“Get moving, smart Alec.” Ben waved her out of the kitchen.
Loaded down once more, Ben asked, “How were you going to get all these groceries in the Seville?”
Tru shrugged. “I would have managed.”
They got the last load in, and Ben locked the church door. “Is the rest of this place wide open?”
Tru nodded. “If you lock it, the rest of the Casserole Committee won’t be able to get in.”
Ben looked back at the lock. “It’d take me all night to search the place and make sure Watson isn’t already inside. We’d never get the lasagna done.”
Looking around the vast building, he added, “But as for worrying about the rest of the committee, they’re already a half hour late. No one is coming but us.” Facing the futility of it, Ben left the door unlocked.
Tru led the way to the kitchen.
“How many people belong to this church?”
“Two thousand.”
“And not one of them could show up to help you with the casseroles?”
She tugged a huge stack of aluminum pans out of a bag and ripped open the first of two ten-pound packages of hamburger. “Would you lay four lasagna noodles in the bottom of each pan while I get the hamburger started browning?”
Ben learned more than he wanted to know about lasagna. He also saw Tru jump every time a board creaked in the big, empty church. Ben didn’t like the sound of some of those creaks either. No building settled that much.
Two hours later, he set the last pan of lasagna in the church’s freezer with a sigh of relief. “I’m exhausted. Jesus might have been able to feed five thousand people with no trouble, but it’s not so easy for me.”
Tru smiled at him. Red sauce splattered on her apron made her look like Little Suzy Homemaker, not a tenured professor and wealthy author.
“It’s done for another month, anyway.” She took off her apron and balled it up. Ben looked down at his dishpan hands as Tru put the last frying pan away, scrubbed and wiped dry. Then she gathered up every towel, washcloth and apron in the kitchen and stuffed them in one of her empty grocery bags.
“What are those for?” Ben asked.
“I’ll wash them up and bring them back.” She led the way out of the church.
“You have to do the church’s laundry, too?”
She looked over her shoulder as she reached for the outside door. “When I get something dirty, I clean it up.”
Ben reached past her and held the door closed. “Let me go out first.”
Tru jumped back and gave the door a frightened look.
He knew, despite her hard work and cheerful attitude, that she’d been on edge all evening. He swung the door open. Staring out at the night, he stood until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He stepped out, keeping Tru close behind him.
“Ben, is this necessary?”
“Are we locking this door?” He still held onto her, which he hoped more than answered the question of whether he thought this was necessary.
“No.”
“Bleeding hearts,” Ben snorted. “You make it easy for a kid to get in trouble.”
He towed Tru along in his wake, keeping a close eye on a clump of bushes in the corner of the parking lot. They swayed a bit more than could be explained away by the night breeze. He lifted Tru by the waist and settled her in the front seat. She didn’t even suggest climbing into the truck herself this time.
When Ben got behind the wheel, she said, “You know, that crack about bleeding hearts almost sounds like my third book, in which I deal extensively with moral poverty.”
“I read Tru Interventions: Criminals.”
“Have you read all my books?”
“It’s a bunch of hooey.” He rolled down his window as he sat in the truck.
Tru sputtered, and he couldn’t stop a grin from breaking out. It gave him away.
“You’re tormenting me for entertainment, aren’t you?”
Impatient with wondering why the bushes rustled, Ben pulled his cell phone out.
“Who are you calling?”
The dispatcher came on the phone before he could answer Tru’s question. He identified himself. “I’m at East Pelham Street, in the south lot of the Christ United Church. I’m ready to leave, but there may be suspicious activity in the bushes here. The woman I’m with is being stalked, and I want someone to check this out. I don’t want to leave her alone while I do it.”
Tru yanked on his arm. “You don’t know I’m being stalked.”
“Roger, that,” the dispatcher responded.
He switched the phone to his other ear so she could yank to her heart’s content and not interrupt his call.
The dispatcher sent a cruiser in his direction.
“You’re being stalked. Two physical encounters, the e-mails. What would you call it?”
“We don’t know those e-mails came from Ralph.”
Ben shrugged. “Maybe you’re being stalked by two people. Lucky girl. I’m betting it’s all Watson. And if he’s lurking in those bushes over there, I want him caught.”
Tru’s eyes stormed.
“What are you thinking, Tru-Blue? That you ought to run over and warn him?”
Tru looked at the bushes. “You really think there’s someone in there?”
Tru jumped at a sudden, frantic movement in the hedge and grabbed Ben’s forearm.
“He’s taking off. I’ve got to stop him.” Ben reached for the door handle.
Tru threw herself toward him across the console and coiled her arms around his neck. “Don’t go out there. He might hurt you.”
The contact redirected his attention. Holding this trembling, sweet-smelling woman would be enough to distract a magnet from true north. He hadn’t held a woman close since Cara. And he’d fully intended never to do it again. Trudy reminded him of Cara in the worst possible way. She was soft. Soft and sweet, without a mean bone in her body.
He didn’t blame Cara for cutting her losses. She wasn’t the first woman who couldn’t handle a cop’s life.
