Danger in a Small Town
Ginny Aiken
Someone had broken into Tess Graver's home and trashed the place.But this was no random robbery. The intruder was looking for something specific–but what? With her own secrets to keep hidden, Tess reluctantly turned to neighbor Ethan Rogers for help. The been-there, seen-that former DEA agent wanted nothing to do with the big-city crime from his old life.But Ethan wasn't about to let the dangerous thugs take over his small town. Or scare strong, sweet Tess into running away–not when he'd just found her.
Tess had just left the church when someone called her name.
She turned and smiled at Ethan.
“Let me walk you to your car,” he said.
Tess met his gaze and couldn’t look away. Was it more than polite friendship she found there?
Ethan reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw—“
Brakes squealed.
An engine roared.
“Run!” Ethan yelled as he pushed Tess behind his back.
A black van flew over the curb, hit the brakes, backed up and made for Tess once again.
She froze in the headlight beams. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could only feel more fear than she’d ever known before.
GINNY AIKEN,
a former newspaper reporter, lives in Pennsylvania with her engineer husband and their three younger sons—the oldest married and flew the coop. Born in Havana, Cuba, raised in Valencia and Caracas, Venezuela, she discovered books early, and wrote her first novel at age fifteen while she trained with the Ballets de Caracas, later known as the Venezuelan National Ballet. She burned that tome when she turned a “mature” sixteen. Stints as a reporter, paralegal, choreographer, language teacher, retail salesperson, wife, mother of four boys and herder of their numerous and assorted friends—including soccer teams and the 135 members of first the Crossmen and then the Bluecoats Drum and Bugle Corps—brought her back to books in search of her sanity. She’s now an author of more than twenty-eight published works and a frequent speaker at Christian women’s and writer’s workshops, but has yet to catch up with that elusive sanity.
Danger in a Small Town
Ginny Aiken
But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them…
—Psalms 5:11
To two classy ladies and excellent editors,
Melissa Endlich and Emily Rodmell.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
“So they kicked you out,” Tess Graver said into her cell phone, her breath labored from jogging.
Uncle Gordon sputtered, “I tell ya, I’m fine. And now that I got ’em to put a cast on my leg, I’ll prove it. You didn’t have to quit your fancy-pants job in Char lotte just to come babysit me.”
Tess slowed; she’d run close to three miles. “Let’s talk about that later. I’ll see you after supper, once I’ve showered, and then tomorrow morning I’ll spring you from the hospital.”
After a few more “Hmphs!” Tess’s great-uncle hung up. She’d have to tell him about the thefts at Magnus son’s Department Stores soon enough, but not over the cell phone while jogging. The situation at her last job had affected her more than she would have thought. She’d been under suspicion for a few weeks. Even after she was cleared of all wrongdoing, her fellow workers had withdrawn, and the odd looks had kept on coming her way.
She could no longer manage the Finer Footwear department under those conditions. Uncle Gordon’s accident had given her the push to quit the job she’d once loved, and come back home—
“Oooof!”
Tess flew when a body hurtled out of the dense woods on the side of the road and crashed into her. She held her hands out to brace for the fall, then landed in a muddy patch, the ooze sliding between her fingers.
“Hey, come back and help me up!”
Footsteps pounded down the road toward town.
Disgusted, Tess took stock. Nothing hurt more than what she could expect from the fall. The worst part of her predicament was the thick mud on her legs, belly, chest and hands. Fortunately, she’d kept her face up and only felt muck on her chin.
With slow, measured movements, she got to her knees. As she rose to her feet, she heard a rustling in the woods, more than the balmy, breezeless day warranted.
What was going on?
First a jerk had knocked her to the ground, and now…now she heard what sounded like a whimper. A shiver ran through her.
Should she go check? She had no idea what she might walk into.
Should she call the police? She might look like a fool if the sound came from an injured squirrel or something? Did squirrels cry?
Another whimper. More thrashing leaves.
Something was there. Maybe the guy who’d hit her had dumped a dog.
Maybe a child was hurt.
Tess couldn’t just walk away. She eyed the heavy layer of vines, fallen twigs, branches and last fall’s blanket of leaves.
She shivered again. “Lord? If you could somehow manage it, can you make sure there’s no poison ivy or worse—a snake—in there?”
Taking a deep breath for courage, she stepped over the ground cover and parted the tall weeds, then made her way toward what sounded like a whimpering pup.
But as Tess rounded a massive tree trunk, she stopped. “Oh, no!”
A woman lay sprawled against a fallen tree, her too-thin face shiny with perspiration. As Tess watched, the slender body went into a spasm, her arms and legs twitched and sweat poured off her face.
“What’s wrong—”
Tess cut off her question when a major seizure seemed to grip the stranger on the ground. She tried to remember anything and everything she’d heard about helping someone through a seizure. From the hazy, cobwebby depths of her memory, details of a college first-aid class floated up. The most important thing was to try and keep breathing passages unblocked.
Her heart pounded. Lord, help! I need you here…now.
Tess hurried over. “Easy,” she murmured. “Let me help you.”
When Tess went to roll the quaking body onto its side, another convulsion hit, and she had to dodge the flailing limbs. Determined to help, Tess grasped a shoulder and pushed, but as thin as the woman was, she proved to be unbelievably strong.
Tess wrestled to get her on her side, but between the convulsions and the superhuman strength, she came close to calling it quits. Sweating, her breath coming in short, frightened spurts, Tess wedged herself between the stranger’s back and the soggy ground to keep her from flopping onto her back again.
And then the woman quit her fight.
Tess slumped, panting, and ran the back of her hand across her eyes to clear away the sweat. Silence. She glanced at the still body propped up against her arm and leg.
“Oh, no…” She was still, completely still.
“No…no, no, no!”
Tess scrambled onto her knees to check for a pulse. But before she took hold of her thin wrist, the woman’s body rolled onto its back, and she knew there was nothing to check. The chest didn’t move.
A scream ripped from Tess’s lips. Bile rushed up her throat. She froze for a moment, but the horror propelled her to her feet. She grasped at a branch to get her balance, glanced at the corpse, then put a hand over her mouth to stop the next scream.
Stepping back on trembling legs, she couldn’t look away from the woman on the ground. Abstractly she noticed how her pretty hairdo hid her face.
Life ground to slow motion. Fear rushed through Tess’s limbs. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her head spun. She realized she’d been holding her breath. Somewhere behind her, a car drove past.
A shudder racked her, followed by wave after wave of tremors. The urge to run, to hide overwhelmed her.
Despite the urgency of her instincts, Tess knew she couldn’t leave. Not yet.
With a brief prayer for strength, she clutched her cell phone, forced her fingers to work and dialed 911. Her hands shook so hard she could barely hold the device to her ear. Relief flooded her when the dispatcher answered.
“Help!” she croaked.
The man on the other end asked for directions in a calm, measured voice.
“Don’t know exactly,” she said. “She’s…I think she’s dead. In the woods off Ratner Road, just a little past the old Wilder Barn. Hurry, please!”
The dispatcher’s voice had given her something to hang on to for a couple of seconds, enough to make her realize she should wait by the road. She could flag down the cruisers as they came.
On her way out of the woods, she prayed for help to arrive soon; for God’s comfort; for His wisdom for all involved.
Most of all, she prayed for more of the peace she’d felt so keenly just a few brief minutes earlier.
Ethan Rogers wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s way too hot for late May. And you’re a slave driver, Art Reams.”
