Good Gracie

by Ines Saint

  She was about to dig deeper, to see how much she could push herself, when the near-deafening sound of an alarm had her running out of her bedroom and through the front door. As she’d suspected, Hope’s front door was wide open and the alarm they’d set to keep her safely inside at night had gone off. When she swiveled to look out the front door, she caught sight of her somnambulant sister’s black hair and white nightgown. Gracie ran out after her, surprised to see that this time, Hope was running, too. Sleep running.

  When she was out of the house, Gracie quickly turned right, Hope’s usual direction. A scampering noise made her stop short and turn around to see Hope jumping a bush and heading toward the judge’s backyard at full speed. Gracie took off after her.

  Hope screamed. She had never screamed before. “Are you all right?” Gracie yelled, running faster. “Stop running!”

  “Where is she? Why is she screaming? What’s wrong?” a male voice called.

  Gracie turned to see that Alex Hooke was hot on her heels, his gun drawn.

  “Gracie, is that you? Are you all right?” It was Josh’s voice and it was coming from an upstairs window of the judge’s English manor.

  Hope stopped then, too, and tossed Gracie a wink and a mocking glance. That was when Gracie realized it was all a ploy. She’d been set up. Probably because Hope had seen Josh next door.

  And now Gracie was standing in the middle of the judge’s backyard in a flannel, knee-length man’s pajama top. Somehow, she managed to find her voice to shout up to the window, “Yes, it’s me. But I’m fine. I’m going home.”

  But Josh was gone. Probably running down as she stood there. She took off after Hope again. “You’re dead!” she yelled. But she was too late. Josh stepped out and got between Gracie and her prey, and her prey got away.

  “She wasn’t sleepwalking, was she?” Alex whispered as he came up behind her.

  “No,” Gracie hissed back.

  “Why did you scream?” Josh asked, running up to her. “Who did you say was dead?” He noticed Alex then and stopped short. It was then Gracie saw Josh was carrying a gun, too.

  The alarm next door stopped screeching. Gracie tried hard to think quickly. “Bessie White screamed. She’s a ghost. That’s why she’s dead.”

  “Bessie White?”

  Gracie turned to see Alex shaking his head. A moment later he stuck his hand out and said, “Alex Hooke. You must be Josh Goodwin. Gracie told me you were buying the house next door.” Josh nodded as they shook hands, and Alex continued, “Bessie White is the code name Paige and Gracie assign to Hope when she’s sleepwalking. She’s gotten herself into a few risky situations, so Paige, Sherry, and Gracie installed an alarm over her door. Hope disables it in the morning. If it goes off at night, they know Hope is sleepwalking.”

  “Hope suffers from somnambulism?” Josh turned to Gracie and she nodded once, stifling a sigh. Hope was all about being in charge and she hated that she couldn’t control what happened in her sleep. Her condition wasn’t something she wanted anyone outside her family to know about, but Alex had been left with no choice but to reveal the truth. Josh was a prosecuting attorney. He couldn’t just ignore screams, alarms, and men running around with guns in the middle of the night. And obviously the Bessie White ghost story wasn’t going to fly.

  “Why aren’t you going after her?” Josh asked next, looking as if he was about to go after her himself.

  “This time it was a prank,” Gracie quickly explained. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to involve anyone else.”

  “Oh.” Josh was looking between her and Alex, his face completely devoid of emotion. Alex noticed, and his eyes filled with mischief. There was a time his eyes had been as devoid of emotion as Josh’s were. She wished it were still so. Alex stood up to his full height and stared Josh, who was maybe an in inch shorter, down. Why, Gracie didn’t know. All she could think of was that he’d been spending too much time with Grandma Sherry, Rosa, and Ruby, and their mischievous ways were rubbing off on him.

