Dangerous Intentions Page 6

  “Is it bad?”

  “The fact we can’t figure out this asshole’s identity is bad,” he said.

  She finally glanced at the words and read them. Her stomach turned, and she swallowed the fear rolling through her. Handing the bag back to Paul, she said, “Would you come inside with me so I can get some clothes? I can’t stay here tonight.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  Shelly made quick work of grabbing a couple changes of clothes and her toiletries to throw in her suitcase while ignoring the two officers working their way through her house with a little brush and a lot of black powder as they searched for fingerprints. She tucked her laptop in the carry case and put it in the suitcase too, since she needed to download some music for Babs. When she came down the hall from the bedroom, she glanced around her home and wanted to cry.

  “I used to love red roses,” she muttered, still able to smell them even though they’d been removed. She made a face and turned toward the door.

  “I swear it, Shelly. I’ll get the asshole,” Paul promised.

  She nodded. “I know you will.” She just prayed it was sooner rather than later. Her nerves couldn’t take much more of this. She shut off the lights as she went through the house to the front door.

  “Call Spenser Security in the morning,” Paul said as he took her suitcase from her and waited for her to lock the front door. “They’re quick, they’re good, and they’re locally owned. They’ll get this place shored up like Fort Knox for you real fast.”

  “Safe?” They walked toward her car.

  “Very.”

  “I will.” She waited until he’d put the suitcase in the back of her SUV. “Thanks for being so fast. I guess I kind of freaked out.”

  He touched her arm. “You did the right thing. Call me anytime. I mean it. Where will you be staying?”

  She blinked at him. Where would she go? “The motel, I guess.” Where else could she go? “Thanks again,” she said, sliding behind the wheel.

  “Why don’t you come stay with me and Celeste? We’ve got the room.”

  “No, thank you. The motel’s fine.” She didn’t want to be around the happy couple. She was feeling too vulnerable right now, and Celeste liked to mother a little too much. Shelly would suffocate in their house. Besides, how could she impose even more on them? He’d run out of the house to her aid once tonight already. She was a big girl and could take care of herself.

  “You sure? You’re always welcome.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the offer.”

  He shut her door, and she started the truck, then watched him get into his unmarked patrol car and drive away. She drove to the outskirts of town and pulled up in front of the SleepyTime Motel. The town’s only motel. Snow was piled in the deserted parking lot, and one dim light glowed from inside the office. She couldn’t stay there. She glanced around, into the darkness beyond the streetlights, and shook her head.

  He could be anywhere. He could be anyone.

  Putting the truck in gear, she reversed, then pulled back out onto the road. She could drive to Walzburg. It was only twenty minutes away, and there was a Hilton there. She stopped at the traffic light on the corner of Main and Maple. She turned her head to look down Maple.

  No, she shouldn’t go there.

  She turned the steering wheel when the light turned green and drove a block along Maple.

  The lights were on. The front drapes were open, but sheers were pulled across so all she could see was the light and the faint flicker of a television off to one side.

  Putting the car into Park, she sat there and stared in the window. She shivered and glanced at the heater knobs. It was on full blast, but it barely took away the chill. The clock on the radio said it was after ten.

  She had no business coming here, but she didn’t want to be alone tonight.

  What would he think of her if she knocked on his door at this time of night?

  She supposed she could go to Celeste and Paul’s, but… She made a face. She’d already said no to his offer, so she didn’t want to go whining to them. And she didn’t want to be with them, she thought as she stared at the pretty house through the falling snow.

  She shut off the car and got out. A wind had kicked up, and she pulled her collar up. She should go to Walzburg. It was wrong to knock on his door. Her feet carried her up the snowy walkway to the front door. The motion detector light popped on over the door, and she squinted against the sudden brightness.

  With a cold, shaky hand, she reached for the doorbell. Just before she pushed it, the door opened.

  “I thought that was your truck out there.”

  She stared down into Dex’s deep blue eyes.

  “Doctor Newman? What’s wrong?”

  Tears filled her eyes, blurring him. “I shouldn’t be here.” Her whole body shook as the day seemed to crash down on her. The kids. Babs being sick again. A man breaking into her house and leaving her creepy letters and flowers.

  Dex backed up his chair and motioned for her to come in. She realized she was standing there, letting cold air into his house, so she stepped inside and out of the way of the door.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked again as he pushed the door closed.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat hurt from trying to hold back the tears.

  “Shelly,” he said in a sharp tone, the first time he’d ever used her first name. “Do you need some help?”

  She nodded then shook her head. “I’m scared,” she said in a rough voice, squeezing out the words she so desperately never wanted to say, because admitting her fear made it seem all so real.

  “Scared of what? Do you need the police?” He moved forward and took her icy hand in his warm one. She couldn’t remember what she did with her gloves.

  “I already talked to them tonight.” The tears broke free and streaked down her cheeks, but she swiped at them with her free hand. “I have a stalker, and he broke into my house today. I don’t want to be alone right now…” The last word came out on a sob, and before she knew it, she was on Dex’s lap, wrapped in his arms, her face tucked against his neck.

