s flight into the woods.

He’d escaped. This time, he’d physically assaulted her and put her pregnancy at risk.

Although she’d avoided any real harm, hot fury dispelled Casey’s shivers. She was going to catch this creep, no matter what it took. And no matter who she had to call on for assistance.

* * *

AS JACK SQUEEZED ALONG the aisle, a travel bag slung over his shoulder and his laptop tucked beneath one arm, the flight attendant favored him with a warm smile and her umpteenth once-over. Marianne had the healthy tan of a surfer, a bubbly personality and an obvious interest in getting better acquainted.

They’d found several occasions for idle conversation during the flight from Hawaii, where he’d changed planes after arriving from Malaysia. Marianne had made a discreet inquiry regarding the absence of a wedding ring and responded to his explanation about his pending divorce by slipping her phone number onto his tray.

As he returned her cheerful farewell, Jack felt the card inside his pocket. He ought to call her before she headed out of L.A. again on the Honolulu run.

His partner in the Men At Arms Security Agency had insisted he take a day or two off to recuperate from a month of fourteen-hour days spent setting up a security system for a textile company. He wouldn’t mind spending his break with a willing companion.

Jack didn’t want to bring her to his Palms-area home, though. During the past eight months, he’d discovered that having a guest around only made the place seem emptier. Besides, it struck him as disloyal to Casey to take a woman to the house they’d once shared, even though she was the one who’d chosen to leave.

As he headed for the baggage claim, his cell phone rang. Seven-fifteen on a Friday evening and somebody couldn’t wait, Jack reflected wryly. Moving out of the stream of foot traffic, he flipped it open. “Arnett.”

“Jack! It’s me.” The hint of a Tennessee accent carried him out of his surroundings and into a warm zone he’d discovered the day he met Casey.

“How’re you doing?” Somehow, he managed a casual manner that gave no hint of the hot summer storm she aroused.

“I’m standing here dripping wet and my butt’s sore.”

The tantalizing image speeded his heart rate. He imagined his shapely wife with a T-shirt plastered against her lovely breasts, writhing eagerly against him as his hands cupped her bottom.

Put a lid on it, Arnett. She left you. Besides, she probably wants to know why you haven’t signed those divorce papers yet. “I take it you didn’t call to turn me on, right?”

“Jack!”

“So what’s up?” He dodged a luggage cart that threatened to take a piece of his ankle with it.

“We’ve got a stalker,” Casey said.

The word snapped him out of his sensuous frame of mind. “What do you mean? Are you all right?” Suddenly her description of her physical state took on ominous overtones.

“Some tenants have seen a prowler a few times, possibly one of the women’s ex-husband. He showed up again tonight.”

“He attacked you?” Jack’s gut response was to go after the guy. Having grown up in foster homes, he’d seen his share of men bullying women and it enraged him. During his years at the LAPD, he’d had to work hard to rein in his anger when dealing with domestic abuse.

And this was Casey. Maddening, alluring, a little bossy and sexy enough to melt him with one flash of her blue eyes. He’d kill anyone who hurt her.

“He squirted me with the hose and knocked me down. I didn’t even get a picture of him,” she grumbled.

“A picture?”

“I had my camera aimed right at him,” she said.

“But you can describe him to the police, can’t you?” Jack pressed.

“Well, no,” she admitted. “It’s dark.”

He knew Casey liked to handle situations her own way but he was having trouble putting the pieces together. “Walk me through this. Did you see the prowler or not?”

“I heard him poking around behind Gail’s place,” she replied impatiently. “So I tried to take his picture.”

“You went out alone at night, unarmed, to confront a stalker?” He barely suppressed a groan. “Did he say anything?”

“What would he say? ‘Hey, that’s not my good side, wait till I turn around’?” she demanded.

Jack gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to argue, he wanted to get the facts straight. “You heard someone or something rummaging but you didn’t actually see it. So for all you know it could have been a bear.”

“A bear shot me with a hose?”

She had a point. Nevertheless, he realized, he should take nothing for granted. “You aren’t standing out there soaking wet hoping he’ll show up again, are you?”

“I’m not stupid!” Casey flared. “Gail heard the commotion and came out. She checked me over…I mean, she’s a nurse…you know, to make sure I wasn’t hurt.”

“I assume you’d know if you were hurt.” Judging by her outspokenness, Casey’s physical condition sounded just fine. “Where are you?”

“At home. Gail left a few minutes ago. Now listen. The cops still haven’t arrived. I’ll be lucky if they get here by midnight.” Given the time difference, that was three hours away, he noted. “I wondered if you could refer me to a security agency in Nashville. I’m not sure who to call.”

He supposed he or his partner, Mike, could dig up a name, but he knew how much companies charged. “It won’t be cheap. I’ll help with the cost, of course.”

“No, you won’t.” Casey had refused to accept alimony, a fact that made it even harder to explain why Jack hadn’t signed the papers yet. Fortunately, she wasn’t asking about those right now. “I’m the one who owns this property. I’ll see to it.”

Once his wife made up her mind, you either caved in or took matters into your own hands. “I’ll need to do some research.”

“When can you get back to me?”

“Is tomorrow soon enough?”

“That would be great.” She hesitated, and for a moment Jack hoped she had something to tell him.

Maybe she regretted their split the way he did. Maybe she’d decided she loved him enough that she didn’t need children to make their family complete. Maybe the separation and loneliness had given her time to think.

Jack would have done almost anything to win his wife back. But every time he looked at a child, the misery of the past nearly overwhelmed him. At eleven, with his father in prison for robbery and his mother dead of cancer, he’d gone from a home in turmoil to a series of foster placements where he’d been at best an outsider and at worst a nuisance.

The memories remained raw and the wounds barely scabbed over. The one thing he couldn’t do, even for Casey, was relive them by having a child.

She broke the silence at last. “The sooner we catch this slob, the better. Several of my tenants are elderly and I don’t want them to have to worry about this.”

Jack tried not to register disappointment that she had nothing further to say. It almost made him angry, though, that Casey cared more about her tenants than her husband.

Well, she’d just handed him a golden opportunity to give their marriage one more try. To nab the prowler, he planned to dispatch the best-qualified security agent at his disposal. Himself.

“I’ll take care of it.” To forestall any protests, he added, “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

“I really appreciate it. Thanks, Jack.”

“No problem.” After a brisk goodbye, he clicked off.

Although he’d have preferred to get right back on a plane, Jack knew he needed to swing by his house, catch up on the mail and repack. Guiltily, he remembered the African violet he’d bought to make the place seem homier. It must have perished weeks ago, completely forgotten.

Nobody in her right mind would consider a guy like him a suitable father. Surely a little in-person persuasion would make Casey see reason. And if not, well, at least Jack would have tried. In the process, he’d take care of that prowler, too.

Readjusting the bag on his shoulder, he dropped the flight attendant’s card into a trash bin with a silent apology. Then, rejoining the stream of pedestrians, he made his way toward the ticket counter.

CHAPTER TWO

When Casey strolled into Ledbetter’s Garage on Saturday, she found that Royce had dived inside the truck he was repairing. All she could see of her former high-school boyfriend was his jean-clad rear end, somewhat expanded since his football days, sticking into the air in all its glory.

“Nice view,” she commented.

The clanking noises he’d been making halted abruptly. A moment later, an oil-smeared face emerged.

“Well, hi.” Royce grinned flirtatiously, not at all daunted by his greasy condition. “Your car’s ready to go. Tuned up, oil changed, brakes checked.”

“Great.” Although it galled Casey to have someone else work on her car, she couldn’t perform the maintenance due to her expanded waistline. “What do I owe you?”

“Let’s call it even.” He shook his head, which set his light-brown ponytail waggling.

“Let’s not.” Casey might be short on funds, but she didn’t want to owe Royce any favors. She hadn’t fallen in love with him in high school and it certainly wasn’t going to happen now. “I prefer to pay my debts up front.”

Since her condition had become obvious, Royce had mentioned several times how much he loved kids. Too bad she couldn’t picture waking up beside him every morning. Or, to be honest, any morning.

“Whatever.” The mechanic ambled into his office, where an oil-smudged computer blinked below a bikini pinup calendar. Posters of football heroes covered the other walls. “A hundred and twenty-three eighty-eight, if you insist. How’s your camera?”

She’d told him earlier that she planned to stop by Lanihan’s Department Store to find out whether the gush of water had damaged it. “It’s fine. Apparently the case protected it.”

“You mean you got the guy? You know who it is?”

“Uh, no,” Casey admitted. “There’s this big blur where his face ought to be.”

“Too bad. At least you have your camera back for the party tonight, though.” Accepting her credit card, Royce swiped it through a machine.

“You bet.”

