Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls)

by Leigh, Melinda

  “Hey, watch where you’re going, freak.” She kicks it away.

  I look down. The corner of Regan’s bag sticks out into the aisle. She approaches me. “Oh my God. Are you all right?” Her voice is sickly sweet, and the evil slant to her lips sends her true message.

  “I’m fine,” I mumble as I get to my feet. My chin burns where it scraped on the floor.

  “Too bad you’re so clumsy.” She returns to Autumn and whispers something in her ear. Autumn’s shoulders shake as she laughs.

  I give her a glare, then roll my eyes at her, but my attempt at pretending she doesn’t bother me isn’t fooling anyone. Humiliation heats my skin and stirs the orange juice in my stomach into a nasty, acidic combination. My face is hot. My skin is pale, so I know my cheeks are flaming red by the time I get to the empty alcove and claim a locker. The commotion draws girls out from their locker nooks. Half the kids are smirking. The other half look away and pretend not to notice. No one else wants to be Regan and Autumn’s next target. I don’t blame them. It sucks. Why should they stick up for me? They don’t even know me.

  My eyes burn, but I will not cry.

  Instead, I try to shrink, to blend into the gray metal lockers around me as I change into the black tights I wear for practice.

  Regan and Autumn leave, heads bent together. They are talking about me, maybe laughing, maybe planning something awful for my future. I can tell. I can feel their animosity wafting through the air even after they’ve left the locker room. The other kids won’t even look at me. A girl walks by, listening to her iPod. The tinny sound of music leaks from her earbuds. I sit on the bench to lace my skates. Once I get out to the rink, I’ll be fine. The locker room is their main torture chamber. On the ice, Coach Victor is strict.

  I don’t even want to skate anymore. I know that’s their ultimate goal, so I guess they’ve already won. With a deep breath I launch to my feet and walk out to the rink. Regan and Autumn are standing with their dads and Victor. They watch me with way too much interest as I leave my skate guards on the wall and start to warm up. My muscles loosen. A sense of freedom flows through me, as it does every time I lace up my skates.

  “Get warmed up. I want to see you working on that double axel,” Victor shouts as I skate by.

  I see Regan lean over and say something to Autumn. They laugh.

  “If you want to make nationals next year, you don’t have time to worry about anyone else. Focus on your own routine.” Victor’s admonishment echoes across the ice.

  I appreciate his support, but the reprimand will give them one more reason to hate me.

  Chapter Nine

  The sunlight gleamed on a fresh layer of snow. Ellie turned into the narrow alley that ran alongside the firm. Her tires grated on the inch of snow the plow left on top of the gravel. She emerged in the rear parking lot. Fresh powder clung to the budding branches of the mature oak at the rear of the plowed square. From a brilliant blue sky, sunlight glittered blindingly bright on whatever it touched.

  If she hadn’t been worried about her family’s safety, the scene would have been lovely.

  Ellie parked in the rear of the lot. Her heart drummed as she unlocked her doors and got out of the vehicle. She crossed the lot. On the rear stoop, she knocked snow from her boots and gave her surroundings a final scan before inserting her key into the door. She disengaged the alarm. With hesitant steps, she glanced into the break room-kitchen combo. Empty. Her ears strained for sound but she heard nothing except the rumble of the furnace and whoosh of hot air from the radiators.

  All seemed normal, except that last night a man had threatened to kill her daughter.

  Ellis changed her shoes and got to work, starting in Frank’s office.

  With shaky fingers, Ellie slid the USB drive into the slot on his computer. The office was silent around her. At seven a.m., no one else had arrived yet. Roger would come in around eight, the rest of the employees shortly after. This might be her only chance to get a look at Frank’s computer files. Many of the attorneys worked late, but early hours were less common. But if anyone did come in early, she would say she was doing software updates. Without an in-house IT specialist, Roger preferred Ellie take care of the simple, routine tasks rather than pay for a computer tech. She was already on the payroll. Employees were accustomed to seeing her on their computers. Hopefully, Roger would support her, since he asked her to snoop. Not that she cared much about fraud at the moment.

