Her Man in Manhattan

SEVEN



Something was eating at Tyler.

Usually it meant he’d missed something—a random clue or part of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. That Miranda would make another bid for freedom was a given. What he didn’t get was why it suddenly felt wrong to stand in her way.

Hearing what he’d heard through the door that morning probably had something to do with it. The knowledge she hadn’t wanted a bodyguard helped raise his opinion of her a notch, even if she was under the misconception she didn’t need one. But then she didn’t know what he knew, did she?

His gaze scanned the room, but with little cause for concern among a bunch of kids and schoolteachers it slid back to his mark. The long legs encased in sharply tailored dark grey trousers were folded elegantly to the side, one high-heeled open-toed white shoe tapping in time to the music while she smiled. Judging by the sparkle in her eyes, she would probably agree calling the recital music was a bit of a stretch but it didn’t seem to dilute her enjoyment any.

Maybe that was what was eating him: her mood.

She’d been Little Miss Sunshine since she appeared outside the mansion.

When the cacophony of sound limped its way to an overly enthusiastic end she led the applause and stood up. ‘Thank you, that was wonderful. The mayor would have loved this. If you keep practising and get to Radio City Music Hall I’ll make sure he has front-row tickets.’

Tyler doubted there was an adult present who didn’t think they would need to be practising for a very long time before that happened. Opening the door, he stepped into the empty hall, inhaling the scent he’d had so much difficulty ignoring on the trip over as she passed within inches of him. It was different from the sophisticated perfume she’d worn the day before. Since he wasn’t up to date on flowers he couldn’t identify what it had been but now he thought about it he reckoned it was probably something like lilies or lilac. The one she was currently wearing was sweeter, more playful and made him wonder if she matched her perfume to where she was going with as much care as her clothes.

If she did it was clever. Even if he could have done without the constant trace of strawberries in the air as a reminder of how she’d tasted on his lips.

He followed a few steps behind as the head teacher and members of the board escorted her along the hall. When his gaze lowered to the feminine sway of her hips he hid a frown of annoyance and forced it elsewhere.

‘This next class is made up of children with learning difficulties,’ the principal explained. ‘The ratio of teacher and classroom assistant to pupil is higher.’

‘What is the age range?’ Miranda asked.

‘Between six and eight...’

When they filed inside Tyler took up position by the door again. After a cursory inventory of his surroundings, the occupants and checking the line of sight through the windows there wasn’t much else for him to do but continue watching her. He justified the action by telling himself he was searching for the clue he might have missed, examining everything from her introductory wave to how she interacted with the children as she moved from one small desk to the next. She crouched down to eye level, asked questions and listened carefully to the answers. From time to time she ruffled the odd tousled head of hair, her hundred-watt smile flashing more than once.

It wasn’t dissimilar to the act she’d put on with the elderly in the Bronx the day before but Tyler couldn’t shake the sensation something was different.

As the principal explained some of the ways they made it easier for the kids to stay focused somewhat ironically Miranda’s attention wandered. When her gaze landed on something at his side of the room and she angled her chin with curiosity, Tyler looked to see what it was.

A little girl with blonde hair sat on padded mats on the floor a few feet away, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around her as she swapped one thick crayon for another and continued colouring a sheet of paper.

Miranda crossed the room and hunched down beside her.

‘Hello.’

The girl didn’t look up.

‘Would you mind if I sat with you for a minute? My feet are really starting to hurt in these shoes.’

No reply.

Regardless of her expensive outfit, she sat down and tucked her legs to one side. ‘That’s a very pretty picture. I love the flowers. Pink is my favorite colour.’

After a moment’s hesitation the girl reached for a pink crayon, her chin lifting as she held it up.

The gesture was received with an impossibly soft smile. ‘Is that for me?’

There was a nod.

‘Are you sure you want me to help? I can never stay between the lines when I’m supposed to.’

Tyler thought it was the most honest statement she’d made since they met. That it was said with a hint of self-recrimination was interesting. For a second he almost believed it was a glimpse of the real her.

Accepting the crayon, she brushed her hair over her shoulder and looked at the picture again. ‘Which one do you want me to do?’ A small finger pointed at the page. ‘Okay. I’ll try not to mess it up for you.’

Tyler looked at the captivated audience of adults who were watching what she was doing. He doubted any of them would forget it before they cast their vote in the election. They’d see her father’s name on the voting slip and think of her. Maybe even tick the box next to his name if they’d been wavering.

He’d thought New Yorkers were savvier than that.

‘You have flowers,’ a small voice said.

His gaze was drawn back to Miranda as she glanced down at her blouse. ‘I like the ruffles and the layers. They all feel different. Try one and see.’

A small hand reached out to one of the larger grey and white flowers pinned randomly to white linen. Catching a ruffle between a thumb and forefinger, the girl checked out how it felt. ‘Soft.’

‘Do you like the beads in the middle?’

‘They’re shiny.’

‘Someone has to sew them on with a needle and thread.’

‘Did you do it?’

‘Nuh-uh,’ Miranda sang in reply. ‘Needles are pointy. It’s not a good idea to play with the things that might hurt you.’

Something she could have done with remembering before she gave a stranger the come-on from a dance floor.

