by Alison Stone
“Fox wanted us to think the body was his. Made it look like he committed suicide by shooting off his face. Then he had the added benefit of time. Bodies decompose. Animals...” Zach seemed to be measuring his words, but Heather didn’t want to be coddled. She needed the truth.
“How did they figure it out?”
“When they finally got his dental records early this morning, law enforcement realized their mistake. I was on my way to tell you when I spotted the fire.”
“You pulled me out of the fire?”
He nodded.
“Thank you.” She blinked slowly. Thank God for putting him in her path.
“You didn’t see him when he attacked you?”
“No.” She ran a hand across her forehead. “Someone came up behind me and put a burlap bag over my head. He whacked me with something.” She pressed her fingers delicately to her sore cheekbone. A small smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. “I can only imagine what I look like.”
Zach tilted his head and stared intently at her, cupping her cheek gingerly with his hand. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. I thought I lost you.”
“You thought you lost me?” She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.
He ran his hand over his mouth. “I’m grateful I learned the truth and raced back to the bed-and-breakfast in time.”
“Yeah, me, too.” She leaned back on the pillow and groaned as the room spun around her. “The bed-and-breakfast. I have guests arriving tomorrow. Tomorrow, right?” She strained to orient herself. What day is it?
“Ruthie contacted them to cancel.”
“I can—” The pain that shot through her head stole her breath away.
He gently placed his hand on her shoulder and helped her settle back in. “Even if you were physically able to run the bed-and-breakfast right now, the smell from the barn fire is heavy inside the house.”
“Oh no.” Heather blinked furiously, determined to keep the tears at bay.
Zach slid his hand down her arm and stopped at her hand. “Shh,” he said, swiping his thumb back and forth across the palm of her hand. “Other than the barn, there’s no damage to the house. Nothing that a little fresh air won’t fix.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Focus on getting better.”
Heather raised her eyebrows. “Easy for you to say.” She licked her top lip. It felt dry. Anticipating her needs, Zach reached over and poured some water from the pitcher into a plastic cup. The ice rattled as he held the straw to her lips. “Thanks.”
Just then voices grew louder outside her door. Passing doctors or nurses. That was what she must have heard during her fitful sleep.
“Did the doctor say how long I had to stay here?”
“Okay, about that...”
“What?”
“I told a little white lie and said you were my fiancée. It was the only way I could get any answers. Even at that, I think she was afraid of breaking some sort of privacy laws, but she had mercy on me, I suppose.”
“Okay, fine. How long?”
“Overnight.”
“Oh.” The thought of trying to get some sleep here with all the lights and sounds and... She supposed with a head injury, the doctor had to be careful. She tried to sound cheery. “I can go home tomorrow?”
“Not home. I assured the physician I’d take care of you.”
She stared at him but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll take you to my cabin in the woods for a few days of rest and relaxation.”
* * *
Heather sat in the passenger seat of Zach’s borrowed truck with her eyes closed against the bright sunshine. Zach noticed she was finally able to open them when he turned up the long lane to his cabin. The mature trees created a canopy of darkness that seemed to provide some relief to her eyes.
“You doing okay? We’re almost there.”
“The doctor said the pain should gradually decrease each day. I’m looking forward to it.” She let out an awkward laugh, obviously still in pain.
“Do you need me to get you anything? I can run out to the store.”
“A comfortable place to rest and darkness.”
“I can do that.”
Zach parked the truck and ran around to her side to help her out. “I’ll come back out for your bag.” Ruthie had packed one for her.
Heather felt frail as he slid his arm around her back. He’d spent most of the previous night following up on leads on Fox. Nothing. His stolen truck hadn’t even been spotted. Once he got Heather safely settled at the cabin, he’d return to the search. He couldn’t sit this one out.
He reached around her and twisted the doorknob to the cabin. The door swung open with a screech and his father scrambled out of a chair, the newspaper on his lap fluttering to the floor. Zach suspected his father had been dozing.
Heather paused in the doorway and glanced up at Zach, curiosity glistening in her eyes.
“Heather Miller, this is my father, Charlie Walker.”
Heather offered her hand. “Hello.”
“Nice to see you, Miss Miller. We met briefly during the trial.”
Heather’s face grew somber. “Of course, Mr. Walker. I remember.” Her hands fluttered around the hollow of her neck as her gaze dropped to the floor.
“So,” his father said, perhaps a little too cheerfully, “I hear you took a knock to the head.”
Heather groaned. “I suppose I’m lucky I have a hard head.”
“Come on in.” Zach encouraged her forward with a hand to the small of her back. “Do you want to sit for a bit or would you rather lie down?”
His father bent and picked up the newspaper that had slid to the floor. “Sit here. It’s the most comfortable chair. I’ll get you some water.” Without waiting for an answer, his father crossed the room to the kitchen.
