Hearts on the Line

He nodded. “He’ll need it.”

“I’ve got a feeling David will appreciate it, especially when he straightens out his life.” Now she remembered what Brendan had once said about his older brother. He was a man whose word was good as gold. She liked that.

Stepping onto the elevator, Quinn said, “I’m in your debt for showing up when you did. I didn’t know how I was going to get him down from that ledge. I’d run out of ideas.”

“You were doing a pretty good job of keeping him calm. The important thing was that David was still there when I showed up.”

That cocky smile reappeared. “I was afraid he could hear my knees knocking and the sound would drive him over the edge.”

She laughed.

He liked the sound of her laughter—light, musical, as if it danced on the air. “Seriously, if I can do anything for you, return the favor in any way, please let me know.”

“I was just doing my job, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Quinn, and that doesn’t mean I can’t feel indebted to you for your assistance up on the roof, Becca. David was one of my employees, part of my family.”

She turned her head toward him, her ponytail flying to one side with the sudden movement. That drew his attention to her light-brown hair, streaked with blond coloring. Her large hazel eyes focused on him, making him aware of the small confines in the elevator. For a moment his gaze connected with hers, and he became lost in her light-brown depths with green specks.

She blinked, stepping back a pace. “Thank you, but—”

The elevator doors whooshed open and the noise and activity rushed in to remind Quinn of what had just transpired for the past sixty minutes. What she was about to say to him was lost as a big man in a police uniform approached them.

“Becca, you did a good job.” The man looked toward Quinn. “I’m the team leader, Carl Johnson. We’ll need a statement from you, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Fine. I’ll come down to the station later today.” After shaking Carl’s hand, Quinn stepped to the side, seeing his younger brother coming toward him. “Again, thank you, Becca, for your help. If you need anything, let me know.”

As Quinn walked away, he heard the man say to Becca, “We’ll need your report while it’s still fresh in your mind. This one ended good.”

Quinn paused to watch Becca leave with her team leader and another police officer. Quinn still could picture her big eyes, full of life even in the midst of such turmoil and potential death. Her look reminded him of Maggie. The memory of the last time he’d seen Maggie pierced his heart. He shook the reflection from his mind. He had moved on. He wouldn’t go down that path again.

“I hear you had some action this morning.” Brendan patted him on the back. “And you handled yourself well.”

“I told Becca Hilliard that she never has to worry about me applying for her job.” Quinn walked toward the area where he had set up a makeshift office on site. Still fresh in his mind was the first few minutes up on the roof with David. Fear such as he rarely encountered had washed through him until he had said a prayer to God for guidance. Then, as though the Lord had clasped his shoulder and stood next to him, his fear had dissolved and in its place had been a resolve to see David safely down from the ledge. He had known that everything would be all right. Not long after that Becca Hilliard had arrived as though she had been sent from the Lord.

“You need to give a statement.”

“I know. Just give me a few minutes. I need a strong cup of coffee and something sweet.”

Brendan followed him into the room. “Pour me a cup, too.”

“What brings you by?” Quinn handed his younger brother a mug full of hot, strong coffee, then filled a cup for himself.

“Heard about the jumper and came running. Couldn’t see you going through this without me, especially with the trouble we’ve had lately. At first I thought it was connected to that.”

“Nope. David James just lost it. His supervisor called him on being late for work. That sent the man over the edge. He flew at Collins, hit him a few times, then escaped up to the roof, where he threatened to jump.”

“Is Collins okay?”

“Yeah, just a cut lip and probably a black eye.” Quinn lifted his mug to take a sip and noticed his hand shaking. He placed the mug on his desk before he spilled his coffee. “How does she do it?”

“Who? What?”

“Becca. Negotiating.” Quinn clasped his hands together to still their trembling, recognizing the reaction as delayed shock. When he had thought David would jump, all he could think of was the man’s two little girls without their father. Thank You, God, for delivering David safely down. And thank You for sending Becca to help.

“Ah, now it’s just Becca.”