Two of her tenants, Enid Purdue and Rita Rogers, were throwing her a shower. Half a dozen friends and neighbors planned to attend the event, which, due to the small size of the cabins, would take place at Casey’s house.

She hadn’t realized she’d mentioned it to Royce earlier when she dropped off the car, but she must have. Or else word had spread. Nothing stayed private for long in Richfield Crossing.

“So this stalker or whatever he is, you think you scared him off ?” Royce asked as he waited for the computer to finish processing her bill.

“I doubt it. Seeing a pregnant lady take a tumble isn’t likely to intimidate him.”

“I heard the police came out.” He certainly had been paying attention.

“Larry Malloy wouldn’t scare a cockroach. And he isn’t likely to find one, either, even if it’s six feet tall.” Although the town’s young, part-time police officer had arrived half an hour after she’d called Jack, he’d taken only a cursory glance around the property. She doubted she’d ever see an arrest unless her attacker marched into the police station and confessed to the chief.

Royce handed her the charge slip. She tried not to wince as she signed it, knowing what a hole the amount would make in her bank account.

The tenants’ rents had sounded like sufficient income when she decided to move here, but she hadn’t realized how big a bite maintenance and taxes took out of that. Once the baby got old enough to leave with a sitter, she’d have to look for a part-time waitress job.

Royce tore off her copy and handed it over. “Casey, everybody admires your guts, but you don’t have to go through this alone.”

She flashed him a smile. “I’m not. I have friends.”

He might have said more had a lean man in his late forties not strolled into view through the open door. “Got my truck done yet?” asked Al Rawlins, who owned the town’s movie theater and video store. “Oh, hello, Casey.” He clamped his mouth shut, obviously not thrilled to see her.

“Hi.” She wished she didn’t feel so awkward around Al and his wife Mary, who had once been like a second set of parents. “How’s it going?”

“All right.” Al looked meaningfully from Royce to the truck sitting with its hood open. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Almost done.” He headed off to finish the repairs.

Casey stood there wondering what to say, although she doubted she could patch this relationship no matter how hard she tried. She and Al’s daughter Sandra had been her best friend for years. When they moved to L.A. together, she knew the Rawlinses had seen her as an anchor for their high-spirited child, but she hadn’t been able to stop the aspiring actress from getting mixed up with drugs. Finally she’d had to move out for her own safety.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” she said at last and went out to the car. Al didn’t answer.

In L.A., she’d hated the sense of letting Sandra down. A week after leaving, she’d gone back to their old apartment hoping to persuade her friend to give up drugs. She’d discovered that a couple of new people had moved in. Not only were they obviously high, but Sandra had joined them in making sarcastic remarks about do-gooders.

Although Casey had attempted a few more times to maintain the friendship, Sandra had bridled at any suggestion of what she termed pushiness. Since the conflict between them didn’t help her friend, Casey had finally stopped calling.

A short time later, she’d met Jack at the restaurant where she worked as assistant manager. He’d stopped in for lunch with his partner, flirted with her and returned that evening to ask Casey on a date.

She’d been struck by how different he was from Sandra’s fast-living friends and the other, rather superficial men she’d met in California. At first, she’d been drawn to his quiet strength. Later, her admiration had grown as she’d discovered both his intelligence and how hard he’d worked to overcome his lack of family support.

They’d married a few months later and spent two years together. Two years of finding out that she couldn’t fill the void left inside Jack by his miserable childhood. Two years of loving a guy who spent most of his time working and who didn’t know how to meet her halfway emotionally.

Casey had hoped a baby would bring them together, but he’d adamantly refused to have one. The stronger her longing grew, the more her husband had withdrawn.

Matters had come to a head a year earlier when she visited Tennessee to help her widowed mother recover from a heart attack. Being back in Richfield Crossing had made Casey realize how lonely and isolated she’d become.

On her return, she’d told Jack she was willing to stay in L.A. only if he would change his mind about children. When he refused, she’d filed for divorce.

Casey still missed him, especially at times such as last night when she’d yearned for his reassuring steadiness. But in the long run, she was better off standing on her own two feet. Besides, she had baby Diane to take care of now and to love.

Still, she couldn’t pretend she preferred it this way. Or maybe the overcast sky was weighing on her spirits, she conceded as she drove along Old Richfield Road. Living in California, she’d grown accustomed to almost constant sunshine.

Casey shook her head. No use blaming the weather. The memory of last night’s close encounter had heightened her sense of vulnerability and this feeling was compounded by her approaching delivery date. But she refused to yield to negative thoughts.

So what if she encountered a few obstacles? She’d never believed life was meant to be easy. And she had much to be grateful for.

Her mood lightened when she caught sight of the freshly painted green-and-white sign advertising the Pine Woods Court. Turning into the driveway past the compartmentalized community mailbox, she rounded some trees and basked in the lights shining from her house into the gray afternoon.

Casey parked in the carport. As soon as she opened the front door, the scents of vanilla and cinnamon engulfed her. She could hear pans rattling in the kitchen.

Enid and Rita must have spent hours decorating. They’d draped the walls with pink honeycomb bells and had floated bunches of baby-shaped balloons up to the ceiling. A stork centerpiece dominated the paper-covered table, with candies strewn about. On the coffee table, bowls of nuts circled a pair of candles in the form of baby bottles.

“This is fabulous.” Casey hurried into the kitchen. “Whatever you’re baking, it smells great.”

Two flushed faces regarded her, one at the oven, where the owner was removing a tray of sweet rolls, and the other from the counter. At seventy-one, Enid Purdue still carried herself with the authority of a high-school math teacher. She wore her champagne-blond hair fluffed, with a flowered dress softening her figure. As Casey entered, she finished propping two cards on which her bold handwriting labeled one coffeepot “leaded” and the other “unleaded.”

Shorter and rounder, Rita Rogers, who was about half Enid’s age, manipulated the hot pan onto the stovetop. Rita might be mentally handicapped but she worked hard in the cafeteria of the Benson Glass Company and never missed a chance to help a friend. She also knew her way around an oven.

A wave of gratitude flooded through Casey. “You guys are amazing.”

“Thanks.” Rita glowed with pleasure.

“How’s the camera?” Enid asked. “I brought mine in case we need it, but it isn’t digital.”

“It’s fine.” As she produced it from her purse, Casey no longer worried about how it had come to be damaged. A prowler now seemed a minor problem and, for all she knew, he’d already decided to make himself scarce.

The Pine Woods had been built for happiness. How could anyone ask for a better home to bring a baby into?

As she’d told Royce, she didn’t need a guy. She had her friends.

* * *

JACK REALIZED as he swung through Richfield Crossing that he’d expected something different. Munching on dried jerky he’d bought at a convenience store, he checked out the mismatched structures.

Although he’d never been here before, he’d imagined he knew the place from Casey’s tales about growing up, but he could see now that he’d filled in the blanks wrong. He’d pictured quaint stores packed tightly along the streets, their facades painted in coordinated pastel colors with artsy brickwork in the streets and signs that blazed with neon. Just what he might expect in a California beach community.

Instead, the stores occupied odd-sized lots, dispersed between community buildings, a church, a doctor’s clinic and a seedy-looking bar, plus the occasional house converted into an accounting firm or a law office. In the early evening, most of them lay dark.

Although the town appeared clean and well tended, it would give an urban planner fits. Nothing wrong with that; sometimes Jack thought the urban planners in California got drunk on their own sense of omnipotence. Yet the irregular spacing and the jumbled styles made him feel off balance.

Since renting a car in Nashville, Jack had driven for mile after mile past open fields and vast stretches of dense pine. In the L.A. area, one urban area blended into the next without a break.

He tried, and failed, to imagine living in the middle of nowhere, without a shopping mall or a tall building in sight. Perhaps he’d never get used to a place like this—but then, he didn’t have to.

Following the directions he’d printed from the Internet, he cut through the downtown—if you could call it that—and, a short distance farther, turned right on Pine Woods Avenue. Although he hadn’t traveled more than a few miles from town, farmland occupied one side and, on the other, trees studded the rising ground.

Man, this really was the boonies. How could Casey love it so much?

In L.A., she’d enjoyed browsing through bookstores and curio shops, attending the theater and people-watching at the Santa Monica Pier, none of which she could do in this backwater. Surely once Jack reminded her of the comforts she’d left behind, she’d reconsider.

Besides, he’d come ready to bargain.

He’d worked it out in his mind last night as he visualized the trip ahead. Jack was prepared to reduce his travel for work, although it wouldn’t be easy with Mike eager to expand the company they’d founded because they preferred working for themselves. They’d discussed bringing in a third partner and hiring more operatives, but even then, some travel couldn’t be avoided. Still, he’d find a way to cut back if Casey were willing to give up her preoccupation with a baby.

