Rose from the Grave

by Candace Murrow

"By the way, Hank." She handed him a piece of paper. "Do you happen to recognize this number?"

  He squinted against the light. "Can't say that I do." He handed the paper back to Kat and turned his attention to a woman who'd come to the counter with a newspaper.

  Kat thought about Wilma. If anyone in town knew who that number belonged to, she would, but her shop was closed on Sundays. Even if it were open, Wilma was on Hank's side regarding the development project. Better let a little time pass before approaching her.

  Kat tried gracefully backing out of the store with her groceries and boxes but got tangled up in the doorway. She tugged the box stuck in the doorjamb and whirled around, flustered. She'd run into Chance again.

  He had on sweatpants and running shoes. His T-shirt was damp in places. His hair curled out from under a ball cap. He picked up one of the boxes that had toppled. "Need some help?"

  "It would be appreciated."

  He assisted in carrying the boxes across the street and stashed them in the back of her SUV. "Are you packing up?"

  "I thought I better get started before I'm run out of this town."

  He leaned against her car, close enough for her to smell the distinct masculine scent, perspiration mixed with a hint of citrus from his deodorant, the smell of a man who'd been exercising, a very appealing odor to Kat. It reminded her of a time she'd jogged with a boyfriend and afterward they'd ended up in bed, soaked in sweat.

  "Did you take my advice and leave the phone off the hook?"

  She pulled herself into the moment. "Yes." She didn't see the point in telling him about the cell phone call, didn't want to be shuttled off to his house because of his overblown opinion of some silly prank. She could handle this herself.

  "Good. Now, could you give me a lift home?"

  "Sure, if you don't have an ulterior motive."

  He tweaked her nose. "Just asking."

  She didn't believe him in the least. As she drove away from town, she could sense him scrutinizing her. "You'll have to tell me where to turn. I know it's before Pine Road," she said as they passed Maple Lane.

  "Keep going straight."

  "What for?" She knew she was supposed to turn soon.

  "I want to check something out."

  They traveled past his private drive and then past the Pine Road cutoff.

  "Look up ahead."

  Kat slowed to witness two men inside the development property near the bullet-riddled sign.

  "Pull over," Chance said. "I want to have a word with him."

  "Who?"

  "Wheeler. The guy in the green shirt. Pull over."

  "What are you going to say?" When he didn't reply, she swung onto the shoulder as far off the road as possible and cut the engine.

  "I just want to talk to him."

  By his growling tone, Kat had images of the men in some gunslinging standoff. She checked for passing cars and scurried after Chance.

  Nate Wheeler was instructing a younger man with shoulder-length hair on replacing the sign when Chance yelled out, "Hey, Wheeler, are you packing it in?"

  Wheeler was completely bald, and as he approached the fence where they were standing, Kat observed he'd shaved that way on purpose; his head was shiny with a slight shadow around the sides. His eyebrows, along with his tidy mustache and goatee, were a slick black. The man was younger than Chance, shorter, and sexier than she'd imagined. He had a beefy build and sharp features. He gave her an appraising once-over, then settled on Chance. "What do you want, Eliason?"

  "I see you're in town and wondered why you couldn't make it to the meeting yesterday."

  "Previous engagement."

  "You could have notified me you weren't coming," Chance said. "That would have been the considerate thing to do."

  "Too bad. I guess I'm not the considerate kind." He started walking away.

  "Wait, mister."

  At Kat's command the developer wheeled around and stared at her with a look of pure disgust. "And who are you?"

  "I'm Kat Summers, and I want to ask you about my sister, Brianna Whitley."

  "And I'm supposed to know who that is?"

  "Don't be smug, Wheeler," Chance said.

  "Look, lady, I didn't know your sister other than that little run-in at the church."

  "I understand she planned on paying you a visit afterward."

  He fished a cigarette and a lighter from his shirt pocket. He lit up, sucked in a breath, and blew out a stream of blue smoke. "One day she showed up at my office in Benton. So what?"

  "May I ask what you talked about?"

