Montana Dreams

by Jillian Hart

  And as she tried to come to terms with Sue’s death, the constant need to look over her shoulder only served to tighten her nerves.

  At Sue’s graveside service, Kristin’s gaze traveled through the small crowd, wondering where the next threat would come from. She stood slightly behind Sue’s parents as the long black casket was lowered into the ground. Mrs. Hyong’s sobs made Kristin’s own tears flow more freely. The pastor’s soothing voice lifted on the humid breeze that did little to relieve the hot sun beating down on the small group of mourners gathered in the cemetery.

  Kristin said a silent prayer of peace for Sue’s parents, though she wondered if peace was possible when there was no logical reason for such a tragedy.

  The Hyongs had been informed that Sue’s death was the result of a random home invasion. No physical evidence suggested a connection between Sue and the now-dead man who’d killed her.

  The unpredictability of the crime made Kristin’s deep-seated insecurities leap to life. She’d tried so hard as an adult to find the security and stability her parents hadn’t provided with their nomadic lifestyle as touring musicians. Between the constant roaming from town to town and her parents' fanatical warnings for her to stay safely out of sight at all times when they weren’t with her, fear had been her only friend.

  And now, to think that some random intruder could have as easily picked her apartment as Sue’s skewed the axis of her carefully plotted life. Was true security and stability ever possible?

  As the service ended, a touch on her elbow sent Kristin’s pulse skyrocketing. She jerked away and whipped around to find herself staring into the deep depths of Detective Howell’s midnight eyes. “Detective. You startled me.”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Sorry. And please, call me Andy.” His gaze traveled to the now closed-over grave. “I just wanted to let you know I’m still trying to find the safe deposit box that fits Miss Hyong’s key. The bank she’d used didn’t have a box on file for her.”

  “That seems odd,” Kristin said, wondering what Sue had been hiding. “Why lock up a lock?”

  Chapter Seven

  “My thought exactly,” Andy stated with approval in his gaze.

  Kristin’s heart did a little bump and roll. Heat infused her cheeks. “So then you are still working the case?”

  “Unofficially,” he replied and loosened the tie at his neck.

  “Why?” A shudder of renewed fear ripped through her. “Don’t you believe Linder was the murderer?”

  “No, I’m sure he was the guy, I just don’t like unanswered questions,” he said. “Why had your friend hidden the key?”

  “The answer may not have anything to do with her death,” Kristin said, hoping that was the case.

  “True.” He smiled and her fear faded.

  She admired his dedication and tenacity. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They walked toward the parking lot.

  After a moment of comfortable silence, Kristin asked the question burning in her mind. “What happened to your leg?”

  Red crept up his neck. “Playing college basketball. Blew out my knee enough to ruin any chance of being a pro ball player—but not enough to keep me off the force.”

  “I thought maybe you’d been hurt in the line of duty,” she said.

  His mouth twisted into a grimace. “No, not yet.”

  She prayed never. “You know, you should come down to the store one day. I’d love to outfit you properly,” she said and then realized how rude her words sounded as he arched a dark blonde brow. “Not to say that your suit isn’t...well, that you don’t dress...” Oh, brother, she was not only swallowing her foot but her whole leg. “Never mind,” she finished softly and wished the earth would open and claim her.

  His gentle laugh soothed her embarrassment. “It’s okay. I have a hard time finding anything that will fit my lanky frame.”

  “I could,” she blurted out. “I mean, I could find you the right fit.”

  “I’ll take you up on that,” he said and held out his elbow. “Can I take you home?”

  Touched by his manners, and oddly excited by the offer, she placed her arm through his. “I’d like that.” She’d prefer a ride with him over public transportation any day, but today especially she needed the sense of security that he seemed to exude.

  The ride from the Queens cemetery back into the city flew by as their conversation flowed easily from books to movies to sports and even politics, which they agreed to disagree on.

  Soon they were standing at the door to her apartment. She really wanted to invite him in for coffee but something held her back.

  Maybe it was the easy way they chatted without that awkward pressure to keep the conversation going, or maybe it was the attraction zinging through her veins. Neither was good for her peace of mind—he was a man who lived a life of risk, where at any moment the unpredictable could happen. She couldn’t imagine inviting that kind of fear into her life on a daily basis.

  She gave a mental, cynical laugh. On the other hand, hadn’t Sue’s death shown her how unsecure life could be for anyone?

  Shaking away the conflicting thoughts, she smiled at Andy. “Thank you for the ride.”

  He smiled back, sending her heart knocking against her ribs. She quickly turned to unlock the door and found it slightly open.

  A horrible sense of déjà vu gripped her. She stepped back and bumped up against the hard wall of Andy’s chest. “It’s open,” she whispered.

  Pushing her behind him, he motioned for her to move farther down the hall as he withdrew his weapon from the holster beneath his suit jacket. Gripping the gun with both hands, he placed himself near the door jamb as he used the toe of his scuffed dress shoe to push the door wider.

