by Susan Shay
“Oh, I can find my way around her. In my hands, this baby will be very happy.” Gingerly caressing the leather-covered steering wheel, he glanced at Cassie in the semi-darkness to see her mouth drop open. While he hadn’t intended to give the words a sexy spin, seeing her face after she took the phrase the wrong way—eyes at half-mast, cheeks pinking, and her glistening bottom lip caught between her teeth—made him wish he could do it again.
“That’s right. You owned a Volkswagen in college, didn’t you?” Her voice rasped slightly as she buckled her seatbelt, then leaned away from him to angle her back against the door. In a play of shadow and light, the simple red dress she wore made her body look perfect, touchable, kissable. When she finally turned her head to look at him, the heat in her gaze stole the air from his lungs.
Without breath, he couldn’t speak or think, so he nodded. It didn’t matter what she’d asked. Whatever it was, he’d do it. Or find it. Or climb it. Or build it. For the woman gazing at him with eyes that could heat his very marrow, he’d do anything at all. Even take on a monster, if need be.
“A great plot, compelling characters, dialogue that crackles...Susan Shay always delivers!” Marilyn Pappano, USA Today best-selling author
Blind Sight
by
Susan Shay
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Blind Sight
COPYRIGHT Ó 2008 by Susan Shay
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Faery Rose Edition, 2008
Print ISBN: 1-60154-536-3
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my father, Carol Spess. Working with you the past few years has been a blessing I could never have imagined. The way you live every day of your life is an awesome thing to behold.
Your love for me and your belief that I could do anything I set my mind to is why I’m the person I am today. Thank you for giving me the best mother in the world.
Love you little, love you big.
To my husband, Gary. You’ve made life an unforgettable ride. I love you!
To my sons, Danny, Matt, and Brad. You’ll find parts of yourselves in all the heroes in my books. You guys are the best!
To China, my daughter-in-law. Your determination and dedication are only two of the reasons you’re amazing. I’m so happy you’re part of my family.
To my most excellent critique sisters, Marilyn Pappano and Margaret E. Reid. You are shoulders to cry on and friends to celebrate with. What would I do without you guys?
To Mary Sue Spess, my mother. Never a day goes by that I don’t feel her love. I miss you, Mom.
Chapter One
After countless gallons of on-the-go coffee and a sixteen-hour drive, Keegan Flynn was almost too tired to think—but not too tired to worry.
His incessant concern blazed a hole where his gut had been. Once he was with Miriam, though, once he saw for himself his sister really was all right, he’d be able to relax.
In the early evening light, the red brick streets of Stone Hill, Texas, looked exactly as they had for the last hundred years—except for the new holiday decorations lining them. The old-fashioned wreaths and draped lights resembled antiques, making for normal, small-town holiday ambiance. Too bad that coziness couldn’t penetrate the niggling feeling in his belly. The one that made him quit his job and head for Texas.
Parking as close as possible to the Cypress Creek Bookstore, he locked the car, then strode past a display of children’s books in the front window. Taking a breath, he pushed open the entrance. The heavy door bounced against the floor stop and sprang back at him. Catching it with his shoulder, he gazed around the expensively decorated shop, then clenched his jaw to keep from cursing aloud.
Leave it to his soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law to spend everything he could, filling the store with only the best equipment and merchandise. Leather chairs, marble-topped tables, expensive carpeting, and heavy wood fixtures provided the air, if not the size, of one of the big chains. Or was it the Biltmore Mansion he’d copied? Miriam wasn’t anywhere in sight. Keegan fought his rising panic.
She must be there. Since Steve, her jerk husband, had bullied her into using her inheritance as collateral to buy the store, she practically lived there. Six days a week. Nine hours a day. No vacations, sick days, or lunch hours.
Steve better not have convinced her he had a right to the place. If the bastard had worked there rather than playing around while he pretended to sell insurance, they probably wouldn’t be in the midst of a divorce now.
Tightening his jaw to keep from shouting, Keegan strode toward the blonde employee working with her back to him. Hair slicked into a tight knot made him think of the many old maids who’d worked at the local library over the years. Her clothes all but hid her curves—a popular style many women opted for. But he preferred to see women in outfits that started low, stopped short, and left a lot of skin showing.
After biting back a grin at the vision his tired mind dredged up, he touched the woman’s shoulder. As if he’d shot her with a jolt of electricity, the woman dumped the stack of paperbacks she’d been holding all over the floor.
The blonde turned and looked at him, and he was as shocked as if he’d jabbed his finger into an outlet. Soft blue eyes and a full mouth made his throat go dry. Her hair wasn’t simply blonde. It was the color of an autumn meadow, tawny and gold with a hint of red. Damn, she was hot even without makeup, and with a little effort, she’d be drop-dead gorgeous.
She looked at him closely, then a smile spread across her mouth. “You must be Miriam’s brother.”
