Foxfire

by Carol Ann Erhardt

  “How are you doing with the clinic?”

  “I'm running an ad this weekend. Everything's coming along.”

  “I hope for your sake it works out. I support your decision, bro. You know that.”

  “I know and I appreciate it.”

  Tyler dropped into the chair and lifted his feet to the coffee table. “Max will surface sooner or later. We'll get him Jake. For Natalie.”

  There was a brief silence before Jake responded.

  “Yeah, for Natalie. Keep in touch.”

  The phone cut off and Tyler tossed it to the table.

  For Natalie, yeah right. If he'd wanted to do something for Natalie, maybe he should have quit his job like she'd begged him to do. Maybe if he had, she'd still be alive...and so would the child she carried inside her.

  “One last assignment, Natalie,” he said to the empty room. “I promise this time. I'll quit as soon as I bury the sonofabitch that took you from me.”

  Tyler couldn't bring back his wife or their baby, and he'd live with that loss the rest of his life, but he had an opportunity to avenge their deaths. He might spend the rest of his life feeling guilty, but he'd bring Max Clayton down, even if it meant using Grace Wilkins to do it.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, Grace stared across the horizon at the haze hanging over the distant mountain range. Dew clung to the bushes lining the driveway, glittering in the few rays of sun breaking through the trees surrounding her cabin home. The scene in the restaurant last night seemed a faraway memory.

  Tiffany padded into the kitchen and bumped her head against Grace's leg. “Okay, Tiff. I know it's time for work, but I'm not going.”

  The dog tilted her head questioningly.

  “I quit. Connor and I broke up.” She held her hand in front of the dog's nose. “See, no ring. I don't work for him any more.”

  She ran her fingers through the dog's soft fur. “Don't worry, I'll find a job to keep you in doggie biscuits.”

  Tiffany whined.

  “It's okay, girl.” She cradled the dog's head in her palms and stared into chocolate brown eyes that gazed at her with uncanny understanding. “Everything will be fine. I'm a survivor. I always land on my feet.”

  Tiffany thumped her tail against the floor.

  The telephone rang, disturbing their camaraderie.

  Grace glared at the offending apparatus, but it continued to ring. She snatched the receiver off the hook, and just as she'd expected, Connor's voice grated through the line.

  “Why the hell aren't you at work?”

  “I quit.”

  “We have to talk.”

  “I think you said it all last night, Connor.”

  “You can't quit. Not without giving notice.”

  “I can. I just did.”

  He heaved an angry sounding breath. “I don't want to broadcast our broken engagement until we find a way to do it without raising questions.”

  “What you want doesn't matter. Not any longer.”

  “Damn it, Grace. What do you expect from me?”

  “Nothing. Not one thing.”

  “I think you should come back to work, at least for a while. If we do this right, the press will—”

  She slammed the phone down. His arrogant, demanding tone took the pain that had begun to fester again and stuffed it down deep inside. So he was worried, huh? Well, Mr. Hot Shot attorney had made a big mistake. The Knoxville Sentinel might hurt his career, but it couldn't hurt her. Politics was his game, not hers.

  Someone whistled and Tiffany raced out the pet door. Brad on his morning stroll no doubt. The thought of seeing her friend drove her out the door and onto the path between their houses. She caught up with Brad and Tiffany a few seconds later. When he spied her, Brad's lined and weathered face lit with happy surprise. Then concern drove the smile away.

  “Why aren't you at work? Are you sick?”

  Grace shook her head and her shield crumbled as she fell into his arms. His warm broad palm patted her back. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder. She inhaled the comforting outdoorsy scent of his after-shave, feeling more like a small child than a twenty-four year old woman.

  Brad was her surrogate grandfather. He'd nurtured their relationship since the day she moved next door to him. He actually found good in her, something she’d never been able to accept, given her past. Tiffany had been his first Christmas present to her, a small fluffy black and white, clumsy-footed ball of fur.

  “What's wrong, honey?” he asked.

  “Oh, Brad, everything. My whole life is wrong.”

