Holiday Havoc

by Terri Reed

  Life had certainly taken a left turn since yesterday. He’d come to Cannon Beach to escape the memories of his past. Working on the renovations for Aunt Mary, he’d been able to keep his hands busy, forcing his mind to concentrate on the work rather than on what couldn’t be undone. But that all changed with the decision to run on the beach.

  When he’d gone jogging last night, he’d never expected to end up rescuing a beautiful woman from a madman, let alone bring her home with him to protect her.

  And hearing the heartbreaking details of her story made his own heart ache with compassion and sympathy. And anger. Anger at the monster who’d brought this undeserved horrible tragedy upon Lauren. And others. Sean’s stomach rolled at the thought of the poor victims who hadn’t lived through their ordeal with the same man. Sean could only hope their pain had ended quickly.

  But for Lauren, though she had physically survived the brutal attacks five years ago and yesterday, she was emotionally wounded. The attacks had damaged her trust in people, but there had been other sorrows, as well.

  Those caused by her father, first from his abandoning the family, then by his death. Sean couldn’t imagine how hard that had been. His own father was a rock, a good man Sean looked up to. Collin Matthews was the anchor that held their family together. Sean couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him. Or his mother. Guilt for leaving them so abruptly nagged at him. He needed to make things right between them, make sure they knew his departure from his former life had nothing to do with them.

  And everything to do with his own failure.

  But he wouldn’t fail Lauren.

  Tonight, he’d so wanted to help her, to guide her toward God’s healing love. While he knew she was a believer, her pain and sadness were blocking her from the true peace that faith could offer. For a moment he’d allowed himself to reach out, to do what he’d been trained to do—guide her with words of wisdom, words of scripture, to a better understanding of God and faith to a place of healing.

  And she’d called him on it, intelligently surmising he was more than he seemed. She was not only beautiful, but perceptive and honest. A potent combination.

  He wasn’t a pastor. But he was a trained guidance counselor. Using his education combined with his faith to guide teens at a high school had been his passion. Until tragedy had struck.

  His hands fisted. He wasn’t going to let disaster strike here. He’d failed six months ago to prevent a tragedy, a life lost, but here, with Lauren, he would keep her safe and protected.

  He’d made a promise to Dr. Sorensen to care for Lauren. The request had been of necessity because of her injury. Now, she needed him to guard her life. To show her a way to healing her soul.

  He’d just have to remember to protect his heart as well.

  The next morning, Lauren awoke just as the first faint fingers of dawn crept over the winter-gray horizon. She felt frazzled from a night spent tossing and turning, every little noise making her jumpy. She threw the covers off and dressed as quickly as she could with her bum ankle.

  She didn’t want to disturb Mary or Sean, so she stayed in her room for another hour, trying to read from a book she’d discovered in one of the dresser drawers, but the biography of a past president didn’t hold her attention.

  Instead, she found herself staring out the window at the cloudy sky and at the top of a police car parked just on the other side of the fence. Obviously, Detective Jarvis had contacted the Cannon Beach police. She wondered if the same two officers who’d met her at the hospital now sat outside in the frosty morning air.

  When finally she couldn’t take another moment holed up in the room, she opened her bedroom door and found Sean blinking at her from where he sat in a chair in the hall. Surprised pleasure tingled through her. Finding any other guy camped outside her door would have creeped her out, but there was something about Sean that made her feel safe and treasured.

  His dark auburn hair was tousled as if he’d run his fingers through the thick waves. He smiled and stretched his long limbs. Lauren’s pulse picked up. Lanky but graceful, Sean emitted a vital energy that crackled in the air.

  Swallowing heavily as heat crept up her neck, she said, “Good morning. Did you sit here awake all night?”

  He rose. “I did.”

  Affection for his chivalrous protection unfurled in her chest. “Did you know there’s a police car outside?”

  His mouth lifted at one corner. “Good to know. I’ll take some coffee out to them. Are you hungry?”

  Her stomach was tied up in knots. “Not really.”

  Peering at her with concern, he said, “You need to keep up your strength.”

  She couldn’t argue with his logic. “Then I guess I should try to eat.”

  Nodding with satisfaction, he gestured down the hall. “After you.”

  Using the crutch for support, she made her way to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

  Waving her toward the table, he said, “I’ve got it. Toast, coffee, eggs. Nothing spectacular.”

  “That sounds perfect.” She sat and leaned the crutch against the wall. Her gaze strayed out the picture window into the fenced-off garden.

  Beyond the perimeter of the fence, a white utility van pulled to a stop. A worker exited the vehicle, hitched his tool belt over his navy coveralls and moved to a telephone pole. A white hardhat covered his head, and a thick beard and mustache protected his exposed skin from the chilly air. She watched as he climbed the metal rungs going up the side of the utility pole. She shivered. She certainly wouldn’t want that job.

  “Here we go,” Sean said as he set a plate of light and airy scrambled eggs in front of her, along with two pieces of sliced buttered toast and a mug of fresh brewed coffee.

