If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Walker, Shiloh

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Carter asked.

  “No.” She softened the curt response with a smile, shaking her head. “Not much anybody can do.”

  Roz reached over, covering Lena’s hand with her own. “You know, you’re welcome to stay with us for a while. So you wouldn’t be alone. You know we’ve got the room.”

  Just then, Puck shifted by her feet. With a smile, Lena shook her head. “I’m not alone. I’ve got Puck with me.”

  Roz chuckled. “Yes, and if a stranger shows up, your pooch will be more than happy to show him where to find all the silver.”

  “He would not.” Lena pursed her lips. “He’s only nice to you because you sneak him treats.”

  Desperate to get them talking about something—anything—else, she shifted the focus to Carter. “How is work going for you?”

  She hadn’t been joking when she said she didn’t want to talk about it. If she had her way, she’d tuck the night away and forget it ever happened.

  Not that she’d have much luck with that.

  Brooding, she listened with half an ear while Carter talked about his pottery. Occasionally Law would ask a question, which sent the discussion spiraling in a whole new direction. Lena kept up as much as she could, but she couldn’t concentrate on much of anything.

  In the back of her mind, she kept hearing that poor woman’s voice.

  Put it away, she told herself.

  But that was so much easier said than done.

  “I’d better be going,” Carter said. “These projects are nice to talk about and all, but they won’t get done if all I do is talk. Lena, you be sure to call us if you need anything.”

  She forced a smile. “I will. But don’t worry. I’m fine.”

  As Carter left, the three friends fell silent. “You’re not fine,” Roz said quietly. “You’re worried sick. I can see it.”

  “There’s not much I can do about it, though, is there?” Lena asked. Weary, she slid the tips of her fingers under her glasses and rubbed at her eyes.

  She had another headache, a bad one. All she’d done was nibble at her food. The French toast she’d ordered—one of her favorites—lay mostly untouched, cold syrup congealing around it.

  “The police didn’t see anything to worry them. Nothing happened last night, and nobody else reported anything weird, no reports of anybody getting hurt.”

  She shrugged and lifted her hands. “I just can’t really do anything else. Although it would have helped if the damn cops had listened to me.”

  “They didn’t?”

  “Shit.” Curling her lip, she leaned against the padded bench. “Jennings, the guy who came out that night when I called nine-one-one, he at least listened to what I had to say. But when I went in to see if there was anything else they could try to do, that moron Prather was more interested in convincing me I’d been imagining things.”

  Lowering her voice, she said mockingly, “It’s got to be unnerving for a woman like me to live out in a house all by my lonesome.”

  “He said that?” Roz demanded.

  Lena smiled at the disgusted rage she heard in her friend’s voice. It helped, having her friends pissed off for her. “Yeah.”

  “The sheriff’s office was a waste of time.” Law’s voice was calmer, steadier, but she still heard the undercurrent of irritation there.

  It soothed the ragged edges. A lot. Enough that she was able to give them a real smile. “Nah. Not a total waste. I mean, at least I wasn’t sitting at home and wondering if maybe I should go in and see if there was anything new. Now I know the answer. That’s better than not knowing, right?”

  Just then the bell over the door rang. Roz shifted on the seat across from her and in a low voice, she muttered, “Wow.”

  Faced with nothing but week-old pizza in his refrigerator, Ezra had to face the unavoidable.

  He needed to go into town and buy some damned groceries. He couldn’t have picked a worse day to run out of just about everything, either. Sheets of water all but obscured the roadway, and when he hit the main strip, traffic was moving at a crawl.

  It was about as much of a traffic jam as the small town of Ash probably ever saw, he figured. A neon sign caught his eye and he glanced over, saw the little café. His stomach growled at him, reminded him he’d decided against the pizza. He could either stop to get a bite to eat before hitting the store or he could wait another couple of hours to eat.

  His stomach wasn’t very impressed with the latter idea.