  Frank was the only person at the firm she could imagine had any reason to snag the Hamilton file. He was also the newest hire and had been in competition with Lee for partnership. Frank directly benefitted from Lee’s death. So she’d search his desk first.

  On a tight timetable, she copied the hard drive of Frank’s desktop to the memory stick. The orange light blinked as the machine worked. She spun the chair to open the drawer in the credenza behind the desk and skim through the files. The crunch of tires on gravel outside startled her. Someone was here. She glanced at the clock. It was barely seven twenty. No one else ever came in the office this early. The flash drive’s blinking orange light taunted her.

  Come on.

  She closed the credenza. The orange light went dark. She shut down the computer and bolted for the kitchen. With shaking hands, she measured coffee into a filter. The noise outside must have been someone next door. It didn’t matter. She’d accomplished what she’d come in early to do. All she could do now was pray Frank’s computer skills weren’t adequate for him to know she’d copied his documents. She should have Roger’s support, but Frank would complain to the senior Peyton. In confrontations with his father, Roger got wishy-washy.

  Was it possible that Frank had taken the file home? He’d moved into that office before she’d finished sorting Lee’s files. She could be searching the law offices in vain because Frank was holding the very file she needed. The file that would keep her family alive. Even worse, the file could be in Lee’s BMW. There’d been no report of the car turning up, but the thought that the information her extortionist wanted could be impossible to locate sent nausea roiling through her stomach.

  What would she do if Hoodie Man came back and she didn’t have the file? And who was he?

  She could rule out two people immediately. There was no way Grant would fit behind the seat of her van. She also eliminated Roger. He’d been in his office last night while Hoodie Man waited in Ellie’s vehicle. Hmm. On second thought, was it possible that her boss had gone out the front door and circled around to the parking lot? But why would her boss threaten her to get the file? He’d already asked her to find it for him.

  Her head ached with too many unanswered questions. She filled the coffee pot and pressed On.

  She glanced at the clock. She still had time to search the rest of the desks. Leaving the dripping coffee machine, she settled at one of the paralegals’ desks. While the computer copied files onto her flash drive, she silently opened and searched desks. A half hour later, Ellie had found nothing even remotely related to the Hamilton file.

  “Ellie?” Roger’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

  She snagged her memory stick and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. Smoothing her skirt, she emerged from the paralegal’s cubicle. Roger stood in front of her desk.

  Smiling, she walked toward her boss. “Good morning.”

  “You’re in early. What were you doing?”

  “Software updates.”

  “This early?” He raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. “Did you encounter anything interesting?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Well, shit.” Frowning, he glanced at his watch. “I have a nine o’clock appointment. Have you made coffee?”

  “Yes, I’ll fill a carafe.” Ellie hurried back to the kitchen and poured coffee into a thermal pot.

  “Liar.” Frank startled her.

  She dropped the coffee pot. Hot li
quid splashed up her legs.

  Frank jumped backward. The sloshing coffee barely missed his pants. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Miraculously, the pot hadn’t broken when it hit the vinyl floor, but coffee splattered her pantyhose and shoes. Burning patches on her shins jolted her into action. She stepped away, wet a paper towel with cold water, and pressed it against her shin. She cleaned off her shoes then tossed paper towels on the floor.

  “Let me help you.” Frank squatted next to her and tossed napkins on the mess.

  “It’s all right. I’ve got it.” Ellie dumped the soggy mess into the trash and started a fresh pot.

  Frank sauntered out, glancing back to toss a caught-you grin over his shoulder. “I saw you searching Sue’s desk. But don’t worry. I won’t tell. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Ugh. Frank was not the guy she’d choose to entrust with secrets. Watching the coffee drip, Ellie put a hand on her aching temple. She didn’t have the energy to worry about Frank. His little games couldn’t compete with extortion—unless he was Hoodie Man.