  Josh glanced at Alex’s gun, then glanced at his own, which was bigger. He offered Alex a one-shouldered shrug. What was it with men and sizes? It was then she noticed that her nightshirt and Alex’s boxers matched. Heat infused her and she shifted from one foot to the other. Did Josh think Alex was her boyfriend and that Alex was acting jealous? It was a logical conclusion. They’d run out of the same house and they were wearing separate halves of the same pajama set. She cleared her throat. “Alex is Paige’s boyfriend. He stays in apartment 2B on weekends to be close to Paige.” Josh’s face remained stoic. It was obvious he didn’t care one way or the other. Zero jealousy. Of course. Not that she’d expected any . . . but that didn’t stop her from hoping.

  Still, she felt the need to further explain the matching pj’s. Letting out a fake laugh, she turned to Alex and said, “Paige gave me this shirt. I see she gave you matching boxers.”

  Alex smiled. “She knows I can’t stand sleeping in a shirt.” He began walking away. “I’m gonna try to get some sleep. Paige and I are taking the kids hiking early tomorrow. I’ll leave you to explain about Hope.” He nodded toward Josh. “Nice meeting you.”

  “You too,” Josh said, and both he and Gracie silently watched him leave. When Alex was inside, they turned to each other, and Gracie realized there was nothing left to explain. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this,” she said, curious about what he’d been doing in the manor’s attic but too aware of the absurdity of everything that had just happened to ask. It was time to call it a night.

  She was about to turn and leave when she caught Josh staring down at her hand, his lips moving as if he were reading. Too late, Gracie realized she was still gripping the index card.

  Josh’s startled eyes found hers. “Who sent you that? Did someone just leave it? Is that who you were really chasing?” Josh swiveled around and looked like he was about to take off at a run.

  “No!” Gracie shot her hand out to stop him. “It was here when I got home this afternoon. Hope truly sleepwalks and she really was playing a joke. I promise.”

  “Do Hope and Alex know you got that?” he asked, obviously still confused about everything that had transpired.

  Gracie sighed. Why hadn’t she dropped the note on her way out? “No. Hope wouldn’t have pulled a prank on me if she’d known and Alex is FBI. He’s really protective of us. I don’t want him to know.”

  Josh studied her a long moment before nodding slowly, as if the different, unrelated parts of the evening were finally beginning to make sense. “Is this why you didn’t meet me at eight?” he asked.

  Gracie started. She was supposed to meet him tonight! How could she have forgotten? She crumpled the index card. Josh reached out to gently pry her fist open. “Gracie?” he tried again.

  Gracie shivered. For the first time since the crazy chase had started, she felt cold. “Yes. This is why,” she said.

  Chapter 9

  “You’re cold. It’s like thirty-six degrees out. Come here.” Josh put his arm around her and steered her toward the judge’s house. “We’ll talk inside. The power blew out, but I’ve got a couple of heavy-duty flashlights and the house is still warm.” Usually, her nerves jumped under her skin when a man touched her, as if they were protesting. But Josh’s touch heated her skin instantly. The feeling was equally alarming, but only because it was so pleasurable. She was torn between moving away to quiet the many sensations that being so close to him was provoking or to moving closer and enjoying them all. They were inside and he’d moved away before she could make up her mind.

  When he wasn’t looking, she rolled her eyes at herself. Now that he’d removed his arm, she wished she’d enjoyed it so she could relive it again and again later, in the privacy of her room. Something as momentous as receiving the index card was forgotten amid so many new, wonderful feelings. She sighed. There was no need for her to get her goof back. It had never left her.

  Josh picked up two flashlights, gave her one, and set the other on the n
ewel post facing up, and Gracie distracted herself by beaming her flashlight around and taking in the details of the manor.

  It wasn’t long before this task absorbed her, making her feel more in control. Though she wasn’t an interior decorator, many of the principles of workplace design applied. She was adept at listening to people to create functional and beautiful indoor spaces based on both their needs and wants.

  She moved in a circle, her fingers itching to jot down her observations. The mahogany trim and paneling was gorgeous, but there was a lot of it. That and the textured burgundy wallpaper, dark green drapes, and Persian rugs covering black-and-white marble tiles made the high ceilings and dramatic staircase blend into the overall gloomy atmosphere instead of standing out.