If she didn’t love him enough to meet him halfway, he’d have to respect that. Have to back off, even though he’d never craved anything as much as her presence in his life. But he didn’t intend to lose.

Besides, Casey had asked him to fix this business with the prowler. And no matter what else happened, he intended to do that.

When he spotted the sign reading Pine Woods Court, Jack veered into the driveway. It curved to the left, so heavily landscaped that, through the leaves, he could barely make out the one-story brick house that he guessed belonged to her.

Next to it, he spotted half a dozen cars parked in a small lot rimmed by trees. Since the driveway continued, he assumed the renters kept their cars at their cabins farther inside the property. So who did all those vehicles belong to?

From the green-and-white house came a burst of laughter. Oh, great. Casey must be giving a party.

Jack pulled into the lot and sat considering the situation. He hadn’t planned on making a grand entrance. Maybe he should drive back into town and find some place to eat dinner, and hope this party didn’t last all evening.

On the other hand, what if the prowler turned out to be someone Casey knew? If so, he might be sitting in her living room right now, enjoying her hospitality and sizing up his opportunity to burglarize the place.

In Jack’s experience, catching people off guard helped to foil them. No one was expecting him. And with his trained eye, he might note incriminating details other people missed.

Okay, he’d just invited himself to the party. With luck, Casey would be too polite to throw him out in front of her friends.

Jack’s shoes crunched on gravel as he headed for the porch. In the dusky light, he identified plenty of vantage points from which a stalker could watch figures moving behind the translucent curtains, although he saw no one lurking in the area at the moment. Still, with overgrown trees providing heavy cover, this place posed a security headache.

Another burst of laughter. All the voices sounded feminine. Could this be a Tupperware party? he wondered. That seemed like the kind of domestic thing Casey would go for.

Jack experienced a pang of nostalgia. He’d never lived in a house with cut flowers in vases until he got married. He’d never known a woman could smell so good, either, or what a difference it made when she put up curtains and even, to his amazement, baked her own bread. He’d more or less thought the stuff grew inside plastic bags.

As he mounted the steps, it occurred to him that the prowler wasn’t likely to be attending a Tupperware party. He also didn’t relish bursting into the middle of a ladies-only event.

He stopped. Better to double back to town. If he couldn’t find a decent restaurant, at least there must be a grocery store.

Inside, a female voice grew louder, calling her goodbyes. Before he could retreat, the door opened and the chatter of voices seemed to blow a maroon-haired young woman onto the porch.

Her gaze swept Jack’s tailored business suit and short, reddish-brown hair. “Now don’t tell me you’re that fellow who’s been sneaking around!” she announced loudly enough to be heard in the next county. “If you are, you can sneak around my house any time. I’m Mimi.”

She thrust out her hand. He shook it, too astonished by her remarks and overt friendliness to reply.

“Who’s out there?” A young woman with long dark hair joined the first one. “My gosh, Casey, there’s a hunk on your porch! Where’d you come from, mister? Don’t tell me! My dreams!”

Jack had never been greeted with quite this degree of welcome by strangers. Did these women talk this way to any man who showed up, or were they that desperate for male companionship?

“Let me see, Bonnie.” A large-boned woman with steely hair loomed in the doorway. “Well, if he’s the prowler, he’s making a fool out of me, because I figured it was my ex-husband. If you’ve come to sell us something, mister, better speak up before these ladies auction you off to the highest bidder.”

“Actually, I was looking for my wife,” Jack explained.

Mimi groaned. The other two stared at him. Suddenly he didn’t feel so welcome.

“You would have to be married,” said the one he thought was Bonnie. “Who’s your wife?”

“I think I can guess,” Mimi told her.

“What is going on out there on my porch?” It was Casey’s voice, at last. “Gail, I can’t see who—”

The guests parted to let her by. Shock registering on her face, she broke off in midsentence.

Jack felt a sweet familiar ache at the sight of his wife. Those bright blue eyes, those curving cheeks with a sprinkling of freckles. He wanted to cup Casey’s chin and kiss her, to run his fingers through the light-brown hair curling around her shoulders and pull her tightly against him.

There was something funny about her denim jumper, though. It didn’t fit her right, or had she gained weight? It was hard to tell at this angle, and he didn’t want to stare.

“Jack,” she said flatly. He couldn’t read her mood.

More faces appeared behind her, wearing various degrees of curiosity and, in a few cases, disapproval. “Do you want us to stick around, Casey?” someone asked, to which another woman answered, “Are you crazy? They’ve got plenty to talk about. Hand me my jacket, would you?”

The noise of the departing guests made conversation impossible. Jack eased inside and let his wife say her farewells while he tried to make sense of the decorations.

Pink ribbons and balloons shaped like babies. Bits of wrapping paper with infants on them, and open boxes revealing a folded playpen and a car seat. It couldn’t be anything else but a baby shower.

Whose baby?

He turned to survey his wife. She was hugging an older woman—hugging this person at arm’s length, because her stomach intervened.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d known how much Casey wanted a baby, but he’d never figured she’d try it alone. What had she done, gone to a clinic? She hadn’t mentioned another man—if she had, Jack would have finalized the divorce in a hurry—and surely she hadn’t jumped into bed with a guy just to get pregnant.

He kept thinking he must be imagining this. That he’d arrived at the wrong house, which happened to belong to a woman named Casey who was a dead ringer for his wife. Or that she’d held the party for a friend and he’d missed some new fashion that required wearing dresses that stuck out in front.

Jack sucked in a deep breath. What a mess. He’d flown all this way to help her, and he still planned to do that, but she’d obviously decided to rule him out of her life. She’d made this decision on her own, precluding any chance of reconciliation.

It felt like the time a suspect had whirled around and sprayed him with Mace. The agony had been so intense that, even though he knew it caused no permanent harm, he’d feared for a moment he couldn’t bear it.

The last of the women trailed out the door, casting inquisitive glances his way. Jack forced his features into the expressionless mask he’d perfected as a teenager, when he’d frequently moved to a new foster home and a new high school. Never show weakness. Never show any feeling at all, no matter how hard your gut screamed for relief.

At last Casey closed the door. When she swung around to face him, he got an unobstructed view of her abdomen in profile. If he’d had any lingering hope that he might be mistaken, the sight dispelled all doubt.

He tried not to focus on how full her breasts looked or how lustrous her skin had become. If anything, pregnancy made her more beautiful, but if he mentioned it, she’d never believe him. Defiance glinted in her gaze and he knew that if he weren’t careful, she’d give him a tongue-lashing.

He’d probably get one, anyway. She appeared to be in that kind of mood.

“I didn’t know,” he said.

“Obviously not.” Casey crossed her arms protectively. “I suppose I should have said something but you’d have thought I was trying to trap you.”

“Trap me?” He’d assumed it was the opposite. She’d clearly rejected him.

“Well, you didn’t want a baby.”

“That much we agree on.” Jack hoped she’d start making sense soon.

“I figured you might see it as a betrayal.” Her lips quivered, and she pressed them tightly together.

“How else could I see it?”

“As a…well, not a mistake.” She lifted her chin. “As a blessing.”

“Congratulations.” He surveyed the room filled with torn wrapping paper, balloons, toys and stuffed bears. “Looks like you’ve got everything you need.”

Despite his attempt to make conversation, she glared as if he’d just insulted her. “Is that all you have to say?”

He must have missed some clue, one of those feminine things that always eluded Jack. “Nice place,” he ventured.

Utter silence. Disbelief writ large on her face.

Too bad she didn’t appreciate his attempts at diplomacy. “So I guess you want to talk about it,” he ventured.

“About ‘it’?” Fury vibrated in her voice. Jack wished she didn’t look so sensuous, with her hair mussed and her eyes even larger than usual.

“The, uh, fact that you’re pregnant,” he managed to say.

Finally, a nod. “Some kind of reaction would be appropriate.”

How was a man supposed to respond when the woman he’d married did something to split them apart forever? He didn’t see how anything he could say would help, but he’d better try or Casey was going to lacerate him. “I guess I’m pleased for you.”

“Jack! I want to know how you feel!”

“How should I feel?”

“I don’t know! You tell me.”

He gave up searching for the right words. It was no use, anyway. “How do I feel? Like I got sucker punched. We aren’t even divorced yet and you went out and did this. I guess it’s none of my business whether you picked some clinic or some guy, even though technically you’re still my wife. How do I feel? Lousy. Ticked off. Like an idiot for flying here from California because I was worried about you and figured you needed a bodyguard. Okay? How’d I do?”

As he spoke, his legs carried him around the room like a tiger pacing its cage. All these fripperies and cutesypie decorations made him want to rip them down so he could breathe.

“Oh, my gosh.” Casey’s jaw dropped.

