The Lawman’s Nanny Op Page 4

  At five o’clock she knocked off working and went inside to shower and change for dinner with her mother.

  As usual, a faint edge of dread coursed through her as she thought of spending time with her mother.

  Doris Perez was a bitter woman who had never gotten over her husband walking out on her and with each year that had passed, her bitterness had grown.

  It was duty that drove Portia to the weekly dinners. Her mother had no friends, her health was failing and Portia was an only child. She loved her mother, but there were times she didn’t like her very much.

  At six she got into the car to head to her childhood home eight miles away. As she drove she thought of the brief kiss she’d shared with Caleb. It had stunned her to realize that after all these years there was still magic in his kiss. His lips had held an intoxicating warmth, a faint edge of hunger that had excited her.

  Although she’d halted it before it had gotten too deep, too breathtaking, there had been a part of her that had wanted to pull him back into her house, take him to her bed and make love with him. But the rational part of her knew that would be inviting heartache back into her life.

  As she turned down the tree-lined, narrow country road that would eventually lead to her mother’s farmhouse, she couldn’t help but admire the play of the evening sunshine through the trees.

  It wouldn’t be long and the leaves would begin to turn red and gold and fall to the ground. Portia loved autumn, but it was always in that time of the year when she thought of the babies she wanted— not babies who belonged to somebody else that she watched during the day, but rather babies that were from her heart, a twenty-four-hour part of her life. The fall always reminded her that another year was about to pass and she still wasn’t pregnant.

  “You have to find a husband before you can have babies,” she said aloud. Although she knew some women chose to be single moms, that wasn’t a choice she wanted to make.

  As the daughter of divorced parents and as someone who hadn’t had a relationship with her father since he’d walked out on them, she wanted her children to have something different, something more.

  Her mother sat in a rocking chair on the front porch. The swing where Caleb and Portia had spent so many nights of their high school years had been taken down years ago.

  As Portia pulled up in front of the house and parked, her mother stood. Doris Perez would be an attractive woman if bitterness hadn’t etched frown lines into her face.

  “Hi, Mom,” Portia said as she got out of the car.

  “About time you got here. I imagine the salad is soggy by now.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine. I told you I’d get here around six-thirty.” Portia joined her mother on the porch and gave her a quick hug.

  “Come on in and let’s eat,” Doris said. “When your father was here we always ate at five o’clock sharp. I’m not used to eating this late.”

  It was the same litany every time Portia had dinner with her mother. She swallowed a sigh as she followed Doris into the cheerless kitchen, where the table was already set.

  As Portia slid into the chair where she’d sat every night for meals while growing up, Doris opened the oven door and took out a homemade chicken potpie.

  “How’s work?” Portia asked once they were both seated at the table and eating.

  Doris scowled. “I never thought I’d have to work. If your father hadn’t left I would be spending my days having lunch with friends and puttering around the house instead of selling cosmetics to snotty teenagers at the local five-and-dime.”

  “You only work four days a week. That still leaves you three days to putter around and have lunch with friends,” Portia countered.

  Doris didn’t reply, but Portia knew the truth: her mother had chased off all her friends long ago with her negativity.

  “Did you hear about them finding Brittany Grayson’s car in the Miller barn?” Portia asked.

  “I heard.” Doris shook her head. “Terrible thing. You know that poor girl is probably dead.”

  Portia’s heart constricted as she thought of Caleb grieving for his sister. “I hope not.”

  “Have you heard any more on the break-in at your place?”

  “I spoke to Caleb this morning about it. He mentioned that Dale Stemple just got out of prison. Remember him? I turned him and his wife in for child abuse.”

  Doris nodded. “A nasty piece of work, that man was. I always thought he probably beat up on Rita, too. She acted like she was half-scared to move or talk whenever I saw her.”

  “Of course we have no idea if Dale is even back in town or not,” Portia replied.

  “I’m sure Caleb has other things on his mind with his sister’s car being found,” Doris replied with a knowing gaze. “But the way I remember it you were always on a back burner when it came to Caleb Grayson. He’s just like your daddy. Loves the women.”

  “Mom, please, that was all a long time ago. Why don’t we talk about something a little more pleasant?” Portia exclaimed. The last thing she wanted to do was rehash Caleb’s betrayal of so long ago.

  For the rest of the meal they talked about the kids in Portia’s day care, local gossip and the winter months that weren’t so very far away.

  After eating, Portia helped her mother clear and wash the dishes. “You aren’t leaving right away, are you?” Doris asked when the dishes were finished. “I thought I’d fix some coffee and you could maybe help me on my newest puzzle.”

  Although the last thing Portia wanted to do was spend another hour or so working on a jigsaw puzzle with her mother, she agreed. In truth, Portia felt sorry for her mother, who spent her evenings working puzzles and hating the man who had left her so long ago.

  There had been no secrets in the Perez family. Doris had shared with her daughter at a very early age that her father, Pete, had not been faithful. There was a part of Portia that resented that her mother had made her party to adult issues when she should have been a carefree, happy child.