  So far, there was a lot of promise in the house, and she was thrilled Josh had asked her to give him ideas. Her insides tingled with the possibilities. The challenge would be to come up with alternatives that would accomplish both preservation and renewal. The wallpaper and drapes at least were no-brainers—they had to be removed and tossed. The rugs looked to be in good shape and could be professionally cleaned and moved to other rooms if he wanted to keep them.

  She squatted and beamed her light to the floor, running her fingers along the tiles. The Amador brothers, whom he’d hired, were experts, and they’d do right by the house, but they would probably want to restore the timeless, careworn marble floors, while Gracie felt there was a deeper beauty in their chips, scratches, and cracks. There was a certain appeal to making the passage of time a focal point.

  After taking it all in and completely transforming the entry in her mind’s eye, Gracie’s heart began to thump. The song “Leather and Lace” by Stevie Nicks and Don Henley came to mind. There was a line in there, something about walking into a person’s house and never wanting to leave. The thought made her breathless, but she knew it was because she’d imagined her perfect house, not his.

  Josh took his coat off the balustrade, put it around her shoulders, and sat down. Gracie folded herself on the step just below his, set her flashlight next to him, and turned her body toward his, eager to ask him how he felt about the house and what changes he was considering. The words left her when she saw the way he was looking at her.

  The anger and fierce concern reflected in his doe-brown eyes couldn’t conceal the deeper warmth that provoked his protectiveness. There was no way she could expect his own mind to jump from the note she’d received to turning his house into his haven. That wasn’t his passion. Justice was.

  It was time to share everything that had happened and convince him that she’d be okay. “What made you say it wasn’t about me this afternoon?” she asked. It was a good place to start.

  He nodded, seeming relieved she was willing to discuss it. “Rachel also received a subtle threat. An index card inside a stamped envelope. Her mom got into trouble with the law before Rachel was born, and the note indicated it would be a shame for her mother if the details of her crime were revealed during the campaign. Then, this afternoon, Jamar called to tell me comments alluding to the crime appeared online. Same username—Pasts Matter.”

  So it really wasn’t about her. It was about the election. They were merely involving her because someone had decided old rumors about the nature of Josh’s relationship with her were his only Achilles heel. “What about the third candidate; Kurt Bosco? Has anything been said about him?”

  “No. Rachel called him to see if he’d received any strange communications. He personally told her that he hadn’t.”

  Gracie looked down at the dirty burgundy carpet covering the steps. “So it might be someone who wants Kurt Bosco to win.”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Josh agreed, but it was obvious that wasn’t what was on his mind. Finally, he looked at her. “But it doesn’t matter. What matters is this.” He shook the index card. “How do you feel? Tell me what I can do to make this better.”

  It was the second time someone had offered to do something to make things better for her. She looked him in the eye. “Only I can make this better, Josh, and I have. I’ve decided I’m not letting this affect me again. I can’t control the world,” she said, waving one hand around, “but I can work on how I react to anything that happens.” She hesitated, wondering if she sounded like she was giving a trite speech. “I—I know it’s easier said than done, but what I’m trying to say is, I will be okay.”

  He studied her for a long moment. To her surprise, he reached for her hand and took it in his. It was supposed to be a supportive gesture, she knew, but his hand was so big and so warm over hers, sparks began shooting through her, heating her body and muffling coherent thoughts.

  “I’ll do everything I can to find out who’s doing this, but I’ve gotta say, they’re being very clever,” he said next.

  “What do you mean, they’re being clever?” she asked, feeling a little dizzy. When he gave her hand an extra squeeze and took it away, regret mingled with relief.

  “Sorry to go all legalese on you, but nothing they’ve written meets state or federal definitions of threat or intimidation.”