  When a van started to back up just in front of him, he took it as a sign. After he parked, he made a dash through the rain. He was soaked to the bone by the time he hit the door. The scents of bread, bacon, and coffee mingled in the air and he was all but drooling as he stood there, dripping water onto the floor.

  Shoving his wet hair back, he glanced around absently. A familiar, dark red head of hair caught his eye. Every time I turn around, he thought … Hell. Maybe this was some sort of sign. He started toward her table, but halfway there, he realized she wasn’t alone.

  No, she was sitting at a table with two other people. A woman, about her age, Ezra figured. She was a looker, too, blond, blue-eyed and tanned. Her blond hair was worn short and sleek. Her eyes rested on his for a few seconds in female appraisal.

  Ezra looked at the guy, recognizing him from the other day. He’d been with Lena at the sheriff’s office. Judging by the look in his eye, the man had more than just a casual interest in her.

  He glanced at Ezra and then leaned forward, murmured to Lena. Ezra didn’t catch a word, but Lena straightened and turned in his direction as he drew even with the table.

  “Morning, Lena.”

  “Ezra.”

  A slow smile curled that pretty mouth. She cocked her head. She shifted in her seat, crossed one slender, jeans-clad leg over the other. “We’re about done, but you’re welcome to join us. We’re just talking and drinking coffee. Avoiding the rain.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the look in her friend’s eye.

  “There’s plenty of rain to avoid. Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asked.

  “Of course not. After all, isn’t that what friends do?” she asked.

  Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought her smile was just a tad bit mocking.

  He managed not to wince. Friends—shit, that was the last thing he wanted … well, no. Not really. He did want to be friends with her. He just wanted more than that. A lot more.

  Wanted, but couldn’t. Needed, even. Hell, he couldn’t quit thinking about her and he had to.

  “I guess so,” he murmured, well aware of the daggers the other guy was drilling into him with his eyes. Ignoring him, Ezra settled into one of the empty seats—it hadn’t been empty long, though. The remains of somebody else’s meal still sat there.

  “I’d love to join you for some coffee. Might get a bite to eat, too.”

  “By all means.” She made the introductions easily, either unaware of the undercurrent of tension or just un-fazed. Ezra decided she probably wasn’t aware of it.

  The guy’s name was Law Reilly. Law—what the hell kind of name was that?

  Ezra wondered how long he’d been mooning over Lena.

  He didn’t wear his infatuation very well, either, Ezra decided as Law pushed back from the table in under two minutes flat. “Lena, I’ve got to run down to the post office. I’ll be back in about twenty or so.”

  “It’s pouring down rain.”

  “Just water.” Law shrugged as he dug some money out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. “I’ll come back inside to get you when I’m done. Maybe it will stop raining by then.”

  He lingered only long enough to drop a kiss on Roz’s cheek and then he was out the door.

  “Friendly guy,” Ezra said, keeping his voice neutral.

  Roz gave him a knowing smile. Lena might not realize her buddy had a thing for her, but this woman did.

  “Law only behaves in public when he sees
the point,” Lena said, shrugging it off. “Small talk isn’t something he sees much point in, especially if he doesn’t know you. He wasn’t trying to be rude.”

  Ezra wasn’t so sure of that, but he didn’t much care.

  The waitress showed up to clear the area in front of him, take his order, and pour coffee. After she left, Ezra slumped in his seat and stretched his stiff right leg out as much as he could. Absently, he massaged it. Damn rain.

  “So you’re June King’s grandson?”

  Ezra looked up, met the woman’s curious, vivid blue eyes. Roz. Lena had said her name was Roz—Roslyn Jennings and she owned the bed-and-breakfast close to his place. “Yes.”

  A warm smile curled her lips. “I knew your grandmother. She used to come out to the gardens a few times a year, back when I was still trying to get things going with the Inn.”

  “You own the Inn?”

  “Yes, I do. Miss June gave me some advice about the gardens and she used to fuss at me about my roses.”

  “That sounds like her.”

  “Were you close?”