  “Shh. You’re okay. You’re safe here.” Dex ran his hand over her hair, down her arm, held her tight against his chest.

  She couldn’t stop crying, so she turned into him, slid her arm around his neck, and let it all out. He was her patient, she shouldn’t be in his arms, but she had no one. Her parents were six hours away, the roads were crap so she wouldn’t drive there now anyway, and besides, she couldn’t worry them with this. She was pushing forty and was so totally alone. How had she wound up this way?

  “Shh, sweetheart,” Dex whispered against her ear. “You’re okay. You’re safe here.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. “I know.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I didn’t know where else to go. The motel was deserted. I’d be the only person there.” She pulled back a little to wipe at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I swear I’m not a wimp or a crybaby. I’m not.” More tears dripped from her eyes.

  “I know. You’re one tough bitch. But everyone gets scared.” He pushed the loosened locks of hair from her cheek.

  She nodded and sat back enough to meet his eyes. “I am a tough bitch.” Her chin wobbled as she fought more tears.

  “You can stay here tonight. I have plenty of room.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Why don’t you get out of your coat, and I’ll get you something to calm you down. You’ll have a little drink of something alcoholic?”

  She nodded. “I think I need it tonight.”

  “Okay. Up you go.” He lifted her off his lap, and his strength startled her.

  But then she almost laughed. “For a guy in a wheelchair, you’re pretty buff.”

  He chuckled. “You’re just in shock. Get warmed up.”

  “I need to get my suitcase. I’ll be right back.” She went out the door and practically ran down the walkway to her car and back with h
er suitcase. When she went inside, Dex was setting a bottle of brandy and a glass on the coffee table. “Do you have wi-fi by any chance?”

  “Yes, I do.” He frowned at her. “You need it?”

  She nodded and set her suitcase down and unzipped it far enough to extract her laptop case. “I promised Babs I’d download new music to her mp3 player before her dialysis tomorrow.” Peeling off her jacket, she toed her boots off, then dropped her coat on top of them by the door. She flipped the deadbolt on the door before she went to the couch.

  “Wrap up in that blanket,” he said, pointing to the crocheted afghan on the back of the sofa. “I’ll light a fire.”

  As she tucked the blanket around her, she watched him wheel over to the fireplace, then she pulled her laptop from the case and opened it before she uncapped the brandy and poured herself a shot or so. Her hands still shook, and she felt frozen to the bones, but at least the tears had stopped. She was surprised she wasn’t a little more mortified she’d just sat in the lap of her wheelchair-bound patient and cried all over him.

  Maybe that would come in the morning.

  Right now, she was relieved to not be sitting alone in a cold motel room.

  “So,” Dex said after a few minutes. “Are you going to tell me about the stalker? Or is that crossing too many lines between patient and doctor?”

  She picked up the glass of brandy and downed half of it in one gulp. The liquid burned a path down her throat right to her stomach, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything but a piece of dried out, tasteless hospital pizza since lunch. “A few months ago an envelope was left for me at reception. It was a letter in a man’s handwriting, and it was rather poetic in describing my hair and eyes and how I brightened this guy’s day.” She blew out a breath and then took another sip of the warming liquid. “I thought I had an admirer. Maybe one of the doctors or orderlies. I figured a dinner invitation would follow before long.”

  Tucking her feet up under her on the sofa, she shivered again. “After about four more letters, all pretty much saying the same thing and left in varying places around the hospital for me, I talked to my friend in the ER who’s married to one of Cooper Valley’s detectives.”

  “Which one?”

  “Paul Jensen.”

  “Paul’s a good cop.”

  Of course, Dex would know him. “Right. I guess he grew up here, too.”

  “Yeah. He was a couple grades behind me, but my dad says he’s highly decorated and respected.”

  Shelly nodded. “Anyway. Paul’s been on the case since then. I turn over all of the notes I get to him. But there’s no evidence to go on. They got some fingerprints off a couple of the envelopes, but whoever it is isn’t in the system.”

  “That’s what you had in the hazmat bag the other day?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. To preserve any evidence, Paul told me to wear gloves and seal it as soon as possible. Not that it helps any,” she muttered.

  “And you’re sure whoever broke into your place is the same person?”

  “He didn’t break in to rob it. Didn’t touch a thing from what I could tell. He just left a bouquet of red roses on my coffee table and another note. I ran out of there when I saw it and called Paul. He came and checked my house, but it was empty. This note though.” She made a face and downed the rest of the drink.

  “What did it say?”

  “The fucking sick bastard says he loves me and I’m his forever.”

  Chapter Six

  The two glasses of brandy should have knocked her on her ass, but Shelly couldn’t sleep. She lay in a comfortable queen-size bed on the second floor of Dex’s house, but every time she shut her eyes, she saw that damn bouquet of flowers sitting on her coffee table.

  A table she’d searched rummage sale after rummage sale to find. An antique she’d refinished herself. She’d never be able to look at it the same way again.

