by Rachel Lee
But all of a sudden, everything started closing in on her again. She had successfully managed to keep herself distracted enough that last night she’d blocked all thoughts of the guy who had tried to kill her. Well, almost completely blocked them. She’d managed to put them far enough in the background that she’d been able to feel almost normal.
But now she couldn’t evade it anymore. It was still there, still hanging out, ugly and awful and frightening.
“It’s going to be okay,” Hank said, as if he read her feelings in her face.
“You can’t promise that.”
“No, I guess I can’t. No one can and me maybe least of all, given my leg. But does it help any to know that we’re going to try to keep that promise? That I’m going to try to keep it?”
She looked at a man who had gone into a burning, unsafe building to try to save a woman, and knew deep in her heart that if she could trust anyone on this planet to protect her with everything he had, it was Hank Jackson.
But it didn’t do a damn thing to ease her fear.
When they drove to the sheriff’s office, Conard City still gleamed brightly from its overnight drenching. Pavement was still wet in places, and leaves shone freshly. Yards still sparkled with drops of water where the sun had not had time to dry them out.
It was, Kelly noted for the first time, a charming little town. It did look reliable—her first impression—but she supposed that mostly came from the older homes, the sense that they had endured for a long time and would continue to endure.
But now she noticed how pretty the big old trees were, turning the street along which they drove into a green canyon. It reminded her of the small town she had come from in central Florida, but not exactly. Nor could she put her finger on the difference she sensed. It was just different. Maybe it was just the difference in light, being so far north. Shadows here were longer, and deeper.
By the time Hank pulled into a parking place across the square from the courthouse, at a storefront clearly labeled Conard County Sheriff’s Office, she had butterflies in her stomach. She definitely didn’t want to do this.
But she was almost disarmed the instant Hank guided her through the front door. This was nothing like the police station she had gone to in Miami, brightly lighted, modern, overwhelmed by equipment and people. Instead, the dispatcher sat right up front, evidently doubling as the duty officer. A woman of indeterminate age, with a weathered face, looked at her through a cloud of cigarette smoke and smiled.
“This is Velma,” Hank said, making introductions. “If she ever leaves this desk, nobody knows.”
“Ha!” Velma’s laugh was short and sharp, and her voice cracked from years of smoking. “I’ll be buried in this chair.”
“Probably.” Hank grinned. “Is Gage around?”
“He’s around almost as much as I am. You know where his office is.”
Kelly followed Hank down a narrow hallway, where he stopped and rapped on a door to the left.
A voice from within called, “Come on in.”
Hank pushed the door open and Kelly got her first glimpse of the sheriff of Conard County. He said behind a desk, clad in the local tan uniform, just like his deputies, but his face almost caused her to gasp. One side of it bore the shiny scar tissue of a serious burn than ran down his neck to disappear into his collar. His welcoming smile was just a little crooked, probably because of the burn.
“Good to see you, Hank. What’s up?”
“This is Kelly Scanlon. She has reason to believe her husband may be trying to have her killed.”
The sheriff’s smile vanished. “Have a seat.”
The nameplate on the front of his desk said, Gage Dalton, Sheriff. Kelly focused on it like a lifeline. She was afraid she would see disbelief in the sheriff’s face.
“Want to tell me about it?”
Kelly hesitated. No, she didn’t want to tell him about it. Every time she said it out loud it sounded crazier than the last time.
Hank finally spoke. “Kelly rented the house next to mine, which is how I met her.”
“That old run-down place?”
“We’re fixing it. You have a problem, talk to Ben. He rented it while I was out on the range at the Russell ranch.”
“Ben. It figures.” Gage snorted. “Go on.”
Hank waited a moment, as if giving her a chance to speak, but she still wasn’t quite ready. Another cop, another person who wouldn’t believe her. The amazing thing was that Hank believed her.
So he did the talking, at first anyway. He sketched the situation for Gage, including the email from his friend on the Denver police, and the fact that Ben had done a credit check on her. Then he added what she considered the real kicker upon reflection: the fact that her attacker had carried her to the canal where she often ran before trying to drown her.
Then she heard something she had never expected to hear from a cop. “This doesn’t sound good,” Gage said. “I wish you’d come to me right away, Ms. Scanlon.”
At that she lifted her head and looked at him for the first time since entering the room. “Why would I go to the police? They didn’t believe me in Miami.”
“This isn’t Miami.” Gage gave her that crooked smile. “I worked for DEA there, you know.”
“Really?”
“Really. And I can tell you why the cops put you off. They hear countless stories like this every day, and most of the time it truly is just a random mugging with little hope of finding the perp. It doesn’t mean they didn’t care that you were attacked. It’s just that with no evidence to build a case, there’s not much else they can do.”
“I know.” She sighed. “Believe me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.”
“That visit to your husband to question him though…” Gage trailed off thoughtfully. “I’m not sure that was the best tactical decision. In their shoes I would have wanted to place him under surveillance for a while, rather than warn him. But my background is different, and their resources are pretty limited. Their plate is overflowing, you could say.”
