The Thanksgiving Target

But his sister obviously needed him, too. More than he’d realized.

“Reenlist?” Tara’s big blue eyes widened. “I’m surprised you’re even considering another tour of duty. You’ve put in your time in Iraq, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” He finished his water and placed the empty glass toward the edge of the table, hoping someone would refill it for him. “But there is still a lot of work to be done there. To be honest, my decision was going to depend on Lissa.” His mouth tightened as he thought of his sister.

“Have you called the police officer assigned to her case yet?” she asked.

Max nodded. “I left him a message. I guess he works the day shift.”

“I’m really glad you’re here for Melissa,” Tara admitted, sitting back in her seat with a sigh. “And I’m relieved to know the police are involved. Gary needs to be arrested for what he’s done, and this time, I don’t think Melissa will be able to protect him.”

He scowled, wondering again why Lissa had even gotten mixed up with someone who’d hurt her. He simply couldn’t understand it. He and Lissa had been raised Christian, but maybe Lissa had fallen away from the church, just like he had. Losing Keith had made it impossible to maintain his faith. What had caused Lissa to lose hers? He shook off the depressing thoughts. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. I’ll move in with her and refuse to leave until he’s safe behind bars.”

She laughed, a light musical sound that tightened his stomach in awareness. “Sounds like a great plan to me.”

Their food arrived promptly, diverting his attention from Tara. His mouth literally watered at the wonderful scent of his burger and fries, and he hoped he wasn’t being too much of a pig as he heartily dug in to his meal.

Tara didn’t seem to mind. She was enjoying her grilled chicken just as much. “This is delicious. Thanks for inviting me,” she said between bites.

He knew he was the lucky one, sharing this meal with her. He wanted to savor the food and the time with Tara, drawing them out for as long as possible. But she was nearly finished, so he polished off the rest of his burger quickly.

“Are you up for dessert?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head with an amused grimace. “Sorry, nothing for me, thanks. I need to get home. My poor dog is going to be sitting at the door wondering where I am.”

He understood she didn’t want to linger and signaled for the waiter to bring the bill. “What kind of dog do you have?”

“A cute little Westie. A West Highland white terrier,” she clarified at his puzzled look. “His name is Beau. I rescued him from the local shelter a couple years ago.”

“Well then, let’s not keep Beau waiting, especially if he’s been home alone all day.” He paid for the meal with cash, and thinking of Melissa living off her tips, he left a hefty sum.

“Well, I do have a neighbor lady, Mrs. Henderson, who comes over to let him out at lunchtime for me. She has a key and lets him out in the early evening too if I’m working late,” Tara said over her shoulder as they left the restaurant.

“Which way to your house?” he asked, feeling much better with food in his belly. Now if only Lissa would get well, he’d be happy. Or at least content. Was it selfish of him to want her home from the hospital in time for Thanksgiving? Maybe. “Should we walk, or do we need to catch another bus?”

“We can walk. It’s only about six or seven blocks from here.” She headed off in the opposite direction from where Lissa’s apartment building was located. She stopped and glanced at him. “If you’d rather head back to the hospital, I’d certainly understand.”

“Ma’am, it might be only six or seven blocks but it’s ten-thirty at night. I’ll walk you home. There’s no way in the world I’m leaving you alone at this hour.”

“If you want me to call you Max, then you should probably stop calling me ma’am,” she pointed out, as they headed down the street. “You’re making me feel old.”

“Old?” he chuckled, a rusty sound even to his own ears. “You’re young, probably the same age as my sister.”

She arched a brow at him. “I’m a couple years older than Melissa,” she corrected in a prim tone.

“Still very young.” Especially when lately he’d felt as if he were a hundred years old. Maybe in part because he’d seen things no man should have to endure. Despite the hardships, he firmly believed freedom was worth the effort.

Tara set a brisk pace, and he wasn’t sure it was because she was cold or because she was anxious to get rid of him. He couldn’t blame her if she felt uncomfortable being in the dark alone with him. After they walked several blocks she lifted her hand and pointed. “My house is over there, the third one from the corner.”