  She remembered her father as a big, affable man with a booming laugh and big, strong arms. When she’d been young she hadn’t understood why when he’d left her mother, he’d also left her. As an adult she suspected that her father had been unable to sustain a relationship with Portia because that would have meant he’d have had to deal with his ex-wife.

  He’d paid child support every month until Portia turned eighteen, and to this day Portia wondered if she would ever see him again.

  It was almost ten and dark outside when her mother walked her out on the porch to tell her goodbye. Portia hugged her mother and wished things could have been different for her, wished that Doris had found some sort of happiness in her life, but she’d clung to her bitterness like it was a warm familiar lover and had refused to let it go.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow night,” Portia said as she headed to her car.

  It was a beautiful night. The temperature had dropped to a pleasant level and as Portia started her car she rolled down the windows for the drive home.

  The road she travelled between her mother’s house and her own was a narrow two-lane stretch of highway that was rarely used and lined with thick-trunked old trees.

  The night air drifted through the window and caressed her face. She turned the radio on and tuned it to her favorite oldies station.

  Portia hadn’t gone far when she noticed the headlights of another vehicle approaching quickly behind her. Irritation surged up inside her as the truck drew close and its brights shimmered in her rearview mirror.

  “Jerk,” she muttered and flipped the mirror up to diminish the blinding glare. “Dim your lights.”

  Before she had her hand firmly back on the steering wheel she felt a jarring bang. “Hey!” she cried as she realized she’d been hit from behind.

  She started to brake, assuming that it had been an accident, but before she could she was hit again, this time with enough force to wrest the steering wheel out of her hands.

  A single moment of panic soar
ed through her as she realized her car was out of control and one of those beautiful, big oak trees was directly in front of her.

  She heard the impact just before her head snapped forward and made contact with the steering wheel and darkness sprang up to grab her.

  Caleb had just shucked his jeans to go to bed when his cell phone rang. It was the deputy on duty, Sam McCain. “What’s up, Sam?” Caleb asked.

  “I just got a call from Gus Swanson. He and his wife were driving down Old Pike Highway and found Portia Perez’s car wrecked and her unconscious. They’re near Doris’s place and I’ve called for an ambulance, but thought you might want to know.”

  Sam had barely gotten the words out of his mouth before Caleb hung up. He grabbed his jeans and pulled them back on, his heart thundering with urgency.

  He snatched his car keys and was on the road within seconds. Unconscious: that didn’t sound good. What had happened? He knew that stretch of highway was narrow, but Portia had driven it enough times to know it like the back of her hand.

  So, what had happened? How had she wrecked? And how badly was she hurt? He squeezed the steering wheel tightly and stepped on the gas, unable to get to the scene fast enough.

  No matter what their past, Portia had never moved far out of his heart. Even the love he’d thought he’d had for Laura hadn’t rivaled what he’d once felt for Portia.

  As always, thoughts of Laura created a hot ball of anger in his chest. What she’d done to him was unforgivable and even though it had been a little over a year ago, the rage he felt toward her hadn’t diminished.

  But he couldn’t think about that now. He had to get to Portia.

  His heart nearly stopped as he rounded a curve and came upon the scene. The front end of Portia’s red car was smashed against a tree trunk.

  Gus Swanson and his wife, Martha, stood next to the car and Portia was prone on the ground next to them. A sigh of relief escaped Caleb as he saw Portia raise a hand to her head. At least she was conscious now.

  He jumped out of his car and approached at the same time he heard the sound of a siren in the distance. Good, the ambulance would be here within moments.

  The air bag had deployed and as Caleb assessed the damage to the front of her car he knew her seat belt and the air bag had probably saved her life.

  “Caleb.” Gus greeted him with obvious relief. “She’s conscious now but she was unconscious when we found her. We didn’t want to move her but were afraid to leave her in the car with all the hissing and smoke.”

  “Did you see what happened?” Caleb asked.

  “No, it must have happened just before we got here,” Gus replied.

  As the sound of the ambulance siren grew louder, Caleb hurried toward the car. Martha nodded to him as he approached Portia.

  Her forehead was red and sporting a big lump, her face was as pale as the moonlight overhead and her eyes were big and vaguely unfocused.

  A band squeezed his chest as she once again reached a hand up and rubbed her forehead. “I’m fine,” she said before he could say a word. “I just want to go home.”

  “You’re going straight to the hospital,” he replied, worried when she once again closed her eyes. “Portia, can you tell me what happened?”

  Her eyes fluttered open once again and in the bright silver moonlight he saw the fear that darkened the hazel depths. “Somebody hit me from behind and I spun out of control.”

  At that moment two paramedics moved in to get her on a stretcher. Caleb stepped back to allow them to do their job.

  When she was loaded up Caleb walked at her side to the open door of the ambulance. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he told her as they were about to load her into the vehicle.

  “Caleb, someone hit me on purpose. It was a pickup truck and it rammed me not once, but twice. Definitely on purpose.” With that, she was loaded in and Caleb watched the ambulance pull away.