The tall, thin pastor of Loganton Bible Church leaned against his shovel and sent Ethan a look of mock sorrow. “You wound me! I’m just doing my best to serve the Lord, and with the groundbreaking just two weeks away, we don’t have the funds to hire someone to clear these weeds.”
Ethan dropped the joking tone. “You are a servant, and I’m glad to help wherever I can. The new fellowship building’s going to be great—especially the gym. Kids need that kind of space.” He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. “But you and I need a break. How about some of that iced tea you stash in the church fridge?”
Art dropped the shovel and held out a hand. They shook on it. As they crossed the parking lot, Ethan’s phone rang. He glanced at the LCD display.
“Hey, peanut,” he said to his youngest cousin.
“What’s up?”
“Would you stop with that peanut stuff?” He grinned when he heard her effort to muffle her response—she wasn’t alone. “No one’s going to listen to me if they hear you.”
“What? You want me to call you Officer Lowe? Dunno if I can do that, kiddo.”
“Well, you’re going to have to.” Her voice turned crisp, official. “I need your help. I’m out on a call, and it sounds like your specialty to me.”
The disgust that had hovered in the back of his mind since the last drug bust he’d worked rushed to the fore-front. His muscles tensed, his stomach turned and his head began to pound. “Maggie…”
“I know, I know. You left all that behind when you moved here, but Ethan, it’s a death. We’re a small-town department. We don’t have much experience with stuff like this. You, though…all those years—I need you.”
Ethan ran a hand over his face. He loved his youngest cousin like the sister he’d never had. They’d grown up close, living only two blocks apart. Over the years, he’d defended her against a bully, taught her to drive and convinced his aunt and uncle to let her go into law enforcement in spite of the danger.
He’d never been able to refuse her anything, but this came close.
Even though every fiber of his being screamed no, he said, “Where are you?”
Her sigh of relief told him she hadn’t been as sure of his response as she probably should have been. “Come out west on Ratner Road. You can’t miss the cruisers and the ambulance. We’re in the woods, not fifty feet in.”
Ethan slipped his phone into his pocket, fighting the urge to call her back and tell her no. It took all his determination to move toward his SUV.
Art placed an arm over Ethan’s shoulders. “A call from Maggie that does this to you means bad news.”
Ethan chuckled without humor. “My past doesn’t seem ready to let me go. She’s on a call, a woman’s dead and she thinks it’s drug related.”
“It’ll be hard,” Art said, his voice compassionate,
“but look at it from God’s perspective. He had you trained, He had you gain a wealth of experience and knowledge and our Lord doesn’t let things go to waste. I doubt He’s done with that training of yours.”
“Yeah, but I came to Loganton to get away from it all.” Ethan pulled away to pace. “I had enough—more than enough. The sixteen-year-old who took his last breath in my arms did it. I can’t go back to that.”
Pain, nausea and a sense of failure filled him. “You can’t imagine what you find when you make a bust. The wasted lives, little kids who watch mom and dad doing drugs…kids who’ll live with those scars for the rest of their lives.” He shuddered. “And no matter how hard you try to fight the good fight, there are more drugs on the street every day. I can’t handle—”
“But God can. I know how rough the last year has been for you. I know you still struggle with the memories and the nightmares, but God is greater than all that. He’ll see you through even the worst moments—if you let Him.”
The battle raging in Ethan was one he’d thought he’d packed away in the cobwebs of his subconscious. Evidently, he hadn’t done that good a job.
“What happened?”
Tess looked up at the petite police officer, then closed her eyes for a second. Images flew at her, fast and furious. Her heartbeat picked up steam again.
“I went for a jog,” she said, her voice shaky. “On my way back, some jerk ran out of the woods and knocked me over.” Tess scraped a smear of mud she’d missed on her right knee. “Then I heard a whimper in the woods. I thought the guy might have dumped a pup…” She shuddered. “But I found her instead.”
The officer pulled a pencil from behind her right ear and a small pad from her breast pocket. “Did you see anyone else come out of the woods? Before you went in? Or through the trees?”
“No.”
“Can you describe the man who hit you?”
Tess shook her head. “I’d been on the phone with Uncle Gordon, and I didn’t notice a thing. All I remember is falling face-first into the mud. Sorry.”
“And then…?”
Tess breathed deeply. “Then I went to find who or what I’d heard. As soon as I saw her, I ran to help. She was shaking—a seizure, I think.” She remembered the struggle. “But she fought me…she was strong. And then…then she just quit. That’s when I called 9-1-1.”
“I’m glad you did.” The officer smiled. “Your name…?”
With a deep breath, Tess tried to regain her composure. “Tess Graver, Gordon’s niece, great-niece to be precise.”
“I’m Maggie Lowe.” She sat next to Tess on the scruffy grass at the edge of the road. “New in town?”
“No. I came to live with Uncle Gordon and Auntie Maude when my parents died—I was thirteen. After high school, I left for college, and then I worked in Charlotte for a few years after that. I’m back for good now, though. My uncle had an accident. He needs help, and he gave me a chance to leave a job that had become difficult.”
“Did you know her?” Maggie dipped her head toward the woods.
“Never saw her before today.”
The police officer put her hand on Tess’s arm. “I know this is hard, but we need to go back over everything you remember. Why don’t you start with your run. Any particular reason you came out this way?”
“It’s beautiful. I used to run this route when I was on the cross-country team in high school. It’s one of my favorite spots in town.”
“And you were pushed down by a man you didn’t see. Then you thought you heard a dog.”
“That’s right. I didn’t want an abandoned puppy to die out here.” Tears filled her eyes. “But instead of the pup—”
A sob caught in her throat, cutting off her words.
“It must have been hard.” Maggie Lowe gave her a gentle smile.
Tess squared her shoulders. “I’ve never seen anything like it. All I wanted was to save a dog. But I never got around to looking for it.”
“I would have done the same thing.” Then the officer’s gray eyes turned serious again. “I know it’s rotten to make you think about it over and over again, but I need you to describe exactly what you remember when you saw her in the woods.”
The officer knew her stuff. It was hard, but after a quick prayer, Tess did as she’d asked.
Speaking with the police officer made the slow-motion sensation go away. Tess had never seen anything so horrible before, and she didn’t know how to process her feelings, her response. She wished there was more she could say, some way she could help, but it was too late; there was nothing further to do. At least she could give as clear a recounting as possible.
After Tess had related everything she could remember, Maggie told her she’d have to sign a statement that summarized the answers she’d given, and to expect more questions even after that. At the moment, she was free to go home. The PD knew where to find her.
With the passing of time, Tess’s breath resumed its normal pace. It became even and regular again, as did her heartbeat. Her anguish, however, didn’t change.
Ethan parked behind one of the PD’s cruisers, careful not to block the road but also careful not to sink into the spring-damp earth on the shoulder. He didn’t want to disturb any potential prints.
He got out and looked for his cousin. At first he didn’t see her, but as he headed into the woods, he spotted her trademark black braid. She sat on a grassy patch next to a woman in running clothes.
“Hey, Mags,” he said when he reached them.
Maggie’s gray eyes lit when she saw him. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She stood, and the woman tried to do the same. She wobbled before Maggie wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Easy, there,” his cousin said. “You’ve had a shock, and your body’s not going to listen too well to what your head says.”
“No kidding.” The woman looked pale, and her voice shook.
