The Listener

Thursday. 3:00 p.m. On the side, she’d scribbled something else. He had to turn the card sideways to read the words.

No excuses.

RYAN TRIED to concentrate the rest of the day but Maria Worley’s image kept interrupting. He fought the dark hair and brown eyes each time they disrupted his train of thought. He didn’t want to think about her. For some crazy reason, it made him feel as if he were being unfaithful to Ginny. Leaning back in his chair, he put his hands behind his head and stared out into the parking lot. The sun was hot and strong, beating into the asphalt and sending shimmers of waves along the blackened surface. He followed their path until they disappeared in the distance.

But could she be right?

Was he heading for disaster?

He immediately dismissed the questions, telling himself he was letting Maria’s sympathetic manner and warm smile get to him. He was fine. He’d been at the range the day before and never missed once. The heart of his paper target had been shredded in seconds, the one-inch circle gone in a puff of smoke. Yet somehow Maria Worley, and her questions, wouldn’t leave him alone.

Everything else aside, he couldn’t deny the logic of her argument. Lena could keep him behind this damned desk until eternity if she wanted to…and she wouldn’t have any qualms about doing so, either. Despite how her obstinacy affected him, he had to admit it was one of the qualities about his boss he appreciated. She was a stand-up person who believed in right and wrong, no matter how tough the situation. He’d watched her face off with men twice her size and mean as hell. Every time, she’d won.

Something told him Maria Worley might be just as stubborn.

But they were both wrong, dammit! He was fine, and furthermore, he didn’t need to talk to anybody about what had happened. Ginny was gone, he was alone, and nothing he could do would bring her back. His throat tightened and burned. That was it. End of story.

With an angry, muttered curse, he turned to the file before him, his front chair legs hitting the floor with a screech. The report was on last week’s situation. The one he’d spied on.

Flipping past the paperwork that meant nothing but was always required, he found the on-site notes Lena had taken during the actual confrontation. He skimmed them quickly and saw that his immediate impression had been right on target.

Hearing shots and voices coming from inside the abandoned buildings, the security guard had phoned the local police department. The arriving officers had investigated as much as they could, then had requested support. They couldn’t penetrate the interior of the buildings without being seen. Lena had issued the call, her notes indicating she’d initially ordered a skeleton crew only. That told him a lot; she hadn’t been too concerned but had not wanted to blow it off, either.

He skipped over the minute-by-minute account and found the sheet on the perp. He was only fifteen, and the gun had been the air rifle that Ryan had thought it was. The case was headed for juvie court.

Then something else caught his eye.

Peter Douglas had gone into the building after it had been secured and cleared. Sweeping for evidence, he’d found nothing but half a dozen empty CO2 cartridges, five cigarette butts and two crushed beer cans. He also listed some “miscellaneous drawings,” at the end of the report. It had all been checked into evidence.

Ryan tapped his pencil on top of the desk and reread the last line. “Miscellaneous drawings.” What the hell did that mean? It was probably nothing, but the description bothered him and for no reason other than that, Ryan headed down the hall to the evidence room.

Ten minutes later, he had the box in his hand. Pushing aside the various plastic bags, he came to a larger one with several sheets of crumpled paper inside. He snapped on a pair of rubber gloves then opened it up, removing the sheets and smoothing them so he could get a better look.

They were covered with pencil sketches, the same image depicted over and over. It took him a minute to recognize the stylized birdlike shape and another five to puzzle out where he’d first seen the form. When he did recall, he whistled softly to himself, not understanding fully, but understanding enough.

The drawings were identical to one Maria Worley had framed and hung behind her desk.

CHAPTER FOUR

SATURDAY MORNING Maria got up early and cleaned the house. She hadn’t been able to afford help when she and Reed had first married and now, although she could hire a service or even a housekeeper, she did the chores herself. She liked the rhythm of sweeping and dusting and mopping. It gave her time to think.

Today she didn’t have even that luxury, though. She and Christopher had to be at the police training facility off Highway 30-A by 10:00 a.m. for the rally. She’d promised to meet Lena at the chili dog stand so they could set everything up and be ready by lunchtime. Each hot dog they sold meant more money for Angel’s Attic.

The event had originally been planned to raise community awareness about the local police force and the Emerald Coast SWAT team, but Lena had persuaded her guys—in no uncertain terms—that the gathering also presented the perfect venue to help the shelter. They hadn’t argued.

Maria put away the vacuum cleaner and called up the stairs, one more time, for Christopher. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave in five minutes. Come on down, honey!”