Zach helped Heather settle into the oversize chair. He slid a blanket his mother had crocheted off the back of the chair and spread it across her lap. She looked frail and the bruise under her eye had turned a purplish yellow.
His father reappeared with a glass of ice water and set it on the table next to her. “Here you go.”
His father stood off to the side. “Are you hungry? I make a pretty mean grilled cheese.”
Heather smiled. The first time Zach had seen her genuinely smile since finding her in the smoke-filled barn. “I’m not hungry now, but can I take a rain check?”
“Absolutely.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m going to take a quick walk around the exterior of the house. Give you some time to settle in.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
His dad put on his boots and coat and disappeared outside.
Zach sat down on the footstool in front of Heather and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands together.
Heather slumped back in the chair and groaned. “You’re going out to look for Brian yourself, aren’t you?”
“I have to. I can’t—”
“Sit around babysitting me?” She must have recognized the bite to her tone and quickly added, “I’m sorry. That’s not fair of me. It’s just...” She adjusted the blanket on her lap. “I’m afraid.”
Something told him she had rarely, if ever, admitted her fear. “My father is a retired marshal. He’ll protect you.”
Her gaze drifted to the door. “He’s doing more than stretching his legs outside.”
“Yeah, he’s checking the property for any signs of Fox.”
She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “You have to find him. I can’t live like this anymore.”
* * *
Heather clamped her jaw trying to stop it from trembling. She wanted to be strong for Zach, but she was tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of hurting. Tired of wondering what was going t
o happen next.
So, so tired.
“I need to join the search party,” Zach said.
“I get it.” Heather tried to reassure him with a smile, but all she wanted to do was cry and take comfort in Zach’s arms. But how was that fair when she was here and his sister was dead? At the hands of the man he needed to find.
Zach patted her knee. “Call me if you need anything.” He frowned. “Cell reception out here is hit-and-miss. But there’s a landline.”
“And I’m here.” Mr. Walker had come back in from outside, his nose red from the cold. He pulled back one side of his coat, revealing a gun. “I won’t let anything happen to you on my watch.”
Zach crossed the room to where his father stood. He clapped his father on the shoulder. “I don’t anticipate any trouble, since this place isn’t listed anywhere. Fox would have no way of tracking you here.”
“But you found me.” She hated the subtle tremble in her voice.
“We tracked you down through a real estate transaction. The land for this cabin was purchased by my grandmother. It would be impossible for Fox to make that connection.” Zach snatched his coat from the arm of the couch. “I’ll bring your bag in, then hit the road.”
“Okay.” Her mind raced, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. It wasn’t fair of her to keep him any longer.
Mr. Walker sat on the couch and leaned over and opened a drawer on the coffee table. It was filled with old VHS tapes. “Feel like a movie?”
She didn’t. But she didn’t want to be rude.
“I might close my eyes, but I wouldn’t mind the background noise.” It might help distract her.
A minute later, Zach breezed back in. “I’ll put your bag in the guest bedroom.” He stopped on his way back through the cabin. “Last call. Need anything?”
She shook her head and immediately regretted it as pain ricocheted through her head.
“I’ll check in. Keep you posted,” he said, as much to her as to his father.
Heather heard the lock snap into place. Mr. Walker put a movie in and Heather found herself drifting off to sleep.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been dozing when the smell of something on the stove pulled her out of her disjointed dreams. She opened her eyes and sat up and groaned at the pain. She tried to rub the crick out of her neck, but the pain persisted. She feared the only way she could get rid of this pain entirely was to obtain a time machine and go back to before Brian took a board to her head.
But why did he cover her head? Brian was the kind of guy who liked to see the fear in her eyes when he hurt her. She pulled herself upright and rested her elbow on the arm of the chair. Something uncertain niggled at the back of her brain.
“I thought you might have been more comfortable in the guest room, but I hated to wake you up.” Mr. Walker stood at the stove in the kitchen and hollered over his shoulder.
“That’s okay.” She rolled her neck, relieved that the throbbing in her head had quieted to a dull roar.
Mr. Walker handed her a plate with a grilled cheese and some fresh fruit. She accepted it and scooted back on the chair. “Thank you.”
He sat down on the couch with a plate of his own. He picked up the remote and turned down the volume on some Sandra Bullock movie. “Grilled cheese is my specialty.”
Heather took a bite and her mouth watered. Around a mouthful of sandwich, she said, “This is the best grilled cheese that I’ve ever had. Ever. Ever.” She took another bite, savoring the taste.
Mr. Walker smiled. The resemblance around his eyes to his son was uncanny. “I’m not sure it’s that good.”
“It is. And I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.”
“Well, I’m glad.” He took a bite of his own sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “After my wife died, I had to learn to cook. A person gets sick of takeout pretty quick.” He stabbed a fresh strawberry with his fork and popped it in his mouth. “Zach tells me you opened a bed-and-breakfast here in Quail Hollow.”
“I have. But it’s off to a rough start.” She cut her gaze to the handsome gentleman. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the barn on the property just burned down.”