Ethan watched, reining in his curiosity. He wanted nothing to do with another crime scene or another overdose, but the runner tugged at something deep inside him. She wasn’t small and delicate like Maggie, but she struck him as vulnerable. He hoped she hadn’t been on her way to meet the woman who’d died.
With shaky fingers she smoothed a chocolate-colored wisp of hair back toward the pink stretchy thing that held her ponytail in place. She clamped her lips shut, and her hazel eyes looked huge. She held her hands fisted at her sides.
She looked about to break.
“Ethan!” Maggie said. “Where’d you space out to?”
He blinked, embarrassed. “Sorry, just thinking…” He let his words die off, knowing Maggie wouldn’t prod. She knew him well. “It looks like you guys have everything under control. What did you need me for?”
“It’s drugs, and it’s…weird.” She met his gaze. “How many overdoses have you found in the woods? We need your help.”
“It’s probably where she met her dealer. Looks like she couldn’t wait until she got home for her fix.” He glanced at the runner. “And this is…?”
“Oh! Sorry. Tess Graver, my cousin Ethan Rogers, formerly of the DEA. In Chicago. I called him for help. Had to twist his arm, but he’s here now.”
Ethan held out his hand.
Tess clasped his fingers. Hers trembled, and he felt an unexpected urge to comfort her. He knew how tough it was to watch someone die. And from a probable overdose…The sight of that would hit a person deep inside.
“Glad to meet you,” he said. “In spite of the circumstances.”
She smiled, not much of a smile, but at least she tried.
The sound of thrashing vegetation came from the woods. Ethan glanced over his shoulder and saw the EMTs carrying the gurney, a zippered body bag strapped on tight. The undergrowth was too heavy to roll the gurney.
Tess moaned.
Ethan turned, saw her falter.
She shuddered, then started to fall.
He reached out and caught her in his arms.
“Oh!” She blinked then met his gaze.
Ethan felt a sudden awareness, a strange sense of pieces falling into place, a warmth that didn’t make any sense. His urge to comfort Tess took over, and he held her upright.
How could a stranger feel so right in his arms?
TWO
Tess stared up into intense blue eyes, only too aware of Ethan Rogers’s strength. She couldn’t help feeling comforted, protected, supported.
Very odd, since he was a stranger.
“Th-thanks,” she murmured. Calling on her last reserves of strength, she placed her hands on that broad chest and pushed away. “I’m okay. It’s just…” She waved toward the ambulance. “It hit me hard again to see that bag.”
Ethan nodded. “It doesn’t get any easier, either.”
Which, she assumed, was why he wasn’t an agent anymore. And he’d still come out when his cousin asked. Interesting man.
The ambulance pulled away silently, the unfortunate young woman past the need for a siren.
“Who is she?” Ethan asked.
Maggie gave a humorless chuckle. “We’d all like to know. I suppose we’ll find out when we check her belongings. A couple of guys are still in there, gathering evidence.”
He frowned. “You don’t know her? Isn’t she local?”
“Loganton might be small,” Maggie said, “but not that small. I don’t know everyone in town.”
“Point taken.” He glanced toward the woods. “Did you see anything back there? You said you thought it was drugs.”
“I only took a quick look around, but I did see a syringe, and her face was a mess. Looks like meth to me.”
“Meth.” Ethan winced.
Even Tess knew about the horrors of methamphetamine. Newspapers and the evening news carried more stories each day—gangs, robbery, murder. Not only did meth bring crime in its wake, but it also ravaged every part of the user’s body. “How awful.”
Maggie flipped her notepad shut. “It’s our third death in about a year. One was a vagrant. The other was a teen. There’s always a greedy supplier somewhere, ready to make a buck off someone who’s hurting and thinks drugs will make the pain go away.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Where’s it coming from?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Maggie said. “We hadn’t had even a hint of meth before these three deaths.”
“Bad deal.”
Maggie snorted. “I’ll say.”
Tess struggled to accept what she’d heard. “Does this mean Loganton really has a drug problem? I can’t believe it. It’s such a small, quiet town.”
“Hey, Maggie!” the other officer yelled. “What’s the deal? We gotta get to the hospital. You’re not at one of those five-minute musical-chairs dating parties here, ya know.”
Maggie blushed under her tan. “Gotta love him. Otherwise I might kill ’im.” She turned to her partner. “He’s my cousin, you goof!”
“Go ahead,” Ethan said. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Can you make sure Tess gets home safely?”
“Of course.”
Tess watched the cops get into the cruiser. Then, siren blaring, they sped off toward town.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how’d you wind up in the middle of…?” Ethan waved.
“Believe it or not, all I wanted was some fresh air and a good run.” Tess was surprised by how easy he was to talk to. Maybe it had something to do with the way he focused all his attention on her every word, how he nodded in agreement every so often, how he met her gaze and let his compassion show.
But by the time she finished, his smile was gone, and anger twisted his features. “Sounds like meth.”
Tess bit her bottom lip and looked toward town. What could have led that woman down the path of drug abuse? She couldn’t imagine seeking refuge or escape that way, no matter how tough life got. She started to ask, but when she faced Ethan again, something in his gaze held her back.
He stood statue-still, staring down the street, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. His thoughts had left Loganton for another place and time—his past, she was sure. A story lurked there somewhere, but Tess didn’t have the right to pry. “Ah…I guess I’ll see you later, Ethan. If you live in town, that is. It’s small and…”
He didn’t answer.
She wasn’t surprised. She doubted he’d heard a word she’d said. The strangest urge to reach out, to comfort him came over her. But of course she didn’t have that right, either, so she turned and gave him time to deal with his thoughts.
That’s when she heard the other cops come out of the woods. She glanced back to see the older of the two men carrying what she thought was a tote bag. But it wasn’t a tote bag after all. The most pathetic sound escaped the sack.
“Don’t know anyone who wants a dog,” the officer muttered to the other one at his side.
Another wail came from the bag.
It affected Tess more than she would have thought. “Is the dog okay?” she asked.
The officer turned. “Beats me. We haven’t looked. We’ll probably take him to the pound, now that his owner’s dead.”
Before she could stop to think, Tess blurted out, “I’ll take him. I don’t have a problem caring for him until I find him a permanent home. It’s better than leaving him where he might be—”
She stopped, unable to voice the sad possibility.
At her side, Ethan chuckled.
The officers traded looks. Then the older one shrugged. “Fine with me, but we’ll have to run it past the chief. If he’s okay with it, then the pooch is yours.”
“Not permanently mine, you understand.” Tess reached for the tote bag. “It’s just until I find him a new home.”
Instead of handing her the bag, the officer put it on the ground. “Be careful,” he said. “It’s a mess. The owner was thinking more about her next fix than her dog. We found it sitting in the mud.”
Another mournful wail escaped the carrier. Tess dropped to one knee and found the zipper’s tab. Through the mesh window in the side, a pair of shiny black eyes peered out at her. The pup gave a soft yip.
Tears burned the back of her eyelids. Another victim of the drug nightmare. “Aw…You’re not a bunch of girly goodies tucked into a big purse, are you?”
The eyes stared back, and the dog followed another yip with a whine.
Tess tugged at the zipper. “No lipstick or a brush or even hairspray.” One by one, the plastic teeth parted. “You’re a puppy dog, aren’t you?”
“And you’re the queen of the obvious.” Ethan smiled as he knelt at her side.
Tess chuckled. “True. But I just want him to trust me, so I’ll keep talking silly if it helps. He’s all alone in the world now. I have to find him a home, and soon.”