  Ezra looked down at his coffee, staring into the dark brew as though it held the answers to life itself. “We were. Especially when I was a kid. But then I graduated from high school, went to college. Got busy.” He sighed. Distracted, he shoved a hand through his wet hair and leaned back in his seat, staring off into the distance. “Time slipped away and before I realized it, it had been a year before I’d seen her. I’d come out and see her at Christmas, stay for a few days, and I’d try to come see her in the summer when I could. I didn’t do as good a job of it as I could have.”

  “You did a lot better than some do, though,” Roz said. “I think I saw you at the funeral, with your folks. I didn’t stay very long. I don’t much care for funerals.”

  “Who does?” Shifting his gaze to Lena, he asked, “You have any trouble last night?”

  “Nice, subtle change of topic there, Ezra,” she said, her voice dry.

  “Yeah, I’m a smooth operator, all right. And you didn’t answer me.”

  “No. I didn’t.” She took a sip of her coffee. “And no. There wasn’t. Can we talk about something else?”

  “Can’t give you any points for subtlety—you don’t even make an attempt,” he said.

  Lena lifted a brow. “I don’t see the need to pretend. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Not talking about it doesn’t solve the problem.”

  “Talking about it doesn’t solve it, either,” she snapped. Then she sighed, a soft, weary sound.

  Ezra watched as she lifted a slender hand, rubbed at her temple. Then she lowered it to the table, curled it into a fist. A tight, white-knuckled fist. “I’m sorry. Look, I just don’t want to talk about this. I really, really don’t.”

  “I can understand that.” He could—and he did. But his spine was itching. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him yesterday at the sheriff’s office, but that hadn’t kept him from asking around.

  He knew how to ask around, and what little he’d picked up was enough to leave his skin crawling. That, combined with the fear he’d glimpsed on her face, the fear and the worry, added up to one thing in his mind: bad news.

  Screaming—in the dead of night.

  Prather might want to write her off, but Ezra wasn’t about to do the same.

  Not with this burn in his gut. As much as he’d like to believe it was just indigestion, he knew better. His instincts might have let him down a time or two in the past, but he knew to listen when they were singing like this.

  Something was going on.

  Leaning forward, he covered her fisted hand with his. “You don’t want to talk about it. I get that, I really do. But think about it—is hiding from it the smartest thing to do?”

  “So what can I do?” Her mouth twisted in a scowl. “I already called the police and a fat lot of good that did. What more can I do?”

  Rubbing his thumb along the back of her clenched fist, he said, “Well, you could start by telling me what you told the county sheriff. Tell me what happened.”

  “Why?” she asked quietly. “What’s the point? You said it yourself, you work for the state.”

  “Yeah, but I’m still a cop. And unlike that prick, Prather, I don’t always have my head up my ass—I know how to listen. Maybe … well, maybe I’ll think of something they didn’t.”

  “Like what?” she muttered. She tugged her hand away from his.

  The loss of contact left him with a weird ache inside, one he couldn’t entirely explain. He was prepared for her to tell him to just let it go, tried to find another argument to convince her.

  But to his surprise, she just sighed and said, “There’s not that much to tell, Ezra. I was sleeping. It was late. Something woke me up and it took me a minute to figure out what it was. But it was screaming. A woman. She was screaming for help. I heard her call out four more times. And then … nothing.”

  “Where did you hear her?”

  “In the woods, off to the west of my house. Probably in a hundred feet or so. It couldn’t have been too far, or I wouldn’t have heard her.” A faint smile curled her lips and she said, “I can hear well enough, but not that well.”

  “Any idea if she sounded young? Old?”

  “I … don’t know. A woman, not a kid. But she could have been in her twenties, her thirties, forties … she wasn’t old as in needing a walker old, but for all I know she was in her fifties or sixties. I just don’t know.” She shook her head. “All I can say for sure is that she sounded … terrified. Desperate.” She averted her face and he watched her throat work as she swallowed. “Completely terrified.”

  When she faced him again, she had a cocky, somewhat forced smile in place. “So, Sherlock, any brilliant deductions?”