“Stop right there, little brother. After going through something like what happened on that rooftop together, it seems kinda ridiculous to call the woman Ms. Hilliard.”

Brendan lounged against the file cabinet. “She has her own methods of destressing. We all do.”

Quinn knew his brother was referring to people working in law enforcement. He’d been engaged to a woman who had been on the police force until—again his heart twisted with the remembrance of that day Maggie had died. So much for not going down memory lane.

“You’re the boss. Give yourself the rest of the day off. I think you deserve it.”

“So I can go over what happened on the rooftop until I go screaming down the street? No, thank you. I think I’ll stay and work.” This was one of his ways of dealing with stress. Finally, Quinn thought his hand was steady enough to pick up his mug and take a long drink of his much-needed coffee. “How’s Chloe? Have you two set a date yet?”

Brendan chuckled. “I get the picture. No more talking about you. Chloe and I are negotiating when. Definitely Chloe’s the one.”

“I’m glad, since you two are already engaged.”

“How about you? Seeing anyone?”

“Don’t have the time. The fire set me back some. Having to rebuild the shop and barn as well as do all the projects we’re committed to has taken a lot of my extra time.”

“I thought you finished the shop and barn a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes, but…” Quinn let his sentence trail off into the silence. He and his brother knew the real reason he hadn’t dated. Except for the few times Brendan had tried to fix him up since Maggie’s death three years ago, he hadn’t gone out with anyone. Instead, he had thrown himself into his work and his carpentry.

“She would have wanted you to move on, Quinn.”

“I know. I am. Colleen has a friend at the paper she wants to introduce me to. I’m thinking about taking her up on her offer once she returns from Italy for her wedding.”

The second Quinn said that, however, an image of Becca up on the rooftop, totally focused on David, calm and in control, popped into his mind. There’s something about Becca Hilliard that—no, don’t go there. Her job is as dangerous as Maggie’s was, and Maggie’s job killed her.

TWO

Becca took the stairs up to the attic and opened the windows at each end of it to let the cool breeze blow through and the stale air escape out. She had a few minutes before Quinn showed up and she wanted to find her sister’s box of memorabilia to send to her. She’d been promising her for months, and if she didn’t do it now, she would probably forget for another month—especially since her younger sister had just called asking her to send it to her.

Amazed that she still didn’t have the time to do the things needed—after all, both her sister and brother no longer lived at home—Becca headed for the corner where Caitlin had kept her belongings. Her two siblings were gone, so why couldn’t she find enough time to do all that needed to be done?

“Because I have now decided to finish my college degree in psychology on top of trying to solve the rash of recent murders. What did I expect?” she muttered to herself as she dug through the boxes for the one Caitlin had described. Being married to her job didn’t allow a lot of extra time.

In the very back, perched on a rafter, she saw the black square box with her sister’s treasures. Becca stretched over the containers piled in her way. Just a few more inches. She leaned farther forward, lost her balance and started to fall. With quick reflexes, she managed to catch herself by putting her hand down on the rafter while her foot came down hard in the area between two beams. The unfinished part of the floor held for a second, then suddenly her foot plunged down through it, the jagged edges of the wood ripping through her capri pants and digging into her thigh. Pain shot through her.

She swung her leg that dangled from the ceiling in the third bedroom on the second floor, hoping to give herself some momentum to shove herself up out of the hole she was caught in. She couldn’t dislodge herself. She examined the area around her for something to use to drag herself out. Nothing. Frustrated, she slapped her hands on the two rafters, the only firm support around her, and pushed upward. Her leg, caught on something, wouldn’t budge. Again, then again, she attempted to free herself as the pain continued to radiate up her leg.

Finally, in exhaustion she sagged against the wooden beam. Sweat dripped off her face and coated her white shirt. She took a moment to regain her strength while she ran through different scenarios in her mind. The only thing she could come up with was to keep trying and hope eventually sheer force would dislodge her.

