by Debby Giusti
“Any reason to think he might have done something to cause the wall to topple?”
“You’re saying it wasn’t an accident?”
“I’m just asking for your opinion, Ron.”
“Isaac Fisher is a fine young man who would never bring dishonor to himself or his family.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Thanks.”
Lowering his cell, he smiled at Colleen. “Ron vouched for the teen. Isaac Fisher. Ron called him a fine young man.”
“But—”
“You don’t believe Ron?”
“I’m not sure.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and stared out the window.
Frank watched her out of the corner of his eye. “Take one of those pain pills when we get to Evelyn’s.”
“I’m fine.”
But, of course, she wasn’t. Frank still had a lot of questions about the photo she’d sent to the Atlanta police, about her sister knowing the two women who had been killed and about why she was suspicious of an Amish boy who sounded like a good kid.
As fragile as Colleen seemed, this wasn’t the time to delve into anything that would increase her anxiety. The doctor had ordered her to rest, which was what she needed.
Frank’s questions could wait until morning. Everything would seem more clear then. At least, that was his hope.
* * *
Colleen couldn’t pull her thoughts together. She kept feeling Trey’s hand covering her mouth and nose. Shaking her head ever so slightly, she tried to scatter the memory and focus instead on being with Frank.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, concern so evident in his voice.
“I’m trying not to think about what happened.”
He nodded as if he understood, but how could he know what she was thinking? So many questions swirled through her mind. About the man in Atlanta who had been snooping around her apartment, about whether Ron Malone could be trusted and whether a young Amish boy could somehow be involved in Trey’s drug operation.
She fingered her handbag, grateful that Frank had pulled it from the debris today. At least she had her identification, but what about the memory card?
Would she ever feel confident enough to tell Frank?
He didn’t need to see the photo of her with men who worked for Trey. She’d been foolish to allow Trey to take the picture. Too late, she’d realized that he wanted the picture to blackmail her, in case she decided to go to the police.
She’d outsmarted Trey, but not for long. Now he was after her. No matter what Frank thought, Trey was dangerous, and he wouldn’t stop until he found her. Knowing he had been with Ron after the storm troubled her even more.
Pulling in a deep breath, she had to tell Frank.
“There’s something I haven’t mentioned.”
He raised his brow but kept his gaze on the road.
“That first night, when the tornado touched down and then you found me—”
Frank nodded.
“I saw Trey with Ron Malone.”
“Evelyn’s Ron?”
“He drove Trey to the triage area.”
“Ron transported a lot of folks that night.” Frank glanced at her. “You took a bad hit to your head, Colleen. You couldn’t remember a number of things. Are you sure you saw Trey?”
“I thought I did.”
“You were frightened. Sometimes our minds play tricks on us.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe not. Colleen needed to find out the truth about Ron Malone and his relationship with Trey. Even if it put her in danger.
* * *
Colleen was quiet for the rest of the ride home. Frank helped her from the car, but she insisted on walking on her own.
Audrey had always sought his help and made him feel as if he was in charge. Looking back, she’d played him and fed his ego. Had he really been in love with her?
“Oh, Colleen, we were so worried.” Evelyn gave her a warm hug when they got inside. She pointed to the scrape on Frank’s forehead. “Looks like you and the doc came to fisticuffs.”
Colleen tried to smile, then grimaced.
“You’ve got two choices.” Frank ushered her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table. “Sit down or head straight to bed.”
“I’m fine.”
Colleen had grit and determination, almost to a fault. She needed to let down that strong wall of independence at times. Like now, when she was shaky and her strength compromised.
The nurse had given them instructions. Colleen needed to be checked in the night. Nausea or a severe headache could signal life-threatening complications. She’d had one brush with death already. She didn’t need any more problems tonight.
Frank pointed to the chair.
“If you insist.” She sat, and he pushed her closer to the table.
“Can I fix you something to eat?” Evelyn asked.
“Is there any soup left?” Colleen asked.
“Of course.” She glanced at Frank. “How about you? I doubt you’ve eaten today.”
“Soup sounds good.” Once his sister thought he needed nourishment, she wouldn’t let up until he agreed to eat. He’d learned that early on after he moved in following his infection.
Of course, at that point, the MRSA had taken a toll on his body and nearly done him in. The highly contagious deadly organism he’d picked up in the hospital had been hard to overcome.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“Grab a couple placemats and some silverware. You know where the napkins are.”
“You’re not joining us?”
“I’ve already eaten.” Evelyn glanced at the clock. “Ron’s coming over. There’s a new sitcom on television. We were planning to watch it together, although I can tell him tonight might not be a good idea.”
Colleen held up her hand. “Don’t change your plans on account of me. I don’t need to eat.”
“Nonsense. I’ll heat the soup and let Frank take over while I freshen up.”