“The little red brick house with the white trim and black shutters?” he asked.

“Yes.” As they approached, she frowned. “I wonder why Beau isn’t barking his head off by now. Usually he hears me coming long before this.”

An icy chill snaked down his spine, and he grasped her arm. “Tara, wait. Maybe I should go up first.”

Tuning in to his abrupt wariness, she sucked in a quick breath. “Why? You think something happened to Beau?”

He couldn’t explain his trepidation, and he held on to her arm, bringing her to a halt. “Give me your key,” he commanded.

She handed it over, and he swept a glance over the area, making sure no one was lurking around.

He put the key in the lock and turned the doorknob, slowly pushing the door open. The house was eerily silent. From where he stood outside, he stretched until he could slide his hand over the inside wall of her foyer, seeking the light switch.

“Stay here.” The area flooded with light, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign that the dog wasn’t lying there on the floor directly in front of the door.

“No way. I’m coming with you.”

He wanted to argue, but then he heard it—a little whimper of sound.

“Beau?” Tara must have heard it, too, and she pushed past him, rushing down the hall into the kitchen, with blatant disregard of her own safety.

“Wait!” He grit his teeth with anger and followed, intent on keeping her out of harm’s way.

“Oh, no. Beau!”

When he rounded the corner, he saw what had caused her cry of distress. Beau was lying on his side—obviously sick, unable lift his white, fluffy head off the floor.

“Beau?” Feeling helpless, he watched Tara anxiously kneel beside her dog, gently gathering his limp body into her arms. She cradled him against her chest, nuzzling his head with her face as she stood. “What happened? Are you sick?”

“Here, let me take a look at him.”

She obviously didn’t want to let Beau go, so Max simply placed his large palm over the dog’s chest to check his pulse, relieved to feel the thready, irregular beat. “I think we need to get him to a vet as soon as possible.”

“The emergency clinic isn’t far.” Tara took a step toward the door but then stopped, her expression stricken. “I don’t have my car.”

No car. And a ride on the bus would take too long, if they even allowed a dog on the city bus. He quickly considered their options. “Does Mrs. Henderson have a car?”

“Yes.” Tara looked relieved and instantly rushed outside, headed straight for the house to the right, a robin’s egg–blue Cape Cod. She lifted her hand and pounded on the door.

After what seemed like a long time, the door was opened by a squat, round woman wearing thick glasses and a bright purple fuzzy robe. “Tara? What is it?”

“Beau is sick. My car has a flat tire, so will you let me borrow yours to take him to the vet?” Tara spoke loudly, making Max suspect Mrs. Henderson didn’t hear too well, and clutched the dog close to her breast as if it were her child. Max understood Beau was important to her. “Please? I promise to bring it back soon.”

“Sure, but what happened?” The woman opened her door and gestured for them to come in. “Beau was fine when I let him out about an hour ago.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he ate something that made him sick.” Tara looked impatient, and Mrs. Henderson must have noticed because she hurried over to her purse and dug out her car keys. Tara snatched them from her grasp. “Thank you so much. I’ll reimburse you for the gas.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just take good care of Beau.” The woman’s expression was one of concern.

Tara nodded. He reached over and took the keys from her. “Why don’t you let me drive?”

She didn’t argue and hurried out to the garage to Mrs. Henderson’s large, ancient green Buick. He closed the passenger door behind her and then hustled around to the driver’s side. He backed carefully out of the driveway. “Which way?”

“To the right, then left at the corner.” Tara gave him directions, dividing her attention between the road and her dog.

Her love and worry for her pet was obvious. He assumed she lived in the house alone with only Beau as a companion. The news that Tara might not have a man in her life made him secretly relieved; yet he knew it shouldn’t matter. Not when her dog was sick and his sister barely clung to her life in the ICU.

This wasn’t the time to think about the pretty social worker on a personal level. Hadn’t he learned his lesson before? He’d discovered the hard way that gratitude wasn’t the path to finding love and commitment. Besides, his future wasn’t his own; he’d be back in Iraq before long. He pushed the inappropriate thoughts of Tara away and centered his attention on the road.

“There, on the right. That’s the emergency vet.”

