Adrenaline flooded her veins anyway.
She walked faster, past a loud group of tourists who smelled of cigarettes and marijuana and liquor. Since prison, she had no desire for that kind of life. She passed an off-the-strip hotel, where the dings and beeps of the slot machines in the lobby carried through the open door, she kept her head down and crossed the street.
The fear crossed with her.
The sound of footsteps behind her seemed to get louder, closer, until they pounded in her ears.
The narrow alley that led to the back door of her apartment building was just ahead. She could walk around to the front, but to get there she had to pass a very dark stretch of sidewalk before reaching the floodlights and street traffic. Or she could cut through the alley.
A stalker could hurt her on the sidewalk or in the alley.
She’d be inside faster if she cut through the alley.
She was crazy. Nobody was following her. This insanity had to stop. Whoever was behind her was just a tourist or one of the millions of workers who kept this town running. This feeling was just her own anxiety chasing her like demons, mocking her. She was fine. She was safe. She was practically invisible these days.
Outside the nursing home, nobody even saw her anymore.
Great. Now she was being maudlin.
She squared her shoulders and turned down the alley.
The footsteps followed.
Adjusting her key so it would be ready for the lock, she moved faster. She was nearly there when something moved at the far end of the alley. A man in the shadows walked toward her.
Two men were closing in. One behind, one in front.
Her hands were trembling by the time she reached the door. She tried to slide the key into the lock. Fumbled it, and the keys clattered to the concrete. She passed the pepper spray from her left hand to her right and started to turn. A hand clamped on her upper arm, kept the pepper spray aimed at his knees.
She gasped, desperate to scream but unable to force the sound past her terror.
“Hey!” A deep voice. A familiar voice. It came from the man on the far end of the alley. He was running their direction.
The man with his hand on her arm turned and bolted.
The other man, the one with the familiar voice, chased him.
Stunned, confused, she watched as the first man rounded the corner and disappeared. The second followed him.
She stared into the darkness.
Had that just happened?
Had she lost her mind, conjured danger where none existed?
Danger… and salvation?
She snatched her key from the asphalt, pepper spray still gripped in her fist.
Her hands trembled, slick with sweat, but she managed to slip her key into the lock on the outer door of her building. She was turning the knob when she heard footsteps again.
Please, no.
“Harper?”
She turned toward the familiar voice she’d heard before.
“Barry?”
He jogged down the alley and stopped beside her. “I thought that was you. I saw you walking…”
His words faded. Or maybe she did. Suddenly, the dark night got darker, and her legs turned to jelly. She gasped as if she hadn’t taken a breath in minutes. Maybe she hadn’t.
“Hey.” Barry gripped her upper arms. “You okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“If you hadn’t been there…” But she couldn’t finish the statement.
“But I was.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her back. “You’re safe.”
Safe. She was safe. She took a deep breath, straightened. She was all right. She’d survived worse.
He let her go, turned the knob, and pushed the door open. “This is your building?”
“I’m fine. I’ll be okay now.”
“I’m walking you to your door anyway. Just to be sure. What if that guy went around to the front and got someone to let him in?”
The thought had her heart dropping. “Okay. Thank you.”
She led the way into the building and up the narrow staircase, down the hall and to the door of her tiny studio apartment. “Oh.” She’d left her key dangling from the keyhole downstairs. When she turned to Barry, he lifted his hand, and her keyring hung from his index finger, her key swinging beside the new knife.
“Here”—he nodded to the keyhole—“let me.”
She stepped out of the way while he unlocked her door and pushed it open.
“Thank you.”
“I’m just glad I happened by when I did.”
The hair on her arms rose. Nobody happened by this part of town. Just a few blocks off the strip, but it might as well have been miles and miles. Suspicion had her stepping into her apartment, never taking her eyes off him. She kept one hand on the doorknob, prepared to slam it shut. “What were you doing in the alley?”
His smile seemed natural enough. “I saw you at end of the block. I was on the other corner. I was going to cut through the alley, see if I could catch up with you. When you turned in, I wasn’t sure if it was you or not. I was getting closer to make sure. Then I saw that guy behind you.”
Seemed reasonable, but… “What were you doing on the street?”
“There’s a little bar on the next block. I met some friends there. My car was parked in that lot on the corner.”
The story sounded plausible. And it definitely hadn’t been Barry following her into the alley. If Barry hadn’t been there, she hated to think what would have happened.
She held out her hand, palm up, and he dropped the keys in it. “Will you be okay?”
She nodded, then shook her head. “I’m a little…” But she couldn’t find the word.
“Discombobulated?”
The sudden chuckle surprised her. “Yeah. That.”
“Want me to come inside, make sure it’s safe?”
“No, no. I’m sure it’s…” She cocked her head, focused on him again. “When did you get released?”
He shrugged. “They let me go. A technicality.”
Let him go? He’d been convicted of accessory to murder. How could that have happened? “And Emmitt? Is he…?”
“He’s still in.”
Thank God. The last thing she needed was Emmitt back in her life. Or Barry, for that matter.