Tyler looked away and found a boy at a nearby desk staring at his waist with wide eyes. Lightly shrugging his shoulders, he tugged the edges of his jacket closer together to cover his sidearm and checked his watch. It was almost time to leave. Shifting his gaze to his mark, he waited for an opening to make eye contact.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Casey.’

‘I’m Miranda. Why are you sitting on your own, Casey? Don’t you want to sit with your friends?’

‘There are boys at my table,’ she explained with the typically solid reasoning of most small girls her age.

‘Some boys can be nice.’

‘Some of them are mean.’

‘Believe me, I know.’ Obviously stifling amusement, Miranda shot a pointed glance his way.

Cute—with a lazy blink to indicate he’d got the message, Tyler subtly tapped his watch. Tick-tock, princess.

‘I have to go now, Casey,’ she said with a pout before turning it into a smile. ‘But it was very nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me colour with you.’

‘Are your feet better?’

‘Much better, thank you.’ She pushed upright and ran her palms over the seat of her trousers, brows lifting when the sheet of paper was held up in the air. ‘I can take it home with me?’

‘You can finish it at your house.’

‘I will, I promise. Bye, Casey.’

‘Bye, Miranda.’

She waved to the rest of the room. ‘Bye, kids. Thanks for letting me come visit you today. I can’t wait to tell the mayor how great you’re all doing in school.’

Tyler stepped into the hall as there was a chorus of goodbyes. Lifting the mike in his closed hand, he spoke into it in a low voice.

‘Rand from Brannigan, Phoenix is on the move.’

The reply sounded in his earpiece. ‘Roger that—moving to primary.’

As they approached the main entrance Tyler tuned out of the conversation and went on alert. There had been a small gathering of parents outside when they arrived, but, taking into consideration how long they’d been there, the numbers might have grown. When the group in front of him stopped in the foyer he headed for the doors to check it out. What he discovered made him twice as determined to stay focused. He had to hand it to her: whatever else she might be, the woman was a crowd-puller.

When she said her goodbyes, shook hands and headed his way he stepped outside, his eyes on the crowd as he walked a few feet in front of her. What he was looking for as she approached the people yelling for attention was someone who stood out, whose actions and demeanor were different from everyone else’s. While she waved and stopped to shake hands on the approach to Officer Rand at the waiting Suburban, Tyler took dozens of mental snapshots. A couple of minutes and an alarm bell went off in his head.

He went back over the last faces he’d seen while she talked to a young woman who followed her on Twitter.

At the back of the crowd there was a man who wasn’t smiling or yelling. He was pale and ordinary looking, the kind of guy who normally faded into the background. Dark hair, approximately five feet eight, glasses, baseball cap with a faded lion logo—nothing unusual there. What made him stand out was how he was fixated on Miranda as if she was the only thing he could see.

Suddenly Tyler was aware of every hand reaching out for her, the weight of bodies pressed against the barricade close to where she stood and the flapping greeting banners that could obscure any of the danger behind them.

Adrenaline sped through his veins while his gaze flickered to face after face. With a sickening sense of inevitability heads moved in the crowd and he saw the one face he would never forget. Dull, lifeless eyes filled with accusation stared at him from a face streaked with blood.

It didn’t matter that the man at the back of the crowd hadn’t moved. He couldn’t take a chance.

Stepping towards Miranda, he laid a palm on the inward curve of her spine and leaned close to her ear. ‘You need to go now.’

Her body stiffened as she looked into his eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Just do it.’ He added pressure to her spine to move her along.

To her credit she dealt with the situation a lot better than he did, smiling brightly and waving goodbye as he ushered her to safety. If he had time to stop and think about it Tyler might have realized he respected her for that. But since he was too busy getting her the hell out of there he jerked his chin at Rand, who opened the rear door and looked around.

‘Problem?’ he asked when Miranda was inside.

‘Guy on my six at the back of the crowd.’

Rand looked over his shoulder. ‘Which one?’

‘Pale complexion, glasses, baseball cap.’

‘Don’t see him.’

Turning ninety degrees and zeroing in on the position, Tyler frowned when he discovered the man wasn’t there.

‘Let’s go.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Miranda asked when he opened the driver’s door and got behind the wheel.

He watched Rand through the windscreen as he walked around the front of the vehicle to the jump seat. ‘Nothing you need to worry about.’

‘Nice try.’ To his surprise her voice softened. ‘I saw your face, Tyler, and—’

‘We have a schedule to stick to,’ he said tightly as the passenger door opened. When their gazes met in the mirror something resembling understanding passed silently between them before she glanced at Rand.

She shook her head. ‘You’re more obsessed with my schedule than Grace.’

It wasn’t the first time she’d followed his lead. But that she hadn’t pushed on the subject in front of his fellow officer made it feel as if she was protecting him, which was not a pleasant sensation for Tyler. Pulling away from the kerb, he headed them back to Manhattan and took deep, even breaths. That his heart rate still hadn’t returned to normal by the time they got to the Brooklyn Bridge wasn’t unusual—he’d been in plenty of situations where adrenalin continued to course through his body long after the event.

But this time felt different.

He just wasn’t sure he wanted to know why.