  He turned her toward his house. “Come on. You can tell me all about it over a bowl of home-made ice cream.”

  “It's still morning,” Grace sniffled.

  “Yeah? So what?”

  Grace wiped her nose. “Strawberry with lots of chocolate syrup?”

  “What else?” He chuckled and ruffled the fur on Tiffany's head. “Come on, girl.”

  In Brad's kitchen, Grace pulled the bottle of chocolate from the refrigerator while Brad scooped the ice cream. She squeezed chocolate syrup into the bowl he pushed in front of her and licked the sticky sweet residue from her fingers.

  Sun rays beamed brightly through the window above the sink. Tiffany grunted as she lowered her body onto the tiled floor. Grace loved the blue and white gingham curtains, which lifted softly in the light breeze blowing through the open window. This room had been a haven where she and Brad shared many hours discussing events in their lives. He had built the butcher block table himself, though the ladder back chairs were not his handiwork. Light blue rugs in front of the sink and refrigerator matched the blue shade in the curtains, and warmed the otherwise rustic room. Like Grace's house, the walls were log and mortar, lending an authenticity to the cabin architecture. Brad's kitchen gave credence to the phrase, “the kitchen is the heart of the home.”

  He sat across from her and met her gaze. “So what's going on? What's with the tears? You never cry.”

  Grace held out her hand and wiggled her bare left fingers. “Connor called off the engagement last night.”

  His head bowed. Thinning strands of still-dark hair allowed glimpses of his scalp. He lifted her hand and ran his gnarled fingers over the place where the ring used to be. Then he looked at her, his kind blue eyes full of understanding.

  “He wasn't good enough for you, honey.”

  Grace pulled her hand away.

  “That's not true, Brad. It's the other way around. I wasn't good enough. I'm not good enough for any man. That's the problem.” She stuffed a huge bite of ice cream in her mouth. Pain shot across her forehead—instant brain freeze.

  “Want to tell me what happened?” Brad's gentle voice soothed her.

  Grace shook her head.

  Brad leaned back in his chair. “I can guess. Connor found out about your past?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Honey, do you think things would have been different if he'd found out after you got married?”

  She sniffed and blew her nose on a paper towel.

  “Well, do you?” he persisted.

  “No,” she admitted. “I'm stupid for thinking it could work.”

  “Only marriages based on love work, honey.”

  “You're a fine one to talk. Don't tell me that's why you haven't popped the question to Harri. I know you—”

  “Uh-uh.” Brad moved his finger back and forth in front of her face. “This conversation is about you, not me.”

  Grace silenced her retort with another bite of ice cream. Brad was right. He tried to warn her when she plunged headlong into the doomed relationship. She planned to tell Connor the truth about her past, but the timing had never seemed right.

  She sighed and laid her spoon on the table. “I quit my job. I just couldn't face working at the D.A.'s office where I'd see him every day.”

  Brad nodded. “Makes sense. You'll find another job. And, there are other fish in the sea, as Harri always tells me.”

&nbs
p; “Not for me. I'm never going to fall in love.”

  “That's something you have no control over. When the real thing comes along, you'll be caught up so quick you won't know what hit you. Mark my words, you'll see.”

  “No man will ever want me.”

  “You're wrong.” He tapped her hand. “You're a beautiful, strong woman, inside and out. Any man would be fortunate to have you.”

  She concentrated on her bowl of ice cream. One thing she'd learned well. Arguing with Brad was a losing proposition. The day after she moved in, he'd knocked on her door with a frozen container of homemade ice cream. Their friendship had flourished and before long she felt safe in telling him about her troubled childhood. She shared the nightmare of growing up with a mother who would snuggle her one minute and rage at her the next. Brad listened without judgment when she confessed the truth about her past. She told herself it was to protect him if her enemies should find her. The truth was she needed someone to accept her and love her no matter how stained her life had been.

  Brad's heart was bigger than anyone's she'd ever known. He hadn't blinked an eye. Just listened. When she finished, he hugged her, told her he thought she was brave and admirable. Then he offered to make dinner as if she'd just confessed she was a super-star.