Ethan laughed. “He’s already found a home but doesn’t know it yet.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ethan sat back on his heels. “Oh, the baby talk, the ‘he’s all alone in the world,’ and the ‘I have to find him a home….’ He’s got you right where a homeless pooch wants you.”
“No. Really. I can’t just walk away. That would be cruel. And I don’t need a dog right now, not when I’ve just moved back to town and am trying to start a new business. Plus I have a relative to take care of. He’s older and has health issues—you know. I don’t need a dog.”
The blue eyes twinkled. “How about you let the poor thing out of that fancy purse? You don’t have to work so hard to justify yourself.”
“That’s what I’m working on.” She wasn’t going to touch that justifying comment.
He laughed again. “Don’t blame me. You’re the one falling for a dog you haven’t even seen.”
She shrugged. “Okay, okay. I feel sorry for him. I’m an animal lover. I couldn’t turn my back on him. That’s all.”
“If you say so.” Ethan gave her a mischievous smile, and Tess again noticed how attractive he was.
Another whine dragged her attention back to the pet carrier. Tess murmured a comforting croon while she put her hand up to the mesh window.
“Well?” Ethan asked. “Are you going to spring him?”
The last few teeth of the zipper came apart, and the flap-like door dropped to the ground. A tiny head with a sharp muzzle and pointy ears poked out—actually, one pointy ear; the other one flopped over one of the black eyes. A scrawny body covered in uneven tufts of dirt-brown fur followed, its toothpick legs taking short, stiff steps out of the carrier.
“What,” Ethan asked, “is that?”
Tess could only blame her reaction on stress. Ethan’s question struck her as hilarious. And the dog? Well, the poor animal was just plain pathetic.
“That, Ethan Rogers,” she said between laughs, “is the ugliest dog on earth.”
Then the ugliest dog on earth threw Tess a curve ball. The rotten little rat pranced up, crawled onto her lap, took four, maybe five spins, looked her in the eye, stretched out his bony body, licked her chin, and then plopped on her lap as if he’d spent every day of his life doing just that.
In that moment he stole her heart.
She was in trouble. Big-time.
And Ethan knew it.
“I told you so,” the bigger rat said.
She ran a finger over that small, hard head. The mangy mess darted out his pink tongue and licked her finger. “It’s temporary, Ethan. Just until I find him a forever home.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe someday you’ll believe it.”
Unfortunately, they both knew he was right. And too nice, too good-looking, too intriguing for her own good. Even if he was a stranger.
Lord? What’s going on? I’m not ready for this.
She had an injured uncle to care for, a new business to get off the ground, an orphaned dog to tend to and she’d watched a woman overdose on meth. Tess wanted God to give her a quick and easy answer, but she suspected she wasn’t going to get one anytime soon. She’d just have to watch herself.
Coming home was turning out to be more—way more—than she’d expected. Or maybe it was a case of finding more than she’d thought she’d find.
A sad dog and a striking man.
After the day she’d had, it didn’t surprise Tess when she only managed to catch a nap or two that night. Her dreams kept taking her back to that horrible scene in the woods. She cried, she prayed and in the end, spent most of the night watching the shadows cast by an oak tree outside her window.
When the sun finally rose, she was an emotional mess. But she knew she had to pull herself together. Uncle Gordon expected her to pick him up by ten o’clock.
“Hey, you,” Tess said as she walked into his drab-green and dingy-cream hospital room on time. “You’re such a terror, they’re kicking you out.”
He winked. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to get sprung.”
She was glad to take him home. “You ready to roll, then? You’re lucky they put your leg in that temporary cast. You can get around again.”
A nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room. Uncle Gordon gave it a glare but didn’t fight the inevitable. Instead he glanced back at Tess and said, “Do you call shuffling behind a walker getting around?”
The nurse chuckled.
Tess rolled her eyes. “I sure do. Would you rather sit in a wheelchair—like this one—and have me push you wherever you want to go?”
He scowled as they waited for the elevator. “You wouldn’t have the time. You’re too busy.”
“Sure I’m busy, but I came home because you needed help. And a keeper. Molly and the others volunteered me for the job. They figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”
Getting her uncle into the car took every bit of Tess’s and the nurse’s attention. Once they had him settled in, they stowed away an overnight case, a balloon bouquet and all the sample-size toiletries he’d insisted on bringing home.
Tess thanked the nurse, then slid in behind the wheel. As she pulled away, Uncle Gordon let out another “Hmph!”
She slanted him a glance. “Okay. Let me have it.”
His brows met over the bridge of his large nose and he shook a finger at her. “I’m not happy about you quitting your job in Charlotte.”
“As you’ve told me a couple of times.” She’d put him off long enough. She had to tell her uncle what had happened. “There were problems at Magnusson’s. Someone began to steal from the registers, and only department managers had the codes to open the drawers. Because my department was hit three times, the police began to suspect me.”
“Idiots!”
The anger in Uncle Gordon’s gaze told her to hurry with her tale. “It’s okay. They found the woman who did it. She worked for the IT department. She’s in jail, but some of the people I worked with never got over their suspicions. I couldn’t run the department if my employees were suspicious of me.”
“Did they only hire idiots in that place?”
She smiled. Such simple support was worth everything to her. “No, they just couldn’t get beyond their fears, and they didn’t want to lose their jobs if I proved to be guilty sometime in the future.”
“So now you’re here, twiddling your thumbs, because of a bunch of fools. Now how can that make sense?”
“Now this I’ve told you more than a couple of times. I’m starting my own business. Please give me a chance. I’ll show you what I’m doing once we’re home.”
He “hmphed” again, but didn’t speak during the rest of the ride.
Tess parked in front of the house, reached out and patted his hand. “Trust me, Uncle Gordon, I’m much happier here at home. I didn’t have anything better to do. Not in Charlotte.”
“How can you be happier? You told me all you’re going to be doing is staring at a little box with letters on it that’ll suck the smarts right outta your brain.”
“Oh, it’s got pictures, too!” She hopped out and rounded the car to his side. “Computers have come a long way. Wait till you see the sweet laptop I bought for my new business. It’s great!”
Tess helped him swing his legs out of the car then opened the rear door to grab the shiny new walker. That’s when she noticed the flower bed under the bay window on the right side of the house. It was a mess. The rosebushes lay on their sides, and all the flowers had been trampled. “Would you look at that? What could have made that mess?”
Uncle Gordon glared. “I’m going to have to have me another talk with Rupert Anthony. That man’s got himself a canine beast. And he thinks nothing of letting it roam and do its business on everybody else’s property. But it’s too much when the monster takes to trashing a man’s roses. You won’t ever see me harboring a dog. Uh-uh. Gordon Graver won’t ever make a sap of himself over a bag of bones, fur, teeth and barks.”
Uh-oh. Tess had a problem—another one—on her hands. Her new little bag of bones, fur, teeth and barks wasn’t going to be welcomed by her uncle anytime soon. At least she’d postponed the confrontation by leaving the dog at The Pampered Pooch for grooming before going to pick up the semi-invalid at the hospital.
She reached into the backseat and grabbed Uncle Gordon’s walker. A couple of twists later, she had it open and on the sidewalk. “They did teach you how to use this thing, right?”
He snorted. “A drill sergeant named Harry made me push it up and down the hospital hall about a million times. Of course, they taught me to use it. But I’m ditching it the minute I get used to this clunky old cast.”