  "We exchanged a few words about the development." His lips twitched into a grin. "I bought her a cup of coffee as a peace offering and . . ." He took another drag off his cigarette.

  "Was that all there was to it?"

  "Give me a break, lady. I've got work to do." He strode back to his partner, clipping short the conversation.

  Back in the car Kat said, "I don't buy it. I do believe she visited him in Benton, but I don't believe he sent her on her way. He was going to say something else about it. Did you notice his self-satisfied grin? That said everything."

  "He was wearing a wedding band, if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

  "All the more."

  "She despised the man."

  "She took up with Tim Holmes, didn't she, and he's not a very likable man. She never did have good sense when it came to men. She married a man named John Whitley for about a year before she moved in with me. I had to help her untangle that mess. God, he was a cruel bastard."

  "She never mentioned him. Until you came here, I never knew Whitley was a married name."

  "She wouldn't have told anyone. That's a chapter in her life she wanted to forget. And so do I. He just about killed the both of us before I could rescue her away from him."

  Kat made a U-turn, and Chance pointed the way to his secluded drive. As she pulled up to the house, Zeke met the car, whining and barking.

  "Stay here and I'll put Zeke in the garage."

  "Don't bother," she said. "I'm not getting out."

  "I thought you might like a good home-cooked meal. I've got a roast in the Crock Pot. I can't eat it all myself."

  She had to laugh at herself for falling into his trap. "I thought you had no ulterior motive, and what about last night? If I remember right, you were madder than hell at me."

  "That was last night. I'm over my bullheaded rage. I figure we can agree to disagree and still be friends."

  "Oh you do, do you?"

  "Why not?"

  "What about 'no ulterior motive'?"

  He tweaked her nose again. "If my memory serves me, I didn't answer you on that one. Besides, I caught a peek at your groceries, and you, my lady, aren't going to make it to old age if you don't eat better than that."

  She could argue with him all day, but he sat motionless. His persistence both aggravated and tantalized her. "I'll make you a deal. I really need to start sorting through Brianna's things, so I'll go to the house for a while and come back later, say around five o'clock."

  "If that's as good as it gets."

  CHAPTER 14

  Chance Eliason was a huge, powerful sun. At a safe distance he warmed her, but venturing too close, she could get burned. Nevertheless, she felt herself being pulled into his aura. She knew the signs. She knew the game. She also knew how tired she was of short-term relationships, but she didn't have the energy to commit to anything more than that. If she could make it out of Rosswood with her heart intact, that was all she asked. "Stay strong for a few more days," she begged herself as she swung into Brianna's driveway.

  She hauled the boxes into the house, tipping and almost losing control of them, and left the door ajar a little too long. The kitten slithered inside.

  "I forgot about you." Kat picked up the kitten with the intent of tossing him outdoors, but he mewed and nuzzled her hand with his wet nose. "For heaven's sake, are you still hungry? I don't have anything for you besides milk unless you'l
l eat some beef stew."

  Allowing him a sniff of the opened can, she drew him outside and emptied a portion of the stew into the saucer. The kitten plunged in, giving Kat the opportunity to sneak inside and get to work.

  In the bedroom she filled a box with Brianna's underwear and T-shirts. She folded a few heavier shirts from the closet and tucked them on top. As hard as it was to handle Brianna's clothes, she blanked her mind to keep her emotions in check. So far the trick was working.

  She set the box she'd seen earlier on the closet shelf on the living room rug, not knowing what to expect. In the warmth of the heater, she sat cross-legged with boots off, wiggled the top of the box free, and discovered a handful of snapshots scattered atop a stack of papers.

  Kat examined a photo of the two sisters at ages three and eight, sitting with their mother on the old plaid sofa. Their mother's hair was long and flipped up on the ends. Brianna was dressed in a Pooh Bear jumpsuit, and Kat had on a blouse and corduroy pants. All three were smiling genuine smiles. Kat could see it in their sparkling eyes.

