When You Call My Name

by Sharon Sala

  Glory shivered apprehensively, then slipped the key from her jeans. As her fingers closed around it, she was thankful that her daddy had kept this one hidden at the cabin, or she would have been unable to get inside the night before.

  Wyatt listened to the woods around them as she worked the lock, and when the door swung open with a slight, warning squeak, she took his hand and led him through with an odd little welcome.

  “We’re home,” she said.

  As he followed her inside, he had the oddest sensation that what she said was true.

  Chapter 4

  “Don’t turn on the light.”

  Wyatt’s fingers paused on the edge of the switch. The panic in her voice was too real to ignore.

  “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  Glory nodded, then realized that in the dark, Wyatt Hatfield couldn’t see her face.

  “Yes, I’m serious. Please wait here. I have a candle.”

  Wyatt did as he was told. He set down his duffel bag and then closed the door behind him, thinking that the dark in here was as thick as the woods through which they’d just walked. Moments later, he heard the rasp of a match to wood, focused on the swift flare of light and watched a wick catch and burn. And then she turned, bathed in the gentle glow of candlelight. Once again, Wyatt was struck by her fragile beauty.

  “Will the pup be all right outside?”

  “Yes,” Glory said. “Follow me.” Wyatt picked up his bag. “This is where you’ll sleep,” she said, and held the candle above her head, giving him a dim view of the tiny room and the single bed. “I’m just across the hall in Granny’s bed.”

  “Granny?”

  “My father’s mother. This was her cabin. She’s all the family I have left.” And then her face crumpled as tears shimmered in her eyes. “The only problem is, she’s ninety-one years old and in a nursing home. Half the time she doesn’t remember her name, let alone me.”

  As she turned away, Wyatt set his bag inside the room and followed her across the hall, watching as she set the candle on a bedside table, then ran across the room to check the curtains, making sure that no light would be visible from outside.

  “Glory?”

  She stilled, then slowly turned. “What?”

  “Talk to me.”

  She understood his confusion, but wasn’t sure she could make him understand. With a defeated sigh, she dropped to the corner of the bed, running her fingers lightly across the stitching on the handmade quilt, drawing strength from the woman who’d sewn it, and then bent over to pull off her boots. She tugged once, then twice, and without warning, started to cry quiet tears of heartbreak.

  Wyatt flinched as her misery filled the tiny space. Without thinking, he knelt at her feet. Grasping her foot, he pulled one boot off and then the other before turning back the bed upon which she sat.

  “Lie down.”

  The gentleness in his voice was her undoing. Glory rolled over, then into a ball, and when the weight of the covers fell upon her shoulders, she began to sob.

  “He was laughing,” she whispered.

  Wyatt frowned. “Who was laughing, honey?”

  “My brother, J.C. One minute he was digging through the grocery sack for Twinkies and laughing at something the pup had done, and then everything exploded.” She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to talk past the sobs. “I should have been with them.”

  Wyatt cursed beneath his breath. Her pain was more than he could bear. He wanted to hold her, yet the unfamiliarity of their odd connection held him back. Slowly, she rolled over, looking at him through those silver-blue eyes while the skin crawled on the back of his neck.

  “I was the first female born to the Dixon family in more than five generations. They say that my eyes were open when I was born, and that when Granny laid me on my mother’s stomach, I lifted my head, looked at my mother’s face and smiled. An hour later, my mother suddenly hemorrhaged, then died, and although I was in another room, Granny says that the moment she took her last breath, I started to cry. Granny called it ‘the sight.’ I consider it more of a curse.”

  Wyatt brushed the tangle of hair from her eyes, smoothing it from her forehead and off her shoulders. “It saved me,” he said quietly.

  She closed her eyes. A tear slipped out of each corner and ran down her temples and into her hair.

  “I know.” Her mouth twisted as she tried to talk around the pain. “But why couldn’t I save Daddy and J.C.? Why, Wyatt Hatfield? Tell me why.”