“How long have you been out?” she asked.
“Couple months. I got a good job developing apps for this…” He chuckled and ducked his head. “It doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say, that part of my life is over.” He took in her apartment, the little dinette set beside the tiny kitchen, the loveseat that faced the TV she’d bought used for fifty bucks, the twin bed, unmade, pushed against the far wall. “And what about you?”
“I work, I go to school, I work some more.”
“Nursing?”
“You remember.”
“You’re hard to forget, Harper.”
She ignored the remark, not sure what to make of it. “I’m taking general ed classes until I figure out what I want to do.”
“You don’t want to be an RN?”
“With a felony? I’m lucky I got hired as a nurse’s assistant.” She smiled, yawned. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I owe you so much more than a thank-you, but that’s all I have to offer.”
He took her hand in both of his. They were warm and clammy. “Please be careful. You can’t be walking down alleys by yourself at night. It’s not safe.”
The memory of that man… How long had he been following her? What would he have done if Barry hadn’t been there? “I know. You’re right. Next time, I’ll stick to the main roads and go in the front.”
He tilted his head to the side. “No car?”
“I’m saving for one.”
“You need—”
“I appreciate your concern, Barry. Truly. I’ll manage.” She showed him her pepper spray. “See, I had it well in hand.”
He didn’t even crack a smile. “If you ever need
anything…” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a business card. It was crisp, professional. So was he. The long hair he’d worn before had been cut to a respectable length. He wore crisp trousers and a long-sleeved golf shirt, tucked in. He looked like the young professional he’d been before he fell in with Emmitt. Nobody would ever guess Barry was an ex-con.
Good looks were about as trustworthy as a heroin junkie.
She pictured Derrick, his smile. No. He was a good guy with a good job. He treated her like gold.
She took Barry’s business card, though she knew she’d never call. He’d saved her tonight, no doubt. But Barry was in her past, and she didn’t want to bring anything from that life into this one.
Chapter Three
Harper was slipping on the oversize T-shirt she slept in when her phone rang. She snatched it up and crawled into bed. “Hey.”
“You’re home safe?” Derrick’s voice brought tears she hadn’t expected.
“I’m home.”
A beat passed, then, “Did something happen?”
Was she really that easy to read over the phone and across the miles? “Sort of. When I was walking home…” She told him the story. Though he was silent on the other end, tension radiated through the phone. She finished with, “I’m safe now.”
A moment passed. She held her breath, waited for his reaction.
Finally, he said, “That’s it. I can’t…” A deep breath. “I can’t do this anymore. Harper, I care for you. I feel like you and me… We’ve both messed up, and we’re not perfect, but I care about you more than you know. I need you. I feel like, with you on my side, I can do anything, conquer anything. You’re my…my lifeline. My salvation.” His words were pleading. “I’m terrified something is going to happen to you. And tonight—”
“I was fine. Tonight was an aberration.” But even as she said the words, fear tingled up the back of her neck. Was Derrick the answer?
When he spoke again, his words were measured. Angry. “Tonight proves it. You’re not safe there. It’s time for you to come to Maryland.”
The tone of his words, the vehemence behind them. Was she imagining the anger?
Of course she was. Derrick only wanted what was best for her. And as if to prove it, he blew out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any right to tell you what to do. But Gramps needs somebody to take care of him.” Derrick’s voice was back to its kind and considerate tone. “I don’t think he’s been taking his meds consistently. And I can’t put off hiring a nurse any longer. I trust you. I want you taking care of him.”
Derrick had told her all about his grandfather, certain she’d love him. But what about Derrick, could she love him? “I’m just not—”
“Not for me. Don’t move here for me.” Though she couldn’t see him, she could imagine him pacing, running his fingers over his short hair. “I promise, I won’t ask anything of you. I don’t expect anything of you. Just… I need to know you’re safe. Move here for you. To be safe. To keep my grandfather safe. To start fresh.”
To start fresh. The words reverberated like a promise.
Estelle was right. Derrick was right. She’d never be able to start over if she stayed in this city filled with memories. She needed a fresh start. Derrick’s job offer was the perfect solution.
“Harper…?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, as in—?”
“As soon as I finish my exams and give my notice, I’ll move to Maryland.”
Chapter Four
Harper couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. She’d sold most of her belongings and collected her security deposit. Then, she’d driven all the way across the country in a beat-up VW Jetta, praying as the car coughed and sputtered into a gas station in southern Utah, as the fan belt broke in Kansas, and when she needed a tire change during rush hour outside of Indianapolis, Indiana.
But she’d made it. And here she was.
Yes, she still missed Estelle. The woman had been right. A week after Harper told her she was moving, Estelle died in her sleep. Her last words, spoken earlier that very evening, had resonated with Harper ever since. “You’ve got a family who loves you, hon. But no matter what they say or do, you’ve got a God who loves you more, and always has.”
She’d purchased a Bible the next day, and she’d been reading it ever since. It had become a good way to kill the long hours alone in motel rooms on her cross-country trek. She’d even bought a journal, which was mostly filled with questions about what she was reading.