“You’ll get rid of the walker when Dr. Meyer says you can,” Miss Tabitha Cranston, Uncle Gordon’s longtime lady-friend said as she marched down the sidewalk. “Is he giving you a hard time, Tess?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” She closed the car door and followed her lovable curmudgeon up the front walk, and then helped him with the stairs. “He thinks he’s tough, you know?”
“He does have his moments.” Miss Tabitha’s warm hug was as welcome as always. “But we love him anyway, right, sugar?”
Tess turned the key in the lock, then pushed the door in. “I haven’t met another man I’d be willing to move for.”
Miss Tabitha helped ease the walker over the threshold. “There aren’t many of those, are there?”
“See?” Uncle Gordon crowed. “I’m just about perfect. One of a kind.”
“Oh, brother.” Tess dropped his bag of hospital gear on the floor at the bottom of the steps. “I’ll carry all this upstairs as soon as I make you comfortable.”
“Tess,” Miss Tabitha said, her voice unusually tentative. “I took the liberty of asking one of my boarders to meet us here. He’s a nice, strong young man, and he can help us get Gordon upstairs. I think he needs to take another of those pain pills and go straight to bed before the pain gets too bad to bear.”
“Bed!” he objected. “I’ve done nothing but lie in bed for three weeks! And you girls want me to go back to one? What’s the point of busting out of the hospital, then?”
“The point,” Miss Tabitha said, “is that someone else needs that hospital bed more than you, Gordon. All you have to do is lounge around and wait for the bone to heal. You can do that here just as well as there.”
“I’m not going upstairs. I’m perfectly fine here.” He pointed toward the living room. “I can sit on my own sofa just as well as lie on that bed!”
The minute he let go the walker, he swayed. The temporary cast, only two days old, wasn’t meant for walking. That one would come in about ten days, once an X-ray revealed the progress the bones had made.
Tess grabbed his left arm, Miss Tabitha the right.
“You’re not ready for the living room,” Miss Tabitha said with a shake of her head. Her alabaster braided coronet loosened, and a stray wisp grazed her forehead. “That’s why Ethan’s going to help you up those stairs. He should be here any—”
The doorbell cut her off. She murmured something about lunch, and Tess headed for the foyer. At the door she smiled at Ethan Rogers. “Surprise, surprise!” she said. “I didn’t expect you to be the boarder Miss Tabitha said she’d roped into helping us corral our wild man.”
He smiled. “Hi, Tess.” He stepped inside and went straight to her great-uncle. “Mr. Graver is going to need a hand with those stairs. Don’t know about that corralling bit, though. I’m a city boy all the way.”
As the tall, muscular Ethan stood next to thin, wiry Uncle Gordon, Tess grinned. “I doubt he’ll give you much trouble.”
Uncle Gordon snorted again. “I don’t tangle with the law, girlie-girl! This guy’s way outta my league. I know when I’m beat. Let’s go upstairs.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Retired, Mr. Graver. I used to work for the DEA.”
Uncle Gordon jutted out his chin. “I’m still impressed.”
“Don’t be,” Ethan said, his words as tight as his jaw. “There’s no glamour in law enforcement. Just a lot of pain and heartbreak.”
Hm…she’d been right. Definitely a story somewhere under Ethan’s many layers. But just as she’d told herself out on the roadside the day before, she didn’t have the right to go digging. That didn’t stop her from wondering what had led Ethan to leave the agency.
Her curiosity would have to go unsatisfied, though. They had a septuagenarian to get to bed.
To her surprise Ethan didn’t leave right after he helped her settle Uncle Gordon in the middle of the old four-poster bed. Instead he followed her to the kitchen, where Miss Tabitha was making lunch.
She turned and waved toward the table when Tess and Ethan walked in. “Take a chair. The sandwiches are almost ready.”
“Great!” Tess said. “I’ve missed your cooking.”
Miss Tabitha tsk-tsked. “Oh, this isn’t cooking. I told you, it’s just sandwiches.” Then she beamed her forest-green eyes at Tess. “Gordon’s told me you left your job in Charlotte. How come?”
Tess didn’t know anyone who could dodge Miss Tabitha’s stare. But how was she going to tell the older woman about the thefts at Magnusson’s Department Store? Especially with Ethan, a virtual stranger, sitting right here. How, for a brief time suspicion fell on her because of her position as manager of the Finer Footwear department? How could she tell Miss Tabitha that even after the culprit was found and Tess was cleared, the stigma of suspicion had dogged her every move at work?
She couldn’t, so she fell back on the flip response. “I retired. I worked like crazy, and it was great for a while, but home is home. I’m back for good.”
“Pshaw! You’re barely out of diapers, Tess Graver. You’ve no more retired than I’ve taken up beach volleyball. What are you up to?”
Diapers? Beach volleyball? “I’m serious, Miss Tabitha. I’m done selling fancy flip-flops and sky-high heels for Magnusson’s. I’m back in Loganton to stay. I’m starting a new business here.”
“Tell me all about it.”
BRIIING!
Saved by the phone! “Hold that thought,” Tess said, and went to the phone. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Who’s this?” she asked, but got no response. Then she shook her head and hung up. “Wrong number.”
She returned to the table and realized both Miss Tabitha and Ethan were staring right at her. “What?” she asked.
Miss Tabitha arched a brow. “You were about to tell me about this new business of yours.”
It was time to tell. “Well, I’m glad Molly and the rest of that bunch decided they couldn’t get away to help Uncle Gordon. They gave me the chance to do what I really wanted but hadn’t had the guts to go ahead and do.”
“And that would be…?”
“I’m opening an online auction and consignment service. I’m going to make money off other people’s junk.”
Out the corner of her eye, Tess saw the disbelief on Ethan’s face. Miss Tabitha, on the other hand, looked intrigued. Tess smiled at the lady she hoped her uncle would finally marry someday.
“It’s not as crazy as it sounds,” she said.
Miss Tabitha set thick sandwiches before them, then placed a pitcher of her trademark sweet tea in the center of the table. “Tell me.”
After a quick prayer they ate, and Tess explained the online business phenomenon. True, it wasn’t the most traditional of endeavors, but she liked the idea of finding new homes for usable items. “You know what they say,” she added. “One man’s trash is another’s treasure.”
Miss Tabitha tapped her spoon on the table. “Well, Tess, my dear. You’ve just snagged yourself your first client. I’ve got more than my fair share of junk. I can stand to unload a whole heap of it. If it’ll help you and keep you here for Gordon, why, I can’t think of a better fate for all those things.”
Tess gaped.
The phone rang—again.
She smacked her mouth shut, then went to the phone. “Hello?”
This time, she heard breathing, faint and even, but got no response.
“Come on,” she said. “I can hear you. What do you want?”
The breathing continued, and a sudden chill ran through her. This time, she couldn’t drop the receiver soon enough. “I’ll have to call the phone company. That’s two times this happened in less than an hour. I hate prank callers. They really need to get a life.”
“Prank?” Ethan asked, his voice taut, his eyes narrow and fixed on her face.
Wow! His look was colder than ice. “Mmm…yes. Silence, and then breathing. No big deal. It happens.”
Ethan looked ready to object, but when he glanced at Miss Tabitha, he sat back and stared at the table. His fingers tapped out a rhythm against the wood.
Tess forced her thoughts back to their earlier conversation. “Are you really serious, Miss Tabitha? You want me to sell some items for you? What would you like me to sell first?”
A slow smile brightened Miss Tabitha’s round, still-lovely face. “I’ve just the thing. It’s bound to bring you a good commission, too. How would you like to list my collection of Victorian funerary urns?”
