by Elle James
Mitch pushed the babies toward the double glass doors of the three-story building attached to the east side of the hospital.
His cell buzzed in his pocket again, so he fished it out and checked the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone staring at him and a chill raced up his spine. Coming up on the anniversary of Kimberly’s death must be playing tricks on him, because the woman was her height and had her figure, so his mind immediately snapped to thinking it could be her. Damn, he needed to get a grip.
Did he really think Kimberly would be at the plaza near the hospital and pediatrician’s office? That was impossible. He’d buried Kimberly Kent at least mentally if not physically. Her grave was in the meadow she loved, not a hundred yards from the house, from her family.
“What’s going on?” he asked his top cowhand, Lonnie Roark, aka Lone Star Lonnie.
“Found something near the base of Rushing Creek that I thought you might want to take a look at personally,” Lone Star said.
“Okay. What will I see?” Mitch asked impatiently. He wasn’t frustrated with Lonnie; he was aggravated with himself for imagining his dead wife in the plaza.
Curiosity got the best of him, so he turned to get a better look at the woman. She shifted her purse to her other shoulder and he could’ve sworn her movements mimicked Kimberly’s.
It couldn’t be her, though. His wife had blue-black hair the color of a cloudless night sky that cascaded down her back. This woman had short, curly hair with so much bleach that it had turned white.
For a split second he locked gazes with her. She spun around, putting her back to him and tucking her chin to her chest. That was odd and it sent a cold ripple down his back. He strained to get a better look from this distance, but she’d moved next to a sculpture of some sort. He supposed it was modern art but he never did understand what that meant. The woman glanced back at him and his gut coiled.
Or maybe it wasn’t that strange and he was just overly on edge. She sidestepped, breaking his line of sight as she blocked herself with the sculpture. What was Bleached-Blonde up to?
“It’s one of the herd.” Lone Star hesitated, which wasn’t like him and set off a firework display of warning lights inside Mitch. This day was going to hell fast.
“What’s going on?” Mitch tried to stifle his annoyance. He couldn’t take his eyes off the partially blocked mystery woman. His need to get a closer look to prove she wasn’t Kimberly set him off. If he knew what was best, he’d walk away. Leave it alone.
So why the hell couldn’t he?
“One of the heifers must’ve caught hold of something and it tore one of her hooves off. Thing is I’ve searched everywhere within a fifty-foot radius and can’t find the darn thing. What’s left of her leg is a mess.”
“You got an opinion on what could’ve happened?” Mitch didn’t like the sound of this and it darkened his already somber mood.
“I’d be throwing spaghetti against the wall. There’s no other sign of trouble and it looks like she died from bleeding out.”
Mitch winced at the slow death that would’ve been for her. He bit back a curse. “Any tracks leading up to her?”
“Nothing I can see.”
“You were right to call,” he said on a sharp sigh. The stress of the day that had barely started already wore on him.
“I know you have enough on your plate this morning, boss.” The people closest to Mitch knew about Rea’s condition. Lone Star was in Mitch’s inner circle. Even though Mitch was the boss, he and Lonnie were longtime friends. Mitch knew most folks in town, having grown up in Jacobstown, and he and Lonnie had been schoolmates.
“This was worth the interruption. Keep her right where she is until I can get back. You were right about me wanting to see for myself. Do me a favor and keep everyone else out of the area until I can check it out.” Mitch didn’t like the sound of this one bit. It could involve anything from bored teens who were up to no good or acting on a dare to cultists, and Mitch wanted answers. If this was a prank gone wrong, he’d deal with it. Anger fisted his free hand. There was no excuse for making an animal suffer. “Thanks for the heads-up. Give me a call if you find any others. For now I’m assuming this is the only issue.”
“Haven’t found others but I have the boys counting heads,” Lone Star Lonnie confirmed. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled just in case.”
“Let’s keep the rest of the herd away from the area.” Mitch figured it would be a good idea to keep them closer to the south-facing pasture.
He glanced up to see the woman had disappeared. Curiosity had him scanning the area, searching for her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a streak of blond hair jutting out from the front of a hoodie. The woman wore jeans, tennis shoes and sunglasses. He did a double take to make sure it was the same person. Had she noticed that he’d been staring?
Of course she had; otherwise why put on the hoodie that had been tied around her waist? Mitch needed to turn around and get his tail in gear so he wouldn’t be late for the doctor visit.
So why couldn’t he force his boots to move?
Mitch rubbed his blurry eyes before ending the call with Lone Star. All kinds of scenarios ran through his mind about the mystery woman. Could Kimberly have survived the accident but had no idea who she was? Had someone saved her from the wreckage? Been keeping her all of this time?
No, someone would’ve put two and two together by now.
Lack of sleep wasn’t doing great things for his brain. The woman couldn’t be Kimberly. His wife was dead.
For whatever reason he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Curiosity? Something else? Something more primal?
An ache formed in his chest. It was wishful thinking that had him wanting to get a closer look at the blonde. He’d already calculated the odds and knew this was a losing hand. Try getting his fool heart to listen to logic.
Mitch checked his watch. Technically he was ten minutes early.
Turning the stroller toward the mystery woman, he decided to double down on his bad luck. He scanned the area and noticed a pair of men on the opposite side of the plaza, standing with their faces angled toward her. She turned her head slightly toward the men and he could see her tense up. She took a step closer to a light pole and Mitch realized she was trying to block their line of sight.
Now Mitch’s curiosity really skyrocketed.
Call it the cowboy code, but he needed to know that she would be okay. The blonde seemed to be in some kind of trouble, and he didn’t like the looks of the two men wearing their jacket collars upturned, reflective sunglasses and ball caps. Very little of their faces were visible and his experience had taught him that law-abiding citizens didn’t hide their faces in public. Nothing about either of them said they were law enforcement, so he assumed the blonde wasn’t doing anything illegal.
One of the men moved enough to see around the light pole. He had his phone out, angled toward the blonde. Was he stalking her? Was he an ex? Someone she’d rejected? More thoughts along those lines crossed his mind, and none of them sat well.
Of course, a stalker would be alone. The guy standing next to the picture taker seemed just as interested in her, and didn’t that jack up more of Mitch’s danger radar? Were the men targeting her?
The blonde seemed to realize something was going on. Good for her. She wouldn’t be an easy mark that way.
Once again his thoughts circled back to how familiar this woman seemed. Was there any chance his wife had survived the accident but lost her memory? Could she have been walking around for the past eleven months with no idea who she was or where she came from?
It might be a stretch but he’d heard stranger things had happened.
Or did he want to see his wife again so badly that he was confusing her with a stranger? A woman who was similar in size and shape, who also seemed to be alone and in troubl
e? Was he grasping at any sign of hope?
There was only one way to find out.
Copyright © 2019 by Barb Han
ISBN-13: 9781488046100
Driving Force
Copyright © 2019 by Mary Jernigan
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