  His voice broke into her thoughts. “You think too much, honey.”

  She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Do you know how much I love you, Brad?”

  He dipped his head like a bashful boy and muttered, “Yeah, I know.”

  They finished eating in a comfortable silence. Grace realized the rock that had been sitting on top of her heart had disappeared. What would she do without Brad? Her life would be empty. Lonely. No ice cream to soothe her soul. Why had she shed tears over a man she didn't love? Would she feel empty or lonely without Connor? Honestly, no. A life without Connor wouldn't be the same as a life without Brad. She longed to be part of a family, but maybe her vision of that didn't exist. The whole scenario of a house in the suburbs, children playing in the yard, a man greeting her with a kiss, complimenting her on the delicious smell of dinner simmering on the stove—it was all an illusion. Connor could never be that kind of man. But Brad would never let her down. Brad was her family.

  As if reading her thoughts, he asked, “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Good. You do now. Harri's bringing dessert, some new recipe she found. I'm going to stir up a pot of my famous beef stew.”

  Grace grinned. “Count me in.” She stood and reached for their empty bowls.

  “Don't bother, hon, I'll clean up.”

  She brushed a kiss on his cheek and walked to the door. Holding it open, she called, “Come on, Tiff, time to go.”

  “Wear something nice,” Brad said as the bowls clattered into the sink.

  Grace looked at him questioningly. “What's so special about tonight?”

  Brad shoved his hands in his pockets. His grin and twinkling eyes showed signs of the little boy he'd been some sixty-odd years ago, but he didn't offer an explanation.

  What trick did her sneaky friend have up his sleeve? She flipped a wave. “See you later.”

  She hoped he wouldn't try to fix her up with Adam Shockley. Through a break in the trees, she looked up the hill at Adam's house. He was the one who sold her the cabin she called now called home. At one time, he probably owned the whole damn mountain. Over the years, he sold off most of the acreage. He was a bachelor and several years older than her. Sometimes Grace caught him looking at her in a way that made her skin crawl.

  She hurried home and retrieved the newspaper. Job-hunting was critical. She wouldn't be able to afford her house payment, let alone buy groceries, if she didn't find another job soon. She opened the pages, spreading them flat and glanced at the front page.

  Her breath imploded in a painful gasp. The headline screamed at her. Another woman had been found stabbed to death last night. The hairs raised on the back of Grace's neck. Her heart thumped as she recalled the man she'd seen lurking in the parking garage—the same one where this latest victim had been discovered. Oh, my God. Had she seen the killer?

  Her temples began to pound. She took the aspirin bottle from the medicine cabinet and shook two into her hand. Just because she had seen something, a shadow no less, didn't mean she'd seen a killer. Lots of homeless people found shelter in the downtown garages at night.

  She popped the aspirin in her mouth and rinsed them down with tepid water. Setting the glass on the counter, she wiped her mouth and stared through the window at the changing landscape. The white of the mountain laurel contrasted with deeper green pine trees creating a breathtaking forefront to the distant mountains. Spring was her favorite time of year, a time for new beginnings.

  She was making a new beginning. Another chapter of her life had ended. Time to look forward, not backward. Forget about the murders. They had nothing to do with her.

  Brad came into view, walking-stick in hand, plodding along the path. His familiar three-legged gait brought a smile to her lips. He was probably heading down to the new animal clinic. Brad kept tabs on what happened in the community, though he insisted he wasn't as bad as Adam Shockley. Adam personally welcomed each new Foxfire resident, and rumor had it that if you didn't pass his inspection, you'd be an outcast.

  The new vet wouldn't have a problem getting along with the neighbors. He had an open personality, and if he flirted with the ladies like he had with Grace...well, he'd soon have a string of what Grace called “foo-foo” dogs for patients.

  Maybe she'd bake some brownies as a welcome gift. Not because she wanted to see him again, of course, just a friendly gesture. Besides, he liked Tiffany, who definitely wasn't a “foo-foo” dog. Look toward new beginnings. Forget about the Knoxville Knifer and the murders.

