Читать книгу Lawman's Perfect Surrender - Jennifer Morey - Страница 8

After talking to the fire chief about final plans for this week’s Fourth of July celebration, Ford McCall tucked his cell phone into its holster and looked with dread toward the front doors of Samuel Grayson’s lavish three-story community center. Marble-trimmed, tinted windows and swooping gardens full of color accented the stone monolith. This was Inspiration Central at its finest, cloaked in danger and deception. The whole town was infected with its cultish poison.

Ford sighed and ran his fingers through his windblown blond hair, annoyed that he had to deal with another woman who’d caught Grayson’s fancy. The Chief of Police had assigned him to question a “very special lady.” She was special, all right. Grayson always took an interest in anything that put a ripple in his perfect town, and he used the police chief to take care of the problem. Gemma Johnson had moved here after divorcing her ex-husband, Jed, who hadn’t taken her leaving well and found and beat her. Now she was scared and vulnerable.

She must be vulnerable. Otherwise, Ford would not have found her here, attending one of Grayson’s early-evening, soul-perfecting seminars.

With the summer sun low in a clear blue sky, the doors to the Cold Plains Community Center opened and a throng began to emerge. He spotted her almost immediately. She wore white cropped pants with a dark blue-and-white sleeveless blouse. All he’d seen of her was a picture, but it was enough. She walked slowly beside the taller Lacy Matthews, the owner of the posh and trendy Cold Plains Coffee.

The two must have struck up a friendship, thanks to the seminars. Another bad sign for the newcomer. Lacy was well on her way to no return. Ford wouldn’t be at all surprised if she already had a D for Devotee tattooed on her hip. Grayson liked to brand his truest followers that way. If Gemma wasn’t careful, she’d be drawn into his secret tattoo parlor just like the others.

As the women drew closer, Ford couldn’t help noticing Gemma in a very different light from the one that brought him here. Small-boned, almost fragile, she had a tiny waist, slender hips and breasts a little larger than a handful. Lean and sexy. Though her lower lip and nose were still swollen and the cuts and bruises on her face were still clearly visible, he could see she was a beautiful woman. Silky dark hair waved gently as she moved and she had the softest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

Putting a stop to his wandering fascination, he circled back to his purpose here. His job was to question her about her ex-husband and then find and arrest him, not ask her out on a date.

The first of the attendees to leave the building passed. Some greeted him warmly, others looked over in suspicion. Why was Police Deputy Ford McCall dressed in uniform and standing beside his flashy, department-issued Escalade, in front of Samuel Grayson’s community center? Was he waiting? Who was he waiting for? Ford found it ironic that no one batted an eye over the higher-ranking officers driving such pricey vehicles. This was Cold Plains, the city where beauty and prosperity thrived. It was only natural that city officials suited the culture while they worked to keep the town safe. If the Chief of Police, Bo Fargo, wanted to spend that kind of money, who was Ford to complain? He was more concerned with the unsolved murders and mysteriously disappearing residents, all occurring in the time frame Samuel Grayson had been here.

“Ms. Johnson?” he called when Lacy and Gemma were about to pass.

Gemma stopped, and so did Lacy.

The seminar attendees who’d heard him paused with curiosity. An older woman ornamented with diamonds smiled her approval. The police are doing their job, he could almost hear her thinking. Gemma had obviously been accosted, therefore, justice needed to be done. Someone had to purge the town of the thug who’d done it. Clean out the trash, as it were. Grayson would love that. But his reasons were different than Ford’s. Much different.

“Gemma Johnson?” he said to the woman’s stunned face.

Stepping closer, he saw that he towered over her small frame as she gazed up at him with those lovely, uncertain, flighty eyes.

“Deputy McCall, Cold Plains Police. I’d like to talk to you about Jed Johnson. Is now a good time?”

After blanching slightly, she stammered, “O-oh … I—I … of course.”

Ford turned to Lacy. “Ms. Matthews.”

Lacy bowed her head congenially. “Deputy McCall.” Then she turned to Gemma. “Stop by Cold Plains Coffee tomorrow morning. I’ll make you a vanilla latte and we can talk more.”

Gemma’s smile was big, tripping Ford up with its dazzling warmth. “I’d love that.”

