Secret Refuge. Dana Mentink
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prow of a battleship.
“You could have hit her, Reggie,” he snarled. His voice didn’t grow louder, but the man shrank back a pace.
“Not my fault.”
“Your finger on the trigger, your fault.”
Reggie shook his head and swore.
“And Tucker’s gone,” Mick added. “Made it down the back fire escape. Took off on his motorcycle. What were you thinking?”
“Please.” Reggie snorted. “Blame me if it makes you feel better, but I hauled myself up three flights of a fire-escape ladder because you are too thickheaded to carry a weapon. I made it up here in time to see Tucker with a knife and then Keeley starts throwing stuff, so I have two seconds to squeeze off a clean shot, only Wonder Boy messes it up.”
“Who...?” Mick started.
Keeley was flabbergasted to see John emerge from behind a ventilation duct holding a half-empty bag of pretzels between his fingertips. John’s eyes were wide with shock. “Tucker’s been hanging out here, on this roof.”
“You don’t say,” Reggie spat. “What I want to know is who you are and why did you interfere?”
John blinked. He looked at Keeley. “Are you okay?”
She was going to answer, but Reggie broke in. “No thanks to you. You dived at me. I could have killed her or Mick.”
John flushed. “I saw you start up the ladder. I didn’t know who you were. I followed you up and saw you take out a gun. What was I supposed to think?”
“Aww, man.” Reggie jammed his gun into the holster. “It doesn’t explain what you’re doing here in the first place. Who are you anyway? Maybe you’re working with Tucker, huh? Maybe you had a reason you didn’t want me to shoot the kid.”
“I’d be happy to let you shoot him,” John said.
“Then explain yourself before I throttle you,” Reggie shouted.
Mick raised his palms. “Let him speak his piece.”
“I’m Dr. John Bender. I’m a veterinarian, and I’ve known Keeley and her sister for a long time. I called Aunt Viv’s house to check on Keeley. Viv told me Keeley took a job photographing the parrots. There’s only one place you’re going to find parrots around here, so I knew where she was going.”
“But why did you follow me?” Keeley watched a wary look settle into his eyes.
“I thought you might need someone to keep tabs on you, with Rivendale back in town.” His chin went up. “I was right, too. Tucker might have killed you.”
“I might have killed her, thanks to you,” Reggie snapped. “You need to stay out of this, Doc. Am I making myself crystal clear?”
John stiffened. “Are you a cop?”
“Parole officer, and I know Tucker Rivendale well. Very well.”
“I know him well, too.” John leaned closer until the two men were close, glaring into each other’s faces. “He murdered the woman I loved.”
Reggie cocked his head. “I get that, and you’re desperate to be a man and be all protective and such, but you’re going to get yourself into trouble by poking your nose in. Stick to the animals, Doc.”
John started to fire off a retort until Keeley put her hand on his shoulder. “I know you meant well coming after me. Thank you.”
He broke off staring at Reggie to give her a nod. “I’m glad you’re okay. I would never put you in harm’s way. You know that, right?” He took her hands.
“Yes.” Keeley gave his fingers a squeeze and then detached her hands from his.
“While you were down there, did you call the cops?” Mick said to John.
John shook his head. “I decided to investigate first. I’ll do that right now.” He stepped away a few paces and dialed his phone.
Reggie stalked away to examine the rooftop.
Silence stretched between her and Mick until she grew uneasy. “I’m, um, sorry I hit you,” Keeley said, pointing to the gash on Mick’s face. “Seems like I’m either running over you or clobbering you with something.”
“No problem.” He smiled, and the action lit up the satin depths of his eyes, a transformation she never would have thought possible. It swept away the flicker of what she hadn’t recognized before. Under the anger, he had been afraid, but not for himself. For her. Why? Maybe because he hadn’t been fearful enough about Tucker, about what he was capable of doing to her sister. The ache spiraled afresh, pounding a trail through her nerves. If he’d only been more worried about what Tucker might do before he got the tracking device removed. “I’ve got some Band-Aids in the car, but I think they might have rubber duckies on them.”
“I’ll pass, but thank you.” The lightness left. “I’m going to check something out. Stay here.”
The irritation rose again. Stay here. Do this. Go here. He was very free with the directions for a guy that she didn’t invite into her life and never would. I call the shots in my life, Mick. Get that straight. Mick went to the far side of the building and climbed down the fire escape. She hugged herself, watching Reggie prowl the rooftop, scowling. John appeared to be finishing up his phone call.
Dead leaves skittered across the roof. The faraway distressed call of the birds still drifted on the wind. Her heart returned, as it always did, to June. Junie, precious child. What was she doing right now? Playing with clay? Using her chubby fingers to create wild paintings of scenes in bold stripes of red and yellow? Had she noticed Mr. Moo Moo was missing an eye? She allowed herself for one moment to imagine what her life would be like if Junie was suddenly snatched away, gone without so much as a goodbye embrace, like LeeAnn had been. Bile rose in her throat, pulse edging upward with the horror and shaking her courage. Who could she trust to get her out of the mess? No one. You’re going to have to do it yourself, so stop letting everyone order you around.
She found herself following Mick’s path down the fire escape.
John called something out to her, but she didn’t stop. All her energy was spent in keeping her sanity; she had nothing left over to handle John’s immense sadness or the animosity between him, Reggie and Mick. The ladder rungs bit into her palms, but she welcomed the movement, pain and all. One flight down and she realized there was an open window, halfway ajar, through which Mick must have squeezed.
She fit through the opening easily, emerging on a dusty floor in a large open area crowded with broken office chairs and more wooden pallets. The far corner had one small office with a dust-smeared window. Mick was on one knee near a long-abandoned file cabinet, examining something.
He looked up at her approach.
“I know, I didn’t stay as ordered, but honestly I can’t. First, bossing people around is not polite, and second, inactivity is just not in my physiology. You can ask all my teachers from over the years.”
His mouth quirked. “Let me guess. PE was your favorite class?”
“Yes.”
“Mine, too.”
Enough of the pleasantries. She peered closer. “What did you find?”
He pointed to a sleeping bag. “Tucker’s been crashing here. Couple of empty food cans, eaten recently. This is what puzzles me.” With a discarded piece of wire he found on the floor, Mick pulled a piece of crumpled paper loose. It was a diagram of some sort. Keeley looked closer.
“Is that the rooftop?”
“Yes.” Mick frowned. “Why would Tucker be so interested in the rooftop of an abandoned newspaper office?”
Keeley’s stomach tightened. “And a building not more than one