Kathleen Creighton - Danger Signals

Oh, Gran, you heard me, didn't you? You heard me, just the way you used to. You are still here, aren't you? Gran…can you hear me now? Do you know I love you?

And she heard the reply, faint but unmistakable. My dearest child. I love you, too.

Wade's inspection of the gallery's security situation left him with two conclusions. One, a determined serial killer could get into the place easily, no problem. Like a hot knife through butter. And two, no way in hell could he allow his "crystal ball" to stay here.

His first impulse was to march up the stairs and tell her so, but something of her "gift" must have rubbed off on him, because he was able to stop himself before he did something stupid. Because he knew exactly what her reaction to that would be-no doubt whatsoever.

So, since he already knew moving Tierney and her grandmother to a safe house was going to be out of the question, for now he was going to have to make do with assigning a couple of uniforms to look out for them. During the day, anyway. Nights…well, he figured he could handle those himself.

Figuring he'd get less argument if it was already a done deal, he called Nola with his request and got the first protection detail assigned and on their way before he headed upstairs to break the news to Tierney.

On the landing at the top of the stairs he paused, frowning. Door standing open, unlocked. Not good. He'd have to remind Tierney to be more careful. Just because he happened to be somewhere on the premises didn't mean she could let her guard down. Not even for a minute. Not until this sicko was caught. Or dead.

He shut the door carefully behind him, set the dead bolt and walked into the living room. And every thought of lectures and scolding melted away into nothing, leaving him with nothing but an aching knot smack in the middle of his chest.

He walked over and lowered himself into the easy chair placed at a right angle to the couch where Tierney sat holding and rocking her grandmother, patting the old lady's back. As if, he thought. Tierney was the parent and Jeannette a distraught teenager with a broken heart.

He was rubbing absently at the knot in his chest when Tierney looked up and smiled radiantly at him.

'"She heard me, Wade," she said, laughing through her tears. "Just like she used to. We had this connection-she always knew when I was in trouble, or upset…hurt. It's still there. It isn't gone, not completely. Oh, Wade…" She closed her eyes tightly and her face seemed to crumple.

Wade leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs and stared up at the ceiling. Let out a breath, long and slow.

When had it happened? When had these two women gotten so far under his skin that even he knew there was no way in hell he'd ever get them out?

It began to dawn on him then, that the ache in his chest was longing. And that what he was longing for was something he didn't even know he'd been missing. It was all tangled up with memories, the ones he had and the ones he didn't. Family…the mom and dad who'd raised him, loved him-he loved them, too, of course, and remembered to phone them now and then. The mother and father he couldn't remember except in nightmares. The brother he'd somehow lost touch with. His only brother…Matt.

It was the angel, Wade.

He's a boy angel. Like us, only bigger.

He felt restless suddenly. Itchy-the way he did when a case wasn't coming along well. When the evidence wasn't making sense…clues not adding up.

He stood up, and Tierney's misty gaze followed him. He touched her hair gently…resisted the desire to let his fingers linger in its softness. "Tour protection's on its way. I'll be downstairs-they'll need to be let in and briefed."

"You're going." It wasn't a question.

"Got to get back to work. There's going to be a ton of evidence to go through once the techs get done with that house. I'll be back, though-might be late, so don't wait up. Just leave me a pillow and a blanket and I'll make myself comfortable on the couch."

She nodded, a little smile flirting with the corners of her mouth. His stomach gave a playful flip, and he thought again of the things he'd been missing. He rested his hand on her head for a moment, but it wasn't nearly enough, so he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

And that wasn't enough, either. Not nearly.

Later that evening, several time zones away on a small lake somewhere in South Carolina, Samantha Pearson sat cross-legged on a floating dock and watched the fireflies wink and dance in the darkening woods. The night lay thick and warm around her. There'd been a thunderstorm earlier, but its brief respite from the heat and humidity was only a memory.

Somewhere a whip-poor-will was singing his little heart out; the frog chorus was working up to a frenzy, and from across the lake came the intermittent scream of a locust. And all in the hope of snagging a mate, Sam thought resentfully. The whole damn world is teeming with critters bent on hooking up, and here I am, a married woman, alone. Where's the justice in that?

The dock creaked suddenly, but before she could turn around, a pair of warm hands came from behind to cover her eyes. She gasped, and her heart lurched and began to pound, almost in sync with the whip-poor-will's frantic song.

"Cory!" She twisted in his arms and hurled herself against his chest, toppling him onto his back. The dock bobbed giddily, like a cork on a choppy sea.

"Whoa, woman, don't you even look before you throw yourself at a man? What if I was an ax-murderer or a deranged-"

"Don't you think I know my own husband's hands? Hush up and kiss me, Pearse. I've been 'bout to die of loneliness."

"Loneliness? Oh, is that what we're calling it? I can think of another word. Starts with 'H', rhymes with corn- umphf…" It was a good bit later before he was able to complete the thought, in a considerably weaker and breath-ier voice. "Sammie June…sweetheart… I've only been gone four days."

"Well, I know that, but it seems like years."

After that, there wasn't much talking. The dock rocked gently under the stars.

It was nearly midnight when Wade left police headquarters in downtown Portland. He made a detour to his place to pick up a change of clothes and his shaving stuff, and another to an all-night supermarket and finally pulled up in front of Jeannette's Gallery at a little after one in the morning. He sent the two unis on guard duty home with his thanks and a backslap, and carried his overnighter and a brace of plastic grocery bags up the stairs to Tierney's apartment.

He let himself in with the keys she'd given him. then, quietly as he could, set the overnighter and groceries down and locked up behind him. A light had been left on in the kitchen-enough to see by. The TV was on, muted, tuned to an all-night high-stakes poker game, and in its glow he could see Tierney lying on the couch, sound asleep.

He felt an uneven jerking sensation inside his chest, as if a very small puppy was playing tug-of-war with his heart.

Leaving his overnighter where it was, he carried the grocery bags into the kitchen and unloaded beer, ground beef and a few other odd essentials into the refrigerator. Toaster waffles went in the freezer, burger buns and coffee on the countertop. When he went back to the living room he found Tierney awake, sitting up, and in the middle of a huge yawn.

"You weren't supposed to wait up for me," he said, trying to sound scolding.

She gulped the yawn down and murmured. "I was sleeping. That's not waiting up. That's…" She yawned again.

"Mmm, hmm…right." Seeing no reason at all why he shouldn't, he leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her neck. Her skin was moist and warm, and smelled of soap and cool green gardens. Caught again in midyawn, she gave him a startled look, and one hand rose to touch his hair as if it had decided to do so all on its own.