Most of his friends were married to tough, self-sufficient women. Ben had admitted long ago that he was most attracted to softies, like Cara and Tru. That was just his nature. And he’d learned to ignore his interest in that type of woman because they couldn’t handle his job.
That left him with no one, which suited him fine. And Tru, holding him, protecting him from whatever that bush hid, was twice as soft as Cara inside and out. He eased her away from him as the noise in the bushes faded and running footsteps pounded on the sidewalk, fading away by the time Ben got his door open.
“He’s gone.” Disgusted for letting Tru divert him, he tightened his jaw. “I missed another chance to catch the jerk.”
A cruiser pulled into the lot.
Ben got out, folded up the center arm rest and dragged Tru across the seat behind him to get down on his side. He didn’t want her out of arm’s reach, even for a moment.
He talked to the uniformed cop for a while and the three of them, because he wasn’t letting Tru leave his side, looked through the bushes.
“A lot of footprints, Detective.” The uniform pointed his heavy flashlight at the ground.
Ben crouched and ran a finger over the tell-tale marks. “This isn’t close enough to any path for these footprints to be left here by a pedestrian. Someone was standing in these bushes.”
“Yeah, and it rained in the night last night,” the young policeman said. “These tracks are fresh.”
Ben stood and turned to Tru. “It’s him. It’s Watson. You know it is.”
Tru seemed to shrink as she stood in the dim glow of the flashlight.
“He was probably inside the church tonight. All that creaking we heard wasn’t the sound of the Holy Ghost. If you’d gone there alone to cook, who knows what would have happened.”
“What do we do now, Ben?”
Even for his soft-hearted Tru, she sounded too obedient. This wasn’t fair. Tru only wanted to love everybody. He should h
ave moved faster. He should have nabbed Watson.
“We file charges. I know you have doubts about exactly what he’s guilty of, but when he put his hands on you, he committed assault. Even if he weasels out of the charges this time, we’ll be able to arrest him if he tries to approach you again.” Ben felt Tru’s shudder.
“Approach me? You mean attack me.” Tru turned her blue eyes on him.
Ben wanted to slay dragons for her. But he could be her defender without getting stupid and wanting more.
God, please protect her. “He doesn’t have to attack you for it to qualify as harassment. Once you file, we can get a search warrant and trace all those e-mail addresses to his home computer. We can use the proof of harassment to make the assault charge stick. First degree assault is a felony. We may be able to invoke the three strikes rule. For once, we might not have to wait until after some crack-pot commits a crime to protect a victim.”
Tru nodded. “If I don’t do something, he’ll just go on hurting women. I’ll press charges.”
Ben sighed with relief. He took Tru’s arm. “Let’s get you home.”
9
“You don’t need to walk me in, Ben.” Trudy held her breath while he pulled to a stop.
As usual, he ignored her wishes. “No bother.”
Her knees wobbled with relief. Her stupid pink house glowed in the artificial light. She wondered how she’d ended up with this monstrosity. An investment, that’s how Liz had persuaded her. An investment just like the Seville.
“Wait until I get your door for you.” Ben came around and let her out.
He shielded her from the shrubbery that lined her fenced-in yard. His eyes were cool and observant as he escorted her to the house.
It made Trudy sick to realize he was shielding her from danger with his own body.
“I’m going to make sure there’s no one inside before I leave, so don’t bother complaining about it.” Ben took Trudy’s key but the door swung open and Eleanor met them, armed with a cast iron skillet.
Trudy realized for the first time that Eleanor could be in danger, too. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”
Eleanor sniffed. She exchanged a glance with Ben.
“She’s right.” Ben nodded at the skillet. “Although I’d give you good odds in a fight. Who else can you get in here during the day?”
Eleanor whacked the back of the skillet against the flat of her hand. “Even alone, I’m quite a few people.”
Ben grinned, then laughed out loud.
Eleanor jerked the skillet toward a huge bouquet of red roses on the table near the base of the sweeping staircase. “Before you go, that came today. I don’t suppose you sent them.”
Ben’s easy-going smile shrank like a cheap T-shirt in a hot dryer. “Was there a card?”
“Nothing.” Eleanor approached the flowers. “And we got five more letters in the mail today. Normally, I just sort the mail and give most of it to Liz but today, considering what happened last night, I opened them myself. I was careful about fingerprints.”
“Glad you’re on my side, Eleanor.” Ben pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and picked up the closest letter. Trudy looked over his shoulder and read the dreaded words.
‘Give me what I want, or I’ll take it.’
Those were the only words on the letters spread out on the table around the roses.
Trudy rubbed her chest with an open palm.
When Ben glanced at her, she saw his eyes sharpen as he rested his hand on her shoulder.
“What company delivered them?” Ben looked back at the flowers.
“I made the delivery driver give me a card.”
Eleanor produced it from the ample patch pocket of her blue floral top. While Ben studied it, Trudy tried to see the roses for their beauty and not as a threat.
He slipped the card into his shirt pocket and produced two of his own. He scribbled on both of them. “Good work. Next time call me right away.” He gave one card to Eleanor, and handed a second one to Trudy. “The number I wrote down will always reach me. I can’t always answer right away but I’ll call back within minutes.”
