Return To Bachelor Moon Part 4

"From what Thompson told us, he and Sam have had several run-ins. Seems Ryan has a real bad att.i.tude when it comes to the law and took a special dislike to former agent Connelly," Jackson said.

As the two of them talked about Ryan Sherman and the case, Gabriel's mind drifted to Marlena and the night before. Would she have managed to make it to sh.o.r.e had he not heard her scream? Somehow he doubted it. Had she been shoved off the path, or merely stumbled and imagined being pushed?

They certainly did not need another element to the mystery they'd already been handed. And the very last thing he needed was to think about how soft and vulnerable Marlena had looked in her robe with her damp curls framing her lovely face.

He didn't want to think about how her body had looked with her wet clothes plastered against her. In truth, he didn't want to think about her at all.

Thankfully, they arrived at Glen's Garage. As Gabriel parked on the side of the building, they were met by a man in coveralls who introduced himself as the owner, Glen Grable. "What can I do for you folks this afternoon?" he asked with an affable smile.

Gabriel flashed his identification. "We'd like to speak to Ryan Sherman."

Glen's smile transformed into a frown. "He in trouble again? d.a.m.n him. I told him, the next time I had to bail him out of jail, he was finished working here."

"We're not here to arrest him, but we do need to talk to him," Jackson said.

"Is this about the Connellys?" Glen's eyes darkened.

Gabriel took a step toward the older man. "Why would you ask? Do you know something about the Connellys?"

Glen shook his head. "Just heard that they were missing. That's all everyone in town has been talking about."

"Do you know where Ryan was on Thursday night?" Gabriel asked.

"He worked here until seven. After that I have no idea. I don't keep track of my mechanics when they're off duty. I'll go get him for you. I'd rather you talk to him out here than inside my shop where I got customers."

As they waited in the midafternoon heat, Jackson pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his forehead. "Jeez, it's hot. It would be nice to wrap this up quickly and get back home."

Gabriel frowned. "The only way we're going to wrap this up quickly is if the family suddenly reappears alive and well, and at this point, I don't see that happening."

"I have a bad feeling about this whole thing," Andrew said softly. "I think the next time we see that family, it's going to be in a shallow grave someplace."

Andrew's words sent a somber pall over the three of them. But Gabriel knew the stats. He also knew how difficult it would be to hide three people and keep them silent and alive for any length of time.

He tensed as he watched a big, bald, tattooed man approach them. It was obvious by the sneer on his face that he wasn't happy to meet them. He was dressed in grimy coveralls and held a red grease-stained rag in his hands.

"Glen told me there were a couple of Feds out here. Just what this town needs, more Feds."

"We've heard through the grapevine that you and Sam Connelly didn't play nice together," Gabriel said.

"That sanctimonious b.a.s.t.a.r.d thought he was better than everyone else in town," Ryan said, and it didn't miss Gabriel's attention that he'd spoken of Sam in the past tense. "He had plans to run for sheriff after Thompson retires. I didn't want him as the new sheriff, and I let him know how I felt about it every time we ran into each other."

Ryan's brown eyes narrowed, and the snarl returned to his upper lip. "I heard he and his family are missing, and I'm sure you're here talking to me because I'm an ex-con and must be guilty of something, right? Ex-cons are always guilty of something."

"Where were you on Thursday night?" Gabriel asked, refusing to let the man's att.i.tude get under his skin.

"I was here working."

"According to Glen, you got off work at seven."

Ryan's scowl deepened as a sheen of sweat glistened on his bald head. "I left here and went to my girlfriend's place. I spent the night there. And now if you're finished hara.s.sing me, I've got work to do."

"Your girlfriend? What's her name?" Gabriel asked.

Ryan released an irritated snort through flared nostrils. "Tammy Payne. She lives in the Bachelor Moon apartment complex. I got my own place there, too, but most nights we're together. She'll tell you I was with her all night and had nothing to do with whatever happened to the Connellys." Without waiting for a reply, Ryan stalked off back to the garage.

"What do you want to bet that Tammy tells us whatever Ryan tells her to?" Jackson asked as they headed back to their car.

"No question. But I would bet that Tammy Payne is either a prost.i.tute or a stripper, because I get the feeling that's the kind of woman who'd take on a loser like Ryan. At least that's been my experience with hot-headed ex-cons, although I know there are exceptions."

Within minutes they were back in the car, the air conditioner blowing welcomed cool air as they headed to the Bachelor Moon Apartments.

"It's frustrating that Ryan Sherman is our first real person of interest in this case," Andrew said.

"Unless you count the lovely Marlena," Jackson added.

"I don't think she had anything to do with this," Gabriel said.

