The Price He Paid Page 12

  “Oh! You’re bleeding. Here, let me…” She clasped his hand in hers, breathing warm air over him. “I’ll get bandages.”

  He jerked his hand from hers. “It’s nothing.”

  “You need to protect them from further injury.”

  “I said forget it, Callie.”

  She looked hurt. Her delight dulled. “I should go.” She stepped back.

  He muttered another curse. Exhaled. “No.” It wasn’t her fault her nearness was driving him crazy. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s sensible to protect the scrapes before I get more dirt in them.” He had to stop sounding so testy; she was only trying to help. “Thanks.”

  Subdued, she left the room. He stared outside, wondering how he would get through whatever days he had left before she was out of his life again.

  “Here.” She proffered a box of ancient bandages. “I guess Miss Margaret didn’t use these much. I could go to the store…”

  “These will be fine.” After a beat, he added, “Thank you.” Then he concentrated on trying to use his nondominant right hand to apply the first one but he only managed a poorly fitting wrapping.

  “Do you want help?” Her voice was hesitant.

  He glanced up. Nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind.” It was torture, sheer torture, his rough hands being caressed by her slender soft ones. Watching the curls that were more evident each day as she shed some of the city veneer and wanting to bury his fingers in them, to lift her face to his and taste her—

  His fingers curled involuntarily, and Callie looked up, worried. “Did I hurt you?”

  He couldn’t speak, only shook his head. He tried to relax, to beat back the urge to grab and take.

  She finished bandaging but didn’t let go until she’d pressed her lips to each knuckle. “There.” She glanced at him and blushed. “Sorry. I always liked the idea that kisses can heal.” She dropped his hand and turned to face the faucet. “So you turned off the water below the sink first, is that right?”

  Do that again. Kiss me—anywhere, anywhere at all. Just don’t stop touching me. Making me feel alive again. He grabbed the coffee cup and sipped until his mind settled a bit. “Exactly. Otherwise you’ve got a hell of a mess to deal with.” One deep breath, then another as he focused on the task at hand and not the woman beside him. “Sometimes in old houses, there’s no cutoff below the sink, so you have to turn off the water either out front if there’s a water line, or where the water comes in from the well.”

  “What does Miss Margaret have?”

  “You have a waterline out front,” he reminded her.

  Her brow furrowed a little. “It just doesn’t seem real. I don’t—I can’t stay here. I have a life elsewhere.” But something sad and uncertain fled over her features then. “Or I did, anyway.” Her voice was so low, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.

  He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t and he couldn’t afford to care. “So next you take off the handle.” He handed her a screwdriver.

  She took it hesitantly, then removed the screw that held the handle in place. She laid first the screw, then the handle on the counter in order. “Like this?”

  “Exactly. Then you—” A cell phone rang at that moment, and she scanned the room, then went to pick it up from the kitchen table. When she looked at the display, she frowned. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.” She put the screwdriver on the counter as she walked past him to the porch.

  He watched her pace the boards, her expression by turns stormy and nervous. Her slender hands waved as she talked. At last she finished the call, flipped her phone closed and stood staring off the porch, her shoulders rounded.

  He wasn’t sure what to do, whether to finish the repair himself and leave, or wait and see if she wanted to talk.

  He was certain, though, that he didn’t like whatever had made her look so defeated.

  At last she squared her shoulders and reentered.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  Her gaze snapped to his, the city lawyer replacing the woman who’d kissed his knuckles. “No big deal.” She walked back to the sink, but he could see that her mind was elsewhere.

  “I can finish this. You take care of whatever you need to.”

  She flinched. “I can’t, that’s the problem.” A distracted pause. Her fingers grasped the edge of the counter. “I can’t fight shadows.” She looked so sad for a second that he longed to draw her close and comfort her.

  Him, a convicted felon. An accused second offender.

  But maybe he was better than nothing. “I can listen, too, you know.”

  She bit at her lip as if deciding.

  “Never mind.” He turned back to his task.

  “I…I made a mistake. Lost a big case, too, but that’s the least of my troubles.” When he glanced over, her expression was bleak. “My boss made me take time off. I’m an embarrassment to him, and he’s up for reelection.” She fell silent.

  “So you should be back there defending your turf, that’s what you’re thinking?”

  “Yes.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve worked hard to get there.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Even when you were being a rebel, you were a very determined one. You put everything into it.”

  A tiny smile curved her lips. “I guess I did.” She shook her head. “I was such a mess. I ran away after my mother dragged me back home.”

  “You did?” He thought for a minute. “She didn’t seem…Miss Margaret didn’t think much of her.”

  “She was right not to.”

  “Where is your mother now?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t care. I’ve made my life.”

  Then, as if done with the topic, she turned toward the sink. “Show me the next step.”

  He hesitated. Wondered if he should probe further into her troubles. “You sure?”

  “No, but I don’t have any better ideas.” She pointed at the faucet. “What comes off now?”

