When Danger Calls (Blackthorne, Inc.)
Page 32
She opened the side door to the kitchen, calling for her son.
“Almost done,” Will shouted from his room.
Hearing his upbeat voice calmed her. She found Rhonda’s business card in her wallet and punched in the number. While the phone rang, she peered out the window, watching the mysterious Grinch loped up the driveway toward his truck. Grace’s words played over and over in her head.
The secret is becoming the part you’re playing. But remember, other people play parts as well. Don’t take things at face value.
Grace hadn’t seen Grinch’s face. Not gorgeous, to be sure. Well-worn. Lived in. Caring. She’d already been fooled by superficial good looks with Victor. If Grinch rescued people, he had to be safe, didn’t he? But he seemed nervous, distracted. The way she felt every time she met someone new, hoping they couldn’t see through her lies. Was he lying?
She peeked through the kitchen window. He was heading back down her driveway, tapping the wrench against his palm. Warming up? She gripped the phone. Come on, Rhonda. Pick up.
Will bounded into the kitchen. “I’m done, Mom. Want to check?”
Grinch was walking around her car, running his hand along the hood. More thoughts buzzed through her head. Checking her plates? Planting a bug? Too much television, she told herself. She managed to keep the anxiety out of her tone when she answered Will. “As soon as I’m off the phone. Do me a favor and wait for me in your room, okay?”
* * * * *
Grinch peeked through the passenger window of his pickup, reassuring himself that Dylan would stay asleep for the few moments it would take to get the gas flowing. The bumpy ride down the steep, pothole-filled driveway would have woken him up for sure. Besides, Chester was with him, and nobody would approach the truck with that mutt standing guard. He gave the window a soft pat, then headed toward the house.
It had been obvious that he’d frightened the Parker woman, and not by showing up unannounced. She had that trapped-animal demeanor. What’s her story? He wandered around her car. Layers of road dirt. California plates. Tires in decent shape, but if this was her only vehicle, she was going to have some trouble once the snows hit. Sooner if she didn’t get the driveway repaired and graded.
He checked the pickup again, Dylan’s red hair clearly visible against the passenger side window. Was he moving? Waking up? Damn, what was taking that woman so long? He needed to get Dylan home. Hell, he could have had the line opened and been gone by now.
He eyed the house. The front door opened, and the Parker woman trotted down the porch steps. At last. He strode toward her, trying to replace his impatience with a reassuring smile.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “I verified that Rhonda sent you. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Understood, ma’am,” he said. “This day and age, it pays to be careful. Although you’ll find most folks around here are friendly.”
“Will it take long?” she asked.
“Not at all. I’ll open the main line to the house, then make sure everything works for you.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” She disappeared into the house like a prairie dog into its den.
He opened the line, then jogged toward her door. She must have been watching, because the door opened when he hit the first wooden porch step.
“You’re finished?” she asked. He noticed her round, blue eyes. Eyes that kept darting glances toward the house. “So we’ll have hot water and heat?”
“Show me to the furnace and water heater, and I’ll fire them up for you.”
“Um…I’m not sure where they are. Basement, I guess.”
He forced a smile. “Either that or the garage. I’ll find ‘em.”
“Can I try the stove?”
“Sure. Give it a shot.”
She stepped in that direction, then stopped. “Um … it’s not going to explode, is it?”
He restrained himself from pushing past her. “Shouldn’t. Here, let me.” He twisted the knobs, hearing the pop as the ignition system kicked in. Seconds later, blue flames flickered below each burner.
He was about to check the oven when the sound of a dog’s frantic barking chilled his blood. Chester. He whirled and raced to the door, flinging it open. The spotted mutt raced circles around Dylan, who was stumbling down the drive.
“Dylan!” Grinch leaped off the porch and sprinted across the gravel, dodging potholes. “I told you to stay in the truck.” He grabbed the child.
Dylan sniffled. “I’m sorry. But I—” Then he threw up what appeared to be three times the volume of what his little stomach could hold. What had Mrs. Bridger fed him? She had a reputation as a reliable sitter, and Grinch had been grateful she’d agreed to take Dylan at the last minute, but maybe it hadn’t been a smart move.
“It’s all right, Dyl. It’s all right. You’ll be okay,” Grinch said, ignoring the stench and the mess. He rubbed the boy’s back and held his head.
“I’m sorry, I tried to be good.” His tears returned, along with shuddering sobs. “I sicked in the truck too.”
“What’s going on?”
Grinch turned to see the Parker woman, hands on her hips, a scowl on her face. He sat on the ground, pulling Dylan into his lap. “Sorry. Dylan—I thought he’d be okay for a few minutes—your place was on the way—Rhonda said it was a rush job—I didn’t—”
The woman crouched by his side, running her fingers through Dylan’s sweat-soaked hair, touching his forehead. “My God, he’s burning up. What kind of a person are you, leaving a child alone in the first place, not to mention a sick one.”