  “Not just yet, Watson.”

  Roz leaned over and wrapped an arm around Lena’s shoulders. “Lena, sweetie, are you sure you don’t want to come stay at the house for a while? Man, I’m scared just thinking about it.”

  “I’m sure.” Lena reached up and patted Roz’s hand. “But thanks.”

  She reached for her coffee, and closed her hands around it, lifting it slowly to her lips. “Sergeant Jennings came back out, took a look around, but he didn’t find anything,” she said.

  “Jennings?”

  “Yes. He’s with the sheriff’s department,” she answered. “He wanted to take a look at the woods when he had some light, but he couldn’t find anything.”

  “Hmmm. Actually …” Ezra reached up and scratched his chin. What in the hell are you doing? “I was kind of thinking of coming by your place. Having a look around myself.”

  I’m trying to be a friend. Remember?

  Then he grimaced and glanced out the window at the deluge. “Not that I expect I’ll find a whole hell of a lot with all this rain. But still. A look around in the daylight, even after a downpour like this, who knows … maybe I’ll see something they missed.”

  “Why do you think you’ll find something when the deputies didn’t?”

  “Sometimes people don’t see things because they don’t expect to see things,” he said, shrugging.

  For a long, quiet moment, Lena said nothing. Then slowly, she lowered her coffee cup to the table. “You believe me.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She swallowed, shook her head. “I …” Licking her lips, she took a deep breath and murmured, “It’s just that … well, Sergeant Jennings listened, but I’m not all that sure he believes what I’m saying. I think he believes I believe but … that’s not the same thing as believing me. And Prather sure as hell didn’t believe me. Why do you?”

  Reaching out, he caught one of her hands and this time, when she tried to tug it free, he wouldn’t let her. “Lena, you just don’t strike me as the type to dream up something like this, and you definitely aren’t the sort to make up something like this. If you say you heard a woman screaming, then that’s exactly what I think happened.”

  A slo
w, shaky smile curled her lips. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  In fact, he was pretty damn sure of it.

  Maybe it was because of the tight, strained look on her face as she’d been talking to Deputy Dickhead Prather.

  Maybe it was the grim, worried look on her face.

  Or maybe it was because he could all but feel something buzzing inside him.

  He didn’t know, didn’t entirely care just yet.

  But something was going on.

  He wouldn’t be much of a cop if he didn’t listen to his gut.

  He wouldn’t be much of a man, if he could look at Lena’s tight, drawn face and not feel … something.

  Luck was with them. By the time Law was done at the post office, the rain had stopped. He arrived back at the café just as Ezra had finished eating. The two men didn’t speak more than three words to each other, but that didn’t surprise her, especially not on Law’s part.

  “What do you think about him?” Lena asked as she walked with Law back to his car.

  “Who?”

  She frowned. He sounded … irritated. “Ezra.”

  “Beats me. Just met the guy. Didn’t hang for the breakfast chat, either.”

  Sighing, Lena said, “Law, you notice people. You notice things about people that people probably don’t even notice about themselves. Geez, you probably know what color socks our waitress had on. Wouldn’t surprise me if you’d noticed if she was wearing a thong or regular panties.”

  A few seconds of silence passed and then Law sighed. “Actually, she wasn’t wearing either, I don’t think.”

  “Eww. Okay, that was a little TMI, buddy.” She jabbed at his side with her elbow.

  He grunted as her elbow bounced off—it was a lot like she’d bumped into a wall.

  “He limps when he walks,” Law said. “Did something to his right leg. Noticed him rubbing it a few times. Looks like he notices just about every damn thing, too. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was a cop.”

  “Hah. See? You do notice things. He is a cop—he’s with the state police. Maybe you should be a cop.”

  “Hell, no. The pay sucks and the hours aren’t any better.” Law was quiet for a few seconds and then he added, “He was checking you out. Just you. Watches you, like he doesn’t really see anything else, even though you can tell he sees everything.”