  She studied the other photos: the girls at five and ten, tongues out, hamming it up; Brianna at ten in her brand new polka dot swimsuit, her hair in pigtails, taken against the backdrop of a rented cabin on the Oregon coast.

  Her mood withered at the sight of the last picture: Brianna with Uncle Will. His slicked-back raven hair gleamed in the sunlight. All smiles, he had his arm over her shoulder, squeezing her to his side. But Brianna didn't mirror his enthusiasm; she stood like a stick figure with vacant eyes. The photo was ripped through Will's face, as if Brianna wanted to destroy the nightmare it represented.

  Kat stared at her sister's likeness. "I'm sorry no one believed you, Brianna, least of all me." She couldn't stop the tears, and she wept until a faint, persistent mewing captured her attention.

  She rescued the kitten from outdoors and scooped him into her arms. She gave the door a swift kick.

  She glanced at the photo one more time, which brought up another rush of emotion. Like a cloak of steel, the guilt of the past weighed heavy on her. Too drained to do anything else, she hugged the kitten to her chest and collapsed on the couch.

  * * *

  He peered in the window. He knew it was risky. She looked so sweet and innocent sleeping with the pussycat. He longed to touch her.

  He told himself to be patient, not to rush, but how could he remain calm now that she was back in his life, his target. It was a miracle, a gift that wouldn't be denied.

  The pressure inside was building, like a fist in the gut spurring him to act. He clawed at his thigh again and again, trying to stop the urge to satisfy his insatiable need.

  He had to think things through, make a plan. Last time he'd bungled it, made a mess of it. He didn't want to spoil it this time.

  His mind twisted into the past. It was his parents' fault. His father was in and out, and when he was home, he was distant and menacing. But it was his mother's voice that taunted him. "You can never do anything right." Her haunting laugh spilled into him. "Discipline is the key," she'd say to the father. "The boy needs more discipline."

  He flashed back to the time when he was eleven years old and his mother caught him pleasuring himself. For punishment she'd forced him to stand naked against the wall in front of everyone in the family, praying until his voice gave out. With these thoughts, he raged.

  The urge to act needled him, but he fought against it. Discipline was the key. Timing was everything. But his body forced him to act now.

  Lucky for him, the door wasn't latched. Just as he pressed his hand to the wood and pushed it open, beams of light lit up the trees, warning of an approaching car. He slunk around the house into the shadows.

  * * *

  Chance parked in front of Brianna's house and checked his watch. The time was edging past six o'clock. Kat's SUV was in the driveway. She hadn't showed up for dinner and hadn't cancelled. Because of the crank calls, he felt the need to check up on her; at least that was his excuse.

  Must run in the family with these women. Even though Brianna and Kat were different in personality, they were cut from the same cloth. They both touched his nurturing side, an instinct that had been buried until Meredith's illness.

  Approaching the house, he noticed the partially opened door. Coming closer, he heard only the gentle whirring of the heater fan. "Kat?" When no one answered, he stepped inside and found her asleep on the couch with a kitten curled up on her belly.

  He had to smile. Here was this tough, balls-of-fire woman, tearing through life on her own, indifferent to animals, cuddling a kitten. He backed out quietly, dragging the door with him.

  "Chance? Is that you?" A groggy-voiced Kat asked him to come in.

  "You left it open a crack. I was worried." He shut the door and jiggled the knob to make sure it was securely latched. He neared the couch. "Who's your friend?"

  Kat swung her feet off the sofa, and the kitten sprang to the floor and stretched its legs. "A stray, and I don't know why it picked me of all people. You know I'm not an animal person."

  "You look like a natural to me."

  Kat shooed the kitten outside. "The little bugger showed up this morning, and I thought he'd be gone when I got back from town, but no such luck. I didn't buy any cat food."

  "Looks like you'll have to get some."

  Kat gave him an oh-brother look and switched on the lamp.

  He raised her chin and gave her a breeze of a kiss, which she didn't resist. "Your eyes are swollen and red." He ran his thumb down her cheek to wipe away traces of tears. "Have you been crying?"

