Operation Nanny. Пола Грейвс
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spooked by the normal noises of cooling engines and the muted traffic sounds from outside the garage. She didn’t start to relax until she was safely back on the road out of town.
Settling her phone in the hands-free cradle, she called Jim. “I’m on my way home.”
“Stay on the line,” he said.
“I’m feeling like an idiot right about now,” she admitted. “Jumping at shadows.”
“You’re being safe,” he corrected her firmly. “It’s not like the danger isn’t real, right?”
“Can we talk about something else?” she asked, trying to control a sudden case of the shivers. She turned the heat up to high, wishing she’d donned one of the heavy coats she’d packed before she got behind the wheel of the car.
“Sure. I could read to you. After all, I know where to find a copy of Goodnight Moon.”
“That’ll put me to sleep.” She didn’t know if it was the blast of heat coming from the vents or Jim Mercer’s warm, comforting voice doing the job, but the shivers had already begun to subside. In their place, a creeping lethargy was starting to take hold, making her limbs feel heavy. “Don’t you have any salty tales from your time in the military? Tell me one.”
He told her several, with the seductive cadence and natural delivery of a born storyteller. Katie was going to love him, Lacey thought. Her little niece was a sucker for a well-told story.
The drive home seemed to pass in no time, unmarred by any further sightings of the blue pickup. As she drove through the tiny town of Cherry Grove, the snow that had been threatening all day finally started to fall, first in a mixture with tiny pebbles of sleet, then as fat, wet clumps as she turned into the long driveway to the farmhouse. “I’m here,” she said into the phone.
“I know. See you in a minute.” Jim hung up the phone.
The outside lights were on, casting brightness across the gravel drive. The front door opened as she walked around to the Impala’s trunk to retrieve her suitcase. By the time she hauled it out, Jim Mercer stood beside her, tall and broad shouldered, a wall of heat in the frigid night air.
He took the suitcase from her numb fingers. “You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she answered, almost believing it.
He followed her inside, waiting next to her while she engaged the dead bolt on the front door. “I heated up the potpie. I thought you might be hungry.”
She was, she realized. “Starving.”
He set the suitcase on the floor in the living room and led her into the kitchen, where a warm, savory aroma set her stomach rumbling. “It’s not much,” he warned. “Canned vegetables, canned chicken and canned cream-of-mushroom soup.”
“Beats ramen.” She shot him a quick grin as he waved her into one of the seats at the kitchen table and retrieved a plate of casserole from the microwave. It was warm and surprisingly tasty for something straight out of a can. “Not bad.”
“I’m glad you’re home safe,” Jim said. The warmth in his voice and the intense focus of his gaze sent a ripple of pleasure skating along her spine. She quelled the sensation with ruthless determination.
He was Katie’s nanny. Nothing more.
“Why don’t you try to relax?” he suggested when she started to carry her empty plate to the dishwasher. “I’ll clean up.”
“That’s not your job, you know—” The ring of her cell phone interrupted. With a grimace, she checked the number, frowning at the display. It had a DC area code, but there was no name attached. She briefly considered letting it go to voice mail before curiosity made her pick up. “Hello?”
“Lacey Miles?” the voice on the other end asked. It was a male voice, deep and no-nonsense.
“This is Lacey,” she answered, troubled by something she heard in the man’s voice.
“This is Detective Miller with the Metropolitan Police Department. Did you place a phone call to a Ken Calvert earlier this evening, telling him you couldn’t meet him?”
She tightened her grip on the phone and dropped into the chair she’d just vacated. Jim paused on his way to the sink, turning to give her a worried look. “How did you know that?” she asked Detective Miller.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “We found the message on Mr. Calvert’s phone. I regret to inform you that Mr. Calvert died earlier tonight.”
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