She’d fallen so easily into Lacy’s magnetic personality. Or was it the smile itself that had grabbed him? Yes. It was the smile. Beautiful. Guileless. Full of innocent delight. Wide, white and toothy. It lit up her face and wiped away all the vulnerability and fear.

Lacy walked away.

Given Ford’s suspicion of Lacy’s affiliation with Grayson, he didn’t trust Gemma’s friendship with her. Lacy had her priorities, and they centered around Grayson.

That smile transfixed him all over again, now softening as she regarded him. The way it made him feel reminded him too much of the past, back when initial sparks led to heartache. He briefly glanced away, only to catch another seminar attendee eyeing them speculatively.

“Would you like to go somewhere to talk?” he asked her.

“Oh …” She glanced across the street to a brick diner with a bright green sign that said Fleur de Sel’s. It was immaculately clean and modern.

“All right. Yes.”

He offered his arm to her and she looped hers through it, leaning a little of her weight against him. She’d be sore for a while but she’d recover. He helped her across the street and they entered the French diner beneath several curious gazes. It was getting late in the evening so there were a few tables open. Unfortunately, most of the patrons had come from the community center.

After Ford asked for a booth along the front windows, the hostess led them there. He wanted something relatively private. Sitting across from Gemma, he pulled out a pen and a little notebook.

“Have you ever been here before?” she asked.

Realizing she was referring to the restaurant, he answered, “No.”

“It’s very good. I like to find the best, and this is definitely one of those.”

He didn’t really care about that. But he suspected she was only nervous. “Why don’t we start with what happened?” She’d have to face it sometime.

Her eyes lowered to the table. “How did you find out? I didn’t call the cops.”

A waitress appeared, interrupting them.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No. Lacy and I had dinner before the seminar.” She looked up at the waitress. “Just water for me.” And then to Ford she said, “They do have a chocolate croissant here that stands apart from all others. You should try it for breakfast some time. It’s really good. The best.”

“Everything is in this town,” he quipped, only half kidding, then to the waitress, “Just black coffee for me.”

The tall and slender, beautifully groomed woman in a green apron embroidered with a Fleur de Sel logo snapped her order book shut and turned away.

Gemma’s nervousness eased and she smiled at his sarcasm. He grinned back at her and offered no explanation.

Relaxing even more, she settled back against the bench seat and studied him as though trying to figure him out on her own. Her gaze fell down over his chest, spending more time on his badge before rising again. Her light brown eyes sparkled with health and vitality, and the same fascination that had overcome him. None of the frailty he’d sensed when he’d first announced he wanted to talk to her about Jed remained. The change in her was magnificent. And she was so beautiful he couldn’t stop staring at her. The more he stared, the more he wanted to make Jed pay for marking her with cuts and bruises.

Suddenly aware of the heat that had risen out of nowhere, he reeled it in. The quicksilver reaction came without welcome. She’d struck him right away, at first sight. That was unusual. When a woman caught his eye, he normally had time to assimilate whether he wanted to pursue her. With Gemma, it slam-dunked him, thrust him right in the middle of an unexpected attraction.

Not understanding why she did that to him, he tapped his pen on the notebook. “The Chief of Police told me to come get your statement.”

As he’d hoped, her demeanor cooled.

“That’s how I know your ex-husband came after you,” he answered her previous question. He didn’t tell her that Doctor Rafe Black had also spoken to him, voicing his concern over Grayson’s interest in her after he’d treated her at the hospital.

“Ah.” She nodded and averted her gaze.

“Would you mind telling me exactly what happened?”

She glanced at him and then down at the table again, the vulnerability he’d noticed before returning. He could understand how this would be hard for her.

“Did he break into your home?” he helped her out.

She lifted her eyes. “No. I—I left the back door open. I know I should have locked all my doors, but I’d been feeling so safe here. He walked right in.”

Lots of people felt safe and secure here … at first. He could tell she felt like a fool for that and hoped it had shown her not to trust her impression of Cold Plains as an idyllic town. It was, but not with Samuel Grayson in it.

“You were surprised to see him?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded a few times. “He was really angry. He sent me a few emails before coming to find me. I ignored them all, of course. He wanted to reconcile and I wasn’t about to do that. The divorce was already final and I’ve moved on. When he came here, he kept asking me if I thought I could just walk away from him. I told him to leave or I’d call the police and then he … that’s when he attacked me. He hit me and kicked me until I thought I was going to die. He broke my Tiffany lamp when he threw it at me and it hit the wall. I loved that lamp.” She pouted.