The ringing of her doorbell cut into the sound of her heavy breathing. Quinn Montgomery. Maybe her knight in shining armor had arrived—not that she believed in such a thing. She’d learned earlier to depend on only herself and her work with the police department had only confirmed that through the eight years she had been on the force. But she was a practical person and right now she needed help.

The chimes sounded again.

“Quinn! Help!” she yelled, hoping he heard with the windows open. “Help!”

“Becca…” She heard his wonderful, deep voice calling up to her through the window. “Where are you?”

“In the attic. I fell through the floor and can’t get out.”

“How do I get in? Do you have a spare key outside somewhere?”

The very thought appalled her. Why make it easy for a robber to get into her house? She’d be the butt of jokes at the police station for weeks. “No. My neighbor on the left has one.”

“Be right back.”

Even though help was on the way, Becca gave it another try, hating the idea she was trapped in her house, helpless, depending on another for rescue. Still, all she managed to do was press the jagged pieces of wood into her flesh even more. She bit down hard. She hoped she wasn’t bleeding all over her grandmother’s quilt, which covered Caitlin’s bed. Granny would roll over in her grave if she was.

Moments later footsteps pounded up the stairs to the attic. She inhaled in a deep, calming breath, and nearly choked on the dust she’d stirred up. She sneezed, releasing one hand to rub her nose. She must look a wreck with sweat-drenched clothes covered in the dust and dirt from the floor. So much for second impressions.

“Becca?”

Realizing the mound of boxes hid her from his view, she called out, “I’m over here.”

Quinn peered over the stack and, with a sharp gaze, assessed the situation with a quick sweep. “Okay?”

“Except for being embarrassed for putting myself in this position, I’m fine.”

Quinn hefted the boxes out of the way until he could kneel next to her, careful to keep his weight on the rafter he balanced himself on. The worry on his face touched her. For so long she had always been the one who had worried about others. She’d forgotten what it was like to have someone concerned for her.

“I’m adding this to the long list of projects that need to be done around here. This attic flooring needs to be completed.” She patted the beam next to her. “I definitely don’t want to be in this predicament again.” This would now be number one on her least favorite things to happen to her, even before encountering snakes, which she had a healthy fear and respect for.

Quinn grinned. “Probably should be moved up to the top of your ‘to do’ list.” He felt around the edges of the hole.

“I’m caught on something.” She breathed in a whiff of his aftershave and for a few seconds the scent of pine filled her nostrils.

“I’m going below to see if I can push you up through the hole. Do you have a stepladder somewhere?”

“In the garage.”

“I’ll be right back. Hang on.” He rose, chuckling. “No pun intended.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” she said with her own chuckle.

She was sure when she was free she would laugh about this and probably tell the guys down at work about this little adventure—well, maybe she wouldn’t go that far. But right now all she wanted was to hide in the bathroom, wash off the dirt she’d picked up from the floor and change clothes. What a sight she must be! There was a part of her that was amazed she even cared, but she had felt a connection with Quinn the other day that had intrigued her.

In the past she’d had little time for a serious relationship with the opposite sex what with raising her siblings and trying to establish her career at the police department as well as go back to school to finish her degree. She only had another year of part-time college to earn her psychology degree, then she wanted to work on her master’s. She couldn’t see herself being a police detective forever, especially considering how hard it was for her emotionally to shake some cases. She wanted one day to be a counselor. That was why she had joined the negotiation team. That and—

So lost in thought, she gasped when she felt Quinn’s hand on her ankle. The warmth in his fingers momentarily wiped from her mind the past half hour and all she could zoom in on was his touch.

“I see a piece of wood caught on your pants. I’m going to free you then push up. I may have to rip your pants some more.”

“I imagine they are beyond repair. Don’t worry about them,” she said wistfully when she thought of having just removed the price tag from them right before she had put them on an hour ago.

Quinn clambered up the ladder until he could grip the wood. The whole time she was acutely aware of him even though she couldn’t see him—she could hear and feel his presence. Heat singed her face when she pictured how she must look to him.