  Unable to stay unattached from her pain, Wyatt slid his hands beneath her shoulders and lifted her from the covers, then into his lap. As he nestled his chin in her hair, he held her against him.

  “I don’t know the whys of the world, Glory Dixon. I only know the hows. And I swear to you, I will keep you safe until they find the man responsible.”

  It was the promise he made and the honesty with which it was said that gave her hope. Maybe together they could get it done.

  I’m so glad he’s here, Glory thought.

  “I’m glad I came, too,” Wyatt whispered.

  Glory froze. Without realizing it, he’d read her thoughts and answered. And as she let herself draw from his strength, she faced the fact that she’d given more than just blood to this man. It seemed impossible, and it shouldn’t have happened, but it was the only explanation that made sense.

  A dog ran across the street in front of the car as Wyatt turned a corner in Larner’s Mill, aiming for the local police department down the street. He knew where it was. He’d been there yesterday when asking directions to the Dixon home. The people were friendly enough, but he wasn’t sure if one small-town police chief and two part-time deputies were going to be up to finding a killer. When they’d driven out of the yard earlier that morning, no one had even bothered to stop them and ask why they were near the scene. On the surface, they seemed geared more toward drunks and traffic violations than tracking criminals. He hoped he was wrong. As he pulled to the curb and parked, Glory’s nervousness was impossible to ignore any longer.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he said.

  Her eyes were wide and on the verge of tears, her mouth set. He could tell she was hovering on the edge of panic.

  “They’re not going to believe me,” she said, but when Wyatt slipped his hand over hers and squeezed, the fear receded.

  “It doesn’t really matter whether they believe you or not, as long as they proceed with some kind of investigation. Besides, don’t forget Lane’s coming.”

  Glory nodded, remembering their earlier phone call to Wyatt’s brother-in-law.

  “Having a U.S. marshal on our side isn’t going to hurt,” Wyatt added, then glanced down at his watch. “In fact, I’d lay odds that he’ll be here before dark.”

  Glory bit her lip and then looked away.

  “You have to trust me, girl.”

  She turned, and Wyatt found himself looking into her eyes and fighting the sensation of falling deeper and deeper into a place with no way out. And then she blinked, and he realized he’d been holding his breath. Muttering to himself, he helped her out of the car.

  Glory took heart in the fact that as they walked through the door, he was right beside her all the way.

  “God Almighty!”

  Anders Conway jumped to his feet and stumbled backward as the couple came in the door. He’d been police chief of Larner’s Mill for twenty-nine years, but it was his first time seeing a ghost.

  Wyatt felt Glory flinch, and instinctively slipped a hand across her shoulder, just to remind her that he was there.

  “Chief Conway, I came to report a murder,” Glory said softly.

  He was so shocked by her appearance that her remark went right over his head. “We thought you were dead,” he said. “Where on earth have you been, girl?”

  “Hiding.”

  “Whatever for? No one’s gonna hurt you.”

  Glory looked to Wyatt for reassurance. The glint in his eye was enough to keep her goin
g.

  “The fire at my house was not an accident. Someone deliberately turned on the gas jets. I saw them. When Daddy and J.C. walked in the back door with our groceries, it was nearly dusk and the house must have been full of gas. Wyatt says that one of them probably turned on the light, and that was what sparked the explosion.”

  Conway frowned. Apparently, none of this was making much sense. “If you saw someone turning on the gas, why didn’t you tell your family? Why would your father knowingly go into a house set to blow?”

  This was where it got rough. Glory braced herself, readying for the derision that was bound to come.

  “I didn’t actually see what had been done until the house was already burning, I just knew that something was wrong. I tried to stop them from going inside. I called out, but it was too late. They were already there.”

  The look on Conway’s face was changing from shock to confusion. Afraid that he’d run her out before she got a chance to explain, she started talking faster, anxious to get it all said.