Now here she was, driving a Cadillac, pulling up to the house that had become her home. The house was enormous, bigger than the four-bedroom she’d grown up in back in Kansas. The neighboring houses—all equally grand and pretty—weren’t so close the neighbors could spy for evening entertainment. And the trees! After the barren sand of Las Vegas, the vegetation felt as lush as a jungle.
She marveled at her good fortune. How had she landed here, in this amazing place? Nobody deserved it less.
Maybe God really did love her.
“What’s the holdup, girl?”
She turned to her passenger and smiled. “Just admiring the view.”
Red Burns mashed the button to open the garage door, and Harper glided the luxurious car into place beside her little Jetta. As soon as she shifted into Park, Red opened his door.
“If you’ll just be patient,” she said, “I’ll come around.”
“Don’t need your help.”
He shifted to get out of the car while she rushed to help. He waved her off and stood on his own. He beamed at her as if he’d finished a marathon. “Told you I had it.”
“The physical therapy’s helping after all.”
He harrumphed, as she’d known he would. He’d balked at the suggestion, but she and Derrick had insisted he at least give therapy a try. He was moving better and with less pain since he’d begun the twice-weekly sessions, but he’d never admit it.
She knew better than to press the point.
Inside, she settled him in a chair in the eat-in kitchen. “I have that leftover fettuccini we ordered yesterday, or I could make you a—”
“Pasta will work,” he said.
She took out the creamy dish and spooned the leftovers into a pan. While it warmed, she fetched Red a bottle of yellow Gatorade, his favorite, unscrewed the top, and poured it into his glass. “Here you go.”
He sipped the liquid, then leveled his blue-gray eyes on her. “Where’s that grandson of mine?”
She pasted on a smile. “Derrick’s been working hard lately.” Working and playing hard, she knew. She cared for Derrick, but she wasn’t impressed by how little time he made for his grandfather, his only living relative. At first, he’d driven up to Red’s from his Baltimore condo every weekend to visit. But lately, things had changed. He’d quit visiting as often, and when he did, he seemed stressed. Worried.
Whatever it was, Harper saw no reason for him to neglect his grandfather. Maybe Derrick had only brought her here so he wouldn’t feel as guilty about it.
Not that Harper had the right to judge. She hadn’t spoken to her own parents in years. Hadn’t spoken to her brothers, either. Sure, Dad had told her not to call, but she would someday. When things here were settled, when she knew the job would last. When she could handle their rejection.
“Works all the time, that boy,” Red said.
She spooned helpings onto two plates and carried them to the table. “Maybe I should learn to cook fettuccini Alfredo.”
Red smirked. “Stick to what you’re good at.”
She set the plates down and opened the silverware drawer. “You saying I’m a bad cook?”
“The worst.” His lips twitched with the insult. “But you’re the best nurse.”
She set forks on the table and plopped into her chair. “That’s because I have the best patient.”
“Humph. Don’t know about that.” He held out his hand, and she took it. She’d gotten accustomed to the grace he said befor
e every meal. He uttered a quick prayer, let go of her hand, and dug into his meal, flashing his bald head at her as he focused on getting the pasta to his mouth. Red had a point about her cooking. She’d tried, truly she had, but she hated it. Apparently it hated her, too. Anything beyond grilled cheese sandwiches and canned soup seemed to revolt at her incapable hands.
She was no cook. But caring for Red? That came as naturally as breathing. Maybe because she loved the old man so.
Harper felt so fortunate to be working for him, living in this lovely house. The thought from earlier returned—maybe God really did love her.
Could it be true? Estelle had been so sure.
And now Red. And the pastor at the church Red attended.
“What you thinking on, girl?”
“The pastor’s message yesterday.”
He wiped his mouth, nodding. “Good message. Got a question?”
She didn’t have a question, not really. She just wasn’t sure about it. “You believe all that? That we have to forgive because God forgave us first?”
“Course I do. Which part bothers you? The forgiving or the being forgiven?”
“Second part, I guess,” she said. Because forgiveness for all her sins? All of them? Seemed too good to be true. When things seemed too good to be true, they usually were. Like this move to Maryland. Sure, the job was perfect, better than she’d ever imagined. But Derrick? She was starting to wonder if it was time to end the relationship. Not that he was doing anything wrong, certainly nothing she could put her finger on. He just seemed…tetchy lately. Short-tempered. When she’d asked about it, he acted as if she were the one with the problem.
More than that, she’d been very clear before she moved that she wasn’t going to sleep with him until she was sure they would stay together, until she was sure he could be trusted. She’d also been clear that the move to Maryland had been about taking care of Red, not about making promises to Derrick. He’d agreed at the time.
But lately, he’d been pushing her. Not just to sleep with him, but also to make promises she wasn’t ready to make. Promises about her love and devotion. Promises about their future. Between his making fewer trips to Red’s house and the way he’d pushed her when he did come, she didn’t know what to think.
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