by Hope White
“You’re doing enough just by staying safe.”
“I disagree. I could be doing more.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.” He eyed his coffee.
“I’ll find out whatever you need to know from the community. No one will suspect what I’m doing.”
“I don’t want you putting yourself at risk.”
“I’m already at risk. You know that, Luke.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. Worry lines creased his forehead and his lips pinched into a thin, contemplative line.
She thought he was worried about her, but then she noticed his gaze drift to the front of the restaurant.
He shifted out of the booth and planted his hand on her shoulder. “Stay here.”
She turned around and watched him leave the restaurant, disappearing around the corner. Just then her cell phone rang. Hoping it was Natalie, she answered without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello, Nat?”
Nothing.
“Hello?”
“It should have been you in the car.”
TWELVE
The black pickup cruising the parking lot fit the description of the one that rammed Natalie last night. It parked and someone opened the tinted window and blew cigarette smoke out the crack. Instinct drove Luke outside to investigate. Maybe he was being paranoid.
As Luke got closer, he slipped his hand inside his coat and gripped his firearm.
Suddenly the truck’s engine roared and the driver spun out of the lot.
“Hey!” Luke called after him.
He was right. The driver of the car was keeping an eye on Krista. Had he been hovering close by when Krista fled into the parking lot a few minutes ago? The thought of the truck barreling toward her and finishing the job shot panic through Luke’s veins.
One thing for sure: Garcia’s men knew Krista wasn’t lying helpless in a hospital bed. And she was still a target.
If only Luke knew what they wanted from her.
“Luke!” Krista called.
Luke spun around to see Krista racing toward him. He scanned the trees surrounding the parking lot wondering if the driver of the pickup left someone behind to finish what they’d started last night.
She had to stop putting herself in danger like this.
“Someone called and—”
“I told you to stay inside.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the restaurant.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Nothing.”
She jerked her arm free. “Look, I can’t help you or protect myself if you keep things from me.”
But he wanted to; he wanted to distance her from the ugliness of the Garcia family. Too late, buddy. You know that.
“I think I just saw the truck that ran into Natalie,” he said.
“Here? Why?”
When he hesitated, she said, “Oh, he was here for me. I guess he’s the one who just called me, too.”
“What did he say?”
“That it should have been me in the car.”
Luke put his arm around her and led her inside. “I’m sorry.”
With a shake of her head, she went back into the restaurant and sat down. The waitress approached them, order pad in hand. “You love birds staying this time?” she smiled.
Love birds. Right. Like that could ever happen between Krista and Luke.
“I’ll have the soup and sandwich special, make it a burger,” Luke said.
“And you, miss?” the waitress asked Krista.
“I’m not sure,” she said, distracted as she eyed the menu.
“How about a grilled cheese sandwich and soup?” Luke offered.
Krista put down the menu. “Yes, I’ll do that.”
With a smile, the waitress took their menus and went into the kitchen.
“Krista,” Luke said.
She glanced at him, but he sensed he didn’t have her complete attention. Of course not, she was worried about what was coming next.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said.
“Thanks,” she sighed and glanced out the window.
Now, if he could only keep that promise.
After stopping by Michigan Shores to pick up supplies, Krista insisted on going straight to the tea shop. A good thing in Luke’s opinion because if she was at work, she couldn’t go snooping around, looking for clues and getting herself hurt.
He appreciated her determination to help solve this case, but he didn’t want her putting herself at risk. Yet he knew Krista. Once she set her mind on something, there was no changing it.
“It was lucky they had staff available to serve the ladies tea,” she said.
He sensed guilt in her voice, guilt about having to abandon the tea party.
A few minutes later they pulled up to the tea shop and Krista opened her car door.
“Wait.” He touched her arm.
“No, listen, they aren’t going to kill me. If they do, they’ll never find whatever it is they’re looking for. I can’t live in fear, Luke. I just won’t do it.” She whipped open her car door and headed for the shop.
Luke eyed her through the windshield, figuring this wasn’t solely about the current threat, but that her past was adding fuel to her emotional fire. He couldn’t imagine losing a father to murder and blaming yourself. Then again it was kind of like Luke blaming himself for his partner’s death.
No, that was different. If Luke had been smarter, taken things slower, he would have sensed the danger instead of jumping in and putting himself and Karl at risk.
This case was messing with both his and Krista’s heads in a big way. His priorities had shifted from finding the perp to protecting Krista. Yet they were one and the same, right?
Rationalize it any way you want. You’re getting too involved with this case. With Krista.
He paced the cobblestone sidewalk next to the tea shop and called the chief.
“Cunningham.”
“It’s Luke. The truck that hit Natalie was stalking us, and Krista got a threatening phone call.”
“Did you get a plate number on the truck?”
Luke gave him the number and leaned against the brick building. “Find anything at her house?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh, and she’s decided to launch her own investigation to expose the perp because they hurt her friend.”