Ethan made a choked sound. Tess refused to look. She didn’t blame him. After all…funerary urns? Ick! “Uh…what are funerary urns?”
“Well, honey, just what they sound like. They’re the glass, ceramic or metal urns Victorian folks used to store the ashes of their dearly departed.”
Oh, swell. She wants me to sell hundred-plus-year-old ashes. “Hm…” How did one ask diplomatically? “What exactly does one do with Victorian funerary urns?”
“Why, nothing, I suppose. They’re just unique and rare collectibles. Victorians didn’t cotton to the notion of cremation. They agreed with Scripture about the body being buried.”
Tess knew her Scriptures just as well as the next Christian girl, but still, the thought of urns and ashes…she shuddered.
“That still doesn’t tell me why you—” or anyone else “—would collect them.”
Miss Tabitha gestured vaguely. “A distant relative left me a small collection—four or five—in her will. They’re lovely, you know. A few years later I saw another one at an antiques auction and, well, that was that.”
“And people pay for these things?” Tess asked.
Ethan made another sound, this one more like a stifled chuckle.
Miss Tabitha met Tess’s gaze. “You wouldn’t be thinking there’s ashes in them, now would you?”
“Uh…er…no! No, no. Of course not.” Phew!
Miss Tabitha flashed the mischievous grin that had stolen Tess’s great-uncle’s heart. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. At auction I’ve seen them go for hundreds and sometimes thousands of dollars.”
Tess shook her head. There really was no accounting for taste, as the old saying went. “Okay, then. Why don’t you bring me a couple? We’ll start small and see how it goes from there.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Miss Tabitha turned to Ethan. “Would you be so kind as to bring them to Tess later on tonight? I’d like to get her up and running. This sounds like fun.”
Ethan’s eyes twinkled. “Be happy to.”
Miss Tabitha studied him through narrowed green eyes. Long, silent moments later, she pushed her chair from the table. “I’d better be getting back home. I need to start supper for my guests.”
“I’ll walk you there,” Ethan said.
Tess gathered her plate and glass and stood. “I’ll take Uncle Gordon his sandwich when he wakes up from his nap.”
Miss Tabitha crossed the room to the sink, washed her hands, dried them on a nearby kitchen towel and then headed toward the front hall, all the time chattering about the meal she planned to serve.
Tess laid an arm around Miss Tabitha’s shoulders. “How many boarders do you have these days?”
“A full house—all four rooms are occupied. The Good Lord’s blessed me with just the right amount of income to keep me independent all these years.”
“I hope the boarders know how lucky they are. Not many landladies throw in gourmet meals as part of the rent.”
“I’m glad this one does,” Ethan said, smiling.
“Thank you, dear. I love to mess around in the kitchen, and it does my heart good to see folks enjoy the results.”
“You do more than mess around,” Tess said, “and you know it. I think you should open up a cooking school, give lessons, at the very least.”
Miss Tabitha’s green eyes twinkled. “Oh, who knows. Maybe someday. But I’ve all I can handle on my plate right now.”
Tess hugged Miss Tabitha then held the door open. “I’ll be waiting for the urns.”
Ethan winked. “With bated breath.”
Tess couldn’t hold it back this time. She laughed. He joined her, and as Ethan escorted Miss Tabitha to the sidewalk, Tess couldn’t squelch the tiny flicker of excitement. She liked Ethan Rogers.
“Lord? I did the right thing coming home, didn’t I?”
Only time would tell.
THREE
Later that evening Ethan delivered the urns as they’d agreed. He didn’t stay long, saying he had to meet his cousin to go over the files on the three drug overdoses. Tess couldn’t help the sense of loss every time she thought of the dead woman. It was good to know Loganton would have someone with Ethan’s training and experience working on their drug-crime problem.
She murmured a silent prayer for anyone trapped by drugs, for someone to show them a better way, God’s way.
After she had Uncle Gordon settled in for the night, she headed to her room with her Bible. She changed into her favorite blue T-shirt and polka-dot pajama pants, washed her face, brushed her teeth, took down her ponytail then turned off the overhead light. She clicked on the bedside lamp and curled up on top of her silky green-on-green comforter to pray.
But the image of the dead woman’s dog—now her responsibility—intruded in her conversation with her Lord. She didn’t want a nasty confrontation with Uncle Gordon, not over an abandoned dog. “Father, I know I’m treading on thin ice here. Uncle Gordon’s not crazy about dogs, and I’ve just taken one on—even though he’s still at the groomer’s tonight. I was too chicken to bring him home the same day Uncle Gordon left the hospital. Help me, please?”
She opened her worn and marked-up Bible then went straight to the book of Psalms. That’s where she usually wound up when she needed comfort. Verse eleven in Psalm 5 leaped out at her, highlighted in yellow marker. “But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them…”
She’d turned to these words time and time again while things at Magnusson’s Department Store were in turmoil. Someone with knowledge of their security codes had been stealing from cash registers, most frequently from her department. As the manager, Tess had immediately come under scrutiny since she had the code for the register. No matter how vehemently she insisted on her innocence, until the culprit—a computer whiz from the IT department—was caught, her every move had been scrutinized.
She’d clung to that verse and the knowledge of the Apostle Paul’s experiences, how he’d endured beatings and jailings and never stopped praising and trusting God. But it had been hard at times. These days she still found it difficult to trust people.
Even after the woman was arrested and Tess cleared, many of her fellow workers continued to avoid her. Work became intolerable. When her cousin Molly called about Uncle Gordon’s situation, Tess jumped at the opportunity. She needed a fresh start.
She’d never expected to stumble on a dying woman while out for a jog.
After an hour or so she closed the Bible, turned the light off and again prayed for wisdom and the right words when she brought the dog home from the groomer’s tomorrow. She fell asleep to the sound of a spring rain.
Ethan and his partner, Steve, had crouched across from the alley for hours. It wasn’t the best neighborhood to work; it had hit on bad times years ago. Now it offered a haven to anyone with evil intent. Drug dealers had sunk the roots of their sick empires deep into the cracks of the crumbling pavement and had spread shoots like tentacles to choke off all life they found. Ethan and Steve were there to round up another purveyor of death.
The agency had been after Ernesto Moreno for a decade; the guy was slick. Ethan and Steve had been assigned to the Chicago end of the case three years before. All that work, all that danger, would finally come to fruition tonight. They were about to get their payoff. They had Moreno’s jail cell ready.
Twenty minutes ago they’d heard their backup behind the rotting fence down one side of the alley.
Ethan was growing tired of waiting. He wanted Moreno now.
Then, at around two-thirty, three shadowy figures arrived near the trash bin that blocked the alley’s far exit. The wait was coming to an end.
“Ready?” Steve asked.
“I’ve been ready for Moreno from day one.”
The meticulous investigation had painted Moreno as a deadly Pied Piper. He’d led too many into the trap of coke, heroin and meth. That kind of poison was deadly, the meth particularly cheap and available to those with fewer means. This scum spent his time hanging out around schools. Oh, yeah, Ethan was ready.
He and Steve crept silently, hugging the fence, its jagged splinters snagging their clothes, their weapons drawn, all their senses on alert.
Inch by inch the partners edged close enough to hear the suspects’ argument.
“You owe me!” the lanky one on the far left said in a raw whisper.
“I do not,” spat the short, thin shadow farthest back.
“You got all you gonna get.”