“Ron’s visiting quite often these days.” Frank set the table and winked at Colleen.
Fatigue rimmed her eyes and her face was even more pale than usual.
The doorbell rang.
“He’s early.” Evelyn’s voice held a note of flustered alarm.
“Go. Put on your lipstick.” Frank pointed to her bedroom. “I’ll take care of the door and the soup.” He smiled as his sister scurried from the kitchen.
Frank lowered the heat under the pan and then hurried to open the door.
“Good to see you,” Ron said as soon as he stepped inside. He glanced into the kitchen, where Colleen sat. “We were all concerned about you today.”
“I’m fine. Just a bit worn-out.”
“Evelyn and I prayed for you.” He pointed his thumb at Frank. “We’ve been praying for this guy for a long time.”
“No wonder I’m doing so well.” Frank smiled. “Colleen’s tired but pretending to be stronger than she looks.”
“That last part sounds like Evelyn.”
“She’ll join you in a minute, Ron. Can I get you some coffee or a cola?”
“Thanks, but I’ll make myself at home in the den.”
“I need to ask you something, Ron.” Colleen sat up straighter in the chair. She glanced at Frank and then back at the former teacher. “The night of the storm, do you remember transporting a man in a black hooded sweatshirt to the triage area?”
“Sure do. He was the first of many who needed help. I found him walking along Amish Road. He was shook up and didn’t have much to say except that the twister had picked up his car. No telling where it landed. I left him with the EMTs, who said they’d take care of him. Do you know the guy?”
Frank nodded. “We thin
k he’s the man who came after Colleen today.”
Ron gasped. “I had no idea. Is he from around here?”
“Atlanta.”
“What brought him to Freemont?”
“It’s a long story.”
Evelyn’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. Ron turned his full attention to her when she entered the kitchen. Her cheeks glowed pink, and her eyes were bright and focused on Ron.
“The show’s almost ready to start,” she said, motioning him into the den.
“Enjoy the program.” Frank turned back to the stove. Steam was rising from the pan. He stirred the soup and dished up two bowls, placing them on the table.
Settling into the chair across from Colleen, he smiled. “Are you okay with Ron?”
“I’m sorry about all the questions I asked.”
“Evelyn’s a good judge of character.”
“She met him at church?”
“That’s right. He’s started to come over more often since I moved in.” Frank hesitated. “I don’t think he’s involved with Trey.”
“I’m sure you’re right. It’s nice that he’s been praying for you.”
Frank nodded. “I knew Evie prayed, but I didn’t think other folks in her church were praying for me, as well.”
“It may sound like a strange question, but how’s that make you feel?” Colleen’s gaze was intense.
“Humbled. At one point, the docs weren’t sure I’d pull through. My sister must have spread the word that I needed prayer.”
“Your injury was severe.”
He nodded. “I walked into a building before Duke cleared it of explosives. Broke my pelvis and a few other bones.”
Frank smiled down at the trusty dog at his feet. “Duke was scraped up pretty badly, but he stayed with me and alerted the guys who came looking for me the next day. I went to Lanstuhl in Germany for my first operation. Then Walter Reed. My final surgery was at Augusta, about five hours from here.”
“Then you came here to recover?”
“Eventually. Somewhere along the line I was exposed to MRSA. My immune system was compromised, and I had a hard time fighting the infection.”
He tried to smile. “You know how Evie likes to cook, which worked to my advantage since I’d lost so much weight and strength.”
“Your sister’s generous with her love.” Colleen peered at Duke under the table. “How’d you end up with your sweet pup?”
As if knowing Colleen was talking about him, Duke pranced to her side of the table and sat at her feet.
“The explosion did something to his nose,” Frank continued. “When a military working dog can’t track a scent, he’s forced to retire. I heard he was at Fort Rickman and asked if I could adopt him.”
He smiled, watching as Colleen rubbed Duke’s neck. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“Duke’s probably enjoying retirement, but it sounds like you’re ready to go back to work.”
“That’s my hope.” Or was it?
Not wanting to open that door tonight, he pointed to the bowls of soup. “Dinner’s getting cold.”
“You’re right.” Colleen lowered her head.
“If you want to pray out loud, I’ll join you.”
She glanced up at him, seemingly startled.
“We both have a lot for which to be thankful.”
Her face softened, and she smiled. Warmth spread through him.
Her hand was still on the table. He reached out and grasped it before his internal voice of reason could tell him to be cautious. After everything that had happened, he wanted to join Colleen in prayer, even if he didn’t know what words to say. He’d let her lead this time. Maybe he’d be able to say his own prayers, in time.
* * *
After they finished the soup, Frank walked Colleen to the guest room and said good-night at the door.
“Is there anything you need?” he asked.
She shook her head, grateful for the concern she heard in his voice and the sincerity in his expression. Something had changed since the run-in with Trey at the hospital. Maybe Frank finally believed her.