"Is that your professional opinion or a personal one?" Jackson asked with a raise of a dark eyebrow.

Gabriel hesitated before replying, wanting to make sure his crazy physical attraction to her had no part in his reply. "It's both," he finally said.

He hadn't mentioned Marlena's dip in the pond the night before, but he did so now, explaining to the two men how he had dragged her out of the pond.

"Do you really think somebody pushed her?" Jackson asked.

"I don't know what to believe, but she certainly believes it. What I can't figure out is if the incident is somehow tied to the disappearance of the Connellys or not. I have to ask myself if somebody wants the people a.s.sociated with the bed-and-breakfast out of the way," Gabriel said.

"Out of the way of what?" Andrew asked.

Gabriel flashed him a tight smile in the rearview mirror. "I have questions, but n.o.body said I have any answers."

"Who is the beneficiary of the place if anything happens to Sam and Daniella?" Jackson asked.

"We need to check that out. I would a.s.sume that initially it would have gone to Macy, with an executor or representative in place until she reaches of age. But with her missing as well, I'm not sure what would happen. I don't even know if they have a will in place." Gabriel made a mental note to check for that particular information.

By that time they had arrived at the Bachelor Moon Apartments, and they all exited the car to check out Ryan Sherman's alibi with his girlfriend.

Tammy Payne looked like she'd been ridden hard and put away wet. Lanky blond hair fell into her face as she opened the door to allow them inside. She gestured them toward the threadbare sofa and then curled her painfully thin frame into a chair facing them, but that didn't mean she sat still.

"Ryan called a little while ago to tell me to expect you," she said, first pulling on the ends of her hair and then picking at a scab on her chin. She dropped her hand to her lap but continued to fidget in junkie fashion.

"I can tell you that Ryan was here with me all night on Thursday. In fact, he's here most nights, although he has an apartment of his own."

"Is it possible he was here for a while and then maybe left while you were sleeping?" Jackson asked.

She flashed a quick smile, displaying a missing front tooth. "I don't do a lot of sleeping. So, no, that wouldn't be possible. I'll be perfectly honest. I've got a little problem with meth and Ryan is trying to help me stay on the straight and narrow." She giggled like a young girl, although she had to be in her mid-thirties. "He tells me I'm a full-time job for him."

"Have you thought about rehab?" Andrew asked.

"Been three times, and it didn't take. Ryan is the best rehab I've ever had."

The men questioned her for several minutes longer but got no more information out of her that would absolutely confirm Ryan's alibi.

"I don't think Ryan is fixing her problem, either," Jackson muttered as they left Tammy's apartment.

"No, she was definitely tweaking, but aside from that, she's crazy and dependent enough on him to provide him with an alibi for any day or time he'd need one," Gabriel said as he tightened his hands on the steering wheel.

It was dinnertime, and he headed back toward the bed-and-breakfast feeling as if their entire day had been wasted.

"I say we put Ryan Sherman on a persons of interest list," Jackson said.

"And tomorrow you can check around town and see if anyone can specify the last interaction Ryan might have had with Sam." Gabriel turned down the lane that led to the bed-and-breakfast.

"I'm just hoping Marlena has something great for dinner. I'm starving," Andrew exclaimed.

Both Jackson and Gabriel laughed. "What else is new?" Jackson replied.

As Gabriel walked up the stairs to the porch, a fist of tension knotted in his stomach as he thought of seeing Marlena.

"Hmm, something smells good," Andrew said as they entered the house.

Marlena appeared in the doorway to the dining room and Gabriel was shocked by how the mere sight of her shot pleasure through him.

"Pot roast," she said. "And it's ready whenever you men want to eat."

"Now," Andrew said. "We're definitely ready now. They forced me to eat a sandwich from a convenience store for lunch."

Marlena laughed. "Oh, my gosh, that's a fate worse than death."

The sound of her laughter stirred a well of warmth inside Gabriel's stomach. She was a vision in pink, clad in a sundress that exposed slightly freckled slender shoulders and long bare legs.

"Give us fifteen minutes," he said and instantly turned to go upstairs. He'd scarcely gotten in the door and already felt as if he needed to distance himself from her.

Something must have been in that pond water he'd swallowed last night when he'd pulled her from its depths, for he'd had trouble keeping her out of his head all day long.

He dropped his laptop on the bed, went directly into the bathroom and sluiced cool water on his face. He had to remember that he didn't know Marlena, except that she had a slamming-hot body and the face of an angel.

But he had to stay focused on the fact that she might have something to do with what had happened to the family. He didn't know if she'd somehow manufactured a fall into the pond to complicate what was already a difficult case with few leads.