“You’ll have time to rebuild once that...” His jaw clenched. “Once Fox is back in custody.”
Heather pulled apart her sandwich and stared at the long strand of cheese. “I know. I’m lucky to still be around to do these things.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about your daughter.”
“You say that as if you somehow feel responsible for my daughter’s death.”
That same familiar guilt stole her breath. “I knew what Brian was capable of, yet I ran off and hid. I can’t help but feel guilty.”
Mr. Walker set his plate aside and rested his elbow on the arm of the couch. He stared off into the middle distance and took a deep breath, as if he were about to share a very painful story. Heather considered stopping him. She didn’t want to cause the man any more pain, but something deep in her heart suggested he needed to talk. And she needed to hear this.
He ran a hand across his mouth. “For the longest time I blamed myself, too.”
Heather’s reflex was to tell him, “No, of course it’s not your fault,” but she knew how that worked. The guilty party never believed it anyway. She set her plate aside and held the blanket close to her chest.
“My wife died when Jill was only sixteen. I was always busy working. Away at a job. And when I was home, I was as strict and tough as when I was on the job. It was the only way I knew how to parent.” Other than a quick sniff, Zach’s father revealed no sign of emotion. “She met Fox when she was eighteen and they were married six months later.” He swallowed hard. Jill’s story sounded oddly like hers. Brian knew how to take advantage of vulnerable young women. “I think he was her ticket out of the house. She couldn’t wait to get out from under my strict reign.”
Heather opened her mouth to offer him some reassurance, as people often did with her. But he held up his hand. “My mind tells me I’m not to blame. That Fox was an evil man. But my heart hurts. If I had been able to provide my daughter with warmth at home, she wouldn’t have been so eager to get out of the house. Or...” He turned and met Heather’s gaze and something flickered in the depths of his eyes. “I can only imagine how different our lives would have been if my wife had lived. She and Jill were so close.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “As you can see, there’s enough blame to go around. Zach has his own burden of guilt, but he refuses to talk about it. Our goal has been to see that Fox pays. Control the things we can. Get him behind bars. Again.”
“I suppose that’s a good strategy. Otherwise you can drive yourself crazy.” Heather understood more than most what it was like to feel lost and hopeless. The need to control what little she could.
“Your testimony helped secure Fox’s conviction. You did good. Please, never regret your role in this.”
Heather nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “I really thought we’d be able to put things behind us once he went to prison.”
Mr. Walker picked up his plate and moved the fruit around with his fork. “It’ll be over soon. Fox can’t run forever.”
No, no, he can’t.
FOURTEEN
The sun had dipped below the hills. The sky still held a hint of purple. The air had a bite to it. Even if Fox was able to stay on the run where temperatures could plummet well below zero once winter hit, he’d need help if he wanted to survive.
Help. That was what bugged Zach. Earlier, he had talked to his supervisor, who assured him the local authorities still had the woman who provided Fox with the tools to escape prison under tight surveillance as she awaited legal proceedings. They had positively identified the man who they initially thought was Fox through his dental records. He was a high school dropout who liked to spend his time at one of the taverns near the correctional fac
ility. Apparently the dead man had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fox had either hitched a ride with the man or carjacked him. The ending had been the same: the dead man’s car and body ended up in Quail Hollow.
Zach turned the heat on in the truck. He decided to call his boss again, who wholeheartedly supported his decision to remain in Quail Hollow. Yet no one had any updates. Then he called his father. Heather was sleeping and all was quiet at the cabin.
Thank You, Lord. The quick prayer had come naturally and Zach realized Heather had influenced him far more than he had ever imagined. It was easy to turn his back on his faith after Jill was murdered, but now as he turned to prayer, he recalled the comfort that faith could bring in times of crisis. His mother had taught him that, but he had forgotten. Heather had reminded him.
But he realized he couldn’t keep Heather safely tucked away. That was why he had to get Fox once and for all. Growing desperate and frustrated, he decided he’d drive the roads of Quail Hollow one more time and see if he noticed anything out of the ordinary.
When he reached the Quail Hollow Bed & Breakfast, he decided to do a property check. All the doors and windows were locked. All appeared secure.
The smell of burned wood still hung in the air. If Zach didn’t know better, he’d think someone had been sitting around a campfire. In the gathering darkness, the shell of the barn was a stark reminder of how much worse it could have been if he hadn’t raced back here when he had.
He found himself pausing and saying a silent prayer of gratitude. God had truly put him in the right place at the right time to save Heather from certain death.
He strode back around to the driveway, hyperaware of his surroundings. He scanned the area with his flashlight. The light bounced off something metal across the street, partially blocked by the abandoned buggy.
Strange.
With his hand hovering over the grip of his gun, he turned off the flashlight and jogged across the street. When he reached the buggy, he flattened himself against it and moved under cover toward the vehicle that had caught his attention.