“That’s not what you said. You don’t come through, I’ll tell—”
PZZZZT! And then another PZZZZT!
A wail ripped through the silent night.
“We’re in!” Steve cried.
Time blurred for the next few seconds. More shots rang out, these without benefit of a silencer. As Ethan rushed deeper into the alley, he tripped over something—someone who moaned.
Not Steve, Lord, please.
“Man down!” On his knees, Ethan reached for the victim’s neck to check for a pulse. Close enough to feel the shallow puffs of breath, Ethan got a better look at the pain-stricken face. His stomach heaved. The victim was only a boy, a teen.
Ethan sucked in a harsh breath. This was his worst nightmare, everything he worked so hard to prevent. As dark as the night was, he still could see the bloom of blood on the boy’s chest.
Another moan soughed out. The teen opened his eyes. “P-please…”
Sudden brilliance from a floodlight almost blinded him, but as he blinked, a man hurtled past him out of the alley. Ethan looked up and met black eyes filled with hatred. And then Moreno was gone.
“Nooooo!” Ethan sat up, panting, face drenched in tears. Over the past few weeks, the tormenting dreams had come farther apart, lasted less time, milder in their intensity. Tonight, however, he might as well have been back in Chicago, Robby Stoddard dying on his lap, his partner down with a bullet too close to his spine and Moreno getting away.
“When, Father? When will I be free of these dreams?”
A vicious bolt of lightning shocked Tess awake. Gusting wind blew a fine mist through the screened window and dampened Tess’s face. The temperature had dropped at least fifteen degrees, turning her warm cocoon into a cold, soggy mess. Her heart pounded at the suddenness of the storm.
The crash of another thunderbolt got her on her feet and moving across the room to close the window. She bolted the window shut, then watched the wind thrash the branches of the oak tree outside. She willed her heart to slow down and her breathing to return to normal. To try and restore a sense of normalcy, she stripped the wet linens from her bed. She’d have to sleep on the couch downstairs until her mattress dried.
Five minutes later, in a dry nightshirt, Tess was still on edge. She’d never liked thunderstorms. She went to the dresser, straightened her hairbrush, mirror, bottle of perfume and makeup case.
Thunder crashed again and lightning streaked the dark sky outside her window. She loved the sense of safety in her cozy yellow-and-green room and didn’t want to leave, but she couldn’t climb into the wet bed again. Fed up with her jumpiness, she went to the bathroom for a drink before heading downstairs. But once she turned off the tap and took her first sip, she heard more running water. She put the cup down on the countertop, and went out to the hallway.
Tess paused to listen, hearing nothing but the continued battering of the rain. She waited, attentive to every creak the old home gave out. She must have imagined the sound.
A fierce gust of wind slammed against the house. Heavy raindrops beat against the slate roof and the leaded windows. Tess shivered, thankful for the shelter the sturdy house provided.
Then she heard the rushing water again, and this time there was no mistaking it. Water was running inside the house. She’d have to find where it was coming in before they suffered water damage.
In an excess of caution, she listened outside the private bathroom in Uncle Gordon’s room and then started down the stairs. It sounded like a running faucet, but Tess had done the supper dishes herself. She knew she’d turned off that tap. After years of paying for her own utilities in Charlotte, she wasn’t about to let water run overnight.
By the time she reached the foyer, she realized it wasn’t a faucet dripping after all. What she heard was a full-fledged pour, and it came from the basement. Another buffet of wind hammered the house, the heavy rain thudding against the wood siding, crashing against the windows. The old quote, “It was a dark and stormy night” popped into her thoughts, and Tess laughed nervously.
It was silly to let a storm shake her up like this. “Get a grip,” she said, her words echoing in the large kitchen.
Tess opened the basement door, flicked the switch in the stairwell and carefully made her way down the steep basement stairs. She didn’t need to get hurt, too.
At the bottom of the stairs, she took a good look around. Stacks of boxes lined the walls, chairs were piled haphazardly on two tables in a corner, a collection of buckets covered Uncle Gordon’s old and unused workbench and additional plastic storage containers, suitcases, and even a lawnmower took up every visible inch of space.
“Wow!” As Tess stared at the mess, another blast of wind set off the sound of running water again. And while she didn’t find a flood, she did find an open window, one through which the rain poured in.
“Why would Uncle Gordon have left it open?” She didn’t think it could have blown ajar during the storm, but the how didn’t matter right then. She had to get it closed before the basement flooded. She climbed over a stack of boxes, then shoved three suitcases to one side. She never would have expected to find Uncle Gordon’s basement so cluttered. He was more the neat-freak, organized and squeaky-clean type.
And to leave a window open…?
Then she realized that wasn’t the case after all. No one had left the window open. The frame was locked, as it should have been. The glass pane, however, was broken, its jagged remains like a row of shark teeth along the wooden edge.
And, if she was right, the broken window flanked the torn-up rosebed outside. She looked for something to use to block out the rain. “That dog of Mr. Anthony’s must really be something,” she muttered. “First, he mangles half a dozen rosebushes, two azaleas and a border of petunias. Now, he’s busted in a window…”
Armed with the blue plastic lid to a storage container near the broken window, she reached up and jammed it into place. Her guesstimate was good; it covered the opening, but she would still need tape to get it to stay.
Tess remembered the roll Uncle Gordon kept in the laundry room off the kitchen. She ran up, grabbed the shiny gray duct tape off the shelf and hurried back down. In the dimly lit cavern, she picked her way to the window again over and around the many hurdles. As she pulled out the lid to readjust it, she thought she saw a shadow move out in the yard.
Her heart sped up.
Her breathing grew shallow.
Her hands shook, and she had to fight the urge to run upstairs and dive into her bed.
As she stood frozen, scared, Tess told herself it must have been a play of the streetlight on the branches of the oak tree outside. But no matter how many times she repeated the thought, she didn’t convince herself. Her impression had been one of a head, strong shoulders and legs. True, it had only lasted an instant, but she knew what she’d seen.
Would anyone believe her? Believe she’d seen someone walking out in the yard in the middle of a monsoon?
Probably not. Especially since now, a few minutes later, she was busy thinking up possible alternate scenarios. Like the unlikely oak branches.
She would only tell someone if she thought she’d be believed. The last few months at Magnusson’s had left a deep scar. Tess didn’t need anyone doubting her again.
Drenched, Tess made sure the plastic lid was crammed into the space as tightly as possible. Then she spread strip after strip of tape across it, and by the time she’d used almost the whole roll, the flood had been reduced to an occasional drop coursing down the wall.
“It’ll have to do,” she murmured, as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. It wouldn’t win any beauty awards, but it worked—for the time being. She turned toward the stairs and started to make her way around the clutter again.
She put her hand on the top box to her right, slipped her fingers into the now-open plastic container whose top covered the window, and hauled herself over the rain-sodden mess. “I’ll have to call around and get a handyman to come in and replace the glass. At least Uncle Gordon won’t be mucking around down here where he might slip and fall—Aaaaack!”
She lost her footing and landed on her right foot. Pain sliced up her leg. “Oh…oh…”
Gritting her teeth, Tess reached down and gingerly pulled a shard of glass from the sole of her foot. The ooze of blood told her she was in trouble. And without her phone, she’d have to crawl her way up the basement stairs, careful not to touch the wound to the dirty floor. She needed to call for help.
Inch by inch she made her bloody way across the basement. She climbed the stairs rear end first, step by step by step. Once she pushed her behind up over the last step, she breathed a sigh of relief. Now what?