“Sounds like Krista.”
Alan pulled up in his sedan and rushed into the shop. Didn’t that guy get the message? Krista wasn’t interested. End of story.
“They found Natalie’s purse at a truck stop off Highway 31, money and credit cards still in the wallet.”
“That’s not what they were looking for.”
“I’d give my bass fishing trophy to know what they wanted so badly.”
“They broke into the shop looking for something. I’m going to do a little investigating around here, maybe find some answers.”
“Good plan. We’ll talk later.”
“Thanks.”
Luke pocketed his phone and headed for the back door, not looking forward to an Alan encounter.
When he entered the back, the place was up for grabs. Tori was frantically making sandwiches, while Krista had four tea-pots lined up, and was scooping loose tea into the strainers. The water in the sink was running, a timer was beeping and the phone was ringing.
And Alan hovered over Krista’s shoulder. Luke wanted to grab the guy and toss him out the back door.
“When I heard about Natalie’s accident in your car—”
“You’re a great friend, Alan, but right now I need to focus on the lunch rush,” Krista said. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Even Luke was surprised by her short, businesslike tone.
Alan’s expression changed from concern to anger. Krista couldn’t see it. Her back was to him.
Luke took a step toward him. “Anything I can do, Krista?”
Alan snapped
his head around to glare at Luke. The guy’s squinty eyes radiated fire, and for a second Luke thought he could be more dangerous than he seemed.
“Finish filling the sanitizing sink, wipe down the counter and get Tori some clean dishes,” she ordered.
“Excuse me,” Luke said, shouldering his way past Alan into the tight quarters.
Although Luke ignored Alan and got to work, he sensed the guy hovering, waiting for something.
“As long as you’re okay,” Alan said to Krista.
“I’m fine, Alan. Thanks for stopping by.”
A minute later the back door clicked shut. With a shake of her head, she set five timers to brew tea and shifted beside Luke to wash dishes. “I was rude, wasn’t I?”
“Not rude. A little short maybe.”
“I just couldn’t help it. What with everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, I just couldn’t deal with him.”
“Understandable. Listen, the chief and Officer West are searching your house.”
“For what?”
“Clues as to what you have that Garcia wants. Someone grabbed Natalie’s purse after the crash, but when they found it the perp hadn’t taken money or credit cards. You have any idea what they’re after? Did you buy any trinkets or gifts that you brought back from Mexico?”
“Just a diary.”
“Where is it?”
“In my suitcase.”
“Krista, table four is complaining about their refill and table two says the soup is cold,” Tatum said, hovering in the doorway holding a half-empty bowl of soup. “Oh, and I’ve gotta be at a thing in twenty minutes.”
“What thing?” her sister questioned from the prep table.
“None of you business.”
“Does Mom know about your thing?” Tori glared.
“Focus, girls,” Krista said. “We’re a team, remember?”
The girls stopped arguing and Luke admired her ability to shut them down.
“Luke, ladle a new bowl of soup, heat it in the micro for a minute and I’ll take it out. Tatum, finish up the dishes. I’ll take over the dining room. Tori?” Krista stepped into her line of vision. “Good job on the food prep. You comfortable here or do you want the dining room?”
“I’m good.”
“Great, then let’s move it.”
After a few hours of serving customers the guilt and fear started to ease. Guilt about Natalie’s accident and fear of being stalked and attacked. Krista was just too exhausted to worry.
She wasn’t too tired to chat with customers, ask pleasant but pertinent questions and gather information for Luke’s investigation. She listened for mention of anything odd or out of line with the normal happenings of Wentworth.
It was typical for her to talk up customers. She liked the interaction and liked hearing what they had to say about their families, current events and plans for vacations. Some customers even asked about Natalie.
That connection was the real joy of owning a shop like this, a connection she suspected Luke found useless, maybe even terrifying.
They locked up at five and headed home. She steeled herself against what her house would look like. Did the chief and Officer West rip the place apart? She hoped not but would accept it if it meant getting that much closer to ending this nightmare.
“You’re quiet,” Luke said, pulling into her driveway.
“Pensive.”
“I saw you grilling your customers. You shouldn’t do that.”
She squared off at him. “I wasn’t grilling anyone. I was being friendly.”
“Still, someone could figure out you’re playing investigator.”
“Oh, yeah, because I got great clues today,” she said with sarcasm in her voice. “Ruth and Gerry are going on a cruise in March, Nancy Patterson sold her vintage sewing machine, and the Cooper boys were suspended for two days for squirting hair gel on their biology teacher’s keyboard.”
“What would give a kid the idea to do that?”
“They’re bored. I suspect smart, too.”
“That’s all you got?” he joked.
“Annette Winters said they were looking forward to my cranberry scones at the church potluck tonight.” She glanced at Luke. “I totally forgot about that one.”
