Page 44 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
The ride back to Faith’s house was tense and quiet. Faith sat rigidly in the back seat of the patrol car, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white.
Back at the station, Webb had been direct about the threat level. “The brake lines were severed with a sharp instrument,” he’d explained, closing his notebook. “Clean cuts, but he left enough evidence for forensics to work with. This is attempted murder, Dr. Hartwell. This guy’s done playing games.”
When Webb had requested round-the-clock protection, Jake had volunteered immediately. “I’ll stay with her.”
Faith hadn’t argued. Not because she couldn’t take care of herself, but because she wasn’t stupid enough to refuse help when a psychopath was escalating his attacks.
“You should know,” she said finally, “that I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Good thing I’m not offering to babysit.”
“And I don’t need someone who’s going to treat me like I’m fragile.”
Jake’s jaw tightened. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”
Faith turned to look at him, really look at him, for the first time in weeks. “Haven’t you?”
They pulled into her driveway, the Victorian rising before them in the darkness. Motion-sensor lights blazed to life as they approached, and Faith felt marginally safer.
Ruth was waiting for them on the front porch, wrapped in a leopard-print velour robe with fuzzy pink slippers and what appeared to be a rhinestone tiara perched on her white hair. “About time you got home,” she called out. “I’ve been worried sick. Gretchen left dinner in the warming drawer and went back to the carriage house, but she said to call if we need anything.”
Inside, Ruth took charge immediately, declaring that “no deranged lunatic was going to terrorize her family” and proceeding to examine Faith’s fireplace tools with the critical eye of someone selecting a weapon. “This poker will do nicely,” she announced with satisfaction, hefting Faith’s iron fireplace poker. “Good weight, excellent reach. My second husband always said a proper fireplace poker should have good heft to it.”
Jake immediately began his security routine—checking windows, testing door locks, peering into corners like he expected danger to materialize from the shadows. Faith stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, watching him pace.
“The alarm system is armed,” she pointed out after he’d checked the back door for the second time. “All the windows are secured. The police are patrolling every thirty minutes.”
“Humor me,” Jake muttered, giving the door handle another test.
“I’m going upstairs to change.” Faith headed for the stairs, then paused. “Try not to wear a groove in my hardwood floors while I’m gone.”
Twenty minutes later, she returned in yoga pants and an oversized sweater to find Jake planted in her living room like a sentry, still fully dressed and looking like he was prepared to wrestle bears. Ruth had disappeared, presumably to bed.
“You can’t stand guard all night,” she said.
“Watch me.”
Faith retrieved a pillow and blanket from the linen closet and dropped them on the couch with more force than necessary. “There. If you’re determined to play bodyguard, at least pretend to be human.”
Jake eyed the couch like it might be booby trapped. “I’ll take the chair.”
“The couch is longer.”
“The chair has a better view of both entrances.”
“The couch is more comfortable.”
“Comfort isn’t the priority here.”
Faith threw her hands up. “Fine. Torture yourself in that medieval contraption you call a chair. Don’t come crying to me when your back seizes up.”
She started toward the stairs, then stopped. “Gretchen left dinner in the warming drawer if you get hungry. And Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” The words carried more weight than a simple courtesy. “For everything.”
An hour later, Faith lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, hyperaware of every creak and whisper of the old house. Downstairs, she could hear Jake’s restless pacing as he made his security rounds. Despite the fear coiled in her chest, Faith felt safer knowing he was there, even if she worried he’d collapse from exhaustion before morning.