  Dex’s house was old, and every little creak made her jump. Wind battered the window, making it rattle slightly. She sat up on the edge of the bed to peer outside. It still snowed. Three days straight now. It was going to be one long winter. At least she was warm. She wore her sweat suit, and Dex had given her a pair of big wool socks when she realized she’d forgotten in her haste to pack any socks at all. At least she had clean underwear for morning.

  By the time she’d finished telling Dex the details of her stalker notes and had downloaded a couple megabytes of music for Babs, she thought she could sleep. Dex had given her clean sheets for the bed, since he informed her they hadn’t been changed since his parents had left for their Florida home a couple of weeks after his return. This was their house, he’d told her, but they offered it to him since he was now on a limited military disability income.

  Shelly got up and headed for the door. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least go downstairs, sit by the fire, and get on her computer. Mindless games like solitaire often helped her when she had a rare bout of insomnia. She hadn’t checked Facebook in ages. She should see what her old college buddies were up to.

  The hardwood floors were slightly slippery under her socks, so she gripped the handrail as she descended to the main floor. The stairs popped and creaked with every step, and she made a face. No sneaking around old houses. Hers wasn’t so bad since it was all one level and the floors were carpeted.

  Which would make it easier for someone to sneak around and not wake her up.

  A cold shiver went down her spine, and her stomach tensed. God. What if he’d been in there before? While she was home? Asleep, thinking she was safe and sound? She wrapped her arms around herself and stood at the base of the stairs, searching the living room in the darkness for any sign of movement.

  “Doctor Newman?” Dex said from the direction of his bedroom at the end of the hall opposite the stairs.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” Her heart thudded so hard she thought it might choke her.

  “You okay?” A light flicked on in his room. He’d left his door ajar. In case she needed him?

  She moved down the hallway, her stocking-covered feet soundless now on the carpeting. She rapped lightly on the doorjamb.

  “Come on in,” he said, his voice soft and deep.

  She pushed the door open a bit more and leaned against the doorframe. “You wouldn’t happen to have any chamomile tea, would you?”

  On the far side of the room, he lay in the middle of a massive bed, on his side and under the covers, his head propped on his hand. A gooseneck lamp was attached to the headboard above him, casting a halo of light against his blond hair. His shoulders and upper chest, the only parts of him she could see, were bare. Was the rest of him?

  “No. Sorry. Can’t sleep?”

  She shook her head. “You’re comfortable lying on your side like that?”

  “Yep. Only way I can sleep through the night is on my side. If I’m on my back, the pressure hurts after a while, and on my stomach is even worse.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Interesting.”

  He smiled. “What’s keeping you up? I figured the brandy would knock you out since you said you’re a lightweight.”

  She sighed and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I keep thinking about him. The fact he was in my home, in my private space. Every time I shut my eyes, I see those damn roses.” She lowered her hand and shook her head. “I wonder if I’ll ever feel safe again.”

  Dex patted the vacant pillow next to him. “Come here.” Then he lifted the maroon comforter in invitation for her to join him on the bed.

  She crossed the room, passing in front of a picture window, and crawled onto the bed between the ultra soft, forest green sheets. She swallowed hard. She was in bed with a patient. How wrong was this?

  He reached up and shut off the light over his head. “You’re safe here. Go to sleep.”

  She turned her head and tried to see him in the dark. He’d laid his head down on the pillow and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “What?” he asked softly.


  “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “I know. We’ve established that. Your secret is safe with me. Go to sleep.”

  Her heart squeezed a little. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see that he was looking at her. The window was on her side of the bed, and a bit of streetlight glow filtered into the room through the semi-sheer drapes.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  She shrugged. “Everything. Showing up here in the middle of the night. Laying my problems on you. Crying all over you. I feel…stupid.” Her voice hitched, and her eyes burned with tears once again. “I don’t have any friends,” she admitted through a tight throat.

  “Yes, you do. Everyone has friends.”

  She rolled over on her side, away from him, because the tears were coming again, and it embarrassed her. She wasn’t a crybaby, but the last couple of days she seemed to be losing it an awful lot. She felt so damn empty inside. Hollow.

  Dex slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her body toward his until her back was against his chest. Damn, he was strong.

  “You have friends. You’re just upset tonight. Get some sleep and things will look better in the daylight.”

  She wiggled a little until she was comfortable in his hold. A tear dripped from her eye onto the pillow. “I only have two good friends. Celeste and Paul.”

  “See, you have friends. And you have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re not a friend. You’re a patient. I could lose my job. I shouldn’t be here, but I didn’t want to call Celeste again.”

  “Hush with that. You couldn’t be alone tonight.”

  She didn’t want to be alone. And damn if he didn’t make her feel safe and protected. “I should be able to deal with things on my own. I’ve been on my own since I went off to college at eighteen. I lived in Chicago and Milwaukee for years. Big cities. And not always in the best part of those cities, either, when I was poor. Nothing scared me. I can take care of myself.”

  “No one said you couldn’t.”

  “I came here and cried on a patient. I’m in bed with a patient!”