She sounded more upset over the lamp than being attacked. Did she favor material things or was the lamp something special to her? “You fought him off?”

“No. I mean, yes, I fought him, but he stopped beating me and said he’d be back and I could either go with him or he’d kill me. It’s like he was giving me time to think about it.” She shook her head incredulously. “I thought he was going to kill me then, but he only wanted to warn me.”

Ford finished jotting down some notes. “So he said he’d be back for you. Did he say when?”

“No.” She took a deep breath and looked away.

“Do you have any pictures of him?”

“No. I burned them all.”

“I should be able to come up with something. Can you describe him for me?”

“He’s tall.” She surveyed him. “Not as tall as you. He might be as big but he’s not as … fit.”

Every man probably seemed big to her, as tiny as she was.

“Dark hair. Hazel eyes.” She shuddered.

Clearly she didn’t like his eyes. They probably scared her.

“He wore jeans and one of his Armani Collezioni dress shirts. It was dark blue. He always spent a lot of money on his clothes. He hoarded his money for them, even though he had plenty for both of us to shop like that. He was furious if I ever spent money on anything other than clothes I needed to be seen with him in public. He made me go to consignment stores, where I’d find used brand names. He kept me from seeing my friends and never let me out of his sight except when he went to work, and even then he checked on me constantly to make sure I didn’t go anywhere. It’s a miracle he didn’t feed me dog food.”

Ford had to stifle a chuckle. The tone of her voice told him how much she hadn’t liked the way her ex-husband had treated her, but she was able to inject some humor into it. Jed had lavished himself with luxurious items and forced her to cut corners. Was that why material things were important to her? No one was going to stop her from doing what she wanted now? From spending money the way she wanted to? He liked the hint of rebellion in her. Innocent rebellion. She could have decided to run a key down the side of her ex’s car, but instead she treated herself to shopping sprees. Bo had told him she’d come to town with money, her ex-husband’s money. Her money now.

The waitress returned with the coffee and water. He put down his pen to sip, seeing Gemma do the same.

“Bo said Jed followed you here.”

She lowered her glass and answered solemnly, “Yes.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Casper, Wyoming.” She provided an address, putting her elbows on the table.

“How long were you married?”

“Not long. Three years.”

“Did he beat you before this incident?”

“Yes. It started around the first year of our marriage. By the end of that last year it got really bad. At first he didn’t get physical very often and he always apologized. I think he genuinely was sorry and just couldn’t help himself, you know? It gradually got worse.” She shook her head in disgust and slipped her hands down to her lap. “This time was worse than ever, though. I had never required a doctor until now.”

“How did he find you? Did you tell him where you were going?”

“No. No way. I don’t know … he probably found out through my old job.” She rubbed her hands on her pants, which fitted her body perfectly, he recalled.

“We’ll get a restraining order going, and I’ll arrange for some scheduled patrols to watch your house.”

Smiling her appreciation, she stopped nervously rubbing her pants. Her smile derailed his train of thought again.

“Samuel said you would,” she said, snapping him out of his trance.

“Really? He said I would?”

“No, I mean he said the police would.”

The fondness in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. “How did he find out?”

“I don’t know. He came to the hospital to see how I was doing. He was very nice.”

That’s what he wanted everyone to believe. But Grayson was anything but nice.

Ford was onto Grayson and his cult. Only the FBI team sent to investigate him knew how much attention he was giving to five murders and the mysterious disappearances of people who once lived here. They’d all occurred after Grayson had arrived. He was very good at escaping incrimination. He had a network of henchmen and followers and never left any trails. In order for Bo to protect Samuel, he needed Ford, a figure of law-abiding goodness in the department.

Ford would let him keep thinking he could use him like that. So far it had worked in his favor. He wouldn’t tell Gemma anything she could reveal to either Bo or Samuel that would jeopardize that. But there was one thing he meant to find out from her.

Taking the bill from the waitress, he gave it back to her with his debit card.

“Are you close to Samuel Grayson?” he asked Gemma.

“I wouldn’t say close. He’s shown me a lot of kindness and I love what he does for this town. And for me.”

“What has he done for you?”

Taking a moment to think, she finally said, “Made me feel stronger. And safe.” Her fond expression warmed even more. “He sent me you.”