“Thanks.”
He raised his brow. “For saying good-night?”
She laughed. “For saving my life. If...if you hadn’t been there—”
“I almost didn’t make it in time.”
“You scared Trey off.”
“But he escaped.”
“At that moment, all I cared about was staying alive.”
The thought of what could have happened made her shiver.
Frank reached for her. She stepped closer, and his arms circled her shoulders. She laid her head on his shoulder.
Frank had to be as tired as she was, yet she could feel his strength and determination. He had saved her from Trey. She thought she could bring the drug dealer to justice on her own, but she needed help. She needed Frank.
At the moment, she didn’t think of Frank as a cop. She thought of him as a man. He was tall and strong, even though he still wore some of the ravages of the infection he had battled.
Colleen had been so wrong about who he really was. Now she saw him in a better light, and she liked what she saw.
She allowed herself to rest in his embrace for a long moment before she pulled back. “Thanks again for today.” She flipped on the overhead light in the bedroom. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m tired and need to sleep.”
Stepping into the room, she closed the door and sighed. Frank hadn’t believed her last night. Did he now? She didn’t know for sure.
Until she knew his true feelings, she had to be careful and guard her heart.
TWELVE
Colleen inhaled the clean smell of the outdoors as she snuggled between the crisp sheets—no doubt dried on the line—and pulled the quilt up to her shoulders. Feeling pampered by the fresh linens, she fell asleep quickly and woke with a start some hours later from a dream that seemed too real.
She saw Trey in the woods, rifle raised, and heard Vivian’s cry for help, along with the deafening roar of the twister.
Throwing back the covers, Colleen grabbed the robe Evelyn had provided and shrugged into the soft cotton. Reaching to turn on the bedside lamp, she hesitated, her hand in midair.
A sound upset the stillness.
With every nerve on high alert, she turned her ear toward the double French doors leading to the porch and strained to decipher the sound that came again.
Metal on metal?
Ever so quietly, she slipped from the bed and tiptoed to the window. With her back to the wall, she lifted the edge of the curtain.
Darkness.
Staring into the black night, she willed her eyes to focus. Slowly, they adjusted.
Movement.
Snip. Then another.
Her pulse raced and fear clawed at her throat.
The sound repeated over and over again.
She strained to make out some faint outline that could identify who was trying to gain access.
There. A hand thrust through the porch screen.
A portion of the wire mesh pulled free.
She dropped the curtain and turned to flee.
* * *
Tired though he was, Frank couldn’t sleep. He kept seeing Colleen buried in the rubble, first when the twister hit and then later when the barn wall had collapsed on top of her. He’d screamed and raced forward, but he couldn’t get to Colleen in time.
Thankfully, the roof of the Honda had stopped the momentum of the wall’s downward collapse. Colleen had been hit by broken boards, but not with the full force of the larger section.
He’d asked Evie to check on Colleen during the night. No doubt, his sister was also giving thanks to the Lord about the r
ight resolution to a very dangerous situation today. Frank wasn’t used to turning to God, yet a swell of gratitude rose within him.
Dropping his legs over the side of the bed, he sat up and stared into the darkness. “I don’t know what to say except thank you, Lord.”
Satisfied with his first significant attempt in years to communicate directly with the Almighty, Frank lay back down, hoping to grab some shut-eye.
Duke stirred at the foot of the bed.
“Easy, boy. What is it?”
The dog whined and trotted to the door.
“You hear something?”
He pranced and whined again.
Frank stood, slipped into a pair of jeans and grabbed his service weapon.
Opening the door ever so carefully, he glanced at the door to Evelyn’s bedroom and stepped into the hallway. Duke trotted toward the kitchen and turned into the rear hallway leading to the sewing room, where Colleen now slept.
Frank followed and stopped outside Colleen’s room. All he heard was the beat of his heart and the dog’s even breaths at his feet.
Had he imagined something?
Duke had seemed a bit skittish since the tornado. Both of them were having problems settling back into a routine ever since Colleen had blown into their lives.
Convinced they’d overreacted, Frank started to turn away.
A sound made him pause.
A scurry of footsteps inside the room.
Before he could raise his hand to knock, Colleen’s door opened.
Eyes wide. Hair in disarray. Lips still swollen with sleep.
“Someone’s—” She gasped and pointed to the French doors. “Someone’s on the back porch.”
“Evie’s bedroom is down the hall on the left. Stay with her. Lock the door. Don’t let anyone in unless I tell you it’s clear. Call 911 and notify the police.”
She scurried past him.
“Come on, boy.”
Duke followed him through the kitchen. Frank grabbed his Maglite and slipped outside, the dog at his side.
A breeze blew through the trees, the sound of rustling leaves covering their footfalls. Frank’s heart pounded. Trey wouldn’t escape this time.
