Holding her breath, she edged her way closer to her destination. The door banged against the wall and she jumped again. She had to shut the damned thing. As quickly as she could, she rushed to the entry. In case she needed to escape, she secured the latch but didn’t lock it.
When her fingers touched the cold metal, she had an image of doing the same thing after the men left. Hadn’t she? Her fogged brain couldn’t be sure. If she had, how had someone gotten in? Could someone with lock picks open a deadbolt? Her sleep medicine was making clear thinking impossible.
She turned on the living room lamp and glanced around. Not only were her feet dirty, but her legs were streaked in mud, as if she’d dragged part of her flower bed up her body. How could that have happened?
Heart pounding, she remained still, listening hard for movement in her house. Only her ragged breaths reached her ears. Her gaze kept shooting to the door, almost expecting the person to return.
She had to get her phone and call for help. Tiptoeing, she neared her bedroom. After spotting no evidence of anyone, she rushed to her nightstand and nabbed her cell. Her boots sat by her closet. She picked them up then dashed back into the living room, wanting to be near an escape route.
She pressed the nine and then one on her cell. As her finger hovered over the last digit, her focused sharpened. If her feet were covered in dirt, she must have gone outside. Oh, shit. She was the intruder. She’d unlocked the door and gone outside, not even aware of what she was doing. But why would she do that? Had she heard a wounded animal cry and gone out to help him? Could she have moved about without remembering anything? She didn’t recall walking to the kitchen from the bedroom, so maybe she had.
Relieved she’d figured out what happened, she locked her door, sat down on her sofa and cried. After a few hiccups, she straightened. Until the mistaken kidnapping occurred, she’d never been weak. These bad dreams and nightmares were not like her.
The clock above the mantel read 4:23 a.m. If she called Liam or Mason, she was sure they’d come over, but what could they do?
Look for the animal? Or was someone messing with her mind? Was he out there now, waiting for her to check? That didn’t make sense. She’d already been outside once. If anyone wanted to harm her, he’d have taken her then. Or worse, killed her.
She made a decision. She wasn’t going to take this sleep aid ever again. The hallucinations were better than doing something she didn’t remember. Sarah stood and peeked out the window. Only the porch light from the house across the street was lit.
Admit it. You need help.
As much as she didn’t want to disturb them at home, she’d be a puddle of goo if someone didn’t come over. She debated calling Justin Bradford, one of Pleasure’s finest, but he seemed less able to help than Liam and Mason, especially since they’d been her bodyguards and understood what was at stake. They were the best choice.
You just like having them around.
Satisfied to have a plan, Sarah rooted through the kitchen drawer for their business card. She found it. On the back Liam had written his cell.
Even though her stomach was fluttering and her mouth had turned dry, she punched in his number. It rang and rang. When the beep sounded, she disconnected, not really knowing what to say. Damn. They must have turned off their phone. She’d try in an hour, hoping they might be up. When they stayed at her house, their hours were all over the place.
If she did invite them, she needed to put on something more substantial than a thin nightgown. Because she didn’t want to drag on pants and socks with dirt caking her shins, she rushed back to the kitchen. As quickly as she could, she lifted her leg into the sink and scrubbed, her mind returning to that void in time.
Her breaths came out quickly. Why was this happening to her? After she dried one foot, she washed the other. Once clean, she rushed back to her room and changed out of her nightgown.
Since she wasn’t going to sleep, she might as well fix some coffee and read. Tomorrow, after someone came to change her locks, she’d work on her lessons plans. That would bring back some control.
This was the last week of summer school classes, and not only did she have to make up a shortened version of the pre-calculus final exam for Wednesday, she wanted to give a practical test, as a fun way to end the class.
She’d just finished pouring her coffee and was crossing the dining room to the living room, when there was a knock on her door. When the handle rattled, panic cocooned her, and she dropped her cup. It shattered on the floor, sending scalding coffee up her pants leg. Fuck. Fortunately, her jeans took the brunt of the heat, but the liquid was still hot. The biggest bummer was that she’s broken one of her favorite mugs.