“Dylan was asleep. I didn’t know he was sick. And Chester was with him,” Grinch said, the words not out of his mouth before he realized how stupid they sounded.
“Chester?” She whirled her head around, fingers curled into fists.
“Dog,” he said.
She scanned the yard where Chester was now performing the obligatory sniffing routine. Apparently satisfied there was no additional threat, her posture relaxed. “You might as well come in and get cleaned up. Should you call your pediatrician?”
“I...we…don’t have one. I didn’t know Dylan was sick.”
She was already marching toward the house. Grinch scooped up Dylan and followed. Damn, the kid was burning up. Some father he was turning out to be.
At the door, Grinch stopped. “Let me get these coveralls off. No point in messing up your house.”
Without asking permission, she took charge of Dylan. “We’ll be in the bathroom.” She mumbled something and they disappeared. Momentarily stunned, he stood on the porch. His brain kicked in at last, and he unzipped the vomit-soaked coveralls and stepped out of them, shuddering as the cool air surrounded his skin. At least he had cargo shorts and a tee underneath. They seemed to have escaped harm. Leaving his coveralls and boots in a heap by the door, he went inside in search of his son.
The sound of water led him to the bathroom, where Dylan perched on the vanity, letting the Parker woman strip off his soiled shirt. Grinch paused in the doorway. Dylan had stopped crying. She wiped his face with a wet cloth, then ran it down his arms and over his thin chest. The boy had the fair skin that went with his red hair, but it was deathly pale now. His freckles stood out in stark contrast. Over the running water Grinch heard her saying those soothing things that women seemed born knowing. Dylan’s green eyes glistened with fever as they stared at her.
Grinch cleared his throat. “Thanks, ma’am. I can take over.”
She snapped her head around and glared at him. “Why don’t you go do whatever you have to so we can get some hot water? You are capable of that, aren’t you?”
Inwardly, he winced. There was no denying the unspoken words: Since you’re obviously clueless about taking care of a child.
Which was God’s honest truth.
“You okay, sport?” Grinch asked Dylan. The boy nodded, fixated on his new caretaker. Great. He’d been replaced. On his way out of the bathroom, he almost collided
with another child. A boy, a few years older than Dylan, Grinch estimated. “Sorry.”
The boy tilted his head up. “Are you Dylan’s dad?”
“Yeah.”
The boy eyed him warily. “Mom’s good at taking care of people. She took good care of me when I was sick. I had an operation. My heart leaked. But I’m fine now.”
The boy had solemn brown eyes that twisted something inside Grinch. “That’s good to know.”
“These are mine, but Dylan can borrow them. I wore them when I was sick.” The boy held up some faded blue pajamas with superheroes flying about. “They’re … comforting.”
Christ, was everyone a better parent than he was? He swallowed to keep his throat open. “Thanks. I’ll go fix your furnace and water heater.”
He wandered through the living area, empty except for a faded green sofa and an assortment of Walmart bags on the floor. He found the stairs, trotted down to what was a partially finished basement. One big space, shabby brown carpet, three doors. He opened the first. Sink, toilet, and a Lilliputian shower stall. The next door led to the garage. He flipped on the light. No second vehicle. Nothing but cold air and a musty smell.
Opening the last door, he found what he needed. He fired up the water heater before tackling the furnace. Dust covered the outside. The filter was well overdue for a change. He crouched, checked the fittings, and turned it on. The Parker woman had better have it serviced it if she wanted an efficient heating system come fall.
Maybe he’d come by in a few days and take care of it. Fair enough, since she was tending to Dylan. Or maybe she’d already made the arrangements. It was her first day here, and her furniture hadn’t been delivered yet. Maybe her husband was on his way.
What difference did it make? And why did he care? He had enough on his plate right now.
He straightened from his crouch, wiped his hands on his shorts. He’d thank the woman, take Dylan, and get on with straightening out his life.
Gentle footfalls thumped on the stairs. Dylan? Grinch rushed to the base of the staircase. The Parker kid stopped midway down. “Mom wants you.”
*****
Find DANGER IN DEER RIDGE, and Terry Odell's other works at her Amazon author page.
About the author
Terry Odell began writing by mistake, when her son mentioned a television show and she thought she'd be a good mom and watch it so they'd have common ground for discussions.
Little did she know she would enter the world of writing, first via fanfiction, then through Internet groups, and finally with groups with real, live partners. Her first publications were short stories, but she found more freedom in longer works and began what she thought was a mystery. Her daughters told her it was a romance so she began learning more about the genre and craft. She belongs to both the Romance Writers of America and Mystery Writers of America.
Now a multi-published, award winning author, Terry resides with her husband in the mountains of Colorado. You can find her online at:
Her website - http://www.terryodell.com
Her blog - http://terryodell.blogspot.com
Facebook -http://www.facebook.com/terry.odell
Twitter - http://twitter.com/authorterryo
Table of Contents
Copyright
DEDICATION
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
EXCERPT FROM DANGER IN DEER RIDGE
About the author