  He understood this one thing: sometimes thinking about your problems could drive you crazy and didn’t help one iota. Sometimes distractions were worth their weight in gold. “This is the stem,” he said, noting a metal rod. “See that little piece of rubber at the base of it? That’s called a washer.”

  Callie cast him a grateful glance, and they continued with the task at hand.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A reporter called Joe, sniffing around, Anna had told Callie on the phone earlier. Joe Santiago was her section chief and mentor; he’d put himself at risk in his attempts to deflect the D.A.’s fury from her. Joe was the main reason she still had a job.

  Anna hadn’t needed to say what the reporter was trying to uncover. As Callie ripped at the vines she was trying to untangle from the gate at the Chambers house, she wondered if the leak had come from the defense counsel who’d agreed not to press the issue in exchange for Callie being placed under supervision for the next year.

  Of course, for all she knew, it could have been someone in her office. Her swift climb had created some enemies among those she’d leapfrogged and to be frank, she’d been so focused on moving up that she’d left her share of bodies scattered in her wake.

  “You ready?”

  Startled, Callie looked up at Jessie Lee. “Ready?”

  “For Jeopardy.”

  “What?”

  “It’s time to watch Jeopardy. On TV?” Jessie Lee’s tone was filled with the sort of patience one demonstrates toward the clueless or infirm. “Granny insists.”

  Callie stared at her. “Go right ahead. I’m not done.” She gestured toward the back gate.

  “You have to come, too. Everybody does.”

  “That’s nonsense. David won’t—” Callie’s voice died off as she witnessed the same man descending the ladder from the roof he’d been repairing.

  “I told you.” Jessie Lee’s grin was unrepentant. “Now get a move on.” She grabbed Callie’s hand and all but dragged her in
side.

  David reached the back door before they did, and held the screen door open for them. “Ladies.”

  Callie slowed and let Jessie Lee precede her. “Is this for real?” She kept her voice low.

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. “You better believe it. As far as Granny Chambers is concerned, the world stops for Alex Trebek.” He bent nearer. “Just between us, I think she’s got a crush on him.”

  “But…we have a list.”

  “You’ve been working hard all day.” He glanced down at her hands and frowned. “Your skin is scraped.” He turned one of them over, then the second. “And you’ve got blisters. Where are your gloves?”

  “They keep falling off. It’s no big deal.”

  “Yes, it is. You have lady hands.” He towed her inside. “Stay right there.” He pointed to the sink. “Jessie Lee,” he called out. When the girl arrived, her impatient glance dissolved when she heard what he needed, and she raced off.

  Callie joined him in the doorway. “Just let this be,” she hissed. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re lucky you haven’t touched poison ivy,” he shot back.

  “Hush up now, you two,” Granny ordered. “What is China?” she said to the screen. When the contestant echoed her, she socked a fist in the air.

  “John Wayne attended USC on what kind of scholarship?” asked Trebek.

  “What is football?” Granny craned her head toward David, brows lifted.

  He nodded just as the contestant echoed her.

  Granny’s grin was wide.

  “The Greek word beginning with H that means unwarranted pride.”

  Callie looked over at him, but his eyes were focused on the screen.

  Granny shrugged. “What is hubris?” David prompted.

  “Huh,” she responded, but quickly switched her gaze to the television.

  Jessie Lee skidded to a stop before them. “Here.” She thrust the contents she held into David’s.

  “Thanks, Jessie Lee.” He began bandaging.

  “Science for one hundred,” said the contestant.

  “The science of raising food or animals,” intoned the host.

  “What is husbandry?” David answered softly at the same moment Granny crowed it.

  Callie would only have been right on one of those three, but as the show continued, he never missed. The topics ranged from seventeenth-century art to chemistry. She even got into the spirit of things, surprised to be having fun when most of her answers were wrong.

  Once she and David had experienced joy, had teased and laughed with innocent exuberance, full of life and the high of being young.

  She’d forgotten what that felt like.

  She mused over the inconsistencies in him, a convicted felon reviled by most of the town yet capable of such kindness, clearly self-educated far beyond the high school graduation he’d missed. The cynical prosecutor in her would have dismissed the last few days as an aberration, a con job.

  But as he gently cleaned and doctored her hands, his touch light but reassuring, his nearness a beacon of both sensual promise and comforting strength, Callie’s thoughts tumbled like a child’s unsteady tower of blocks.

  Her fingers jerked in response to the tumult in her mind.

  “Sorry,” he said unevenly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m almost done.”

  You didn’t hurt me, she nearly protested, but in her confusion, she instead remained silent until he was done. Her brain was exploding with too much input: questions about David, worries about her job, conflicted feelings about Oak Hollow and the unwanted responsibilities that had been dumped on her by a woman she owed a lot to.

  The second that David was finished, despite the fact that Jeopardy wasn’t over, she didn’t return with him to the living room but instead escaped outside and put up her tools.