Don’t panic. Don’t cry.
Another knock sounded. “Sarah. It’s Liam and Mason. Open up.”
She let out a breath and ran to the door. When she unlocked it, she threw herself in Mason’s arms.
He caught her and lifted her up to carry her inside. “Are you okay, angel? We tried calling you back, but when you didn’t answer, we became worried.”
Knowing she was now safe, she let out a sob. “I thought someone had broken into my house.” They called back? “I must have turned off my phone.” Why was this happening to her? Mason set her down but kept his arm around her waist to steady her.
“You had an intruder? Sarah, tell us what happened?” Liam demanded. He glanced over at the dining room and the broken cup. “Sarah?” His voice shook.
“I dropped the cup. When you knocked, I thought it was someone Harrison Kaplan had hired.”
“Come sit,” Mason said.
A second later, Liam picked up the broken shards. Mason led her over to the sofa and slipped next to her. “Tell me everything.”
She was so embarrassed. “After you left, I took a bath. Like I’ve been doing every night since the kidnapping, I took a pill to help me fall asleep. Next thing I knew I woke up in the kitchen.”
He looked down the hall, as if he were trying to figure out how far she’d walked. “You don’t remember getting out of bed?”
“No. But it’s happened before.”
The china clinked in the trash. Paper towels tore and when she looked behind her, Liam was on his knees wiping up.
“Leave it. I’ll clean up tomorrow.”
“I got it.”
Mason picked up her hand and rubbed her palm with his thumb. “You woke up in the kitchen and then what?”
The sleepwalking part didn’t seem strange to him. “The front door banged open.” Her body shook just remembering how scared she’d been.
The pressure on her hand increased. “Did you see anyone? Or hear anything?”
She shook her head. “Just the wind.”
Liam stepped over to the sofa. “Can I make you another coffee?”
“Please. Regular.” Her mind was still fuzzy.
“You then called us?”
She glanced to the ceiling. This was the bad part. “I looked down at my feet, and even though it was dark, I could see they were covered in mud.”
“You’d taken a bath and yet when you awoke your feet were muddy?”
“Yes. My only explanation is that I must have heard an animal cry and went outside to see if I could help.”
“You weren’t wearing shoes, but you were fully dressed?”
None of this was coming out right. “No. I was in my nightgown. After I called you, I changed.”
Liam walked over with a steaming cup of coffee and placed it on the coffee table. “A teaspoon of sugar and a lot of cream. Just the way you like it.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
Liam tapped his temple and grinned. “So, you think you went outside to help a wounded animal? Weren’t you cold in a nightgown?”
If only she remembered. “I don’t know.” She inhaled. “Once I woke, I thought about going outside to check on this imaginary creature but decided that might be foolish.”
“Hell, yeah, it would.” Liam’s expression
appeared fierce. “You have a flashlight? I’ll go out and see.”
She was glad she’d called them. “In the top middle drawer in the kitchen. It’s my junk drawer.”
She hoped he had a gun with him, but she couldn’t imagine anyone staying around once they arrived. A moment later, Liam disappeared into the dark night.
Mason had been sitting there quietly, holding her hand. Having them here meant so much to her. She squeezed his hand then pulled out of his grasp. “I’m sorry I called you two, but I didn’t know what to do.”
Mason folded her into his arms. “Shh. You should have called us. But the sheriff would have been happy to take a look, too.”
“I felt more comfortable with you guys. You know what Harrison Kaplan is capable of.”
“The sheriff does, too.”
The door opened, bringing in cool air. “I didn’t see anything other than one or two bare footprints at the edge of the walkway where there is just dirt.”
She sank back against the sofa and Liam slid next to her. “It won’t be light for another few hours. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
Surely, he was kidding. “I don’t think I want to close my eyes ever again.”
Liam lifted her chin. “Now you’re being silly. We’ll stay out here until morning. You go rest.”