  “I know it was a man who did it. I could see him in my mind. I saw the back of his hands as he turned on the jets on the stove. He even broke one of them so that it couldn’t be turned off. I saw the back of his pant legs as he ran through the other rooms, doing the same to our heat stoves. One in the living room…and one in the bathroom, too.”

  “In your mind. You saw this in your mind.”

  She nodded.

  Conway made no attempt to hide his disbelief. “Exactly who did you see? In your mind, of course.”

  Glory wanted to hide. The simple fact of her father’s presence in her life had prevented most people from displaying any out-and-out derision they might have felt. This was the first time that she’d experienced it alone. Suddenly, Wyatt’s hand slid under her hair and cupped the back of her neck. She relaxed. I forgot. I’m not alone.

  “No, honey, you’re not,” Wyatt said, still unaware that he was reading her thoughts and answering them aloud.

  Glory looked startled, but not as surprised as Anders Conway, who turned his focus to the man at her side.

  “You’re the fellow who was asking directions to the Dixon place yesterday, aren’t you?”

  Wyatt nodded.

  “Are you kin?”

  Wyatt glanced down at Glory and winked, then gave the policeman a look he couldn’t ignore.

  “I’m a friend. Miss Dixon saved my life last year. I’m simply returning a favor.”

  “How did…?”

  “None of that matters,” Wyatt said. “The point is, Glory Dixon knows that someone tried to kill her. And, obviously, they did not succeed. The fact remains that when it’s made known that she’s still alive, he will obviously try again.” And then he added, as if it were an afterthought, although he knew what an impact his announcement would make, “you should also know that there’s a U.S. marshal on his way here to help with the investigation. He’s my brother-in-law. I called him this morning.”

  Conway’s jaw dropped as Wyatt continued. “And I suppose you’ve already called the state fire marshal about the incident. When is he coming?”

  Conway started to fidget. “Well, I…uh, I mean…” Then he slapped his hand on the desk, trying to regain control of the situation. “Look! Everyone knows that fire was an accident. A terrible accident. The coroner should be on his way out there by now to recover the bodies. They tried once yesterday and the wreckage was still too hot.”

  He ran a hand through his thinning hair and tried to make them see his point.

  “I’m real sorry that Miss Dixon lost her family. It has to be a shock, and that’s probably what’s making her imagine all of this. What you need to do is get her to a doctor and…”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Wyatt said. “When is the fire marshal coming?”

  “I didn’t call him…yet,” Conway added.

  Wyatt gave a pointed look toward the phone and then back at the lawman’s face. “We’ll wait,” he said shortly.

  Before they had time to sit down, a dispatcher came in from the back of the department with a note in his hand.

  “Chief, you won’t believe this. They just radioed in from the site of the Dixon fire and said they only found two bodies in the…” At this point, he noticed the couple seated across the room and froze. The note fluttered from his fingers to the floor. “Well, my Gawd! No wonder they didn’t find a third body. There you are!”

  Glory felt like a bug on a pin, displayed for everyone to see, and listening to them speak of her father and brother as mere “bodies” was almost more than she could bear. She bit her lip and looked away, fighting the urge to scream. And then Wyatt unexpectedly clasped her hand and wouldn’t let go. Hysteria settled as she absorbed his warmth.

  “Tell them to get on back here with what they’ve got,” Conway growled. “I’m dealing with the rest. And tell them not to do any more than remove the remains. The fire marshal is going to come out and investigate the site.”

  “Yes, sir!” the dispatcher said, and hurried out of the room.

  Wyatt stood. “I guess we’ll be going now,” he said.

  “How can I reach you?” Conway said.

  Wyatt heard Glory’s swift intake of breath, and knew that while her whereabouts wouldn’t be a secret for long, she wasn’t ready to reveal them just now.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Wyatt said. “For now, I think the fewer who know where she is, the better. Don’t you agree?”