  She was sorry to leave the respite of a lighter atmosphere, of time spent with a man who brought back the boy. She couldn’t afford it, though; she had to figure out how to deal with the reporter, had to plan her next step in the quest to regain her job, how to extricate herself from Oak Hollow without hurting anyone. She couldn’t seem to think straight around David. They were all but done with the list. She’d walk home and use the time to get her head on straight.

  David stayed until the game show was over a few minutes later, when he discovered that Callie wasn’t with them anymore and must have gone back outside. He followed and began piling the vines Callie had cleared, along with the rotten shingles he’d replaced on the roof. The shadows were lengthening, and they needed to finish up. He had a debt to pay off, however unsettling it was to spend time in Callie’s presence, and only plowing through the list would accomplish that.

  By the time he’d carried his last load, he still hadn’t seen her. She hadn’t said a word after his clumsy bandaging job. Had he hurt her that much? He was no nurse and never professed to be, but he’d apologized, hadn’t he? There was no reason for her to just take off like that. Now he had to find her and apologize again, he guessed, yet what the hell else could he say but—

  He went stock-still. Her clippers were gone.

  And, he realized, so was she.

  Damn it. She’d come to the house with him, so she would be on foot. The shadows lengthened quickly in the mountains as evening approached. She’d be out there alone, dressed in that tight T-shirt and jeans practically painted on her legs, every curve and half her naked flesh on display with gracious knows who driving by—

  “Jessie Lee!” he bellowed.

  The girl poked her head out. “You two want to stay for supper?”

  “She’s gone. I’m not sure she knows her way from here. Tell Granny I’ll be back in the morning to clean this up before I start again. I’ll just put the rest of the tools in the shed—”

  “Let me,” Jessie Lee said, sprinting toward him. “I’ll take care of it. You go rescue the city slicker.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Thanks. And tell Granny I appreciate the invitation.”

  He charged toward the piece of junk he was driving. He needed time—and funds—to do an engine overhaul, but for now he held his breath until the vehicle started, then took off in the direction he hoped she’d gone.

  As she walked, Callie’s mind was filled with images and questions. Why would Anna call her with that veiled warning? Anna got along much better with Leslie Carlson, the other attorney who shared Anna’s services, and Callie and Leslie were not friends, never had been. Both were too competitive. Was this a ploy on Leslie’s part to frighten her into coming back before the D.A. was ready for her to? But if Callie stayed in Nowheresville, she left others in her office a clear field. Out of sight, out of mind.

  The D.A. had refrained from firing her only because her record, which up to then had been sterling. You’re the brightest lawyer on my staff, Callie. What were you thinking, withholding critical information? The sky was the limit for you, and now I’ve got a judge raising hell over your behavior. I’ve admired your guts in the past, but you went too far. You’d better thank your lucky stars for that not guilty verdict or you’d be out on the street already.

  Gerald had taken steps to keep Callie’s screw-up quiet, but if she became an open liability, he’d have no choice but to fire her. In addition, she’d lost a high-profile case, which reflected badly on him. So when Gerald had forced a vacation on her in lieu of a suspension, she knew he’d gone as far as he could for her. If she showed up at the office now, especially with a reporter sniffing around, she risked losing everything.

  But the wolves were nipping at her heels, and staying away allowed the rumor mill to continue to grind. You were only as good as your last conviction, and others would view her continued absence as confirmation of her guilt, along with a healthy dose of cowardice.

  Stay away. Go back. The defendant had been guilty, no matter that her witness had been seeking to exact her own revenge for his earlier rape and beating of her. That didn’t change the
fact of his guilt, but one overzealous cop’s behavior during the arrest had gotten crucial evidence of the recent crime excluded from testimony. Without it, the defendant would go on to do more violence, so Callie had made her choice not to reveal the witness’s ulterior motive once she learned of it. Now the defendant was free, and Callie’s efforts to stop him were all for naught.

  “Well, lookee here, Stanley,” came a voice that chilled her.

  Her head whipped around to see a huge pickup roll up beside her. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t heard the bass rumble of its motor. Although the passenger window was down, in the dimming light she couldn’t make out the face.

  There were no houses nearby, no place to run. Callie stood her ground. She’d dealt with thugs before.

  “I do believe we got us the outlander who thought it was one hell of an idea to let that murdering sonofabitch out of jail.” The speaker leaned closer, and she recognized him then.

  Mickey Carson.

  Showing fear was the worst thing you could do with a predator, she’d learned.

  She wasn’t in a position of power now, however, and in the animal kingdom, confrontation could escalate to violence. She had to tread carefully.

  “Got nothin’ to say for yourself, girl? Why don’t you invite the lady to join us, Stanley?” Lady was said with a sneer. “It’s gettin’ dark out here, sugar. We’d best give you a ride to town.”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she managed. “I’m out for the exercise.”

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about your girlish figure. Looks mighty fine to me.” His voice was oily, and even if his eyes weren’t clearly visible, she could feel them run over her body like an unseen hand. She shivered in disgust. She’d been around too many men like this, men who treated women as less than human to feel superior when they were the pathetic ones.