  When he disappeared inside, Kristin squeezed her eyes tight and prayed for his safety.

  Chapter Eight

  “All clear,” Andy said as he reemerged from her apartment. “You’ve had a break-in.”

  A break-in. Fear shivered down Kristin’s spine.

  Andy whipped out his cell phone and within ten minutes the crime scene technicians arrived.

  The head of the unit, a woman named Barbara Sims, approached Andy. “Walk me through this.”

  Kristin listened as Andy explained the situation. She was so thankful he’d been here. He’d kept her from freaking out with his calm manner and reassuring words. She stepped closer to him as the technicians dusted for prints and snapped off pictures of her torn-apart apartment.

  Thirty minutes later, Sims nodded to Kristin. “You can go in now. Take a look around, see what’s missing.” Andy followed Kristin through the apartment. Even the kitchen drawers had been dumped on the linoleum floor. Her hall closet stood wide open, her coats lay in a heap on the carpet, the pockets turned inside out. Her bedroom drawers were ripped from their slots and the contents spread across the floor. Her bed had even been stripped, the mattress flipped on its side. Her bedroom closet and the bathroom had received the same treatment.

  “I can’t tell if anything is missing,” she said coming back into the living room. “I don’t have anything of value except the TV, stereo and computer, which are all still here.”

  “Jewelry?”

  She shook her head. “Not worth anything.”

  “It looks like they were searching for something,” said Andy.

  Kristin met his gaze and could see he was thinking the same thought she was. The key. “This wasn’t a random break and enter, was it? This is related to Sue’s death. Someone else is involved. Whoever is behind this mustn’t have realized I’d turned Sue’s box over to you guys. And now they’re after me.”

  * * *

  After the crime scene technicians cleared out, Kristin and Andy stood alone in t
he center of her living room.

  “I feel so violated,” she said and wrapped her arms around her middle.

  “That’s natural.”

  She shuddered. “What if I’d been home? Would I have been killed like Sue?”

  Andy stepped closer and slid his arm around her, drawing her tightly to his solid chest. “Don’t think about that. We’re organizing another place for you to stay. You’re safe now.”

  “I know. It’s just so jarring....” she said, her voice quiet while she took comfort from his embrace.

  “I’ll help you put things away,” he offered.

  “That’s kind of you, but I’ll be okay,” she said and moved away from him.

  “You’re not okay.”

  “I appreciate your offer...”

  “But?”

  She met his gaze. “I like you.”

  One side of his mouth tipped upward. “I like you, too.”

  It would be cruel of her to continue to take advantage of his generous and caring nature when she had no intention of having their relationship go any further. Life could be random and unpredictable, but that didn’t mean she should or would deliberately embrace trouble. And he certainly qualified as trouble. She wanted a peaceful, steady life. Not one with surprises or uncertainties. Both of which came part and parcel with Andy.

  He frowned, his gaze searching her face. “Look. I’m not leaving, so I might as well help.”

  “Do you intend to stand guard 24/7?” she challenged.

  “If need be,” he stated, his jaw hardened into a determined line.

  She didn’t really want to be alone right now anyway, so why was she fighting him?

  Chapter Nine

  “Okay, if you don’t mind helping me with this mess,” Kristin said. She pointed to the pile of plastic CD cases strewn on the floor near the stereo. “You can start re-shelving the CDs.”

  He removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “Any particular order you want them in?”

  She was tempted to say alphabetical just to see his reaction but decided that would be cruel. “No. Just in their proper case and on the shelf.”

  As he worked at putting the right CD in the right jacket, he asked, “I can’t remember if I asked this already. Did you grow up here in New York?”

  She picked up a decorative pillow from the floor. “No, you didn’t ask, and no, I didn’t grow up here. I didn’t move to New York until after college.”

  “Where’s home then?”

  “Here. This is home. I grew up an only child and we lived in a motor home. My parents were musicians. We traveled a lot, chasing one gig after another. Not exactly the normal American family life,” she said, wincing to hear the note of bitterness coating her words as it sometimes did any time she spoke of her parents.

  “You don’t get along with your parents?”

  She shrugged. “When I see them.”

  “Which I take it isn’t often.”

  “No, not often. The last postcard I received from them came from Thailand. Their music is still a big hit in that part of the world.”

  “You lived in a motor home,” Andy said, his voice laced with a mix of awe and disbelief. “I don’t think I know anyone who’s ever owned one. Motor homes aren’t exactly made for New York traffic.”

  “I take it you grew up in the city?”

  “Brooklyn Heights. How’d you go to school if you moved around a lot?”

  “I was ‘homeschooled.’” She made quotation marks in the air. “It was unusual at the time, not the fad that it’s become, and it left me feeling very adrift and alone most of the time.” She looked deeper into his gentle eyes. “Until I realized that knowing God meant He was with me everywhere we went. It made the moving around less frightening.”

  Andy repaired the leg to one of her four dining chairs. “But if your family moved around so much, how did you go to church?”