He saw the building she indicated and pulled into the driveway. He’d barely pulled the Buick to a stop when she jumped out of the car.

“Wait,” he called, but she disappeared behind the glass doors without a backward glance. He sat there, wondering why he was here at the vet when he should be at the hospital sitting beside Lissa. His sister should be his highest priority.

Yet he couldn’t simply abandon Tara. Not until he knew her dog was okay. She’d supported Lissa at the hospital, had tried to help his sister in the past, too. Tara deserved at least a little support.

Besides, he’d left his duffel bag on the floor of her foyer, so he’d have to go back there anyway. Rubbing the exhaustion from his face, he turned off the car and walked into the building.

Tara and Beau were already in the back, seeing the vet. Watching them in deep conversation made him hesitate, but then he decided he’d barged into her life this much, he may as well go for broke. He approached the desk. “I’m with Tara and her dog, Beau.”

“Oh, sure. Come on back.” The secretary/receptionist buzzed him through, and he found Tara, her blue eyes luminous with tears.

“I don’t understand how this could have happened,” she was saying in a low husky tone. “My neighbor Mrs. Henderson lets him outside for me, but she wouldn’t hurt him. And I don’t think she takes him out of the area between our yards. Are you sure he couldn’t have simply eaten something bad? Something poisonous to dogs?”

“I’m sure.” The vet was an older man with a kind, gentle expression. “Leave him with me, and I’ll have him fixed up just fine in a few days. You can call to check on him anytime.”

Tara didn’t say anything for several long minutes but then swiped more tears from her face as she nodded. “All right. Please take good care of him for me.”

“I will,” the vet promised.

She turned and nearly stumbled into him. Max lightly grasped her shoulders, holding her steady. “Tara? What is it? What happened to Beau?”

“He was given some sort of sedative,” she whispered, her voice strained to the point of nearly breaking. “The vet believes someone drugged him on purpose.”

THREE

Numb from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, Tara sat beside Max in the car, her throat thick with overwhelming sorrow. She’d almost lost Beau. Her poor little puppy. Beau wasn’t exactly a puppy, since she’d gotten him from the shelter a few years ago, but he was so cute and still a puppy at heart. He’d always be her puppy, full of fun and energy, constantly happy to see her.

Her eyes filled again. Beau had helped keep her grounded after Ted died. She didn’t know what she’d do without him. Beau just had to survive. She closed her eyes and silently prayed that God would allow Beau to recover quickly.

It took her a few minutes to realize Max had stopped the car and was looking at her expectantly. She glanced outside, realizing with a start they were home.

Or at least at Mrs. Henderson’s house.

“Tara? Are you okay?”

She shook her head but opened the car door and climbed out. Max moved fast. He met her before she could get too far. “Don’t go home yet,” he said, capturing her arm. “Not without me. Give me a minute to return Mrs. Henderson’s car keys.”

It was easier to obey than to think. She nodded.

Standing on the narrow grass lawn between her house and Mrs. Henderson’s, she shivered and clutched Max’s camouflage jacket tighter around her shoulders. Beau had looked so sick. She missed him already.

“Tara, I’m going to go through your house. Wait outside for me.”

She gave another weary nod as she huddled beneath his jacket. She couldn’t even imagine what Max might find. Yet she also couldn’t imagine why anyone would try to hurt Beau, either.

“You can come in now. There’s no one here. But I do want you to take a look around, to see if anything looks out of place.”

Reluctantly, she mounted the steps and headed inside to meet him. Trying to tell herself she was being ridiculous, she started in the living room, seeing nothing unusual, before heading into the kitchen where she’d found Beau. His food and water bowls were empty; she only fed him once a day in the morning. Max stood silently off to the side as she gazed around.

“Everything seems fine,” she said, helplessly lifting her shoulders. “I don’t see anything wrong.”

“Okay, but double-check the bathroom and bedrooms too, just to make certain. I’ll take another quick look outside and then meet you back here.”