  “Thank you.” She picked up her fork and took a bite. Her stomach growled. The knot in her stomach eased slightly, making her conscious of her hunger. When he sat down with his own breakfast, she asked, “What brought you to Cannon Beach?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Aunt Mary needed my help.”

  After swallowing the bite she’d just taken, she said, “I get a sense it was more than that. Mary said you needed a change.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Did she, now? Well, sometimes we all need a change.”

  An evasive parry, if ever there was one. She tried a different tract. “How long have you been a carpenter?”

  He shrugged and finished off his eggs and toast before scooting his chair back. He stood and cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. She stared. Why was he so reluctant to talk about himself? He’d said he was her friend, so why was he closing himself off from her?

  “I know there’s a thermos here somewhere,” he said as he searched through the cupboards.

  “Why do you keep doing that?”

  He found a thermal carafe and poured coffee into it. “Doing what?”

  Curiosity nipped at her. “Avoid talking about yourself. I’d like to get to know you better.”

  “I don’t see the point. It won’t help,” he said and reached for the kitchen door handle.

  She tucked in her chin as hurt slammed into her. Memories rose, assaulting in their intensity. Greg had said something similar just before he’d walked out of her life. He hadn’t seen the point in a relationship with her when he couldn’t stand the sight of her scars. She hadn’t thought that Sean was cut of the same cloth, but obviously he was.

  Sean paused to peer at her in concern. “You okay?”

  Obviously, her expression gave away her inner feelings. She tried to school her features into nonchalance. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

  His eyebrows drew together. “Look, I just don’t like talking about myself. There are some things better left alone.”

  “That’s fine. I get it. There’s no point in opening up to me when I’ll be out of your life soon enough.”

  It was a mistake staying here. She was damaged goods, a burden. As soon as Detective Jarvis arrived she’d have him take her somepl
ace else. She rose unsteadily to stand and tested her weight on her bad ankle. Though still painful, she could bear more weight this morning. She reached for the crutch. It slipped from her grasp and landed with a bang on the floor.

  Sean moved to her side. He set the thermos on the table and then placed his hands on her shoulders. “Lauren, that’s not what I mean.”

  She met his gaze. “Then what did you mean?”

  He blew out a breath, looking contrite. “I guess I have been using avoidance tactics. I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Then what does your avoidance have to do with?”

  Raw, primitive pain flashed in his blue eyes. Something or someone had hurt him.

  Her heart acknowledged his pain, and compassion filled her. She slipped her arms around his waist. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Your life is in danger. You shouldn’t have to be burdened with my troubles when you have your own to deal with.”

  Reminded of her Nightmare, she quaked. “It’s freaking me out that he’s on the loose.”

  He hugged her close. “I can totally understand that. But you can’t let the fear win.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “It already has. It’s taken so much from me.”

  He leaned back to look at her face, his expression so tender, so distressed on her behalf. “You mean your painting?”

  He was too perceptive for her comfort. “Yes. Among other things.” Her self-esteem. Her ability to trust.

  He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  No way would she disclose how ugly and unlovable she felt. She couldn’t take seeing confirmation of those feelings or pity in his eyes. The silence stretched, pulling at her already taut nerves. She dropped her gaze.

  “I think you should start painting again,” he said softly.

  Dismayed, her gaze snapped to his face. “I can’t.”

  A gentle smile curved his lips. “You can.”

  Agitation beat through her system like the delicate wings of a butterfly. Paint again? Longing swamped her. Yet a yawning terror sucked it away. The thought of picking up a paintbrush and reaching into the place of creativity that had been invaded and violated by violence and rage left her frozen, immobile to act, to create with color. Her world was now shades of black and white, like her charcoal sketches.

  She shuddered and gave a negative shake of her head. “No.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  She blinked. This man was such a puzzle to her. So generous yet so closed off. And here he’d done it again, skillfully avoided revealing anything of himself and turning the focus back on her. “Why would you want to help me?”

  “Because I believe in you, in your talent. You have a God-given gift that shouldn’t be wasted.”

  His words warmed her soul. But the fear wouldn’t let go.

  “Finish just one painting,” he coaxed.

  Again the desire to paint, to hold a brush and create beauty on a canvas, overwhelmed her and throbbed like an ache much worse than the pain in her injured ankle. If Sean handled the flammable materials…if she made sure no candles or anything else with a flame were nearby…if she was careful…if she didn’t breathe in…

  Could she tap into her creativity and not let the smell of paint, the feel of the brush in her hand thrust her mind back to the Nightmare? Was she strong enough? Only one way to find out. Slowly, she nodded.

  The smile of approval and joy on Sean’s face tugged at her heart. Why was her success at conquering her fear so important to him?

  Sean grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from a drawer and handed them to her. “Make a list of what you need and I’ll go pick it up from your cottage.”

  “I can go,” she said, her mind inventorying all the necessary items.

  He shook his head. “Too dangerous. You have to stay here, inside the house. I’ll bring everything to you.”

  Knowing he was right didn’t make accepting his words any easier. She didn’t like being cooped up, but what choice did she have? She quickly made a list with instructions on where to find the items.