Finally, he wasn't sure that he believed that anyone could have slept through whatever had happened on the night the Connelly family disappeared. That overturned chair indicated that they hadn't left the kitchen in utter silence.

Minutes later he joined his partners at the dining room table, where Marlena served them pot roast and vegetables, hot rolls and a salad. He was grateful that she didn't sit with them, but instead she disappeared back into the kitchen.

After dinner, Gabriel returned to his room and powered up his laptop, intending to do some background checks on all the players they'd encountered so far.

He felt as if they were no closer to having any answers than they'd been when they'd first arrived two days ago. He hated having to check in with his director and letting him know they were still clueless as to what had happened to the three people who had seemingly led a happy life here.

He gathered information and took notes, and as always, lost track of place and time as he worked. He was a man who'd always been most comfortable at work, hunting criminals and delving into the darkness of sick minds.

Maybe it was because his childhood had been a dark and frightening place, so hunting killers and cuddling up to violence felt familiar to him.

He finally closed his computer and stretched his arms overhead to work out the kinks in his shoulders. He was shocked to look at the clock and realize it was almost one in the morning.

What time had Sam, Daniella and Macy decided to have milk and cookies in the kitchen on Thursday night? He knew it had been after eight in the evening, but surely it would have been earlier than this considering Macy was only seven.

And Marlena had heard nothing.

He should go to bed. It was late, and his mind was going into strange territory. He eyed the bed, knowing that morning was going to come far too early for him.

Still, instead of heading for bed, he quietly opened his bedroom door. From the room next door he could hear the chorus of snores coming from Jackson and Andrew's room.

He crept down the stairs, the house silent around him. It's a crazy idea, he thought. Yet there was really only one way to prove just how soundly Marlena slept, and even though he felt a little foolish, he realized this was something he had to do for himself. He had to know.

The kitchen was lit with a small night-light plugged into an outlet next to the stove, giving him enough illumination to see that Marlena's door was closed, as he a.s.sumed it had been on the night the Connelly family had disappeared.

What he was about to do could in no way be considered an official experiment where results could be used in any way, except for as an answer to a question in his own mind. It was strictly curiosity that drove him.

He pulled out a chair from the table and pushed it so that it toppled to the floor. Then he went to the back door, unlocked it and opened it and then slammed it shut and locked it. Either noise should have awakened the woman sleeping in the next rooms, but minutes pa.s.sed and she didn't fly out of her bedroom to see what was happening.

Maybe she was awake and afraid to come out of her rooms, he thought. He walked over to her door and tried the k.n.o.b, surprised when it turned easily beneath his hand.

He opened the door to the darkness of her sitting room, although he saw the faint glow of another night-light coming from her bedroom.

Was she playing possum? Had she heard the noise in the kitchen and recognized what he was doing? Had she heard the sound of Sam's family being kidnapped and been too afraid to rush to help?

With quiet stealth he moved through her sitting room and stood in her bedroom doorway. She was on her side, curled up beneath the sheet. The sound of her deep, even breathing let him know she was truly asleep, that the noise he had created in the kitchen hadn't awakened her.

He should turn and leave, but instead found himself inching forward, closer to the bed. His fingers itched with the desire just to stroke softly down the side of her face, to tangle in her soft-looking curls.

As he reached the side of her bed, he wondered whether, if he pressed his lips to hers, she would awaken, like a princess responding to the kiss of her prince.

He stumbled, the ridiculous thought startling him. He backed out of her bedroom and from her apartment area. Closing the door softly behind him, he uprighted the chair he'd cast to the floor and hurried up the stairs to his bedroom.

Shutting his door, he slumped down on the bed and shook his head to dispel all thoughts of Marlena. But the action didn't work. She'd been wearing a pastel-pink nightgown, and the fragrant scent of her had filled the air. Her features had been soft and dreamy in sleep.

Why was he thinking of her as a princess and he the prince who would kiss her? He sure as h.e.l.l wasn't a prince. He knew what he was-a cold man who expected no kindness, a dysfunctional man who had no desire to attempt to love anyone.

He was an FBI agent on a job and Marlena was nothing to him but a bit of fluffy distraction. If she wasn't part of this case, he'd take her to bed, satisfy the l.u.s.t that ate at him and then be rid of her.

He had a family to find, a mystery to solve, and no matter the depth of his physical attraction to Marlena, he had no intention of following through on it. He just had to keep his distance from her. If he needed more information from her about the family or anything else, he'd let Jackson take over the interviewing process.

Gabriel couldn't afford to delude himself into thinking he was anyone's hero, anyone's prince. He knew the truth about himself: he had no heart and very little soul, and he'd do well to remember that.

Chapter Five.