“I’d rather sit here with you.”
Liam smiled. “That’s an offer we won’t refuse.”
Chapter Three
Sarah still hadn’t finished processing what had happened over the weekend. There had been no evidence of an animal, dead or otherwise, anywhere in her yard, but in the morning Liam and Mason had shown her the clumps of dirt on the stairs and porch. She’d definitely been the intruder. As much as the thought of sleepwalking bothered her, she preferred that to having a criminal after her.
Early Sunday morning, Mason had called Brody Thomas, the owner of Thomas’s hardware store, at home to see if he could get one of his men to come out to her place before noon. Once Brody assured him that would happen, Mason and Liam had left. They’d seemed worried about her, but it was closer to pity than anything else. When she agreed to call them if anything else strange occurred, they smiled, gave her a hug, and promised they’d be by.
She told them she wasn’t going to take any more sleep aids, so she’d be staying in bed all night. A few hours later the locksmith showed up. Once he replaced her lock, she spent the rest of the day working on her tests for school.
Fortunately, she only had to work three days this week. Monday and Tuesday were final exam review days and Wednesday was the final exam. On Thursday, she’d be celebrating three weeks of freedom.
Wednesday morning, she gave the written portion and was now leading her students to the bus for the practical part of their test. This only counted ten percent of their grade, but it was to show the students how useful math could be.
It was a glorious day. Warm weather in Pleasure wasn’t plentiful and she wanted to enjoy it.
No sooner had she reached the bus steps than she remembered the most important item. “Whoops. I forgot the instructions. I’ll be right back. Don’t wander off.”
Where was her head? She rushed up the stairs to her room, picked up the folder with the instructions, and dashed back outside. Thank goodness all ten students were still there. Three were texting, two were whispering to each other, and the other five just looked bored.
Even when she neared, they didn’t alter what they were doing. “Listen up, guys.” She passed out the papers. “The faster you get through the list of items to measure, the sooner your summer can really begin. I’ve paired you up into five teams.” She read off the names, and as expected, received a lot of moans. “Shh. As the paper says, you need to calculate eight of the ten items on the list.”
One boy, who hadn’t shown much interest in the class all summer, raised his hand. “Yes, Tony?”
“It says here we’re supposed to find the sine wave describing the swing of the sign in front of Nester’s Western Clothing? How are we supposed to do that?” He screwed up his face and shook his head, acting as if she’d asked him to find the equation for a wormhole.
Poor Tony. He went into the final with the lowest average in the class, which was why she’d paired him with one of the better students. “Let’s get on the bus and I’ll give you a hint when we arrive downtown.”
More grumbling occurred, but they loaded up and remained in their seats during the short trip. She sat in front.
“Where do you want me to drop you off, Ms. Jacobsen?” The bus driver had been one of the drivers when she’d attended school here.
“In front of Sally’s Ice Cream Shop will be fine.” Maybe afterwards, she’d treat the kids to a gelato.
At eleven in the morning, the streets of Pleasure, Montana were fairly empty. Having a bunch of soon-to-be seniors running around would have been no fun had the place been busy.
Sarah stepped off the bus first. “Let’s move to the sidewalk so I can give you some more instructions.”
The students were allowed graphing calculators, a pencil, and the piece of paper the instructions were written on. That was it. She gave some hints on how to figure out a few of the problems. “You have exactly ninety minutes to do this. So don’t spend too much time on any one problem. Good luck.”
Two groups trotted north toward the courthouse to estimate the height of the flagpole. Another went to find the formula of the swinging sign. There was a round plaque in front of the Mountain View Bar & Grill where they were to calculate the amount of paint required to cover it, and the last group headed to the back alley to figure out the volume of the dumpster.
When all of the students had disappeared, Sarah wandered to one of the café tables in front of Sally’s. She closed her eyes and let the warm sun settle her nerves. She owed Liam and Mason their treat and inwardly smiled. Maybe this weekend.