He finally broke off the jagged piece of wood, giving her leg some more room. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

He shoved while she thrust herself up and out of the hole. She perched herself on the rafter and stared down into the bedroom. Thankfully she hadn’t been right above the bed so Granny’s quilt had escaped any harm.

“Are you all right?” Quinn’s handsome face peered up at her.

She smiled. “I’ll live.”

He climbed down while she checked the gash on her leg. Her nicest pair of capris was, as she’d suspected, totally ruined. She probably needed to go to the doctor and have the wound stitched. Her leg throbbed with pain, which only reinforced her conclusion. She hated doctors, tried her best to stay away, but she knew Quinn would insist. Why, she wasn’t sure. He just seemed that kind of guy.

Quinn appeared by her side. “How bad is it?”

She showed him the gash on her thigh, blood soaking her peach-colored capri pants.

He whistled. “I’ll drive you to the emergency room.”

“No hospitals.”

“You should see a doctor. You need stitches and the wound needs to be cleaned out. I’ve seen enough accidents on the construction site to know a bad one when I see it.”

Her jaw clenched, she tried to stand. “I don’t have a doctor.”

Quinn came to her side to assist. “You don’t?”

She slanted a look at his strong profile as she limped next to him toward the stairs, his arm about her, helping to support some of her weight. “We had a family doctor, but he retired last year. I haven’t had a need to find another.”

“My cousin is a doctor. I’ll call Adam and see if he can see you right away.”

“But—”

He shot her a challenging look, one eyebrow arched.

She clamped her mouth closed, keeping her protest inside. Finally she said, “It’s Saturday,” as though that would change Quinn’s mind.

“I’m calling him at home.”

“I don’t want to bother him at home on his—”

“That’s what family is for. Family helps family.”

Becca could tell by the firm set of his jaw and the intense look in his eyes that she wasn’t going to get out of having Quinn take her to his cousin. And frankly, she didn’t have a better option. Her leg throbbed and the deepness of the gash made it evident she needed help.

Downstairs in her kitchen where she kept her first-aid kit, she sat at her table, opened the container and retrieved a bandage and some peroxide. After calling his cousin, Quinn hovered over her, watching her every move as though if she fumbled he would step in to assist. In the short time she’d known him, she’d gotten that feeling about him. He was a man of action, no wasted motion.

“There. I shouldn’t bleed all over your car.” She snapped her first-aid kit closed.

Again with his assistance, she made her way to his blue truck, which was sitting in her driveway. “How far?” she asked, noticing a red spot on her bandage already.

Quinn glanced at her wound. “Ten minutes. Adam’s meeting us at his office.”

“This is probably not how you thought you would spend your morning.”

He sent her a grin that caused her stomach to flip-flop. “After your leg is taken care of, we’ll pick up where we left off.”

“And that is?”

“With me ringing your doorbell and you answering. Oh, that reminds me—” he delved into the front pocket of his jeans and took out the key to her front door “—this is yours.”

He slipped her house key into her palm, the action almost seeming intimate to Becca. Curling her fingers around the piece of metal, warmed by his touch, she shook that feeling away. When in the world would she have time to date, let alone get serious with someone? Her work took up so much of her day and what was left over was devoted to her classes and finally fixing up the home that should have been renovated years ago.

After having limped around her house for the past hour showing Quinn what needed to be done, in the living room Becca swept her arm wide and asked, “So, what do you think?”

He looked up from the pad he had been scribbling notes on and said, “Let me work up an estimate and get back to you.”

“I know I can’t afford all that needs to be done right away. I was thinking about having the work done in stages with the kitchen—” she glanced skyward “—and now the ceiling in the third bedroom and flooring in the attic done first.”

“Okay, I’ll start with that. I should have something by tomorrow afternoon. I can come by after church with the estimate. Will you be here around one?”

“That’s my day to sleep in and be lazy, so I’ll be here.” Of course, her idea of sleeping in and being lazy was getting up at eight and actually getting to read the Sunday paper, then hitting the books for class, if she wasn’t catching up on a few things that needed to be done around the house.

Contemplating her for a moment, Quinn cocked his head. “Why the kitchen?”