“‘Oh, my gosh’ what?” Jack demanded, annoyed at receiving a reaction he couldn’t interpret, although at least she wasn’t throwing things at him.

“You don’t get it,” she said wonderingly.

“Get what?” He wished he knew how his wife managed to speak what sounded like English without making one bit of sense.

“It’s yours,” Casey answered.

CHAPTER THREE

“My—?” Jack didn’t finish the question, because, finally, he did get it.

Last August, when his wife had showed up in L.A. to go over their settlement, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Although she’d felt the same way, the passion wasn’t enough to persuade her to stay.

“I thought you were on the pill,” he added numbly. The truth was, he hadn’t given any thought to a pregnancy, although he could see now that he should have.

“I’d just gone off it,” Casey said. “I didn’t think I could get pregnant yet. I was wrong.”

Having had plenty of experience with people who manipulated and lied, Jack knew she might have done it on purpose. But he didn’t believe that. For one thing, he respected Casey too much to think so poorly of her. Also, had her goal been to maneuver him into agreeing to start a family or to pressure him to pay child support, she wouldn’t have waited eight months for him to stumble onto the truth.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” he demanded, not so much from outrage as because he’d learned that asking questions was a good way to mask difficult emotions. And right now his emotions were about as confused as they’d ever been.

Casey clasped her hands in front. “I knew you didn’t want a baby and I never meant to force you.”

“Some things are hard to hide,” he pointed out. “Don’t you think I’d have learned the truth eventually?”

“In nearly three years, this is the first time you’ve come to Tennessee.” Restlessly, she began tossing the party detritus into a paper bag.

A woman in her condition shouldn’t have to clean up by herself. Guiltily, Jack realized Casey’s friends probably would have stayed to help if he hadn’t arrived.

He began collecting paper plates bearing the remains of cake and ice cream. The smell of food reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast except the beef jerky. Fortunately, he was used to missing meals.

“So when is it due?” He couldn’t say the words “the baby” yet. That made the whole thing seem too real.

“In a few weeks.”

“I’ll pay the doctor bills.” It was the least he could do.

“They’re taken care of.” Pulling down a banner, she stuffed it into her sack. “Around here, the doctor lets you pay on an installment plan.”

How typical of Casey to insist on handling everything herself. Jack wished she’d let him help. He knew better than to insist, though.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before she added, “You’re not mad?”

“I’m too buffaloed to be mad,” he admitted.

“Does that mean you might get angry after you’ve had time to absorb it?” she probed.

Seeking a reasonable response, he said, “I don’t suppose this is your fault any more than it is mine.”

Sadness and resignation mingled in her expression. “No,” Casey replied tiredly, “I don’t suppose it is.” Hauling her sack, she went into the kitchen. Jack suppressed the urge to carry it himself, because he could tell she wanted a few minutes alone.

He’d said the wrong thing again. Under his breath, he cursed his ineptness as he collected more wrappings.

The problem was, he had no idea what remark had set her off. He didn’t understand how she felt or how he felt, either. As for how to deal with Casey, he might as well have stepped out of an airplane to discover himself on an alien planet where a two-headed, gibberish-speaking native was expecting him to say and do the right things.

He didn’t know where to start.

* * *

I DON’T SUPPOSE this is your fault.

Well, there was an enthusiastic response, Casey reflected grumpily. She dropped the sack near the back door, since she didn’t feel up to carting it outside and wrestling with the heavy, locking trash can lid that kept animals at bay.

In spite of everything she knew about Jack, her heart had leaped at seeing him in the doorway. When he’d given her that baffled, little-boy look and run his fingers through his hair in consternation, she might have gathered him into her arms if the guests hadn’t been standing around.

And if her abdomen wouldn’t have gotten in the way.

What had she expected, that he’d take one look at her bulge and turn into an ecstatic daddy-to-be? Jack had made his position clear, so she shouldn’t be surprised that one glance at her advanced condition hadn’t changed his mind. But it was heartbreaking.

Anxious to keep busy, Casey began unloading the dishwasher Enid had run earlier. As she stowed cake pans and trays in the cabinets, she calmed at the memory of how much fun she’d had, playing silly games and eating too much at the party.

Her friends had been more than generous. She really appreciated the way they’d chipped in for a playpen and car seat, which meant a big savings to her budget. She made a mental note to begin writing thank-yous as soon as she found a spare moment.

Why did Jack have to show up and make everyone go home early? Why did he have to make her heart beat faster and remind her of how much she missed him?

She wished seeing him didn’t have this effect. Also that he would at least pretend to be excited about the baby. Instead, he acted as if this were an irksome inconvenience, like a car that had broken down and couldn’t be fixed.

It would have been better if he hadn’t found out. They could have led their separate lives peacefully, as if they’d never met.

Oh, right. As if she could forget him when every time she looked at her daughter she was likely to see his eyes or his grin. Diane’s very existence reminded her of the unforgettable night when they’d created her.

Standing motionless on the linoleum, Casey forced herself to be honest. She’d longed for Jack to find out. She’d wanted him to grin and admit what a huge mistake he’d made by foolishly rejecting fatherhood. Then, no doubt, they could have strolled off into the sunset, pushing a baby carriage and feeding each other bonbons.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen. So he ought to leave, and the sooner the better.

Of course, she had to be practical if she wanted him to accept the heave-ho. He had come an awfully long way with good motives and, being a guy, he must want food, Casey reasoned.

Retrieving some of the finger sandwiches Enid had stored in the fridge, she tucked them and a cupcake inside a lunch bag. At least he couldn’t say she sent him away hungry.

Then she heard the one noise a woman never, ever expects to emanate from a room in which she has left an unaccompanied male.

He was running the vacuum cleaner.

Astonished, Casey went to watch. Not that she imagined sprites had sneaked in to do the cleanup, but some things had to be witnessed to be accepted.

The first thing she saw in the living room was Jack’s dark suit coat draped over a chair. The second was the tantalizing way his button-down shirt emphasized the contours of his chest as he navigated the vacuum around the table legs.

He stopped to move a chair aside and pick up a bit of ribbon that had fallen beneath it. The attention to detail tickled her. She’d always admired her husband’s thoroughness, although she’d never seen him vacuum a carpet before. Whatever he did, he did well.

A moment later, he switched off the machine. When the noise died, he glanced up sheepishly. “I thought I’d help.”

“Thank you.” Casey pointed to the lunch sack. “I packed some food for you to take to wherever you’re staying.”

“I appreciate the offer.” He wound the cord into place. “But I’m staying here.”

She decided to pretend she hadn’t heard. “There’s a motel about three miles away, just past Lake Avenue.” Casey saw no reason to mention that her parents used to manage it. She’d grown up on the premises before they bought the Pine Woods.

He replaced the vacuum in a closet. “The couch will suit me fine.”

“You don’t honestly believe…” She halted the flow of words, remembering why he’d come. “Maybe you should explain exactly what I can expect while you’re here.”

“How many choices do I have?”

“You get to do A: Catch the bad guy. Go on, give me your sales pitch. How do you plan to do it?”

One eyebrow quirked but he kept a straight face. “Assess weaknesses and recommend improvements. Interview witnesses. Implement safety procedures. Catch the creep by whatever means necessary. I guess that sums it up.”

It sounded as if it could take a while. She hoped the investigation wouldn’t take weeks. Hours would be better. Minutes, even. If she let herself get dependent on Jack, she would feel all the more hurt when he left. “What kind of time frame are we talking about?”

Jack assumed a commanding stance with legs apart and head cocked. “I can make my evaluation in a day or two, but I’d rather…”

“A day or two is an absolute maximum.”

He took a deep breath. Calming himself, probably. “Let’s concentrate on the facts. How often does he show up?”

“This is the fourth time in a month,” Casey said. “That works out to about once a week.”

“How many people have seen him?”

“Gail and me. And Enid, or at least she heard somebody rustling around in her bushes one night. Enid and Gail live in the two closest cabins.” After a moment’s thought, Casey added, “Our mailbox got damaged, too, about three weeks ago, but it looked like a car scraped it. It’s right by the road.”

He took a notepad from his pocket and scribbled on it. “Always at night?”

“So far.”

“Has anything been stolen?” He spoke with the impersonal tone of a police officer.

Casey shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

“Any threats? Anonymous letters or e-mails? Hang-ups on the telephone?”

“No,” she replied.

“Besides the woman who thinks it might be her ex, does anyone else have reason to believe they’re being stalked?”

She responded in the negative.

Jack made another note and then seemed to remember who he was talking to. “Shouldn’t you be sitting down?”

“I’m fine.” Stubbornly, she held her ground, trying to ignore the way her abdomen tugged on her overstrained muscles.