  She gestured toward the opened box. "I was looking at some pictures of me and Brianna when we were kids. It reminded me of our not-so-pleasant past."

  "Would you tell me about it?" He yearned to know everything about the woman, even the pain.

  "What time is it anyway?"

  "After six."

  "I was supposed to be at your house an hour ago. I'm so sorry. I was exhausted. I've ruined our dinner, haven't I?"

  He laid his hands on her shoulders. "Don't you worry about dinner. I brought it with me."

  He went out to get the Crock Pot. On his way back in, the kitten darted in after him. Kat grabbed the stray to put it out.

  "Let him stay," Chance said. "He might like some roast beef."

  "The little moocher had beef stew."

  "That canned garbage?" Chance plugged in the Crock Pot. "Are you sure the kitten's a he?"

  "How would I know?"

  Chance held the kitten up to have a look. "Female. You'll probably want to have her spayed." He set her on the floor, and she rubbed against his leg.

  "It's not staying here that long."

  "Take her to Seattle with you when you go."

  "Why don't you take her home?"

  He rubbed his hands together, his eyes flickering with mischief. "She'll make a mighty fine meal for Zeke."

  "Oh, stop it."

  "Now that you know the kitten's sex, why don't you give her a name while she's here, instead of calling her 'It'?"

  "I don't name animals. You name her."

  "She's your kitten."

  "She is not."

  "Okay, It, it is."

  "Don't be silly," Kat said. "I'll call her Tiger."

  "That's original."

  Kat gave him a playful punch on the arm. "You're exasperating."

  In one smooth motion he grabbed her wrist, entwined their arms, and pulled her toward him. "And you, woman . . ." He inhaled the sweet scent of her. "You're one of the sexiest women I've ever met."

  She shattered the moment by pulling free and rattling around the kitchen for plates and silverware. Kat wasn't one to be tamed easily. Like Banjo, the white burro that had suffered mistreatment, Kat needed expert handling. Like Banjo, she needed tender care.

  Watching Kat and Tiger devour the meal he'd prepared gave him pleasure. "Did you accomplish anything in town this morning besides getting the boxes?"

  "I talke
d to the sheriff."

  "And what did our illustrious civil servant have to say?"

  "He gave me a different version of Brianna and Tim's relationship. He told me it was Brianna who pestered Tim after they split up, not the other way around."

  "He's full of it," Chance said. "As I told you, it was Tim who came storming out to the ranch begging Brianna to take him back."

  "Why would the sheriff say otherwise?"

  "Because he's Tim's father," Chance said. "More likely than not, that was the story Tim told him. Or, he's protecting his son. Look at the mess the world is in today. Isn't that because people see the same things differently? And we fight over our differences. If we can't have peace in our own backyards, how will we ever accomplish it worldwide?"

  "I believe that, but how did this turn into a lecture about world peace?"

  "Sorry. I just meant if the sheriff sees the situation his son's way, the opposite way you do, he'll fight you on it."

  "I'd rather not fight the sheriff over anything," she said. "Maybe he is obligated to take his son's side, but I still don't like his lousy attitude."

  "Join the club."

  Kat finished her last bite, and Chance asked if she wanted more. "I couldn't, really, but it was heavenly. I don't know when I've had a meal like this."

  He tossed another morsel to Tiger, who purred with delight. Kat gathered the plates.

  "You sit still," he told her. "I'll do the dishes."

  "Listen, you've done enough. I'll put them in the sink and do them later."

  Chance meandered to the opened box and picked up the picture of a young girl and an older man. "Is this Brianna with your father?"

  Kat, who was busy running water over the silverware, shut off the tap, used her jeans for a towel, and snatched the photo from his hand. "Uncle." She tossed the photo into the box. Tiger dove in to investigate.

  "Come here." He sat Kat on the couch. "I saw that look of contempt. Tell me what happened back then." From the way her breathing increased after his suggestion, her resistance was building. "It's all right, Kat, I won't judge it."

  "Brianna's is not a pretty past."