Eleanor frowned. “I should have phoned you when they arrived. The florist might have remembered something if you’d talked to him right away.”
“You did okay. Trudy agreed to press charges against Watson. I’m taking her into the station tomorrow to file a formal complaint.” Ben told Eleanor about the incident at church.
“I can tell you’re taking this seriously, Eleanor. I doubt if you’d miss anything, but I’m still checking the house out before I leave.”
“You won’t hear me trying to stop you.” Eleanor nodded.
‘Like Trudy keeps doing.’ Eleanor didn’t say it out loud, but Trudy got the message. Clenching her jaw, she watched the two of them take charge of her.
“Are you staying here tonight again?” Ben produced a zip lock bag from the inside pocket of his suit. He eased the letters inside and slipped the bag into his coat pocket.
Eleanor nodded. “I’m planning on sleeping here until this mess is cleared up.”
“Good.” He started toward the back of the house. “Thanks.”
Trudy wondered why Ben never approved of anything she did.
A few minutes later, he walked down the stairs, snagged the roses, and headed for front door.
Turning, he looked at Trudy as if she were a recalcitrant child. “I’ll be here at nine in the morning to take you to the station. Don’t make me wait.”
The same words as last night. He turned to leave, then paused. “What time does Liz get here?”
“Eight.” Trudy remembered Liz was mad. The woman knew how to hold a grudge. “Maybe we should go in earlier. I don’t want to be late for class.”
“Eight. Good. I want to talk to her. I want to know why she hasn’t said anything about these letters, assuming there have been more.” He looked directly at Trudy. “I don’t like her attitude.”
“Few do,” Eleanor agreed.
Trudy gasped.
Ben left as she opened her mouth to forbid him to upset her business manager further.
Eleanor huffed, “High time someone had a talk with that woman.”
“We don’t need to talk to her,” Trudy said.
“Sure we do.”
Trudy scowled. “If you think we need to talk to her, why haven’t you mentioned it before now?”
“I’m scared of her.” Eleanor shrugged. “What’s your excuse?”
Trudy’s shoulders slumped. “Same.”
“Maybe Ben can take her.” Eleanor left the room.
“Guess who’ll be standing in the crossfire when he tries.” Trudy trudged upstairs, expecting another sleepless night.
Tru held up her glow-in-the-dark watch and waited for the second hand to reach zero. Then she started.
Alabama
Alaska
Arizona
Arkansas
California
Colorado
Connecticut
Her computer, the beast, sat silently, accusing her of being a quitter.
“I’m not. I just need sleep.”
Delaware
Florida
Georgia
Hawaii
She could reel off all fifty states in under a minute. She could say the capitals without the states in 90 seconds and with the states in two minutes and twenty-eight seconds flat. She could do all the presidents in under three minutes. She’d timed herself. Often.
Texas
Indiana
Iowa
Kansas
Kentucky
The exercise was supposed to put her to sleep because it was so boring. She usually stayed awake, bored half to death but wide awake.
Louisiana
Maine
Maryland
Massachusetts
The beast was on stand-by. She resented the fact that her laptop could sleep, and she couldn’t. At least it didn’t taunt her with the scrolling me
ssage she used for her screen saver: A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1
Instead, it just sat like a dejected pet, vibing messages to her: ‘How dare you try and sleep? I’m ready to play. Come and pay attention to me.’
“Great, now I’m making up dialogue between myself and my computer.” Trudy twisted under the covers until they had her knotted up tight.
Michigan
Minnesota
Mississippi
Missouri
She was wide awake. Why fight the inevitable?
Slipping out of bed, she touched the pad on her computer and the machine seemed to smile triumphantly at her. “And Ben thinks Watson’s crazy,” she muttered. “How’s that any different than me?”
She launched her e-mails.
Messages began popping up.
‘Give me what I want, or I’ll take it.’
Ten, fifteen, twenty – the emails kept coming.
Ben had told her to leave the one’s she’d received earlier so he could track the sender. Added to them, her inbox grew and grew until she had nearly fifty emails with that same, ominous subject line.
In the dark room, she felt the shadows reaching out to grab her. Her throat closed as her computer screen filled.
‘Give me what I want.’
It was him. Ralph Watson. Ben was right. The man was dangerous. After the emails finished loading, she left them for Ben without opening a single one. She closed her mail box and opened her book.
She spent time in prayer before beginning her writing but, even after her communion with God, she had trouble being compassionate to the bullies she was trying to save.
Somehow, as she worked, she began picturing bullies in a form she’d never thought of before. Instead of junior high age boys, Liz muscled her way into Trudy’s head. Trudy tried to be kind to her, but her fingers typed out a book that wasn’t so nice.
She wrote about adult bullies instead of children. Ethel came next. Then she faced off against Ben Garrison. She told him off for about two chapters before she got herself under control and did some serious deleting.
She hated to admit it, but it felt good to tell these bullies off, even if it was in secret, on her computer.
But the bully who most concerned her was Ralph Watson. He was too frightening to write about. “You’re being irrational. He didn’t do anything to you. He was just upset.”
Loving the Texas Lawman_A Texas Lawman Romantic Suspense Page 8