He turned a chair backwards and sat down facing her. “Casey, when you told me someone sprayed you with a hose, I wasn’t aware you were carrying a child. It sounded bad enough before, but this is worse. That was a vicious thing to do.”

“He might not have been able to see in the dark,” she protested. “He might not have realized I’m pregnant.”

“Unless it’s someone who knows you.”

Maybe that possibility should have occurred to her before; however, she found it hard to accept. “I guess it’s your job to suspect everyone, but that’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

Because this was Richfield Crossing, not L.A., she thought in annoyance. But she already knew he wouldn’t buy that argument. “Nobody has a motive.” Since she gained no ground by continuing to stand, she yielded to common sense at last and sank onto the sofa.

“Don’t be so sure,” Jack retorted. “A predator doesn’t need the kind of motive you or I might recognize. And there are other motives that might not be obvious. A grudge, for instance. What about former tenants? Did your mother report any problems?”

“No. Everybody’s lived here for at least two years.”

“Are any of them unstable? I presume your mom ran a credit check, right?”

She nodded. “I hope you’re not planning to give them the third degree! They’re not just renters, they’re friends.”

“I’d like a list of their names,” he said calmly. “I’ll start interviewing them first thing tomorrow. Trust me, I know how to debrief witnesses without antagonizing them.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.” Casey supposed she shouldn’t be throwing roadblocks in his path, but Jack’s hard-nosed attitude put her back up. Besides, her attacker had to be a stranger.

“Tomorrow afternoon then,” he countered. “Don’t tell me they spend the entire day in prayer and seclusion.”

“This isn’t a monastery!”

“That much would be obvious to anyone looking at you.” Grinning crookedly, he reached out and took her hands. Casey saw his gaze fall on the wedding ring she wore.

Did he think she still considered herself married? She only wore the ring because of her condition, but let him think whatever he liked.

Besides, a glow was spreading through her as his thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. He smelled of masculine aftershave lotion, which reminded Casey of how she used to enjoy burying her face in his thick hair and trailing her mouth down to the corner of his jaw. It had always made him catch his breath and lean toward her…

…Just as he was doing now, so close their foreheads nearly touched. She ought to draw back. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. She didn’t want to give herself the wrong impression, either.

Her shift of position must have put pressure on her abdomen, because Diane kicked. Startled, Casey pulled back. “Ow!”

Worry deepened the faint lines around Jack’s mouth. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “The baby let me know she doesn’t like being squeezed. It didn’t hurt. She just startled me.”

He frowned. “You said ‘she.’ Does that mean you had one of those tests?”

Casey nodded. “It’s a girl. I’m naming her Diane.”

“That’s a nice name.” Releasing her hands, he flexed his shoulders. “I think I’ll eat that food now. Then I’ll take a stroll around the premises. I’d like to see how things look in the dark.”

She decided not to argue, although the question of whether Jack was staying here and for how long remained unresolved. Right now, she felt too relaxed.

After he went out, instructing her to lock the door behind him, Casey remembered what he’d said about this possibly being someone she knew. She preferred to speculate that it might be a transient camping out on vacant land in the area. If so, she hoped Jack would find him soon.

Maybe this visit hadn’t been such a bad idea, as long as they kept it short. Like it or not, he was Diane’s biological father. Someday their daughter would want to meet him and establish a relationship.

When that day came, maybe he’d remember sitting here learning about her for the first time. It might make him a little more welcoming.

For their daughter’s sake, Casey hoped so.

* * *

JACK’S PATROL DIDN’T turn up anything suspicious. It did reveal how exposed the cabins were, however.

The few exterior lighting fixtures left plenty of shadows, and no lampposts brightened the twilit footpaths. Prowling through the darkness, he could see right into most of the four units through their flimsy curtains. They didn’t even have fences to stop someone from crossing through the yards.

If it weren’t so expensive, he’d recommend installing surveillance cameras. But that, he admitted silently, might be overkill.

While he tried to keep his mind on the job, his impressions from the past hour kept drifting back. He still couldn’t fully grasp the fact that he’d gotten Casey pregnant eight months ago. All this time, his child had been growing inside her, and he’d had no clue.

His child. A little girl. Diane.

He couldn’t figure out how to integrate the idea of her into his worldview. Certainly he bore the tyke no hard feelings, even though she’d sprung into being against his wishes. And he knew he had moral and legal obligations to her. But what exactly was he supposed to do?

It wasn’t as if he had any role models to draw on. His own father had loved only one thing: alcohol.

He’d lost job after job because of it, and beaten his wife and little boy in a rage when he was drunk. Jack had learned early how to stay out of Pop’s way. He hadn’t been big enough to defend his mom and she’d never mustered the strength to stand up for herself. When she became sick, Pop had disappeared. Later, he’d landed in prison.

The last time Jack had heard from his father, while he was in college, it had been with a request for cash. Knowing what the money would be spent on, he’d refused. A few years later, his father had died from alcohol poisoning.

Maybe he should have suffered regrets. The only thing he’d regretted had been his father’s complete failure in relation to his family.

Jack knew he wasn’t like his old man. He rarely drank, and he would die before he’d hurt Casey or her child. Just thinking about how defenseless they were made his fists clench in a protective gesture.

The problem was, although he knew theoretically what a father was supposed to be like, he didn’t have it in him. Maybe the instincts lay buried, but the prospect of digging them out got him tangled up with frustration and pain, old emotions he tried hard to put behind him.

He could still hear the sarcasm darkening Pop’s voice when his irritation level began to rise. He remembered the explosions and his mother’s fear, along with his own terror and misplaced sense of guilt. The old wounds had never fully healed. Jack didn’t intend to rip them open again.

Grimly, he finished tracing the perimeter of the cleared part of Casey’s property and turned back. From the rental car, he collected his suitcase and laptop and let himself inside with a key he’d borrowed from Casey.

When he entered, the living room lay quiet. Instead of loud music or the blare of a TV, only a soft humming from the direction of the bedrooms broke the peace.

“Casey?” he called. “In here.”

Pushing past his reluctance, Jack walked through a short hall and entered the nursery. Casey stood ratcheting a teddy-bear mobile onto the crib. When she saw him, she pushed a button on the device, setting off a music-box version of “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”

His wife smiled as tinkling music filled the room. Tiny teddy bears revolved, their furry paws outstretched as if eager for Diane’s arrival. You couldn’t have shot a better commercial for home and happiness, Jack thought with an ache.

At the first foster home he’d gone to, when he was eleven, he’d walked into a nursery where the parents’ own six-month-old sat cooing and playing with a clown mobile. He didn’t remember the tune, but it had made him long for his mother.

The foster parents had rushed in and ordered him out as if he posed a threat to their precious offspring. He was never to go in there again, the man had snapped. They’d set up a cot for him in the sewing room; that was his place.

He’d learned later that that couple had never cared for foster children before and had taken him in because they needed money. They hadn’t been prepared for the moodiness of a preadolescent, for his flashes of anger or even for his poor table manners.

Jack knew many foster parents provided loving care, sometimes adopting the children. He hadn’t been so lucky. The six months he’d spent in that first house had made it agonizingly clear he didn’t belong.

Every time he’d heard music from the nursery, the sound had underscored the fact that he no longer had a home and probably never would. He’d had to harden himself to hold back the tears, as he was doing now.

Casey misread his reaction. “You don’t have to glare at me! Anyone else would be glad I’d set up such a nice welcome for the baby.”

“You’ve done a great job,” he muttered.

“You might try to sound as if you mean it.”

He could see that she’d put in a lot of work. She’d painted the place and probably stenciled those birds on the wall herself. The yellow-and-white color scheme, the shelves holding a couple of leather-bound classics—who could ask for more?

Not Jack. What he’d asked for was less. “I can’t change how I feel, so let’s not argue about it,” he told her. “Do you want to hear my preliminary observations about the property?”

“Sure.” She closed her tool kit. Some of his strain eased as they exited through the hall.

After stowing her tools in her office, Casey led the way into the old-fashioned kitchen, where the lingering scent of baking soothed Jack’s spirit. He’d loved spending time in the kitchen while they were living together.

Without asking, she poured them both decaf coffee. He would have preferred the regular version but didn’t want to impose.

“Shoot,” she said.

No need to consult his notes. “To start, you need better lighting. Also, I’d recommend you consider fencing the yards.”

“Unless I put up barbed wire, a prowler could go over it or through the gate.” She dosed her cup with cream and sugar and served his black, the way he liked it. “I don’t see that it would do much good.”

“It’s partly psychological,” Jack explained. “It provides a sense of containment. It also gives an intruder pause because it can slow down his escape.” He found the brew more flavorful than expected. Or maybe he simply enjoyed it because this was Casey’s house.