  Gracie saw what he meant and it made her angry again. Whoever was behind it was playing cruel games with other people’s lives. And the question wasn’t what Josh could do for her . . . it was whether there was anything she could do for him. She took a deep breath and let it out. The first person who came to mind was someone Josh probably didn’t want to talk about, but she wouldn’t be doing him any favors by holding back. “The person who called Diane pretending to be you had a pretty deep voice, so she’s sure it was a man, but there could be more than one person involved. Do you think your ex-girlfriend, Linda, could still be holding a grudge? I mean, she might have sent something to Rachel to throw you off.”

  Josh shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not that I would put it past her, but she’s married to a successful man, she has one kid and another on the way, and she hosts a segment on a regional morning show. She has everything she ever wanted. I don’t see her risking it all over an old grudge.”

  Gracie considered it all and agreed it was far-fetched. Linda wasn’t a household name, but those who cared about the local “who’s who” crowd knew who she was. The first time Gracie had seen her on TV had been a shock, but she’d grown used to it after a few weeks. She stood up and began to pace. Thinking was easier when she wasn’t close to Josh’s warm body and heady cologne. “Last night you offered to withdraw from the race, which might’ve been part of the person’s plan. It’s the easiest way to get rid of you. Did Rachel also offer to withdraw?”

  “No, but only because she had already discussed it with her mom. Rachel knew it might come up and she’d told her mom she wouldn’t run if it would cause her distress.”

  “Whoever it is seems to know that both you and Rachel would consider dropping out of the race if people you cared about wound up getting”—realizing what she’d just said, Gracie stumbled over the next word—“hurt.” She stopped pacing and faced Josh, her cheeks warm. “Not that you care about me. I meant that Rachel cares about her mom and you care about . . . people. Your cases. Your ex-cases,” she babbled. There it was. Her goof was definitely back, only not the way her sisters and grandmother had intended.

  Josh’s eyes brightened and he dimpled. It was a dimple she’d never seen before. Probably because it accompanied an amused smile, and there had been no room for that in their old client-attorney relationship. “I care about you, Gracie. We’ve been through enough and stood by each other enough to call each other friends, haven’t we?”

  “Yes.” Gracie nodded emphatically. “Friends.” A friend whose heart stopped at the sight of a dimple on her friend’s left cheek. Dimples were supposed to look adorable, not suggestive. She pried her gaze away from the dimple. “So I guess that leaves us with someone who might know you and Rachel and who wants Bosco to win but is mostly targeting you because they’re either holding a grudge against you or they see you as the biggest threat. Rachel and Bosco m
ay have organized, well-funded political parties behind them, but the public respects Helen and she backs you. You also gave the most detailed speech.”

  “You’ve been following the election, then?” he asked after a moment, patting the space next to him, inviting her to sit next to him again.

  Gracie hesitated only a moment before moving to sit down. She didn’t want him wondering why she didn’t want to be near him. He couldn’t know that wearing his jacket was surrounding her with a scent that was a little bit musky, a little bit spicy, and something more arousing, which she attributed to him. It took some effort, but she was able to recall her immediate thoughts after listening to each candidate. “Yes. I watched all three press conferences and I liked everything you said the most. Not because I know you but because you made the most sense. You seem to want to implement criminal justice policies that have been proven, statistically, to work, instead of catering to ideology. That’s so important.”

  Josh’s eyes met hers and he studied her for a moment before he nodded and said, “Thank you for that.”

  “For what?”

  “Reminding me what it should be about.”

  Gracie was doubtful Josh ever forgot what the prosecutor’s office and the position was really about. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Just that . . .” He shifted positions. “It’s not important.”

  She wanted to dig deeper, but he’d closed himself off. He was stiff and staring at the door, his eyes shuttered. Holding her breath, she reached over to put her hand over his. It was how she and her sisters reminded one another that they weren’t alone when one of them didn’t want to talk. It had felt like the friendly thing to do. Except she hadn’t anticipated that his elbow on his knee would make her have to reach around, and that the way his hands were dangling between his legs would make her gesture more awkward than comforting.