  Her words rang inside his head like a deafening bell. On purpose. Was it possible she was confused about what had happened?

  He thanked Gus and Martha for their help and then grabbed a flashlight from the back of his car. He approached Portia’s wrecked car once again and shone the light on the back bumper.

  There was no question that it had been hit from behind. The back bumper was smashed in as well as a portion of the trunk. He leaned closer and noticed flecks of black paint on the bumper.

  When he straightened, a chill waltzed up his spine. If what Portia had told him was true, and the physical evidence certainly supported her story, then he wasn’t investigating a hit-and-run accident, he was investigating a case of attempted murder.

  Chapter 4

  Portia just wanted to go home. She’d been X-rayed and examined by the doctor and now sat alone on the examining room table waiting the doctor’s return with the results.

  Her head ached. Heck, her entire body felt as if it had been beaten by a gang of thugs with bats and she just wanted the comfort of her own bed.

  The room was cool, Portia being clad only in the open-backed gown. But she didn’t know if her chill was from the room temperature and her attire or thoughts of what had happened out on the road.

  She heard footsteps approaching and breathed a sigh of relief. Good, maybe she was finally going to be released. The curtain swung open and Caleb came in.

  “I thought you were the doctor here to release me,” she said.

  “He’s looking at your X-rays now. You feel up to answering a few questions?” He stepped closer to her and his eyes radiated with a sympathy that made her suddenly feel like crying.

  “Okay,” she replied and wrapped her arms around her middle, seeking some warmth. Her chill intensified as she prepared herself to answer his questions.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst I’ve ever felt in my life, I’m about a twelve,” she replied. “I’m sore in places I didn’t know I had muscles.” And scared, she mentally added. As she thought of those moments on the dark, narrow highway when the truck had hit her, fear overwhelmed any soreness in her body.

  “Before they loaded you in the ambulance, you said whoever hit you did it on purpose.” His gaze was intense as it lingered on her.

  “He did.” The chill intensified. “It was a truck. I’m pretty sure it was a pickup. It tapped me in the rear end the first time but I managed to maintain control, then it hit me again harder and the wheel spun out of my hands.” A sob crept up the back of her throat, but she swallowed hard against it.

  She was surprised to realize that what she wanted more than anything at the moment was Caleb’s strong, warm arms around her. But she had to remind herself that it had been years since she’d found comfort in his arms.

  “Could you see the driver?”

  “No, it was too dark and whoever it was had the brights on. There was a terrible glare. But it was definitely a dark-colored truck.”

  “Black,” he replied. “There were black paint chips on your bumper.”

  “Gee, that should narrow things down,” she said wryly. Half the men in Black Rock drove black pickup trucks. “Joe drives one,” she said suddenly.

  “I’ll check it out. Whoever hit you will have damage on their vehicle. We’ll alert all the body shops in the area and check every truck that fits the description.”

  At that moment Dr. Debar walked in. “Caleb,” he said with a nod. “If you could excuse us, I need to talk to my patient.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind if he stays,” Portia replied. She doubted that the doctor had any information about her condition that she’d hate for Caleb to hear.

  “You’ve suffered a mild concussion. I’d like to keep you overnight for observation,” Dr. Debar said.

  “No, I don’t want to stay. You said it was a mild concussion. I just want to go home,” she replied.

  “You shouldn’t be alone,” Dr. Debar said.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said more firmly. “Please, I really just
want to go home.”

  “You want me to call your mother?” Caleb asked.

  “Are you offering to make things worse?” she retorted. He knew that her relationship with her mother was trying at best. The last person she wanted to deal with at the moment was her mother. “Really, I’m all right. I just want to go home and go to bed.”

  Dr. Debar shrugged and looked at Caleb. “I can’t force her to stay.” He looked back at Portia. “While you get dressed I’ll get your release papers signed, but if you have any dizziness or nausea you need to come right back.”

  Portia nodded wearily and breathed a sigh of relief as they left her alone to get dressed. What was happening to her life? She could have died if she hadn’t had her seat belt on, if the air bag hadn’t deployed.

  Had the Swansons saved her life by being there? Had the driver of the truck had intentions of stopping to see if she’d died in the crash? And when the driver had found her still alive, would he have ensured her death somehow?

  This was a nightmare with a very real, but shadowy, boogeyman she couldn’t imagine the identity of. All she knew was that for the first time in her entire life she was truly afraid.

  A glance at the clock let her know it was almost one. If it wasn’t so late she would call Layla and invite her to stay with her, but she hated to bother her friend at this time of night.

  Surely she’d be safe in her own house until morning. She had good locks and strong windows. Still, the idea of being alone for the rest of the night scared her more than she wanted to admit.

  “Are you decent?” Caleb’s voice called from behind the curtain.

  “As decent as I get,” she replied.

  He swept the curtain aside. “You’re all set to go. Dr. Debar said to contact him tomorrow if you feel like you need some pain meds and he’ll call in a prescription.”

  “I don’t need pain meds, I just need you to find out who’s doing this to me,” she exclaimed.