  “Once, when I was about twelve, we stopped in a small town in Oklahoma.” She smiled, remembering that summer day. “There was this big youth revival going on in the middle of the park and I was drawn to all the activity like a bee to honey.” She walked to her desk and gathered the papers. “After that, I’d go to whatever church I could find in every town we stopped in. My parents weren’t too hip on the idea but they never stopped me. After college, I moved here, found this apartment and the church down the street. Now I have a community,” she said, thinking how blessed she felt to finally have roots somewhere. “Do you go to church?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Sometimes. My parents are very devoted. My sister, too.”

  “But you’re not?”

  He set the chair at the table and moved to the bookshelf. “I believe.”

  Something in his tone made her stop. She held bills and other mail in her hand. “But...?”

  Chapter Ten

  “I believe God exists and that He takes care of those He loves,” Andy said.

  That didn’t explain the note of despair Kristin had detected in his voice. “Tell me about your family,” she said, hoping if he opened up a bit, maybe she’d understand what she’d heard.

  “My father is a postal worker and my mother a nurse. They’ve always worked hard to provide for my sister and me. When they worked, it was just Aleesha and me hanging out.”

  “Is Aleesha younger or older?”

  “Younger by four years.”

  “Are you close?”

  He nodded but turned away. Curious about his life and his relationship with his sister, Kristin came over to stand beside him. “Does she live in the city still, like you?”

  “No, she left as soon as she could. She’s married to a banker in Santa Fe, New Mexico. They have a nice life there. She owns an art gallery.”

  “Does she have children?”

  He swallowed and averted his gaze, but not before she witnessed the torment flashing there.

  “No. She can’t.”

  The note of anger and...guilt in his voice compelled her to comfort him. She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  He stiffened then took her hand and held on. Bleakness entered his gaze. A responding gush of empathy welled up inside of her.

  His mouth pressed into a tight line as if he was trying to keep the words from bursting forth. Then finally he said, “It’s my fault she can’t have kids. I didn’t protect her when I should have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was thirteen and mad I had to babysit when all my buddies were going to Coney Island for the day. I didn’t want to take her with me so I left her home alone. She was attacked and raped by some door-to-door salesman.”

  Kristin’s heart clenched in shock and empathy. “Did they catch the guy?”

  “Yes. After he attacked two other young girls.”

  Sorrow for the victims burned at the back of her eyes. She squeezed his hand. “You couldn’t have known what would happen that day.”

  “I shouldn’t have left her. It was my job to protect her and I chose not to.” The self-recrimination in his voice was so finely honed, so well-used, it cut into Kristin for the simple reason she was standing too close to Andy—their usual target.

  “And you haven’t forgiven yourself,” she stated as understanding dawned. “Andy, you were a kid. It shouldn’t have been your responsibility to protect her.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It was, and I failed her.” He released Kristin’s hand.

  Hurting for his wounded soul, she asked, “So you think God doesn’t love you because of that?”

  He pivoted away from her and stood by the window. The setting sun drew streaks of pink and orange across the azure sky visible between the city’s skyline. “Look, it’s getting late. You’re not staying here.”

  Igno
ring his statement, she put her hand on his shoulder. “He does love you, Andy. God wouldn’t want you to torment yourself for something that was out of your control. If you had been home, who’s to say you wouldn’t have been hurt or even killed?”

  He jerked away from her. His expression closed, cutting her out of his thoughts. “We’ve made arrangements to have you stay in a hotel tonight. I’ll take you there.”

  Though it pained her to see his hurt, she relented and contemplated his offer. She didn’t want to stay alone in the apartment tonight. The sense of violation lingered and the real fear that the invaders would return loomed. “Give me a minute. I’ll pack a few things.”

  He nodded and turned back to the window.

  Heart aching, she headed to her bedroom to gather her things. Lord, show me how I can help him.

  Would Andy ever be able to forgive himself?

  Chapter Eleven

  Andy ran a hand over his jaw in disgusted disbelief. What on earth had he been thinking to reveal his failure to Kristin?

  He never talked about that day or the torment of regret that rode him hard. But maybe seeing Kristin at Sue Hyong’s funeral—clearly mourning the loss of her friend—had shown him how deeply she cared for those around her. And apparently a part of him really wanted to be cared for.

  But she was right. He hadn’t forgiven himself, and he doubted God had either.

  His family said they had, but how could they? He didn’t deserve to be forgiven.

  Kristin came out of her bedroom carrying a satchel slung over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”

  Stuffing his private pain back into his own little box in his soul, Andy composed himself. “Let’s go.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the door.

  He drove her to the Hilton in mid-town and paid for a single room. After settling Kristin inside, he stepped to the door. “If you need anything, I’ll be right here.” Her blond eyebrows drew together in a slight frown. “Right here?” “Outside your door.” She lowered her chin. “You don’t need to stand guard. I’m sure I’ll be safe here.”