She’d just let her mind retreat to a nice place when a scream had her jumping up, and her heart galloping. That sounded like Chrissie Walters’ voice—high pitched and screechy.
Sarah glanced right then left trying to find her location. Seconds later, the frightened teenager dashed out of Ash Boulevard and sprinted down Main Street toward her. Sarah ran toward her.
Chrissie grabbed her hand. “Mrs. Jacobsen. Oh, my God. It’s terrible.” The poor girl was shaking and sobbing so hard, Sarah had no idea what was wrong.
“Chrissie. Slow down. Tell me what happened.”
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. You have to come.”
The girl seemed genuinely terrified. This wasn’t some overblown high school hysteria. Chrissie led her back to Ash then turned down the alley behind the Mountain View. All Sarah could think of was that Chrissie’s assigned teammate, Sam Tankledge, had been injured. Chrissie was drama personified.
“Slow down. I’m sure it will be okay.”
“No, it won’t.”
When Sarah rounded the corner, she spotted Sam staring at the Dumpster. He appeared to be unharmed and her pulse lowered. Confused, she rushed closer to understand why Chrissie was so upset.
As if Sam was in a trance, he pointed to something wedged between the wall and the garbage bin. Sarah stepped next to him and her whole body shook. “No! No!”
It couldn’t be. Her stomach twisted, and it felt as if gravity had doubled, pressing her into the ground. Had Mr. Dunwoody’s eyes not been open and if flies weren’t buzzing around him, she would have had a shred of hope he was alive.
Anxiety tripped up her spine, trying to figure out what to do. She looked around to see if there was anyone to help them. A man about fifty feet away, wearing a trench coat, shot her a glance, and then walked off. She would have yelled for him to help, but instead she pulled out her phone and called 911. It didn’t matter the sheriff’s station was less than five hundred feet away.
“911. What is the nature of the emergency?” The dispatcher’s voice was calm.
She told her what she’d found.
; “Is he dead?”
“Yes.” She choked back a sob. “It’s Mr. Dunwoody.” Sarah stood, the stench surrounding him intense, though whether it was from the Dumpster or the body, she didn’t want to know.
Chrissie’s eyes were wide. The girl suddenly sprinted across the alley and vomited. Sarah turned to Sam. “Go show the sheriff where we are.”
His muscles tensed and he sprinted down the alleyway. Sarah jogged over to Chrissie to see if she could help. The poor girl was dry heaving, and Sarah wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chrissie dragged a hand across her mouth and hiccupped. “He’s dead.”
“I know, sweetie.” Poor Chrissie would be scarred for life.
So will I. It hadn’t quite hit that this was her mentor, her friend, who lay crumpled in a back alley.
As soon as they made it to Main Street, both Justin Bradford and his deputy Tom Carnes were rushing to the Dumpster. Her heart broke on so many levels. Mr. Dunwoody had changed her life. Now he was gone. She bet not only would his coworker be upset, but so would Debbie Litner. She idolized him, too.
She was cradling Chrissie when one of the math teams from across the street at Nester’s ran over.
“What’s going on, Ms. Jacobsen?”
They must have seen the lawmen and heard Chrissie’s cries. Her gut soured having to share the horrible news. “Something terrible has happened.”
She looked up and spotted the other three teams rushing toward them. As soon as they gathered, she told them. “I’m afraid that when Sam and Chrissie were measuring the Dumpster, they found a dead body.” She didn’t know how else to word it.
One of the girls shook and her teammates hugged her. The boys said nothing, but the wails rent the air.
“You’re shaking, Ms. Jacobsen. Are you okay?” Only Tony would ask such a question.
He would have been traumatized, too, if he’d seen the poor man. “I knew him.”
“Sorry, Ms. J.”
The murmurs continued. The kids’ fears would feed off each other, and that wouldn’t be good. For sure, Chrissie and Sam would need counseling. She had to call the school for help.
Unexpected Pleasures [Pleasure, Montana 11] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 3