“Don’t go. Tell them you’ve had a rough week, you’re still jet-lagged and—”
“I can’t renege on cranberry scones, no matter how tired I am.” Or what criminals are after me.
Luke gripped the steering wheel tighter. He seemed genuinely worried about her, which meant he cared about her more than an agent would normally care about a witness, right? Or was he worried about being around church folk? Because wherever she went, he’d surely be inches behind her.
They parked on her driveway and could hear Roscoe barking from the garage. He was a good watchdog, for sure.
With files tucked under one arm, Luke escorted her to the back door with a gentle hand at her elbow.
She realized she liked having him close, enjoyed the supportive hand of a strong man. Then she remembered that all too soon he’d be gone. She quickened her pace and pulled away from him.
She was starting to fall for the grumpy federal agent, against her will and all good sense in her head.
Once inside, she dropped her purse on the table and tentatively eyed the living room. It wasn’t too bad. Sure, things were out of place, but it wasn’t messy.
She was strung tight, like a tennis racket, and needed to decompress with a little baking, maybe blogging.
“I’m going to check on Roscoe, let him out,” Luke said, coming up behind her. “You stay here, got it?”
“Where else would I go?”
“Off to do more snooping around? I don’t know.”
“I’m too exhausted to do anything but collapse.”
“Good. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He left and she shut and locked the back door.
Alone. Finally. She welcomed the solace without her shadow looking over her shoulder. Sure, she appreciated his help today at the shop, and of course she was thankful that he was here in Wentworth to protect her.
But she desperately needed time alone to breathe, think and fully come down from the adrenaline rush that started this morning when she visited Natalie.
Speaking of which, she hadn’t spoken to Nat since she’d seen her at the hospital. Krista had called, but Timothy intercepted the call and said Nat was too tired to talk.
She pulled out ingredients for cranberry scones and got busy, while dialing the hospital to check on her friend.
“Mercy General.”
“Room 314, bed A please.”
“One moment.”
While Krista waited she assembled the dry ingredients. The line rang repeatedly, six, seven, eight times, but no one answered. She cut the butter into the dry mixture, added the cranberries and sugar in a separate bowl and beat together the cream and egg. A good thing she could make these in her sleep.
“Answer, already,” she whispered.
“Mercy General.”
“Oh, hi. I was trying to reach my friend, Natalie Brown?”
“Hold please.”
Krista blended the dry mixture with the cream mixture and dumped the dough on the counter. Kneading the dough seemed to ease her nerves a bit.
The operator came back on the line. “Miss Brown was discharged late this afternoon.”
“Really? She didn’t look in any condition to leave the hospital.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t give out information about a patient’s condition. I can only tell you if she’s here or not.”
“Okay, thank you.”
She spread and cut the dough into triangles, placed them on the cookie sheets and popped them into the oven.
Natalie, out of the hospital? Curious.
She set the timer for twenty minutes, washed her hands and called Nat’s house. The call went to voice mail.
“Hey, Nat, it’s Krista. Could you give me a call and let me kn
ow what I can do to help? Thanks.”
Krista thought it odd that Nat was released and wasn’t answering her home phone. Then again, Timothy was probably micromanaging her, protecting her from too much activity or stress.
Although Krista’s feelings had been hurt by Timothy’s harsh words earlier today, she knew they were born of love for his fiancée. The thought of her being seriously injured was tearing him apart.
Krista hoped someone would someday love her as much as Timothy loved Nat. Well, Alan had claimed he loved her.
“Move on,” she whispered to herself.
But she couldn’t really move on until this case was solved, she got her life back to normal and Luke disappeared, back to his work chasing criminals.
Criminals like the ones hounding her. They broke into her shop, her home and her blog. Well, they might be threatening her from the shadows, but they couldn’t stop her from blogging. The blog was her way of taking control of her situation. She’d re-create it and bring joy to others’ lives, regardless of the criminals threatening her.
She grabbed her purse and sat at the computer nook. Blogging about her mission trip always brightened her spirits. So someone breached her Faithgirl blog. She’d just start a new one using a different name.
She grabbed her key chain from her purse and pulled off the thumb drive. She stuck it into her computer and created a new blog on blogworld.com.
Scanning through her pictures helped her instantly relax as she remembered how it felt to help the children in the small village outside of Mexicali. Krista felt like she was part of something bigger than herself, something Christ had called her to do. All the petty stresses of life dissolved and the tightening in her chest over her current situation eased a bit.
Luke tapped on the back door. She got up and let him in. “What, isn’t Roscoe coming?”
“I thought I’d better ask first.”
“Sure, you can bring him in.”
While Luke went back to the garage, Krista put up the baby gate between the kitchen and living room. “Sorry, Anastasia,” she called into the house. The princess cat had been in hiding ever since Roscoe’s appearance.
Just as Luke and Roscoe came up the back steps, someone rang the front doorbell.
“I’ll answer it,” Luke said. “You have your cell?”