Ford withheld a sarcastic remark. Samuel ran the town, and as long as no one crossed him no one disappeared. There was nothing to love about him or his motives. He was good at fooling people. Especially newcomers. And vulnerable women like Gemma.

“You attend his seminars on a regular basis?” he asked.

Once again, her megawatt smile threw him off balance. “Oh, yes! They’re so wonderful. Samuel is such a great speaker. He’s helped me heal after all I’ve gone through. I don’t know what I would have done without him, without the seminars. They’re exactly what I need right now.”

He smiled back, wishing she was praising anything other than Grayson and those mind-warping seminars.

“Samuel is an incredible man. He’s a visionary. Inspirational, and … a real beacon of hope.”

Ford could believe that, given her history of abuse. Any kind of encouragement would soak into her like water into a paper towel.

“Have you gone to any of them?” she asked, still dreamy-eyed.

He couldn’t stop a cynical chuckle. The idea of going to any of the sessions was comical. “No.”

At the sound of his bold voice, she angled her head and a coy look entered her eyes. “Would it threaten your manhood?”

“No.” He shook his head. Not even close.

“Then why don’t you go?”

“I don’t need them,” he answered simply.

His reply only seemed to feed her coyness, which he was reluctant to call infatuation. “You’re already the best man you can be?”

“If that’s the way you want to look at it, yes.”

“I like a man who’s sure of himself.”

He liked a woman who smiled the way she did. He looked at her straight white teeth and the light of happiness sparkling in her beautiful eyes. After all she’d been through, she still had a sunny side. And a strong side, too. He doubted those seminars had anything to do with that. It was natural, something that had already been there, had been awakened with a little encouragement. She met his gaze and they fell into a long stare that he began to feel too much.

The waitress returned with his card and receipt and he was glad to add the tip and be done with this.

Standing, he tucked the pen and notebook into his shirt pocket. “That’s enough for now. I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” She seemed awkward now, as if she’d noticed the change in him.

She led him out the front door and he helped her to her car in the community-center parking lot.

“Are you okay to drive?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. I’m better now, other than a few cuts and bruises.”

He nodded once and handed her his business card. “Just in case.”

She smiled, but not as brightly as before, and took the card. “Thanks.” He wondered if she was disappointed because she thought he wasn’t interested. He was, and that was the problem. Not only was he on duty, falling in love wasn’t his thing. Not that he’d fall in love with Gemma. He didn’t even welcome the possibility to present itself. Maybe when he was older … years from now. One round of that was enough to keep him casual for a while, and Gemma didn’t strike him as the casual type.

As he watched her drive away, he noticed a boy sitting on a motorcycle who looked familiar. He was parked in a space that was partially concealed by a tree and shrubs and seemed to be watching the entrance to the center. Tall and lean, he wore a helmet that hid shaggy black hair and a Ryan Gosling face.

Ford followed his look and saw Grayson emerge with a couple in their early fifties. Mr. and Mrs. Monroe. Two of Grayson’s Devotees? Curtis Monroe seemed to be. His wife appeared rather bored.

Looking back at the boy, he finally placed him. Dillon was the couple’s teenaged son. The boy spotted him and started the motorcycle, glancing once more at his parents before motoring away. Why had he been watching the community center?

Ford turned back to Grayson, who waved as the couple headed for the parking lot. Then Grayson saw Ford and waved again in greeting.

Ford saluted him, turning toward his Escalade. Some day the man would be behind bars. And he was going to do everything he could to help put him there.

He probably thought she was stupid. You’re already the best man you can be? Had she actually said that? Gemma stopped her brand-new red Charger in her gravel driveway where a cement path led to the front door of her house.

She had no plans to find a boyfriend. Yet, meeting Ford had her flirting without reservation. It had come naturally. She hadn’t even thought to hold back the impulse. Impulse had led her to marry Jed and look where that had gotten her. She had to learn to use her head with men. Jed had shown her that not every man could be trusted.

Maybe Ford made her feel safe and that’s why she’d lost her head. He was a cop. A handsome cop. Seeing him standing outside the community center in front of his big black Escalade had given her the impression of ominous power. He hadn’t disappointed close up, either. His blue eyes had riveted her. His wind-tousled blond hair made her imagine running her fingers through the thick, healthy strands. His height and muscular build only added to his general aura of indomitable strength and resolve. Sureness built from experience. And then there was the uniform. Something about it fascinated her. He was a lawman. A representation of everything Jed wasn’t.