“I guess.”
“Big city police departments are often overworked. They usually do a good job despite that, but they have to prioritize things. How soon after the attack did you leave town?”
“Two days. I felt like a sword was hanging over my head.”
He nodded. “I can understand that. Unfortunately, that limited their options. They couldn’t put surveillance on you because you were gone. They could question your husband, as a kind of warning, but that was it.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. “Nobody said anything about watching me.”
“They wouldn’t have. And now that you’re out of Miami, you’re not their concern anymore. Now you’re mine.”
A flicker of hope sprang to life in her heart. “You believe me?”
“Of course I believe you. I don’t think anyone ever disbelieved you, Ms. Scanlon. The problem was proving something. They couldn’t prove that your husband was behind the attack, they couldn’t find the attacker…and then you hightailed it. Case closed, for now anyway. At this point, right now, I can’t be sure your husband was behind the attack on you. Neither can you. But I’m not willing to dismiss the possibility. He threatened you, and then you were attacked in a very odd way. No, I’m not going to dismiss it. Not at all.”
Kelly unleashed a shaky sigh, and felt her tension ease once again. “Thank you. I’ve been so scared.”
“I imagine so.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if I was all wrong about it, too.”
“Well, I guess we’ll probably find out, because it’s been what, four or five days since Ben did that credit check? If someone is after you, he should be here soon. And the nice thing about this town is that strangers get noticed pretty quickly. I’m going to have you talk to our sketch artist…”
“We could just get the sketch from Miami,” Hank said.
Gage shook his head. “I don’t want to risk sending up
another flare that Ms. Scanlon is here or announce that she’s contacted us. I want some time to get ready, and there’s already very little if someone is determined to get her soon. The only thing I can see that we have going for us is that the court hearing isn’t for two months. That takes the time pressure off her husband.”
“What are you going to do?”
“The surveillance that Miami PD should have done. Might have done. Everyone in the department is going to be alerted. We’ll keep an eye on Ms. Scanlon, and an eye out for her attacker.”
Kelly hesitated, then asked, “Wouldn’t it be better if it got around that I’d spoken to you?”
Gage looked almost grim as he shook his head. “That depends. It would make you safer while you’re here. But when you leave? What then?”
“So…it’s better to draw him here?” The idea made her feel those hands around her throat all over again. She had to close her eyes for a moment as a shudder of horror ran through her.
“If you want this finished, yes. At least here you’ll have a lot of people looking after you.”
Chapter 9
“How do you feel now?” Hank asked when they were back in his truck. “Any better?”
“Yes. Yes, I guess I do feel better. Except for the part where I’m going to feel like bait. But the sheriff was right. If I just move on without settling this, there’s still two more months to worry about. At least. And if I went back to Miami for the court appearance, I’d be scared out of my wits.”
“I want you to go back for that appearance.”
“Why?” She turned in her seat to look at him.
“Because after what that bastard put you through, I think you deserve every penny you can get out of him.”
A little laugh escaped her. “I thought that at first, too. Now I just want to be rid of him.”
“That’s what he’s probably hoping.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, suppose he just paid that guy to scare you, not kill you. What’s the likelihood you’d show up in court?”
Her jaw dropped a little. “You have a devious mind.”
“I’m just trying to think things through. Maybe he wants you dead. Maybe he wants you not to show up. Maybe he thinks that if you don’t show up it would mean you’ve given up on a big settlement and he can get it down to something like your attorney’s fees.”
“Man!” Her exclamation was appalled. “The worst part of it is, I can imagine Dean thinking just like that. Well, I’m going back for that appearance.”
“You made up your mind?”
“You bet.”
“Then we’d better keep our eye out for a killer.”
He turned over the ignition and started to back out of the parking space. “If you don’t want to go to that book signing, I’ll just run in and get Mandy to sign the book for me.”
That made her feel about two inches tall. This man had upended his life for her, had offered to protect her—and that was no lightweight offer from a man like him—he’d invited her into his home, into his life and now she was going to cut short something he’d obviously been looking forward to?
“No, I’d like to go.” She did feel better after talking to the sheriff, and she felt safe with Hank. Nobody would try to abduct her while she was with him. Plus, there’d be other people around. It would be nice to meet a few of them, especially since, at the back of her mind, she was having thoughts of staying here once the divorce was final.
Silly thoughts, she told herself. Born, most likely, of how safe Hank made her feel. And that was a lousy reason to decide to settle somewhere. Once the divorce was over, she’d have nothing to fear any longer. She could choose to live anywhere she wanted, including in Miami, right under Dean’s nose, if she could stand being that close to him.
The thought almost made her laugh.
Bea’s Bookstore was tiny and smelled richly of books. They seemed to fill almost every inch of space, leaving just enough room to maneuver through aisles. At the back, though, were a couple of easy chairs and a wooden reading table where an attractive woman in her forties sat with a stack of hardcover books in front of her.