“I can’t afford to build fences, anyway,” she said. “That’s not a request for money. It’s a statement of fact.”

He knew better than to argue. “I don’t suppose you can afford to put up lighting along the footpaths, either.”

“You got that right.” She still seemed remote and almost combative. Apparently his attitude toward the nursery had set her off.

Jack refused to apologize. He’d warned her how he would likely react to a baby, although he hadn’t been specific. “If you can’t afford lighting and fences, you certainly can’t afford guards.”

“I suppose not.” She propped her elbows on the table. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I called you for a recommendation. I felt so mad about getting sprayed, I couldn’t think straight.”

Maybe, he thought, she’d subconsciously hoped he would come. But he knew better than to count on it. “My next suggestion is to organize your tenants into patrols. Two-person teams carrying cell phones. Not twenty-four hours a day, obviously, but during the evening when this guy’s most likely to show up.”

“One guy’s in his eighties and Enid’s in her seventies. I don’t want them trying to play super cop,” Casey said. “Plus even my more able-bodied tenants could break an ankle trying to patrol these woods in the dark.”

“There’s one more choice.”

“And it is?”

“You’re going to have to put up with me until I find this guy.”

She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but, as I said before, I think you should leave as soon as possible.”

“Last night, you were ready to do whatever it took to nail this louse. You felt desperate enough to call on your almost-ex-husband, and we both know that’s pretty desperate.” Jack hoped a little humor might soften her resistance, but he saw no change in her attitude. “Now I find out you’re pregnant and more vulnerable than ever, but you’re backing off. Let me run this guy down.”

It seemed the least he could do. A man didn’t abandon his wife when she needed him, even if she’d abandoned him first.

Casey rested her chin on her fist. It took all his self-control not to reach out and touch her cheek.

“Let’s be honest,” she said.

“I’ve never been anything else.”

“You don’t want to stay,” she said. “You feel obligated. You hate being here, hate being around anything that reminds you of babies. I can read you like a book, Jack. You’re going to make us both miserable.”

He couldn’t claim otherwise, so he ignored her point. “Pretend I’m some hired hand who’s here to do a job. Then you won’t care whether I go gaga over nursery stuff.”

“No.”

“That’s it? Just plain no?”

“Try this: nyet, nein, no way. Is that clear enough?”

He could be just as stubborn as she. “I’m not leaving until we wrap this up.”

“I’ll get a restraining order.” Casey folded her arms. “Well?”

Jack didn’t think she’d do it but he knew better than to push her. “Is that what you really want? You’re so eager to get rid of me you’re willing to risk having this guy keep bugging you?”

Her lips formed a thin, stubborn line. Finally she said, “I don’t even think it’s a good idea for you to stay a day or two.”

“Casey!” She was so stubborn, she made mules look compliant. Jack came very close to saying so.

“I’ll let you stay tonight because it’s getting late, but that’s all. Really, the more I think about it, the more I believe it’s probably just a neighbor’s kid,” she told him. “Nothing’s been stolen or damaged except for that mailbox, which might not even be connected. It’s not that serious. I overreacted.”

An assault on a pregnant woman seemed serious enough to Jack, but he’d run out of arguments. Before he could decide how to proceed, his cell phone rang.

Excusing himself, he answered. “Arnett.”

“Jack? It’s Mike.” His partner sounded frazzled. “I’ve got to run up to San Francisco for a couple of days.” He mentioned a client there who needed a security upgrade. “The problem is, I’ve got an appointment Monday with Paul Mendez. You remember him?”

“Sure.” Paul planned to retire in another month from the Denver police department. He’d expressed interest in joining Men at Arms as a partner, and they could certainly use one.

They had a growing staff of guards assigned to various clients, and added other employees as needed, sometimes on a temporary basis. A manager, an administrative assistant and an accountant handled the paperwork. The partners themselves planned and supervised all major operations, as well as trouble-shooting to keep their clients happy.

“Well, he’s going to be in town and wants to go over the financial details. Since you’re back, I was hoping you could take care of it.”

“I’m not exactly back,” Jack admitted. Casey, who’d carried their empty cups to the sink, glanced at him wryly.

“Where are you?”

“Tennessee. A prowler assaulted Casey on her property.” He saw no point in mentioning the pregnancy.

“I see.” He probably didn’t, though. A twice-divorced workaholic, Mike always put business ahead of family. “We really ought to attend to this. We both like Paul and it helps that he’s bilingual.” An increasing amount of their business involved Spanish-speaking clients.

Jack’s gut instinct told him to fight harder to resolve this case, but he did have an obligation to his company. Also, Casey was standing right there mouthing the word, “Go!”

He shook his head.

“Restraining order!” she hissed.

For heaven’s sake, why fight her? If she didn’t want him, he had no business forcing his company on her.

“Okay,” he said into the phone. “I’ll catch a plane tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I knew I….” The phone went dead.

Jack frowned. “It cut off.”

“Happens all the time around here,” Casey replied. “My service provider claims I live in a dead spot.”

His gut urged Jack to stay to protect this woman. And this baby, even though he hadn’t asked for it. But he’d be kidding himself if he imagined that sticking around would make any difference to their future.

Maybe she was right that she’d overreacted. After all, she hadn’t received any threats. Most likely some bum seeking shelter had panicked when she aimed a camera at him.

“All right,” he conceded grimly. “Tomorrow morning, I’m out of here.”

“We’ll both be a lot happier,” Casey said.

Jack seriously doubted it.

CHAPTER FOUR

Casey went to bed early and slept deeply, lulled by maternal hormones. About 3:00 a.m., she awoke with an urgent need to use the bathroom.

She slipped out into the hallway in her cotton sleep shirt. After using the facilities, she couldn’t resist peeking into the living room, where Jack slept on the opened couch.

Moonlight through the window highlighted the length of his body beneath the quilt and played across his ruffled hair. The room filled with his subtle presence and the murmur of his breathing.

Her body burned with the memory of sleeping beside him, feeling his legs tangle with hers and his arm brush across her breasts. Sometimes they’d awakened, not even knowing what hour it was, and sleepily caressed each other until passion flamed.

Yet, despite their years together, he seemed exotic, as if she’d discovered a lion dozing in the living room. Jack came from a different world, one that she’d never fully understood. Although she knew his parents had died and that he’d spent his adolescence in foster homes, he disliked discussing the past.

Why should the sight of a nursery or the sound of a music box make a man glower? To Casey, those things spoke of happiness and innocence. They took her back to a simpler time when she’d been loved without reserve and when the future held unlimited possibilities.

It saddened her to realize the two of them lacked common ground. She’d loved Jack more than she would have believed possible, and she’d longed for their marriage to work. But it was no use hanging onto something that couldn’t be fixed.

As she headed back to bed, she realized her mind was racing with memories. She needed to calm herself before falling asleep.

If she’d been alone, she might have played a soothing CD, but that would disturb Jack. Instead, she went into the nursery and turned on a table lamp.

The cheerful radiance surrounded Casey like a hug. She glanced up at the books she’d chosen for the shelf and picked an old favorite, the original The Hundred and One Dalmatians by Dodie Smith.

From a toy chest that her father had polished lovingly, she removed the fuzzy Dalmatian dogs she’d accumulated as a child and arranged them on the carpet. The worn fur only made them more appealing, reminding her of hours spent cuddling them as she invented stories.

“Hey, you guys,” she said softly. It seemed to her that Pongo cocked his head and that Perdita’s tail stirred as if trying to wag. “There’s going to be someone new in your room soon. She won’t able to play with you at first, and I don’t want you to disturb her by barking all night, okay?”

She explained to them about Diane, how small she’d be and how she might chew on them before she was old enough to understand who they were. “But one day her little brain will click into gear and she’ll figure out that you have feelings and that you love her.”

Missis gave a knowing bark. As she warned the stuffed dog not to wake their guest, Casey felt a draft from the doorway.

Glancing up, she peered through a wing of unbrushed hair. Jack, a black kimono-style robe belted over pajama bottoms, stood watching her with a bemused expression. Maybe he thought she’d gone nuts, but at least he wasn’t scowling.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.

He regarded the circle of dogs. “I don’t recall meeting these guys before.”

“My parents saved them for me,” Casey explained.

“They saved your toys?” He seemed to find the idea puzzling.

“I guess they were hoping someday the grandchildren would play with them. Or maybe having them around reminded Mom of when I was small.” Impulsively, she added, “She wanted more kids but she couldn’t have them. I wish she’d lived long enough to meet Diane.”

“I don’t even remember having toys, although I must have,” he said. “We moved a lot, sometimes without warning. Stuff got left behind.”

“You don’t remember any of them?” Casey couldn’t imagine it.