Ford’s effect on her still lingered, warm and mysterious. Jed had made her feel things, too. Things that had turned out to be false. Just because Ford was a cop didn’t mean she could throw her heart at him and trust him to take care of it. She had to stop jumping into relationships that way. Heart first.

Getting out of her car and pressing the lock button on her fob, she walked toward the front door of the old house she’d bought. She glanced around to make sure Jed didn’t pop out of the fading light. The sun had sunk beyond the horizon but the sky still held a blue hue, casting her house in shadows. Two stories with gabled windows and a covered porch, it was painted a dark steel blue with off-white trim and had a maroon door. White daisies flourished along the front. Their glowing white pedals were eerie in the dimming light.

She stepped up the stairs and used her key to unlock the door, glancing around again. When she stepped inside, freshly treated dark wood floors, white trim and neutrally colored walls would normally welcome her. Instead she looked for signs of Jed. Pausing to lock the door, she listened for any sounds. Silence. Nothing had changed since she’d left. Everything was as it had been.

She turned and passed an open stairway on her way to the kitchen, flipping on a light to chase the shadows away. Still, she couldn’t shake the apprehension warning her that Jed might reappear. She’d had a bad feeling when he’d started sending her emails. It was as if he was stalking her. She’d shown the emails to Lacy, who’d been concerned and that had made Gemma worry more. He hadn’t threatened her in them, only pleaded with her to come home. Creepy. And then he’d shown up in Cold Plains, exactly what she’d feared.

She wondered if Lacy had been the one to tell Samuel about her attack. Lacy had been the first person she’d called. Since she’d moved here, they’d grown close. Gemma met her at the coffee shop and she’d invited her to a seminar. They’d struck up an instant friendship.

After opening the refrigerator, Gemma shut it again, no longer craving iced tea. She was too unsettled, unable to quell the feeling of lurking danger. Her gaze travelled over the soft green cabinets to the colorful window dressings above the darkened window.

She tried to redirect her focus, turning it toward the house she loved so much. All the furniture and appliances were the best money could buy, thanks to a long-building savings account she’d kept secret, and the sizable chunk of money she’d taken from Jed. It wasn’t all his money anyway. They’d been married and he’d lost that part of the court proceedings. The judge had given her even more than she’d asked for. Half of everything, and everything was a lot. His parents had left him a fortune before alcoholism killed them in their fifties. She figured Jed owed her anyway, after the way he’d abused her and hoarded their money. He was an animal disguised as a successful orthopedic doctor. He probably enjoyed setting broken bones for the pain it caused his patients.

Lifting her hand, she felt the sore skin around her temple where his fist had split it open. Then she glided it down to her swollen nose and mouth where a cut still stung. She still hurt deep inside her torso but those bruises were healing now. Her leg muscles were sore from trying to kick him or fight free of him. Her shoulders. Her whole body was sore from the violent struggle.

When I come back, you better be ready, he’d hissed in that evil voice she’d learned to dread. Full of warped love. You’ll either come back home with me, or I’ll kill you, Gemma.

Just before letting her battered body drop to the floor of this very room, he’d added, You’re my wife.

She wasn’t. Not anymore. He was just crazy. Pure crazy. Didn’t he remember the divorce? He’d been furious with the outcome, with how much the judge had given her of his money. Let her take it. Steal it, as he’d said. Maybe that was enough to make him snap. He’d snapped long before that, but he’d never threatened to kill her before. It didn’t matter. She believed him now.

Sighing, she looked around her beautiful kitchen, small but quaint with tiled countertops sparsely adorned with glass canisters and a basket of red apples. The single white-trimmed back door led to a courtyard-like backyard, bursting with wildflowers, and a terraced vegetable garden. She wished he hadn’t attacked her here. He’d poisoned her fresh start. Her new life in a safe town. He’d shaken her security and she hated him for that. She hated herself more for allowing it to happen.

Her mother would say, “I told you so,” speaking from experience. She hadn’t done any better with her own husband. Mom had always dreamed of finding that special someone who’d take care of her. Take care of everything, including her own thinking. Except she’d missed the part where she had to choose the right man. And now it looked as if she’d passed that lack of talent onto her girls. Gemma had most certainly chosen badly. Her sister, Gillian, didn’t appear to want to settle down yet. She was too busy sleeping with every man who’d have her. No good choice in any of them, either.