Forcing his worry and exhaustion away, he smiled politely. “Yeah, I’m Keegan. Is Miriam around?”
The woman nodded, her gaze sympathetic. “She’s fine.”
Had she misunderstood? He stepped closer, but before he could touch her, she knelt to gather the scattered books. He dropped on one knee to help. “I’m sorry, but I meant to ask where she is, not how she is.”
Cheeks blooming with color, she nodded again. “Oh, sorry. She’s in the coffee shop storeroom, putting away supplies.”
Mustering his best grin, he got to his feet and stuck the books he’d retrieved on a nearby shelf. “Just in case she asks how I found her, why don’t you tell me your name?”
Both hands full of books, she struggled to her feet. “I’m Cassaundra Reynolds. Cassie.”
He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Cassie.”
Her hesitation was almost too brief to notice, but rather than shake his hand, she clung to the books as she nodded. “I’m glad to meet you, too. Miriam will be thrilled to see you.”
He smiled, turning toward the back of the store. Stepping into the coffee shop, sectioned off by display shelves, he spotted a group of senior citizens around one of the green marble t
ables. Miriam’s letters had told about a group of old men who spent much of their time in the store playing chess and drinking coffee. Quickly locating the storeroom, he lengthened his stride in order to get past the crew without having to stop for conversation. “Guys,” he murmured with a nod as he moved past.
A chair leg screeched against the Mexican tile floor when someone behind him stood up. “Just a minute, young man.”
Too tired for repeated explanations, he stepped around the counter and pushed open the storeroom door. There was Miriam. For the first time since he’d received her last letter, the ice encrusting his belly melted. She stood on the top of a too-short ladder putting away supplies, her dark hair stringing down her back as it had since she was a kid. “Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to stand up there? That’s dangerous.”
Relief soothed the hole in his gut when she grinned. With a squeal she launched herself at him, nearly flattening him, and he knew she was okay. In her wild leap she managed to wrap both arms around his neck, knock over the ladder, send it crashing into the shelves, and make enough racket to raise the dead. “Bubba! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I thought you stopped calling me that when you were three.” With a playful growl, he returned her hug. God, it was good to see her again. For the first time in days, he was able to take a full breath.
After a moment, he held her away to study the circles under her eyes and the way her cheekbones protruded. Not only was she losing sleep, she was losing weight, too. Damn Steve Cartwright to a fiery hell.
“What’s going on back here? Are you all right, Miriam?”
Keeping an arm around his sister, Keegan glanced at the man filling the doorway. Although his hair was still dark, the old man’s face was as wrinkled as a dried apple. Round, stooped, and slightly bowlegged, he wore a starched khaki work shirt and pants, unlike the other men crowding behind him, who were dressed in wind suits or blue jeans.
“Better than all right, Vern. This is my brother, Keegan, all the way from Denver.”
Nodding as if he had suspected it all along, the old man shuffled toward them and held out his beefy paw. “Howdy, young man. Vernon Russell.”
A thin old man with steel gray hair and wire rimmed glasses peered over Vernon’s shoulder. “Why don’t y’all come out in the open so the rest of us can meet this fella Miriam talks about so much?”
Beaming, she flicked her fingers at the men. “All right, back out of here, you guys. We’ll be right behind you.”
The men ambled back into the coffee shop while she clutched Keegan’s hand to drag him with her. Wishing the introductions weren’t necessary, he hoped to get them out of the way as quickly as possible. As grateful as he was for their support of Miriam, both at the apartment house and the store, he wasn’t there to meet the men. He was there to see about his sister. To talk with her, see how she felt about her pending divorce. And find out if he needed to track down Steve Cartwright for a come-to-Jesus meeting.
After a quick round of introductions, Keegan leaned close to Miriam. “Can we go to your office? I’d like to talk to you.”
Even after the hell she’d been through with Steve, her steady gaze was full of trust as she glanced at him. “Of course. Let me pour some refills first. Can I get you a cup?”
“No, thanks.” Practically buzzing from caffeine, he didn’t need more. Between bad coffee, the long trip, and worry, sleep wouldn’t be on his to-do list for the next few days.
Everyone supplied with a brimming cup, Miriam set the pot back on the warmer, pulled two bottles of water from the fridge, and headed to the front. “If you guys need anything, give Cassie a holler. See you tomorrow for the chess tournament.”
With a two-finger salute for the men, Keegan followed Miriam to the office. Surprised to catch a whiff of something sweet and to see the pastel colors, floral fabrics, and feminine knick-knacks filling the room, he turned completely around. He perched on the edge of her desk, which was angled away from the door to face the windows. “Dang, Sis, it’s pretty enough to be some woman’s bedroom in here. When did you redecorate?”
Uneasiness flashed in her eyes as she sat down. “Don’t you like it?”