She did as Max asked, but there too, everything seemed to be the way she’d left it. She was a neat person by nature, and nothing was amiss. In her room, she collapsed on the side of her bed for a moment, suddenly exhausted. Her feet ached, and she longed to change into more comfortable clothes. She still felt numb, but some of the effect was beginning to wear off. As much as she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pull a pillow over her head to forget all the troubles of her day, she forced herself to stand and return to meet Max in the kitchen.

His face was somber and she instantly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I found this outside in the backyard, at the base of your small maple tree.” He gestured to a shredded fast-food wrapper with less than half a hamburger inside. “Somehow, given how neat and tidy your home is, I doubt you left it out there.”

No, she hadn’t. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard, understanding why he’d looked so serious. “You think the vet is right? Someone hid some drugs in the sandwich and left it for Beau?”

“I think it’s possible. Call the police.” His voice held the unmistakable tone of a command. “I’m sure they can test what’s left of this for potential drug residue.”

The police. They already knew about her tire-slashing episode. What would they think now? At first, when she’d thought someone was following her, they hadn’t been too concerned. But then finding her car with all four tires slashed, she’d garnered more attention. And now poor Beau.

Why? How could this happen? What had she done to become someone’s target? She supposed she should be glad that Max had found the fast-food wrapper outside, which might indicate that whoever had tried to harm Beau hadn’t been inside her house.

Yet she still felt very alone and far too vulnerable.

“Tara?” Max’s expression now held concern. “Are you all right? Did you hear me? Beau will be fine, but you need to call the police.”

“I heard you.” She pulled herself together with an effort. She didn’t like taking orders from Max, but she couldn’t afford not to call the police, either. “I will. Thanks for following me home. I don’t know what I would have done without you. But I know you’re worried about Melissa. I don’t want you to feel as if you need to hang around. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated, and she suspected he realized she was kindly trying to get rid of him. She didn’t think Max was the type to push his company on anyone—the way he’d so nicely asked her to dinner proved that. But he had insisted on following her home on the bus. He was the type of man who clearly took his role as protector very seriously.

He was only being nice, yet she suddenly felt very guilty for inviting him into the home she’d shared with her husband.

“Tara, I’d really rather wait until the police arrive. What if whoever did this is still hanging around somewhere close by?”

She bit her lip, wondering what to do. If she allowed Max to stay, then he’d end up hearing the whole story of what had been happening to her. And as much as she appreciated everything he’d done for her up until this point, she didn’t want to burden him with her problems.

She couldn’t help but glance toward her kitchen window over the sink, the one that overlooked her backyard. The image of the man with a ball cap following her as she went out for lunch last week rushed to the forefront of her mind. Was he the one who’d done the damage to her car tires? If she told Max about the guy, he would for sure refuse to leave. The memory of the man made her clench her fists, frightened to be alone.

This indecisiveness wasn’t like her. She needed to pull herself together, to create some sort of plan. Max was right. She absolutely needed to report this new development to the police. “Okay, you can stay for a bit.” She went to the phone and dialed the nonemergency St. Louis P.D. number that she now knew by heart. “Once I’m finished, I’ll make coffee.”

But Max was already shaking his head, making his way to the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen where her coffeemaker was located. “No, I’ll do it. You’ve had a rough day. Sit down. I’ll take care of everything.”

As before, his thoughtfulness brought a lump to her throat. How did his kindness manage to touch her so deeply? She didn’t want to think about Max, so she focused her attention on trying to fix her problems instead.

After giving the dispatcher on the other end of the line her information, she hung up and did as Max suggested, sitting down to put her feet up. She watched him working in her kitchen, realizing she was in danger of becoming too accustomed to Max’s calm, reassuring presence.

He was Melissa’s brother, here to look after his sister, not her. He was home for only a few weeks.

She’d learned a long time ago that it was better to stand on her own two feet rather than to lean on someone else. And despite how Max suddenly seemed to make himself at home in her house, she knew full well it would only be a matter of time before she’d be alone again.

The police arrived on her doorstep mere minutes after she’d placed the call. Either they were having a slow night or the police file on her had grown so thick she warranted a high-level response.

She found herself hoping for the former reason. The latter would indicate she had every reason to be afraid.