  When he left with the list in one hand and the thermos in the other, she made her way back to her room. Second thoughts assailed her. Could she do it? Could she paint again?

  Or would the fear win?

  You have a God-given gift that shouldn’t be wasted.

  She’d always thought of her art as God inspired. Lifting her eyes heavenward, she whispered, “Help me, please.”

  For now, that was as much as she could ask for.

  Perched near the top of the telephone pole behind Shannon’s Bed and Breakfast, Adrian had a bird’s-eye view into the place. The cops sitting in the car just yards away were oblivious to his presence. They saw what he’d wanted them to see. Just some blue-collar worker making a living.

  It would be hours, if not days, before anyone missed the utility truck or its rightful driver, who was right now unconscious and tied up inside the windowless van. It had been a stroke of luck to have stumbled upon the guy last night at the hospital when Adrian had followed Lauren there.

  Too bad all he’d managed to do last night was injure her foot and give her a little scare in the radiology room. It had cost him money he really couldn’t spare to bribe the orderly to bring her there, but it had been worth it—far better than just the pleasure of knowing he must have frightened her with the way he’d poked around her house, rearranging her possessions.

  Anger seethed in Adrian’s soul as he watched Lauren blithely eating and chatting with that man, the jogger, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Obviously, her life hadn’t been ruined, like she’d ruined his.

  Adrian’s teeth gnashed at his scarred lips, the deadened flesh thick and rubbery. The coppery taste of blood where he broke the skin filled his mouth. He spat it out.

  Soon, very soon, there would be an opportunity. A moment would present itself when she was alone and then she’d know what real terror meant. It would only be a matter of time. Adrian had learned patience in prison. And many other useful things that he would show to Lauren once he had her to himself. And no jogger was going to interfere.

  He pretended to work on the telephone lines, but was in reality setting up a small camera to monitor Lauren’s movements and feed the video to a laptop computer inside the van. He’d learned the ins and outs of video surveillance while in the joint. Amazing how much information could be gleaned off the Internet during his computer access time. Procuring the necessary items hadn’t been difficult. Not for a man like him. Breaking and entering, taking what he wanted was as natural as breathing.

  Jogger-man exited the house and stopped beside the police car at the end of the driveway to hand the cops a silver thermos, before climbing into a black truck and driving away.

  Swinging his gaze back to the house, Adrian saw Lauren enter her bedroom. Her curtains were open just enough for him to see her crawl to the middle of the bed and draw her knees to her chest.

  Adrian’s breath quickened with anticipation.

  Maybe his opportunity was now.

  SIX

  A loud knock echoed through the stillness of the bed-and-breakfast. Startled by the sudden noise, Lauren tensed. Had Sean forgotten his key? Slipping from the bed, she limped to the bedroom door. She opened it and peered into the hall. Mary walked toward the front door.

  “Wait,” Lauren called out.

  Mary halted and blinked at Lauren. Today, her red hair was swept up in a topknot and she wore tailored navy slacks, a kelly-green, long-sleeved blouse with ruffles at the neckline and cuffs and a bright smile—until she caught sight of Lauren’s expression.

  Rushing as best she could with a throbbing foot to Mary’s side, Lauren said, “It might not be safe.”

  Concern marred Mary’s forehead as her eyebrows drew together. “Safe? What’s going on?”

  Guilt for bringing danger to this kind woman’s home twisted inside Lauren’s gut. “It’s a long stor
y. One I will tell you later.”

  The loud rap of knuckles on the wooden door shuddered through Lauren. She glanced at the door. Sean? Or…would Adrian knock? Did monsters keep to such civility?

  Cautiously, Lauren approached the door and peered through the peephole. She recognized the man on the other side and let out a relieved breath. She wrenched the door open. “Detective Jarvis, please come in.”

  The older man stepped inside. He was tall, with hair the color of salt and pepper, shorn close to his head on the sides and left a little longer on the top. His pale blue eyes always seeming to take everything in. “You okay?”

  Lauren offered him a smile. “Yes, thank you. Detective, this is Mary Shannon, my hostess. Mary, this is…” How did she explain him? “This is Detective Nate Jarvis of the LAPD.”

  Lauren noted the flare of interest in his gaze as he held out his hand.

  “Good of you to take Lauren in,” he said.

  Mary stepped forward and grasped his outstretched hand. “There’s always room here for those in need. And being that it’s Christmastime, it’s only fitting to offer shelter and comfort.”

  “I’m sure this isn’t the way any of us would like to spend Christmas,” he replied.

  “What brings you to Cannon Beach then?” Mary asked.

  Jarvis cast Lauren an inquiring glance.

  “I haven’t explained everything yet,” Lauren said.

  “Ah. Is Mr. Matthews here?” Jarvis asked.

  “Sean went to my cottage to get something,” Lauren explained.

  Jarvis frowned. “Not a good idea. He could lead Posar back here.”

  Contrite, Lauren grimaced. “We didn’t think of that.”

  “I have his cell number. Should we call him?” Mary asked.

  Jarvis nodded with approval at Mary. “Yes.”

  Mary led the way to the kitchen, where she picked up the phone, dialed and waited for Sean to answer.