Killer's Prey. Rachel Lee
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“I hope so.”
He fell silent, realizing that she had to work through this in her own way. Hammering it for her wasn’t going to help.
But it made him furious to think he might take her home today to a man who could blame her for this. Her own father, for the love of Pete. The one person who should be on her side more than anyone else.
The phone on the table beside him rang. “Excuse me.” He answered it and immediately shifted into another gear.
“Nora, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take you home. Something’s come up at work.”
Something he sure as hell didn’t want to tell her about.
* * *
Nora arrived home with enough rice and pulled pork to feed both her father and herself a large dinner. Rosa had insisted, and Nora hadn’t wanted to argue. It was a generous offer, and might take some of the sting out of her dad when he got home, probably still angry that she had refused to come to work for him today. As if she could have stood at a register for much more than ten or fifteen minutes.
She guessed he thought life was going to carry on as if she had never left. Of course, it couldn’t. Any chance of that had died when he’d blamed her for her mother’s death, claiming she had died because Nora had gone away to college and hadn’t been able to take care of her.
Nora knew better than that, but the ensuing fight after the funeral had been ugly enough for an entire lifetime.
What the hell had she been thinking, coming back here? Surely she hadn’t hoped the man had changed. As a psychologist she knew how unlikely that was. Could she have even for one foolish moment have thought he had? All she knew was that she had become desperate, and maybe she hadn’t been thinking clearly at all.
But she couldn’t stay in Minneapolis, not while that man was still there. Not when he’d whispered more threats on the phone to her. Panic had driven her more than anything. And where else could she have gone? When she got well enough, she was going to find another job, far away from here, but in the meantime... In the meantime, her resources were too limited.
She sagged in a chair at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. For a little while today, with Jake, she had tasted a normal life once again. She had enjoyed herself riding Daisy. She’d had a normal conversation with someone, although she was still a little surprised it had been with Jake.
Just yesterday she’d been appalled at seeing him, wishing as she had wished so long ago that she never had to see him again. Then today... Well, today had certainly been a surprise.
Although perhaps no surprise that he had offered to defend her against her father. He’d done that kind of thing so often when they were in school. In that regard he evidently hadn’t changed: defender of the weak and picked on.
But she absolutely couldn’t imagine how he could stop Fred Loftis from being Fred Loftis. The man was as set in his ways and his beliefs as if they’d been poured in concrete at his moment of birth.
And she wished something hadn’t come up, that she could have ridden Daisy once more today. Somehow it had carried her out of herself to a place she had almost forgotten, a place where she was glad to be alive.
But Jake had promised they would do it again soon. She was counting on that.
* * *
Jake walked into the sheriff’s office, still in mufti because he hadn’t wanted to upset Nora by putting on a uniform. He was immediately waved back to Gage Dalton’s office.
Gage sat behind his desk, one side overloaded with a stack of papers, the other side burdened by a computer. In between there was a battered nameplate that identified him as sheriff and looked as if it had fallen to the floor countless times.
“You’ve taken an interest in Nora Loftis,” Gage said without preamble.
Well, of course, the whole damn town probably knew by now. If he hadn’t been seen picking her up, if folks didn’t know he’d gone to Denver to get her, Maude still would have mentioned to someone that they’d been in the diner together last night. Life was like that here.
“I’ve known her all my life,” Jake answered, settling in one of the two wooden chairs in front of Gage’s desk.
“I’m not questioning you, Jake. Fact is, I have only a vague memory of her as a child. She seemed to blend into the woodwork and say very little. But I do know Fred Loftis. Nora gets my sympathy for that alone.”
“He’s a harsh man.”
“To put it mildly. Now to the point. After you expressed interest in the case, I very nicely asked the Minneapolis P.D. to keep us informed. They told me that they discovered this morning that Cranston Langdon slipped his bracelet.”
Jake tensed. He’d feared that when Gage had called him in, mentioning that he had a concern about Nora. The concern had been itching along his nerve endings since the call. “I was afraid that’s what you wanted to tell me.”
“He cut it off last night. Then before they could start checking, he was gone. Apart from what he did to Nora, this is one scary guy. He went after his wife last night, presumably because she was able to state unequivocally that Nora had never met the man. Anyway, the wife is unconscious, probably comatose, and our rapist and would-be killer is on the loose.”
“What’s the likelihood he could find her here?”
“Damned if I know. I’ve got the guys in Minneapolis scouring everything they’ve got to find out if it was ever mentioned anywhere in public that she came from this town. They don’t think it’s likely. Are you willing to bet on that?”
“Hell, no. She probably had friends who would know, if nothing else.” Jake’s voice became a low, almost savage growl.
“Me, neither. But I don’t want to scare Nora out of her skin unless it becomes necessary.”
Jake leaned back, squashing his fury, trying to sort through more logical thoughts. Getting angry wouldn’t fix a damn thing, and might lead him to foolish action.
“They’re sending us the guy’s description and mug shots. We can get them out. You know strangers stick out around here.”
“Except at the truck stop.” Plenty of strangers passed through there. “I guess we should give Hasty the mug shot.” Hasty owned the truck stop.
“I guess so.” Gage drummed his fingers on the desk. “I hate shadow boxing.”
“I’d have thought you’d done a lot of it in the DEA.”
“That’s why I hate it.” Gage smiled crookedly, the burned side of his face barely moving. Long ago, as a DEA agent, he’d been targeted by a bomb. “There’s no guarantee this perp will have any idea where to look for Nora. There’s also no guarantee that he won’t. And if he could slip his bracelet, he’s no dummy.”
“My main concern is protecting Nora,” Jake said flatly. “To hell with the rest. Living in that house with her father is hell enough, and he’d be no damn good in a crunch.”
“Stashing her could be good, but stashing her would mean telling her why we want to hide her somewhere. Do you think she could handle that?”
“I think she’s a lot stronger than even she realizes. She should be dead. She survived being accused of obstructing justice to protect herself and her rapist. She’s a mess right now, but she’s a survivor.” Jake shook his head. “You’re right, though. I don’t want to scare her needlessly.”
“Then we got us a problem.” Gage sighed and shifted in his chair, a grimace of pain crossing his face. Jake had gathered that the bomb had done more than burn him. It had also injured his back and left him with a permanent limp.
“I think she’s as tough as you are,” Jake said.
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