With her leg still throbbing, she decided to sit on the couch and indicated he take a seat, too. “Because I love to cook and hope to do more of it in the future.”

“I do quite a bit of cooking when I have the time.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, learned it from my mother.”

She snapped her fingers. “That’s right. I’ve had some of your mother’s apple pie at the Stagecoach Cafe. Brendan brought one down to the station a while back. It was delicious.” Becca smoothed her hand across another pair of capris, thankful that she was finally able to take off the ruined ones, ripped beyond repair, which she’d promptly thrown away. “Any chance I could get her apple pie recipe?”

His chuckle spiced the air. “It’s a deep, dark family secret. The only way is to become a member of the family.”

The very thought sent her mind whirling with all kinds of possibilities, none unappealing. She tapped her finger against her chin and said, “Hmm. With Brendan engaged…”

His gaze caught hers and for a few seconds sparks flew across the short space that separated them. Then the moment evaporated when Quinn sat up and looked away, clearing his throat. “I’d better be going.”

Reluctantly Becca pushed to her feet, part of her wanting to explore what had just transpired between them. But the other part wanted to run as fast as possible away from him. He could break her heart. She knew he had been engaged several years back and his fiancée, Maggie Nelson, a fellow police officer, had been killed while on duty. From the rumors flying around at the time, Quinn had not taken it well. Was he still mourning Maggie’s death?

“I look forward to hearing from you about the estimate.” She started for the entry hall. “And your cousin was great today. Are you sure he won’t take some money for stitching me up?”

“Adam? No way! We Montgomerys help each other out.”

“But I’m not a Montgomery.”

“But I am and I asked him to help.”

“So he’s honor bound?”

“Yep. It’s nice to have a doctor in the family.”

The grin that spread across Quinn’s face sent her heart beating a shade faster. When he opened the front door, his massive build dominated her entrance and for the strangest reason it seemed so right. “Thanks for all your help today.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll call you tomorrow before coming over.”

As she closed the door, she felt another strange sensation as though she were back in high school waiting for a call from a boy that never came. Instead, her life had been thrown into turmoil with her father being held hostage at the bank he worked at. Twenty-four hours later he had been killed by the gunman and she had become the strong one in her family. Her mother had fallen apart, unable to deal with two young children, ages eight and eleven. A year later her mother had gotten cancer, which had taken her life after a two-year battle with the disease.

The phone blaring startled Becca from her memories. She pushed away from the door and limped toward the kitchen, where she picked up the receiver on the fourth ring. “Hello.”

“Becca, I’m turning down your street. I’ve got a lead on the O’Brien case.”

Sam’s statement completely anchored her in the present. “I’ll be out front.”

Quickly she located her purse and gun, then hurried as fast as she could out onto her porch and down the steps. Sam came to a stop in front of her house. She tried not to favor her injured leg, but she wasn’t totally successful.

“What happened?” Sam asked as he pulled away from the curb.

“You know the statistics about most injuries happening in the home? I’m living proof they’re right. I fell through the floor in my attic.”

Surprise widened Sam’s eyes. “All the way?”

“No, just one leg, but I have a long gash in my thigh to remind me not to hurry when I’m doing something.” She shifted to make herself comfortable. “So what’s your lead?”

“Eddie Stinson was caught robbing a convenience store this week, and guess what? He used the same gun that killed Neil O’Brien. The ballistics report I just read confirmed it.”

“So he’s the killer?”

“No, he’s got an airtight alibi. He was in jail at the time. But he did tell us where he got the gun. It seems Ritchie Stark threw it away, and Eddie decided to retrieve it from the dumpster. No use letting a perfectly good gun go to waste, which was a big break for us.”

“Our Mr. Stark is stepping up in the world. He’s done some shady things in his illustrous past, but murder hasn’t been one.”

At a stoplight Sam peered at her. “That we know of. We have several unsolved cases at the moment, the Sainsbury and O’Brien murders to name a couple.”

“And your dad’s attempted murder being at the top of the list.”