  The dream made no sense. Grant hadn’t witnessed his brother’s murder, so why did he keep seeing it in his mind?

  His eyelids were lined with sandpaper, or at least that’s what it felt like when he opened his eyes. His view was dry and blurry. He was oddly weighed down, and a steady tapping noise sounded like a bomb ticking. He blinked. His vision cleared, and a tousled blond head came into focus.

  Carson sprawled across his body. Grant’s shoulders hung off the edge of the family room sofa. Next to them, the baby swing clicked each time it passed the center line of its arc.

  Ah, yes. The Night From Hell replayed in his mind. He’d tucked Carson into bed and walked the baby up and down the halls until two a.m., when a nightmare brought the little boy back, tearful and hiccupping. The dog had picked bedlam hour for a barking fit, too. The swing had become his savior. The instructions stated that babies weren’t supposed to sleep in the damned things, but these were desperate times.

  Grant closed his eyes. Another hour of sleep might dull the ache in his head.

  “Uncle Grant.” A tiny finger pried open his eyelid. “Are you awake?”

  Grant opened his other eye. “I am.”

  Carson dropped Grant’s eyelid and propped his chin on his hands, bony elbows in the center of Grant’s chest. His blue eyes were a scant three inches from Grant’s face. Hearing the boy’s voice, AnnaBelle jumped up from her bed in the corner, trotted to the sofa, and stuck her wet nose between their faces.

  “She has to go outside.” Carson squirmed off Grant’s body.

  A knee squashed his groin. “Oof.”

  Removing his nephew’s knee from his crushed privates, Grant eased upright. Carson ran to the back door and opened it. AnnaBelle bolted out into the yard.

  “She’s OK out there by herself?” Grant squinted out the window. Last night’s clouds were gone. In a brilliant, crystal-blue sky, sunshine slanted across four inches of fresh snow.

  “She’ll be right back.” Carson went to the refrigerator and took out a juice box. He brought it back to Grant. “Can you open this?”

  “Sure.” Grant shoved the straw through the hole and offered it to his nephew.

  “You hafta put the flaps up or else it’ll squirt all over.”

  “Gotcha. Flaps up.” Grant handed it back.

  Carson took a long pull from the skinny straw. “Am I going to school today?”

  Grant considered the exhausted eyes looking up at him. On his list of many phone calls was Carson’s elementary school. “Do you want to go to school today?”

  Carson shook his head.

  “Then you’ll stay home today.” Grant checked the baby. Still sleeping. “We’ll talk about that again in a few days, all right?”

  Carson nodded.

  “Waffles?” Grant heaved to his feet and stretched his back. He felt like he’d been on an all-night march. He needed coffee. Now. He shuffled into the kitchen and started the machine.

  Sunlight spilled through the back window. What time was it? He blinked at a clock on the wall. Ten a.m.

  Faith stirred, and Grant started a bottle. He’d already learned that a screaming fit before a feeding increased his chances of being firehosed with baby gak. In an exhausted blur, he fed the kids breakfast. No, wait. Brunch. Whatever.

  He mainlined coffee and cleaned up the kitchen. Before he had time to think about a shower, it was noon. The doorbell rang. AnnaBelle sprinted for the front of the house.

  “Maybe that’s Aunt Hannah.” Praying help had arrived, Grant rubbed his bleary eyes.

  Carson didn’t respond. Carrying the baby, Grant went to the front door. He peered through the sidelight. His sister stood on the porch. One hand rested on the handle of a spinner suitcase. A briefcase was slung from her shoulder. He opened the door wide. AnnaBelle surged forward.

  Breezing through the doorway, Hannah halted the dog with one raised hand and a command. “Off.”

  The dog’s tail stopped midwag, drooping to the floor.

  “Since when don’t you like dogs?” Grant leaned over to kiss Hannah on the cheek.

  From her pointy heels to the short cap of polished blond hair, his sister looked every inch the corporate attorney. She stopped in the foyer to slide her long black coat down her arms.