He thought for a moment. “Some books, I guess. I don’t know what happened to them.” As he studied the array of stuffed animals, she thought she saw regret flicker in his eyes. Then he crossed his arms and shifted his attention to the window, where ribbons tied back the yellow-dotted white curtains. “You ought to get opaque shades. Anyone could see inside.”

“Nobody around here…” She stopped, remembering the prowler. “I’m not used to thinking that way.”

“It’s my job to think that way.” He cast one more glance at the stuffed animals with a veiled longing that touched Casey more deeply than words.

He’d lost so much along the way to becoming a man. He always shrugged it off when she asked about the past, as if it couldn’t touch him, but she knew it affected him in countless ways.

“I wish you’d tell me more,” she said.

“About what?”

“Your parents. Your life in foster homes. How can I understand if you won’t share it with me?”

He edged away. “Sorry to disturb you. I came in because I heard someone talking.”

“Just me and the pooches.” Casey watched him go with a sense of loss. For an instant, she’d hoped he might open up, but she could see it was useless.

Nostalgically, she tucked the dogs back into the chest. She’d always taken it for granted that parents saved their children’s favorite toys. How did it feel to be stripped of those memories?

Jack might as well have come from a distant planet. For a long stretch, she’d wished he would agree to visit Tennessee with her and that it would help their worlds to blend. But he’d never found the time. And now that he’d come, it was too late.

She couldn’t reach him. Even the prospect of becoming parents wasn’t going to bridge the gap between them.

Reluctantly, she made her way back to bed.

* * *

SITTING ALONE in the kitchen while Casey dressed for church, Jack ate toast and coffee and fought down a sense of unease. The view of seemingly endless trees, with the nearest cabin barely visible and no other buildings in sight, disturbed him with its emptiness.

One of his foster families had taken him and their other charges to a regional park on a few occasions, but the place had been filled with visitors. Here, he found the vast amount of space almost threatening. It reminded him of a recurring dream in which he searched through a devastated landscape for a woman in a white dress, or perhaps it was a nightgown.

Long ago, the woman must have been his mother. During the past year, he’d known it was Casey even though he couldn’t see her face.

He tried to force himself to relax. After such a dysfunctional childhood, Jack knew his gut reactions weren’t a reliable warning of real danger. Besides, he didn’t have to search for Casey. He could hear her moving around in the bathroom.

Through the window came the sounds of birds twittering and leaves rustling in the breeze. Seeking a positive association, he decided the sounds reminded him of a book about pioneers he used to enjoy as a kid.

Come to think of it, he had many happy memories of stories. In some ways, he had taken his toys with him. All he’d had to do was venture into any library and he could visit them all over again.

Storybook figures obviously meant a lot to Casey, too. Last night, she’d looked adorable, sitting on the carpet talking earnestly to her toys as if she were still a child herself. He’d overheard quite a bit before she noticed him.

One day her little brain will click into gear. Until Casey said that, he hadn’t thought about Diane as anything beyond a helpless infant. It was disconcerting to consider the bulge inside his wife as a person who would someday have ideas and relationships of her own.

He imagined a tot with tangled brown hair and blue eyes like her mother’s, sitting on that same carpet solemnly communing with the Dalmatians. His daughter.

Yearning twisted through Jack. He’d always felt protective toward children and moved by their instinctive trust. Once, as a police officer, he’d unstrapped a baby from a car seat after a crash and barely managed to carry her to safety before the car caught fire. He would never forget the delicate feel of the girl’s arms clasping his neck as he delivered her to her mother.

But he’d had no desire to stick around beyond that moment of connection. For heaven’s sake, he was too impatient and moody to live with a little girl. He’d probably lose his temper and yell the way his father used to. The image of tears spilling down a child’s face made his coffee taste bitter.

From the living room, Casey popped into the doorway. She’d tamed her hair and donned a pink smock dress with an embroidered yoke. “You’re welcome to come to church with me.”

“No, thanks.” He never set foot in one except to attend a wedding or a funeral, and not many of those. He and Casey had tied the knot at a chapel in a Las Vegas hotel, with her parents, his partner Mike and Mike’s then-wife in attendance. “Besides, I have to leave by noon to make my flight.”

Although he’d secured a midafternoon reservation out of Nashville, he had to allow for the hour and a half drive, plus returning the rental car and clearing security. Thanks to the two-hour time difference, that would put him in L.A. by dinner.

“I’m sorry I can’t stick around to see you off but I’m teaching Sunday school,” she said.

Could things get any cozier? Stuffed animals, baby showers and Sunday school. Suddenly Jack felt suffocated. At work tomorrow, he looked forward to taking command of the situation instead of gasping like a fish out of water.

“What?” his wife demanded.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your nose wrinkled as if something smelled bad,” she challenged.

“Do you always have to try to read my mind?”

“I hope you weren’t disapproving of my teaching Sunday school. Maybe you should join the class,” Casey returned. “We learn valuable lessons from the Bible.”

“I know a valuable lesson. Mind thy own business.” He shook his head apologetically. “I don’t mean that. Casey, I think it’s great that you teach Bible school, okay?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I should respect your right to keep your thoughts private. It’s just that you’re so closemouthed and I care what you think.”

“Have a good time,” he said.

Casey sighed, gave a little wave and went out through the living room. A short time later, Jack heard her key turn in the front lock.

Gone. His hand tightened on the coffee cup.

He had to let her go, even though it was tearing him apart. She’d made her choice to send him away. His ability and desire to protect were all he had to offer, and she didn’t want them.

He wished things could be different, but her pregnancy had wiped out any chance of the two of them returning to their old life in LA. Maybe they should have spent more time discussing the implications of having a child—financial and otherwise—but he had a feeling Casey would shut him out as she’d done when he offered to pay the doctor’s bills.

He wasn’t the only one who kept his most complicated feelings to himself. Sometimes she did, too.

It was time to put useless hopes behind him. In a few days, he’d call and inform her that he was signing the divorce papers. If she refused to accept money to help support their daughter, he’d open a trust fund for the little girl’s college expenses. Just because he couldn’t be a real father didn’t mean he intended to abandon his responsibilities.

From the carport attached to the house, he heard a car start. His ear marked Casey’s progress as she backed out and headed down the driveway.

The motor stopped just beyond the house, still humming. What was she waiting for?

He didn’t know her routine. Maybe she gave one of the tenants a ride. Curious, Jack got up and went to the porch.

From the front, he saw that she’d stopped next to the parking area and exited the car. A cloud of dogwood blossoms obscured his view of the lot.

“Casey?” he called, and stepped down from the porch. Receiving no answer, he shouted louder. Still nothing.

Jack hurried down the driveway. The car sat idling, with the driver’s door ajar. No sign of Casey.

He shouldn’t have let her go out until he’d checked the premises. Why did he let himself get distracted? If some guy was stalking her, the arrival of another male might have roused him to further action.

Surveying the surroundings for suspicious movement, Jack noticed a squirrel dart across some sunny rocks but nothing more troubling. “Casey?” he called again. The name echoed faintly.

The crunch of footsteps straight ahead brought him up short. From behind a screen of branches, his wife appeared on the blacktop.

“Jack!” She hurried forward.

“I’ve been calling you.” That wasn’t the issue, of course. “What’s going on?”

“You’d better take a look.”

He moved closer, keeping a lookout all the while. These unfenced, heavily wooded premises provided too much cover for his taste.

His attention turned to the parking area. The other vehicles from last night had vanished, leaving his blue rental sedan sitting isolated. Isolated, but not undisturbed.

A large, leafy tree limb half obscured the windshield, where it had apparently fallen. Then he noticed a broken side window.

The damage also included a bent antenna and windshield wiper, both possibly attributable to the fallen branch. The broken window and the scratches on the hood, however, didn’t correlate, and neither did the angle of the branch compared to the locations of nearby trees.

There’d been no storm last night and no winds to carry tree limbs any distance. This had to be intentional.

Jack circled the car without touching it. When Casey reached for the branch, he waved her away. “Don’t disturb anything. I need to get the whole picture.”

She withdrew her hand. “These trees are kind of overgrown. I’ve been meaning to have them trimmed.”

He noted a rock on the pavement below the broken window. Dried soil clung to one side as if it had been wrenched from the ground. On the hood, the depth and straightness of the score marks reminded him of key scrapes.

“I don’t think the branch fell by itself,” he said. “I don’t think it caused all this damage, either.”

“That’s what I was trying to figure out,” she admitted. “It seemed accidental but it doesn’t look right.”

It ticked him off to see the vandalism. Jack didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d been personally targeted. What outraged him even more was the sense that someone felt possessive toward his wife. “This is definitely vandalism, and I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that my car was chosen.”

“Wait a minute.” Casey peered through the window. “You left food inside.”