The two officers introduced themselves as Officer Anderson and Officer Schimberg. Officer Anderson was tall and thin, while Officer Schimberg was short and stout.

They asked her endless questions, going over the events again step-by-step. They walked through her house and then went outside to look around her back yard. As Max predicted, they took the food wrapper and the remains of the hamburger and promised to test it for residue.

“Ms. Carmichael, it’s highly likely these events, the man following you, the tire slashing and this possible drugging of your dog have all been done by the same perpetrator,” Officer Anderson said with a serious frown.

“Yes, I know.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Max’s scowl as he listened, but thankfully he didn’t interrupt.

“Are you sure you can’t give us a better idea who to look for? Some guy you’ve jilted?” Officer Schimberg asked. “Anyone at work that might have held a grudge against you?”

“I told you before that I’m not seeing anyone. My husband passed away just a little over a year and a half ago. Many of my clients aren’t happy with me, but I can’t think of anyone who would do something like this.”

“Which client has been the most unhappy with you lately?” Officer Anderson persisted.

She hesitated and then reluctantly admitted, “Tyrone Adams.” As much as she didn’t want to think Tyrone was capable of such cruelty, the young man was a different person under the influence of drugs. Could the mystery man with the blue baseball hat be Tyrone? She hadn’t gotten a good look at him to be sure.

“We’ll have a chat with Tyrone,” Officer Anderson said, looking happy to have at least one suspect.

“What about Lieutenant Forrester?” Officer Schimberg shot a suspicious glance at Max. “How long have you known him?”

She felt her face flush. “I only met Lieutenant Forrester tonight. His sister is a client of mine, and she’s sick in the hospital.”

“I just arrived home from Iraq today,” Max spoke up, seemingly not offended to be considered a possible suspect for the second time that evening. “I was on the AirTran Airways flight from Germany to St. Louis, with a layover in New York. My superiors will gladly verify my story.”

“Write down the name and phone number of your commanding officer, if you don’t mind,” Officer Anderson suggested.

Max did as requested, despite her protests.

After Max handed over the information, there was a moment of silence before the two officers exchanged a resigned look as they made their way to the door.

“Ms. Carmichael, we’ll check on Tyrone, but just in case he’s not the guy, you need to go through every single one of your clients, listing every possibility no matter how unlikely,” Officer Anderson said in a serious tone. “Please call us once you have the list.”

“I will.” Tara stood and followed them to the door. “Thanks for coming.”

Officer Anderson and Officer Schimberg left, and she closed the door behind them, warily turning to face Max. His expression was dark, like an impending storm.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re being stalked?” he demanded, in a tone that was soft yet edged in steel at the same time.

“Because I didn’t know for sure.” She didn’t like sounding so defensive. “I didn’t really believe it, not until I saw poor Beau. Regardless, it’s really none of your business, is it? Thanks for staying, but it’s late and I’m tired. I’ll see you at the hospital in the morning.”

Her hint for him to leave was anything but subtle. He silently stared at her for a long moment and then leaned his hips back against her kitchen counter and crossed his strong arms over his chest. “You have fifteen minutes to pack a bag.”

“What?” She gaped at him.

“Tara, I’m not leaving you here alone with some stalker on the loose. I’m going to find a hotel close to the hospital to spend the night, and I think it’s best if you come with me.” He must have read the frank panic in her eyes because he hastily added, “Not in the same room, of course. At least in a hotel you’ll be safe from harm.”

Admittedly, the idea held a certain appeal. Not from a financial perspective, but at least she’d be close to the hospital, able to keep an eye on Melissa. And if she stubbornly insisted on staying in her house, she doubted she’d get any sleep. She’d no doubt lie awake, frighteningly aware of every sound.

But going with Max would be a risk. She was already feeling too close to him. Too grateful for his protection.

She barely knew him.

Her silence was obviously wearing on him, since his tone grew impatient. “This guy knows where you live. He tried to get rid of your dog and probably already knows Mrs. Henderson is hard of hearing. What’s to stop him from showing up in the middle of the night? He almost killed Beau. How do you know he won’t feel more desperate the next time he shows up?”