Now she had to apply pressure to the wound. The bleeding was heavy. Then…?
Did she call an ambulance and scare Uncle Gordon with the siren and all the commotion? Or did she call Miss Tabitha on her private line, drag the poor dear out of bed in the middle of the night and scare the stuffing out of her?
She’d been gone from town for so long, she wasn’t sure any of her former friends were still around or would remember her if they were. She’d find no help there.
The phone rang, sending a shot of relief right through her. Potential help. Then it hit her. Who would be calling in the middle of the night?
The phone rang again. Tess hopped across the room on her good foot, her bad foot dripping on the white-painted wood floor. “Hello?”
She could hear the caller’s breathing on the other end, but she got no response. “I’ve had enough of your calls. This is a lousy time for another prank—”
“It’s no prank,” a harsh voice rasped. “It’s a warning. I want it back.”
Tess froze. Her heart pounded. The caller was clearly disguising his voice.
Lord, help! She dredged up all her courage. “What? What do you want?”
“You know.” Then he hung up.
Tess stood in the brightly lit kitchen, the phone clutched to her chest. Chills ran through her. Her stomach knotted, and everything felt surreal.
She remembered the shadow and the broken window. Tess leaned sideways, and with a glance, checked the kitchen door. She breathed a relieved sigh when she saw the dead bolt in the locked position. When she straightened again, pain stabbed up her leg, and she gasped at the sight of the pool of blood from her cut foot. She needed medical attention, and soon. Should she go ahead and call 911? Was the person still outside? Had he been the one on the phone?
If she called an ambulance and the trespasser was still there, would the ambulance make him look for a place to hide until they came and took her away? Uncle Gordon would be left alone.
If instead she called Miss Tabitha for help, would the intruder overpower them both? And then…? Then what?
“Stop it!” She wasn’t thinking clearly. The shadow had to have been the branches from the tree. And the caller? He must have made a mistake, dialed the wrong number, and in the dead of night, thought she was his intended target.
That was it. Nothing else made sense.
Another stab of pain shot up her leg, worse than before. She needed help. But who could she call?
Then it struck her. She knew one competent, capable person who she hoped wouldn’t mind helping. Ethan would know what to do.
Relieved, but now keenly aware of the foot pain, she speed-dialed Miss Tabitha’s boarding-house number and hoped whoever she woke up would forgive her.
“Hello?” Ethan asked, his voice rough, as though he hadn’t used it in hours.
Thank you, Father. “Ethan? I’m sorry to wake you up, but I’m so glad you picked up the phone. It’s Tess Graver. I need your help. One of our basement windows broke, probably during the storm, and when I went to cover it to block out the rain, I stepped on broken glass and hurt my foot. It’s bleeding pretty badly, and I need to get to the E.R. Could you please help?”
“I’ll get going as soon as we hang up.”
His deep voice reassured her, and Tess pushed the memory of the shadow and the phone call out of her thoughts. “I…I think a neighbor’s dog might have broken the window. Uncle Gordon says Rupert Anthony, three doors down and across the street, got himself this monster of a dog. It looks like the animal broke loose, trashed our rosebed, and crashed into the window, too.” She hoped.
“Some dog, that Rupert Anthony’s pet.”
His skepticism echoed her unease. For a moment, panic threatened, and Tess couldn’t stand the thought of hanging up, of losing the connection, even if it existed only over the phone. Then she took a settling breath, closed her eyes and prayed another silent plea.
A tree branch and a wrong number, Tess. Remember?
“Fine,” she said, marginally calmer. “Just hurry, please. I called because I don’t want an ambulance to wake up Uncle Gordon, and I’m making a bloody mess in the kitchen.”
“I’ll be right there.”
After a quick goodbye Tess hung up then hopped to the sink, biting down against the pain. She leaned to the right and unlocked the dead bolt. As the panic rose, she prayed. Lord, it was the oak tree, right?
Then, determined not to give in to the fear, Tess took a clean towel from the drawer to the left of the sink. She folded and dropped it on the floor, right by her foot. With teeth gritted, she pressed down, gasping from the pain, but aware she needed pressure to stanch the flow of blood.
Less than five minutes later, Ethan let himself in. When he saw the bloody trails across the floor, he sucked in a sharp breath. “You didn’t tell me it was this bad.”
“I did! I told you there was a lot of blood and I needed to get to the E.R.”
“I didn’t expect—” he waved toward her foot “—that.”
A wave of dizziness struck her. Her good leg threatened to buckle, and Tess began to shiver. She waved toward the drawer. “You’ll find more clean towels there. Help me out. We need to get going.”
He crossed to the cupboard and returned, towel in hand. “That duct tape you’re holding will help. Give me a minute, and I’ll have you ready for our ride to the E.R.”
Moments later, foot bundled up and no longer bleeding at an alarming rate, Ethan took her elbow and helped her stand. But then he stopped. “Wait!” he said. “How about your uncle? We can’t leave him here alone. Let me get a friend to stay with him. Joe lives at Miss Tabitha’s, too.”
As they went out into the—thankfully—slowing rain, Ethan called and gave his friend directions. Then he eased Tess into his SUV. She again noticed his strength, but this time it came tempered with gentleness and care.
Tess sank into the leather seat. “Thanks for coming,” she said when he sat behind the wheel.
He gave her a wry smile. “It’s better than pacing the halls all night. I…have trouble sleeping sometimes.”
“I’m sorry.” A muscle tightened in his cheek. “Don’t worry,” she added. “I won’t pry.”
This time his look conveyed more than gratitude. Tess thought she saw admiration there, too. Warmth filled her, and for the first time since the bolt of lightning woke her up, she began to relax.
“We’ll give Joe another minute or two,” Ethan said.
“Then it won’t take us long to make it to the E.R.”
The friend arrived. He and Ethan spoke briefly. As the man rounded the corner of the house, Tess glanced at Ethan. “Are you sure Uncle Gordon will be safe?”
“As sure as I can be. I’ve known Joe…oh, about six months now. He hasn’t given me a reason to doubt him.”
For the space of a second Tess thought how wonderful it would have been if someone at Magnusson’s had spoken up for her like that. Her knotted shoulders eased a bit.
But then, when Ethan turned the key in the ignition, a car pulled away, its lights off.
In a flash her fear returned. Tess gasped. “He’s real!”
Ethan shot her a look. “Who’s real?”
“My shadow.” She told him what she’d seen, what she’d hoped she’d only imagined, and then described the phone call in detail.
“If there was someone outside the window, do you really think he’d sit around this long?”
“I suppose you’re right. But we have a broken window, and I did get another call.”
“Didn’t you think you should call Maggie? At least tell me what really happened?” Tess winced at Ethan’s clipped words.
But before she could defend herself, he went on. “I’m glad I called Joe. Your uncle could have been in danger. At least Joe can call for help if your intruder returns.”
As he spoke, Ethan drove, his hands sure on the steering wheel, his expression unreadable.
“Look,” Tess said, after giving the night’s events some thought. “I don’t have anything that belongs to anyone, and that tree was making some pretty crazy shadows up in my room. Maybe I did imagine the shadow. I was pretty scared.”
The muscle in Ethan’s jaw worked. “A busted window, a threatening call and a car without lights. That doesn’t sound like the bogeyman to me. I suspect someone was there.”
He pulled up to the entrance to the E.R., set the brakes, ran around the SUV and helped her out of the car. “Thanks,” she said, her voice tight. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to wait—”
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