“Mandy,” Hank said with real pleasure. “Do I get the first copy?”
The woman laughed. “Saved just for you.” Her gaze trailed to Kelly. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Kelly Scanlon,” Hank said. “My new tenant. She just moved here.”
Mandy reached out to shake her hand. “Welcome to town. I hope you love it here as much as most of us do.”
“I’m falling in love with it already.”
“No Ransom this morning?” Hank asked as he lifted a copy of the book.
“Someone had to stay home with the kids. And I don’t mean the goats.” Mandy’s eyes were sparkling. “We raise sheep and goats,” she explained to Kelly. “And all three of the human kids woke up under the weather this morning. Apparently, they caught a case of the ‘something that’s going around.’”
Kelly laughed. “There’s a lot of that everywhere.”
Hank picked up a second copy of the book. “I’m going to get one for Kelly, too. I know she’ll enjoy your work as much as I do.”
Ten minutes later, having met the store’s owner and a handful of others who had come for the signing, Kelly emerged again into the sunlight with Hank, and paused on the sidewalk to look up and down the street.
“I like how friendly people are here,” she announced.
“Most folks are,” he agreed. “See that sign for the City Diner? Everyone here refers to it by the owner’s name. Maude’s we call it. Want to stop in for coffee and a light lunch?”
“Sure. And thank you for the book.”
“You’re welcome.”
His smile, she thought, was charming. Always charming. It wasn’t the pretended social affability she had seen too much of. When Hank Jackson smiled, it seemed to emanate from his very soul.
Hugging her book, feeling as if she’d just been given a wonderful gift, perhaps the most wonderful she had ever received, she walked slowly with him down the street.
“You do seem to feel better,” he remarked as he limped at her side.
“I do. Talking to the sheriff was a good idea. He not only seems to know what he’s doing, but I get the feeling he cares.”
“That he does. There was a time when he was a stranger here, too. Never talked to anybody. Folks used to call him Hell’s Own Archangel.”
“Really?” That astonished her. “Not very kind.”
“I think it had to do with the anger and grimness people felt in him. He’d lost his wife and kids to a car bomb set by one of the drug dealers he was after. And, obviously, he was injured, too.”
“You two must have a lot to talk about.”
“Sometimes,” he agreed. “Sometimes.”
She heard the door close on the subject, so she dropped it.
Maude’s diner proved to be an interesting place. Leaning toward Hank in the booth after Maude took their orders and gave them coffee, Kelly murmured, “I don’t think I’ve ever had my coffee slammed down like that before.”
“Maude’s a piece of work,” he agreed with a twinkling eye. “It’s a good thing you knew what you wanted to eat or she’d have made up your mind for you.”
Kelly sat back, absorbing this very different environment. Of course, Dean never would have taken her to a place like this, so déclassé, but she could see with a quick scan that there was someone at almost every table, and many older men and women clustered in groups over coffee and deep in discussion. Apparently, Maude’s was the place to go.
Her choice of a piece of cobbler was slammed down in front of her with as much emphasis as the coffee and she found herself looking into Maude’s gimlet eye.
“This one,” Maude announced to Hank, “needs looking after. Hear?”
“I hear,” he answered.
“Good.” Then Maude sailed on, back toward the kitchen from which the clanging of pots and the ratt
le of dishes could be heard.
Kelly leaned toward Hank again. “Who runs this town?”
He chuckled. “Depends. The mayor thinks he does, the sheriff mostly does, along with Velma, but Maude runs anything they don’t…like what you’re going to eat when you walk through that front door.”
She laughed and felt the day grow even brighter. She liked it here, she liked everyone she’d met, even Maude, and she just wished the cloud hanging over her head would go away. Permanently.
Hank noted that Kelly’s mood seemed to sink as they went home. Well, of course. It brought back the entire reason she was here, and the only reason she was staying. She’d been able to forget for a little while, but now here it was in her face again.
“You’re taking the day off to rest, right?” she asked as they pulled into his driveway.
He thought about the windows for the mudroom, then took an internal inventory. He sighed. “Yup. No work today.”
She turned in the seat so that she faced him. “Does it frustrate you?”
“Sometimes. It wasn’t very long ago that when I said go, my body got up and went. It takes a little more planning now. And sometimes I just need to be smart and not do anything at all.”
“That would be frustrating,” she agreed.
“But before we settle in to read our books or whatever, I want to check the caulking.”
“I thought you said the rain wouldn’t hurt it.”
“It shouldn’t have, but I still want to check. Wait here. It’ll only take a minute.”
She followed his directions, understanding already that he was a man who didn’t want to be made to feel like an invalid, but it was getting so that when she saw him limp, she hurt for him. Some things, she thought, could change your life forever in just a few seconds or minutes. Like her abduction and near drowning. Like having a building collapse on you and losing two friends. Nothing would ever be the same again, no matter how you tried to put your life back together.