  Conway’s face turned red. The man had all but accused him of not being able to maintain confidentiality in his own department. And then he relented. If they wanted to make a big deal out of this, he wasn’t going to stop them. Everyone knew that Rafe Dixon’s girl was a little bit nuts. This so-called friend of the family would learn the truth soon enough, or turn out to be just like them. Either way, it didn’t matter to him.

  “Yeah. Right,” Conway said. “Keep in touch.”

  The smirk in his voice was impossible to ignore. When they walked outside, Glory wilted. “He doesn’t believe me, you know,” she whispered.

  “I know,” Wyatt said. “But I do.”

  His words were an anchor in Glory’s unsettled world, and the touch of his hand was balm to her broken heart.

  “Are you up to some shopping?” Wyatt asked. “I expect you would like some changes of clothing, and we definitely need to buy food. Is there anything else you can think of?”

  Glory’s lip trembled as she worked up the nerve to say it aloud.

  “Funeral arrangements. I need to see about…” Her voice caught, and she knew this time, she wasn’t going to be able to stop the tears.

  Wyatt pulled her into his arms, cupping the back of her head as she buried her face against the front of his shirt.

  “I’m sorry, Glory. I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this, but you need to remember something. It’s we, honey, not I. Don’t forget, you’re not alone in this anymore. We’ll do whatever it is you want. You’re calling the shots.”

  He seated her in the car and then slid behind the steering wheel, waiting for her to settle.

  Oh, God, I don’t want to be in charge. I just want this to be over, Glory thought.

  Wyatt raked her pale face with a dark, brooding look. “It will be, and sooner than you think. Now then, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry as hell. Where’s the best place to eat?”

  “How do you do that?” Glory asked.

  Wyatt grinned as he began to back out of the parking space. “Do what?”

  “You’re reading my thoughts, and then answering my questions, even though I haven’t said them aloud.”

  The smile on his face stilled. “No, I’m not.”

  Yes, you are.

  He braked in the middle of the street. Fortunately, no one was behind them. He went as pale as the shirt on his back as he looked at her face.

  “What did you say?”

  I said…you are reading my thoughts.

  “Oh, Lord.” His be
lly began to turn, and he could feel the muscles in his face tightening. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, and try as he might, he couldn’t make himself move.

  “You didn’t know it was happening, did you?” Glory asked.

  He shook his head. “It just seemed so…”

  “Natural?”

  His breath escaped in one long sigh. Finally he nodded. “Yes, natural. That’s exactly what it feels like.”

  Glory nodded. “I know.” Suddenly, she smiled. “You’re the first person I’ve ever known who can understand my gift.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was the first time he’d seen what a hint of joy could do to her face. And in that moment, before she redirected his attention to a restaurant down the street, Wyatt Hatfield feared he might be falling in love. It wasn’t planned. And it definitely wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he started this journey.

  In the same instant that he had the revelation, he shut it out of his mind, afraid that she’d be able to see what was in his thoughts. He reminded himself that it was too soon in their relationship for anything like this. Besides, he needed to focus on keeping her alive, not finding ways to steal, then break her heart.

  Carter Foster was trying to concentrate on the legal brief on which he was working, but his mind kept wandering to the different scenarios he might use to bring up his next lie. Should he say that Betty Jo had called and asked for a divorce, or should he just say she’d written? His legal mind instantly settled on the call. That way, he would never be asked to show proof of a letter. And then the moment he thought it, he scoffed. Why should he worry about ever having to show proof? There was no one left to question his story. Not since the Dixon family perished in that terrible fire.

  He’d commiserated along with the rest of the town about the tragedy, and listened to the different explanations circulating. They ranged from a faulty water heater to a leaking gas connection beneath the house. Carter didn’t care what people thought. He had done what he’d intended. Glory Dixon was dead and his secret was safe, and…he had few regrets. The fact that he hadn’t actually pulled a trigger kept his conscience clear enough to bear.