  Grace forced her gaze away from the window and massaged the back of her neck, squeezing to loosen the tight muscles. She headed to the living room, where Tiffany lifted an eyelid and gave her a one-second stare from her spot in front of the fireplace. Grace eased down in the rocking chair, setting it in motion. The gentle rhythmic creaking of wood on wood, along with the aspirin, eased the pounding in her temples, but didn't stop her conscience.

  She'd have to tell the police what she'd seen. Every lead counted. She shuddered. What had gone through the minds of the women who had been murdered so savagely with a sharp blade? Once Grace had to defend herself against a knife-wielding assailant, and she'd been nearly blinded with fear. But she'd gotten lucky.

  Another shudder moved her shoulders her.

  ****

  Tyler lifted his head and crawled out from under the leaking sink. The bell jangled again, alerting him that someone had entered. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he hurried downstairs into the clinic.

  “Hey, Tyler,” Brad greeted.

  “Brad. You're a sight for sore eyes.” Tyler shook the hand of the elder man, which was surprisingly strong despite his age. “I was just wrestling with a leaky pipe. Are you psychic?” Brad had been hanging around for weeks checking the progress of the clinic, so seeing him this morning wasn't a surprise.

  Brad winced as he slipped his arms from the light flannel jacket, a sign that his arthritis was troubling him this morning. “If you want a hand with that leak, I'll see what I can do.”

  Tyler had no doubt Brad could fix it, but he didn't want the old man down on the floor. “Nah, it can wait.” He nodded to the left. “Check out the new scale they delivered this morning.”

  Tyler pushed open a door and waited for Brad to follow. Once inside the examination room, Tyler planted his foot on a stainless steel scale. “Top of the line. Can accurately weigh a two-hundred pound Saint Bernard.”

  “Doubt if there's many of them around this neck of the woods.”

  Tyler said, “You never know what might come through these doors. I'm going to open the clinic next week. I placed an ad in the Foxfire News to run this weekend.”

  “B
etter to put it in the Knoxville Sentinel. Not that many people in Foxfire, son.”

  “I need to start small since I can't hire an assistant for a while.” He still hoped to entice his dad to join him. But he had to deal with finding a killer first. The first person he'd hire would be someone to run the office for him, keep the books and appointments straight, but even that would have to wait until he actually had some clients.

  Brad nodded, his blue eyes sharp with approval. “You're a smart business man.”

  “Thanks.” Brad's praise felt good. Since Tyler had left Ohio, he missed having daily conversations with his dad. Quickly, he tamped down a painful memory.

  Brad asked, “Got plans for dinner tonight?”

  “Cold cut sandwiches. If you want to join me, I'll throw together a salad to go with them,” Tyler answered.

  Brad's deep rumbling laugh filled the room. “I've got a better offer. Come to my house for beef stew and some exotic dessert Harri's throwing together.”

  Tyler grinned broadly and clapped Brad on the shoulder. “What time?”

  “Make it around six. Come on, son, let's go fix that leak.”

  ****

  Dusk had nearly given way to the cloudless blanket of night when Grace arrived at Brad's for dinner. She knocked and opened the door.

  “Brad?”

  Tiffany preceded her inside and bounded toward a surprised Tyler. But he couldn't be more surprised than Grace. What was he doing here?

  “Grace, honey, come on in.” Brad hurried forward and put an arm possessively around her shoulders. He turned to look at Tyler. “Let me introduce you to—”

  “Grace, what a pleasant surprise.” Tyler's emerald eyes swept over Grace with a glint of male appreciation, making her glad she'd chosen to wear her favorite blue blouse and black dress slacks. Tyler took her hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around hers. Her breath stopped.

  Brad beamed. “I didn't know you two had met.”

  Grace shifted her eyes to meet Tyler's teasing grin, then quickly looked down at their clasped hands. She pulled hers free. “We, uh...” She took a step sideways, giving herself room to breathe. “Tyler dropped by last night.”