All Gemma had ever wanted was to find her way. Being raised by a mother who’d struggled to support the three of them had set her back. Not because of the lack of money, because her mother was incapable of taking charge of her own life. Gemma had spent too much time growing up without guidance. She’d needed guidance. It hadn’t been until she’d arrived in Cold Plains and met Samuel Grayson that she’d realized that. She was handicapped. But not anymore. Now she had the guidance she so desperately needed. With it, she’d find herself and she’d grow in the right direction and succeed. She’d be whole for the first time in her life.

It was exhilarating. Just knowing she had the power to overcome. Having the affirmation. The support. Her soul was starved for it. Living here gave her a glimmer of real happiness and the hope to prosper. No way was she giving that up. Somehow she’d have to deal with Jed. She’d have to face him, on his terms if necessary. With violence. Somehow she’d find the courage. Right now, though, she had her doubts. His timing couldn’t be worse. She was still weak. He’d made her that way. And he meant to keep her that way.

A sound at the front door sent her heart into a frantic rhythm. Someone had just tried the knob. Was Jed back already? He hadn’t said how long he’d give her. The sun had set now and it was dark in her living room.

Walking softly to the kitchen drawer, Gemma slid it open and lifted a butcher knife. Next, she went to the table where she’d left her purse and began digging for her cell phone and the card Ford had given her. Clutching both, she went to the front window and peeked around the edge of the swooping deep blue drapes to look through the open wood blinds. She couldn’t see very far through the darkness and she hadn’t yet turned on her exterior lights.

Her heart throbbed, fear tightening her throat and drying her mouth. What should she do? Had she imagined the sound? No. Someone had tried to open the door. Jed. She’d left it open for him before. Maybe he thought he’d get lucky again.

Going to the front door, she flipped the light switch beside it and peered through the peephole. Nothing. Just as she began to relax, breaking glass from the kitchen made her jump and turn. Jed stood on the other side of her back door, his arm reaching inside to unlock the door.

Screaming, she faced the door again and tried to release the lock. The knife and the phone made it difficult. She couldn’t put them down. She had to call for help. But how would she do that? She wouldn’t have time. With a frantic glance behind her, she saw Jed storming into her kitchen, deep-set, light gray eyes full of evil. He was almost six feet tall and well-muscled without being stocky. A terrifying sight.

The knife fell to the floor as she released the lock. She yanked open the door just as Jed reached her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. She lost her balance and fell against one of her wingback chairs, dropping the phone. It bounced to a standstill under the antique coffee table.

Jed slammed the front door shut, a crazy man full of hatred. “Are you packed?”

Gemma debated trying to go for the phone. The knife was too far away, and too close to Jed’s advancing feet.

“I asked you a question!”

She scrambled around the chair and backward toward the table. “Stay away from me!”

He kept coming toward her, long slow strides full of murderous intent.

Reaching for the phone, she grabbed it and pressed 911. Jed kicked her wrist before she could press Send, and the phone sailed across the room.

Crying out in pain, she rolled out of the way of a second blow and stumbled to her feet. The knife.

It was near the door, on the other side of Jed. She’d have to get past him. Shoving the heavy chair in front of her, she leapt around it, grabbing the painting of an old barn surrounded by a field of wildflowers off the wall on her way. As Jed moved to intercept her, she swung the painting. The thick frame hit him. He blocked any damage it might have done with his arm, but it was enough to knock him off balance. She was able to get past him and ran to the door, stooping to pick up the knife and yanking the door open.

Jed grabbed her around the waist. She stabbed his arm with the knife. He growled in agony and released her. She ran through the door and jumped over the steps of her porch to land on the walkway. She ran across her lawn toward her neighbor’s house.

“Help!” she screamed. “Help me!”

She kept screaming and screaming, hoping someone would hear her, hoping Jed would leave.

Across the street, an old woman opened the door. Martha. That was her name. She lived there with her granddaughter. Gemma talked to her every once in a while. She and her granddaughter didn’t share much of their lives with anyone. They kept to themselves.

Martha moved out of the way as Gemma ran up the stairs of her porch and bolted through the entrance, scurrying to slam the door shut.

“Great goats! Are you all right?” Martha asked breathlessly, shaking with alarm.

“Call the police!”