  “Since I traded your hand-me-down jeans for adult clothing.” She went to the closet and hung her coat. Her tall, thin frame was draped in a white cashmere sweater and pale gray slacks. Against the peeling green wallpaper, her Saks attire looked elegant and out of place.

  Hannah walked closer. Her heels clicked on the scratched parquet. A small, curious smile tilted the corner of her mouth. She reached out and gave the baby’s foot a tentative squeeze. “You must be Faith.”

  “Haven’t you seen her before?”

  “No. Before Jakarta I was in Berlin. Before that, Prague.” She lifted her gaze from the baby to Grant. Her eyes misted. “How are you, Grant?”

  The air left his chest. “I don’t know. A little overwhelmed by it all, I guess. I didn’t expect to be the first one here.”

  Nodding, she sniffed. “I came as soon as I could get away from the negotiations.”

  “Wait. You didn’t come right away?”

  She backed up a quarter step. “You don’t just step away from a billion-dollar deal.”

  “I stepped away from a war, for Christ’s sake.” Grant gritted his teeth and stopped. Arguing with Hannah for being Hannah was pointless. His sister had made partner in a high-powered firm by being single-minded and ruthless. She would never settle for less than complete world domination. Not for the first time, Grant wondered if their father had picked the wrong child to push into the military. The Colonel had wanted a general in the family. Hannah would make a great general. Or dictator.

  “Never mind. You’re here now and that’s what matters.” Grant let it go. As they’d learned this week, life was too short. “Why don’t you say hi to Carson before you go change?”

  The grief hit her eyes again, and she struggled to suppress it. She wasn’t a cold person. She felt plenty, but like the Colonel, she’d never been comfortable with emotional expression, hers or anyone else’s. “Where is he?”

  “The kitchen.” Grant led the way.

  “Hey, Carson,” Hannah said in a soft voice from the center of the room.

  Grant elbowed her forward, prodding her toward their nephew. Hannah shot him a don’t-rush-me glare before sitting next to the boy. Grant gave her credit for going to Carson’s level.

  “What are you drawing?” she asked, tilting her head to see the picture.

  Carson shrugged. “A man.”

  “He’s crying,” she noted. “Is that a house?”

  The little boy nodded. “It’s our house.”

  “Why is the m
an crying?”

  Bony shoulders lifted and fell. “I dunno.”

  “I like the shamrock.” She rose. “I’m going upstairs to change.”

  She was going upstairs to cry, Grant thought. “I’m in the guest room at the end of the hall. Take the room next to it.” Lee had wanted the big house for family get-togethers. The first time in years that Grant, Hannah, and Mac would all be under one roof, Lee was gone.

  Hannah brushed past him, her mouth tight, her control slipping.

  He handed her one of the new house keys. “Are you all right?”

  Nodding, she closed her fist around the key and turned away. Hannah hadn’t always been so distant. None of them had weathered Mom’s death well. Grant and Hannah had run from Scarlet Falls and all its disappointments as soon as possible. Mac had a local address, but he spent half the year traveling all over the globe. Only Lee had stayed.

  Grant gave her a half hour to get herself together. He inspected the contents of the baby’s bag. Like his own pack, it focused on bottled water, dry clothing, and sanitation items. He restocked items that seemed to require restocking, then added a couple of kiddy granola bars he found in the pantry in case Carson got hungry while they were out.

  “Hey, Carson, let’s take a drive out to Uncle Mac’s place.” Grant was hoping there’d be some sign of his youngest brother at his cabin. It wouldn’t hurt Carson to catch a combat nap in the car. The kid was exhausted.

  At the foot of the steps, he called for his sister. She’d changed into jeans and boots but still wore the cashmere sweater. Her face was bare, the makeup washed away, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed. Casual and clean-faced, she looked ten years younger and more like the girl he’d grown up with than a corporate attorney.

  “Let’s take a ride out to Mac’s place.”

  “You still haven’t heard from him?” She frowned.

  “No.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” But she didn’t sound convinced. “You don’t think he found out about Lee and Kate and—”