“Well, yeah. I usually like being in a woman’s bedroom,” he teased, hoping to bring the smile back to her face. “I’m happy you’ve changed things. When did you do it?”
“After Steve left. He’d always wanted it to stay neutral, since technically it was his office, too.” Her voice lowered to a painful whisper. “But when he was gone, I decided to do it the way I wanted.”
Bracing against the pain her words brought, Keegan searched for a way to cheer her. “Hey, as good a job as you’ve done, if things get slow here at the store, you can hire out as a decorator!”
Her smile was a little wobbly, but at least it reappeared. Maybe they could get through this divorce together without her sense of humor disappearing for good. “So when do you go to court?”
She tilted her head to one side and lifted her gaze, a trick he’d seen her use since childhood to keep the tears from falling. “M-my lawyer said if we agree on everything, he can take care of it without me having to go.”
Flattening his hand on the desk to keep from punching it, he shot her an even look. “Well, if worse comes to worst, I’ll be here to go with you.”
Her smile brightened to full beam as she slowly rose to her feet. “You mean you’re going to stay?”
Glad he’d made the decision, he had to swallow hard before he could answer. “Hell, yeah. For a while, anyway. What else is a brother good for?”
Before he could get to his feet, she circled the desk and caught him once more in a strangle hold. The collar of his shirt soon grew soggy as she sobbed.
“If it’s that bad, I can always leave,” he said, trying to lighten the moment.
“Don’t you d-dare.” She hiccoughed on the last word, reminding him of old times—but not necessarily better ones.
As her tears slowed, he gazed into her face, then dried her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “So have you heard from the folks lately?”
Shrugging, she leaned against the desk beside him with a sad smile. “Yeah. Twice a year—Christmas and my birthday. They’re still as crazy as ever.”
“Do they mention me?” He prepared for the familiar, aching emptiness of their rejection.
“How could they? You’re still lost to them, so they can’t even write your name. I, on the other hand, am only going to hell and deserve what I get for not selling all I have and following the great and powerful Boz.”
Bozley Poford. The man who’d bamboozled several hundred people into liquidating everything and turning the cash over to him in order to join his “religion”—and be assured a place in heaven.
And Keegan had found his niche in the publishing world when he’d made the “Great and Powerful Boz” the subject of an exposé. Oh, Keegan still covered other disasters—after Ruby Ridge, Waco, Oklahoma City, and 9/11, how could he not? But debunking low lifes was what he really enjoyed.
Miriam nudged him with her hip. “Do you have any new articles coming out? Is the world going to hear about a new crooked religious leader?”
He shook his head, the memory of the “pious” leaders a lead weight his gut. “Is there any other kind?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Of course there is, Keegan. There are the sincere ones who barely make enough to put bread on the table for the love of God and their friends.”
Straightening, he looked away from her and sighed in disgust. “You still believe in fairy tales after the life you’ve led and what you’ve seen?”
“Fairy tales? Bubba, don’t tell me you don’t believe in—”
“Love? God? Nothing but fantasies, baby sister. Lies.” Hoping to wash away the bitterness, he grabbed one of the bottles of water, twisted off the cap, and drank deeply. After a moment he was able to ask, “Can I bunk with you while I’m here?”
Eyes wide, she nodded. “Of cou
rse! You know you don’t even have to ask. It’ll always be your home, too.”
The knot he’d carried deep within since leaving years earlier eased a little. “Good. Since you’re about to close up tonight, I think I’ll head on to the house.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring. “Have you changed the locks, or will my old key work?”
Her mouth quirked into a watery smile. “Bubba. You know things never change in Stone Hill.”
With her words, that knot disappeared completely. “And with luck, they never will.”
After driving through familiar streets to Aunt Hattie’s—now Miriam’s—apartment house, he was finally home. Very little had changed—the threadbare couch, overstuffed chair and ottoman, even the coffee table was the same as when he was a kid.
Suitcase stowed, he rustled through the fridge, hoping to surprise Miriam by preparing dinner. He smiled when saw she still kept the fixings for his favorite meal on hand.
Later, while enjoying the bratwursts he’d grilled, he glanced through the old newspapers Miriam kept in a box near the fireplace. Shocked, he pushed one in front her. “What’s this about a kidnapper in Stone Hill?”
“Oh...they caught him,” she answered vaguely.
“Yeah. At your store! Who was he?” Keegan asked, needing an answer. “Who did he kidnap?”
Miriam took a long drink from her glass, carefully setting it down before she spoke. “The guy was a postman who lives in Austin. He was here because our post office was shorthanded and he was filling in.”
He tried not to grind his teeth as he pressed for more. “Miriam, why don’t you just tell me what happened? Why was he caught in Stone Hill in your store?”
After glancing around, she leaned close and whispered, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy, Keegan. So you can’t tell either. Okay?”
Curiosity weighing on him, he nodded. “All right, I promise. Now tell me.”