He followed her gaze to the empty wrapper from his beef jerky, lying on the passenger seat where he’d tossed it. “So?”

“An animal might have tried to get in,” she pointed out.

“Would that be the same bear that squirted you with the hose?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking of a raccoon. They can do amazing things with their hands.”

“Ever see one throw a rock?”

She admitted she hadn’t.

Jack returned to his line of thought. “Whoever did this was lashing out at me. He probably acted first on impulse, breaking the window and scratching my hood, then decided to try to make it appear like an accident. He either pulled the branch down or found it in the woods and arranged it to try to fool us.”

“Jack, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for you to become a target. This could be expensive.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got insurance. It’ll just cost me the deductible, and the car’s still drivable.”

Those were deep scratches, though. And the rock had been thrown with force. Whoever had done this carried a lot of anger.

Yet until now, he reminded himself, there’d been no indication that Casey was the stalker’s primary concern. He’d been heard or seen near two tenants’ cabins, not her house.

Usually, perpetrators stuck to a pattern. This guy’s unpredictability and his hostility made the hairs stand up on Jack’s neck.

He checked his watch. A quarter to nine. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let me come to church with you. If whoever did this is fixated on you, he knows you’ll be there and he may show up. I might get a gut feeling about somebody.” People revealed more than they realized through their body language.

Casey released a long breath. “What about your flight?”

“I can still make it. Just let me pack my bag. I’ll caravan behind you to town, and afterwards I can head directly for Nashville.” He’d have to push the speed limit, but he hadn’t seen a sign of any state troopers on his way north.

She hugged herself. “I guess that makes sense.”

Don’t overwhelm me with enthusiasm. Well, what had he expected? “We might be a few minutes late. I’ll need to photograph the car before we leave, so don’t touch anything.” He always packed a couple of disposable cameras. In his line of work, they came in handy.

“You’re treating it like a crime scene.”

“You got that right.”

Casey regarded the car unhappily. “I wish this guy would just leave us alone. We’d be so much happier.”

“If only bad guys thought that way!” Jack teased.

She gave him a reluctant smile. “You’d better get started. I can pack your gear for you, if you like.”

“That would help.”

After he finished snapping shots, stowing his suitcase and collecting the rock in a plastic bag as a precaution, it was clear they would be late for church. Too bad. Jack would have liked to watch people arriving. It might have helped him spot the guilty party, if he were there.

As he followed Casey’s car into town, he realized that for once he belonged in a church, because he had a very appropriate assignment: to catch a sinner.

CHAPTER FIVE

Casey didn’t know which upset her more: the possibility that the prowler was becoming violent, or the fact that he’d forced Jack to stay, even for a few hours, out of what was obviously a sense of obligation.

All the same, gratitude for her husband’s presence helped to ease her delayed shock. When she first spotted the damage to the car, she’d instinctively reached for some reassuring explanation, but the more she stared, the more unavoidable Jack’s conclusion seemed. This couldn’t have happened by chance.

Maybe she’d made a mistake when she ordered him to leave. Still, sooner or later, he had to go. Maybe they’d get lucky and he’d spot the likely culprit right away.

The Richfield Community Church lay on the far side of town, a small white clapboard building with a picturesque steeple. Cars and trucks spilled over onto an adjacent lot.

As she and Jack walked across the pavement, Casey noticed him straightening and realized he must be focusing on the task ahead. He probably had no idea what a stir the arrival of her previously unseen husband was likely to create among the congregation.

When they entered the foyer, she could hear the deep voice of the pastor, Joshua Norris, issuing from the sanctuary, although the doors had been closed. Jack hesitated. “What’s the etiquette?” he murmured. “I hate to just barge in.”

“Let’s wait till they start singing.” The noise should cover the disturbance caused by their entry.

A few minutes later, Casey heard the piano—which she knew was played by the minister’s wife, Bernadette—launch into a popular hymn. As the congregation swelled with song, she opened the door and led the way inside.

Brilliance poured through the stained-glass window above the pulpit and the arching side windows. To her, the whole place seemed to shine.

As always, the hymn lifted her spirits. Nothing seemed quite so unmanageable or threatening as it had before.

The congregants faced away from them. Only a few people appeared to notice their arrival, although she could already see them whispering to their neighbors.

When she pointed out two seats in a nearby pew, Jack gave a jerk of the head, indicating that she should sit. He, however, clearly intended to stand in the back where he could view the proceedings.

Although she’d have liked to stay with him, Casey couldn’t stand for the whole service. She slid into place and picked up a prayer book.

Once the song finished, more heads turned. Her friend Bonnie smiled, her interest obviously perking when she caught sight of Jack. Royce studied the new arrival with something less than enthusiasm.

Casey remembered Jack’s suspicions about him. She had to admit her ex-boyfriend didn’t even try to disguise his mistrust of the newcomer, but she couldn’t imagine him sneaking around the Pine Woods. And if he’d wanted to harm Jack, as a mechanic he could have done something far more deadly and hard to spot than scratching the paint.

The possibilities that came to mind alarmed her. Thank goodness Royce was no criminal.

Casey forced herself to look to the pulpit, even though her mind continued to buzz. Usually she enjoyed the service and tried to apply the sermon to her personal life. Today, she kept glancing around, wondering if one of these folks had become her enemy.

Not everybody in town attended, of course. Enid was the only one of the tenants in view, which didn’t surprise her, since she knew the others liked to sleep late. There were also some people she didn’t immediately recognize from this angle, including a woman in a scarf who sat with the Rawlinses.

Nearly an hour later, when the service ended, Casey rose stiffly. She’d never noticed how hard the pews were until she began carrying a baby.

Her friend Mimi approached. “I’ll teach your class, honey,” she volunteered. “You’d better keep your eye on that sexy guy of yours or somebody’s likely to make off with him.”

“Thanks.” Casey had to chuckle at Mimi’s cheerful manner. “That would help a lot.”

“Did you see who’s here?” Bonnie arrived with her younger sister, Angie, in tow. “They say a bad penny always turns up. I’m willing to give a person a second chance, but this one’s got enough attitude to fill a barn.”

“Who?” As she spoke, Casey noticed that the woman in the scarf was frowning in her direction. Good heavens, it was Sandra, her old friend, but much gaunter than the last time they’d met. She wore dark glasses, which seemed like an affectation even if she had been living in California, and had some kind of mark on her cheek. “What happened to her?”

“I heard she was in a car crash high on drugs,” Angie said. “Rumor has it she’s on probation.”

Her older sister made a face. “If you heard all that, how come you didn’t tell me? We could have told Casey last night.”

“I heard it this morning. I think she just got back to town yesterday.”

The young women stopped chattering as Jack approached. After greeting them briefly, he asked Casey, “Who’s that man?”

She followed his gaze. “Al Rawlins.” She explained about her connection to his daughter Sandra. “Why do you ask?” ago.

“From the way he glared at you, I got the impression you’re not one of his favorite people.”

“I know. He blames me for Sandra’s problems.” Casey had familiarized him with her friend’s situation long

“Is something wrong?” Mimi asked. “The way Jack inspected the crowd, I figured we must have at least an FBI’s Most Wanted hanging around.”

“Somebody bashed his car last night,” Casey explained. “We’re trying to figure out who might have had a motive.”

“That stinks,” Mimi said. “It’s not much of a welcome, is it? Well, I’d like to stay but I’d better go teach that class.”

Casey thanked her again. Bonnie and Angie excused themselves also.

As soon as they were gone, Jack queried Casey about some of the other attendees. She identified Royce and Larry Malloy, the rookie cop who’d investigated Friday night’s assault.

“I don’t think either of them is the possessive type, and I’ve certainly given them no reason to be,” she added.

“Men who fixate on women aren’t necessarily connected to reality,” he told her. “They invent scenarios in which the woman plays hard to get but secretly loves them. They can be very difficult to dissuade.”

“What does it take to convince them she’s serious?”

“Getting a restraining order or marrying someone else usually does the trick. Unfortunately, it may also flip the guy off the deep end. That’s when stalkers become most dangerous.”

As he spoke, Jack made notes on a small pad. Compiling a list of suspects, Casey supposed.

It troubled her to view old acquaintances as potential predators. Many of them were folks she wouldn’t hesitate to call on if she needed help. Yet someone had knocked her down with a hose and scraped Jack’s car.

“You said body language might give him away,” she recalled. “What kind of behavior are you looking for?”

“People avoiding my gaze,” he replied promptly. “Inappropriate or contradictory actions that indicate the person’s putting on a pretense of normalcy. Restlessness, such as an adult who can’t stop wiggling.”

“I figure an adult who can’t stop wiggling during a church service probably needs to use the bathroom.” Casey had to admit that, as a pregnant woman, she had a rather biased perspective in that regard.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.