Page 16 of Rescuing Sara

They had, of course, called Grant Miller immediately. Statements and pictures were taken, and a tow-truck called to take Patrick’s car to the CSI lab after their crew had gone over the crime scene. Kristopher had remained silent in the background and finally driven them back to The Safehouse.

Toeing off her loafers, Danni sank into the depths of one of the room’s oversize sofas. “A guy clobbered him in the face with a heavy-duty plastic tray like the ones school lunchrooms once used,” she said, and went on to explain what took them to St. Nicholas this morning, their meeting with Mrs. Everett and the attempted attack on her.

From the high-back chair beside the sofa, Kristopher stretched out his legs and frowned. “Hank Patterson told me you think you’ve been targeted for writing articles about child trafficking,” he said. “And you also think your goddaughter, who’s missing, has been snatched. What else?”

“Someone poisoned Lieutenant Leo Anderson, Major Crimes, who had volunteered to help on the case, a man I’veknown and loved all my life,” Danni told him, hoping he wouldn’t ask too many questions just now. Standing in front of the church, the cold had seeped through her coat and into her bones. Even now in the warmth of the Safehouse and wearing a heavy sweater and woolly socks, she was still cold.

“I’m sorry,” Kristopher said simply. “How was the case progressing?”

“Not too well,” she said. “There’s been no word from whoever took Sara, and her grandfather wants the police to stop looking for her and leave it to the private investigator he hired. Leo was only killed two days ago, and we–the police, I mean-are all still in a state of shock over that.”

“I know it’s a trite thing to say at a time like this, but if there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me,” Kristopher told her. “Even if it’s something as simple as getting you something to drink?”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

The scent of soap and spice announced a freshly showered Patrick’s bare-footed arrival. Danni turned to greet him, and then had to force herself to withhold another sigh of appreciation.Merciful heavens. We don’t wear a T-shirt, do we?

He was slowly, carefully buttoning up a long-sleeved shirt, as if even this simplest of tasks was painful. Maybe pulling a T-shirt over his head would be too painful for his shoulder. But it gave her enough time to admire the broad planes of his chest and the soft blond hair covering it, and for one insane moment, she imagined teasing her fingers over and through it.Stop it,she ordered herself.Stop it right now.

He cocked his head. “Something wrong?”

“Not a thing,” she said hastily, moving over to give him room to sit beside her. “Stupid question, but how do you feel?”

“My nose looks like a lump of biscuit dough, but I can still smell, and I think I’m going to have two black eyes tomorrow.”He gingerly touched the areas. “My head hurts like hell and so does my shoulder from where I tackled that son-of-an-anteater. Of course, it’s still not quite healed from that bullet I took last month, no matter what I told Father Ryan, but the physical therapist said these things take time.”

“Which means you should rest and let me take care of dinner,” Kristopher announced. “You sit here with Danni.”

Patrick felt his mouth tighten into a frown. “You arenotcooking, Kristopher,” he warned. “I’ve heard rumors about your lack of skills in the kitchen. We’ll be lucky if you don’t burn it down while making coffee.”

“Then it’s a good thing there are lots of leftovers in the fridge from last night to put in the warming drawer or the microwave,” Kristopher said cheerfully as he headed for the bar to open a bottle of white wine and fill two glasses. Bringing them back, he added, “I’m reasonably sure that I can heat up stuff without incinerating anything. And as you can see, I can open a bottle of wine with the greatest of ease.”

He left them alone, and Patrick settled against the back of the sofa. “According to Hank Patterson, he’s a good guy,” he told Danni. “Damn good shot and can blend in with a crowd and you’d never notice him. And he can move in the dark like a panther on the prowl. One you’d never see coming until he was in your face.”

Her low chuckle warmed him in a way the hot shower had not. “A handy skill to have but let’s hope he won’t have to use it,” she said. “I know I’m repeating myself but how are youreallyfeeling? That was some tackle you made earlier.”

He took a sip of his wine and shrugged. “I’m okay. I’ve tackled people before but not since high school.”

“Fullback?” she guessed.

“Yeah. You like football?”

Her chuckle became a soft laugh. “You can’t grow up in East Tennessee and not like football,” she said. “Even when we’re not having our best season, most folks root for the young men on the field ‘cause they’re playing their hearts out. You gotta love that.”

“You got that right,” Patrick affirmed. “There’s something special about watching it in a stadium. You catch the fever, the excitement and enthusiasm you don’t always get from watching it on TV.”

“Did you ever hear the crowd screaming when you played?”

He shook his head. “It’s like being in your own world,” he described. “Just you and your teammates and the other team in a soundproof bubble. You really don’t hear anything else.”

“Except for the coach yelling at you?” she teased. “Did you hear that?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “We always heard that.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, punctuated by Kristopher’s soft movements in the kitchen and coming to the dining table to set it.

“Son-of-an-anteater?” she ventured to ask.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded. “One of the first lessons in etiquette I learned from my mother. Never swear in front of lady if you can. Old-fashioned I know, and some of my fellow solders–the females–could out cuss a fleet of sailors.”

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