She disappeared into her bedroom to run a brush through her hair and change into a sundress, then she came back out, purse in hand. Christopher was waiting by the stairs, a churlish frown on his face, which Maria ignored. “Ready to roll?”

“I don’t wanna go to this dumb thing.” Under the backward brim of his black baseball cap, his brown eyes were full of sullen anger. Not that many years ago, he’d stared at her in adoration. She found herself wishing he was four again, instead of fourteen.

“Then why don’t you stay home?” Maria spoke calmly as she walked toward the front door. “I told you last night you didn’t have to go.” She turned as she reached the entry. “But if you stay here, you cannot have friends over and you cannot use the phone.”

“I don’t wanna stay here if I can’t talk to anybody.”

She waited by the door and looked at him. “Well, I’m sorry, but those are the rules. You decide.”

Instead of answering her, he glared a bit more, then he crossed the room and pushed past her to walk through the door. With a sigh, Maria followed.

Twenty minutes later they arrived at the camp. Located just outside of town, the setting provided the local police force and, more importantly, the SWAT team with everything they needed to keep in shape, including a work-out facility, a running track and a mock setting where they practiced hard tactic entries. In the rear, there was also a well-equipped shooting range. Lena had brought Maria out once and given her a tour. As she pulled into the gate and began to look for a parking spot, Maria could see they’d added several more buildings since she’d been there. Two enormous white tents had been set up as well, obviously for the rally.

Angling the car under the shade of a nearby oak tree, Maria stepped out of the Toyota and opened the trunk. She’d brought boxes of buns and paper plates along with several cases of chili that she’d purchased the night before. Christopher’s door slammed just as she bent down to lift out the first carton. She called out to him. “Would you come back here and get one of these, please! You can wander off as soon as I get this stuff out.”

He didn’t answer, and yelling his name again, louder than was necessary, Maria leaned over the side of the car. “Christopher! Come back here and—”

Her demand broke off in midsentence. Christopher was nowhere to be seen, but the towering shape of Ryan Lukas stood beside the fender of her car. He was dressed in his SWAT uniform—a tight black T-shirt and black pants—and he looked every inch the intimidating man that he was. Tall, powerful…scary.

“Lieutenant Lukas!” Maria straightened and met his eyes, feeling her face go warm as she did so. Had he heard her yelling for her son? He’d probably grab the opportunity to ask if she did counseling for children. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t see you standing there—”

“Lena sent me out here to look for you,” he said. “She said you had some boxes to carry over to the booth. I can get them.”

It wasn’t a very gracious offer, but under the circumstances, Maria understood. “Yes,” she said, “I do. This is all the food for the hot dog concession…”

He didn’t wait for her to finish but reached into the trunk. Lifting out the largest and the heaviest of the cartons, he tucked it under one arm then reached in and got a second. “I’ll be back for the rest.”

Standing by the car, Maria watched him walk away. Like some kind of dark ghost, he moved without making a sound then disappeared into the sparse crowd. It was uncanny. One minute he was there and the next he was simply gone.

Deciding she’d just as soon carry the rest by herself, Maria pulled out the remaining paper plates and napkins then closed the trunk. Juggling the bags, she started toward the back of the area, one eye looking for Christopher and the other searching for the booth. She found the latter first.

Ryan was talking to Lena as Maria walked up.

“I told you I’d come get those.”

Her gaze met his over the awkward bundles. “It wasn’t a problem,” she answered. “I didn’t want to put you out.”

Ryan’s eyes sparked, then he turned abruptly to stalk away from the booth. The two women watched him blend into the crowd.

“Does he always do that?”

“Act obnoxious?” Lena shook her head. “No, actually, he’s a very nice guy. Or at least he used to be before—”

“That’s not what I meant.” Maria tilted her head in the direction he’d taken. “I mean how he disappears like that. I see him walk away then all at once, he’s gone…. Poof!”

Lena laughed, then raised one eyebrow. “It’s a SWAT trick,” she said. “We have special ploys, you know.”

Maria added her own laughter to Lena’s and they began to set up the booth. As she worked, Maria thought about Lena’s words. In a lot of ways, the SWAT team was special. The stress they faced every day would have killed some men, but time and time again, as Maria had counseled various members, she’d come to realize they actually thrived on the intensity. They were a breed apart. As the sniper of the team, Ryan Lukas was at the top of that chain. He had to be. No other kind of man could have done what he did and survive.

The question was…would he survive?