Читать книгу Betrayed Birthright - Liz Shoaf - Страница 11

TWO

Abby studied Sheriff Galloway. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. The break-in had done a number on her. She’d really believed she’d left whoever was trying to harm her behind in North Carolina. She could still hardly believe anyone hated her enough to try to run her down with a car or break into her house.

But what could a small-town Texas sheriff do that the authorities in North Carolina hadn’t been able to accomplish? Remnants of a newspaper article floated through her mind, and then it hit her. “You’re that famous FBI guy from New York.” Her heart beat faster. “You rooted out those mafia guys trying to kill the mayor and saved his life. It was all over the news.”

Sheriff Galloway surely stood over six feet and sported short, dark hair. He was a handsome man, in a rugged sort of way, but when those electric-blue eyes focused intently on her, memories of the newscasts filtered through her mind.

“I’m sorry about your wife.” It had been reported that his wife passed away, but at least he still had his son. She had lost her precious unborn baby boy after receiving news of her husband’s death several years earlier.

He glanced down at his notebook. “Thank you.”

For the first time since the whole mess started, Abby felt a stirring of hope. “Do you think you can find out who’s doing this to me?”

He raised his head. A steely glint filled his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

Abby sensed a fierce determination. Once he’d picked up the trail of an enemy, he would never stop. He seemed trustworthy, but she wouldn’t care to be on the bad side of this particular lawman. His hunting instincts shone bright from his eyes. She privately pegged him as a good predator hunting very dangerous parasites.

“One more question.”

“Yes?”

“Are there any irate husbands or boyfriends in the picture I need to know about?”

Sadness engulfed her as she thought of John, her dear sweet husband, gone on to be with the Lord. “No. My husband died three years ago and I haven’t dated since.”

“Any problems with the in-laws?”

“No. They’re nice people, but I’m sad to say we kind of drifted apart after John’s death.”

“Ma’am—”

“Please, call me Abby.”

“Abby. Is there anyone you can call to come stay with you for what’s left of the night?”

She shook her head. “There are people at the church I attend who would be more than willing to come, but I’ll never be able to go back to sleep, and I have Bates. He’ll alert me if anyone comes back.” She pointed at her Glock where he’d laid it on a side table. “I know how to use that, and I won’t hesitate if someone comes after me.”

The right side of his mouth kicked up in a slight grin.

“I don’t doubt that at all.”

Heat warmed her face. “When I was younger, my grandmother taught me to shoot. She was of the opinion that any self-respecting Southern lady should know how to handle a gun. I practice every once in a while to keep my aim good.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but I can’t leave you alone until the broken windowpane is fixed and the house is secure.”

He was going to stay here? Abby needed time to assimilate everything that had happened and calm down. She needed some time to herself.

“That’s not necessary, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll wait outside in the squad car until the hardware store opens. I’ll make sure someone comes out first thing to fix the glass.”

Abby felt bad, thinking of him sitting outside alone in his car, but not enough to ask him to stay inside with her until the sun came up.

She accompanied him to the front door and turned the dead bolt after he left. Rushing to the living room window, which fronted the house, she watched as he conferred with his deputy, who’d been waiting by his car. After a few minutes, the deputy drove away and the sheriff settled inside his car, hunkered down for what was left of the night.

The house quieted and loneliness shrouded her. After a few minutes, she turned toward the kitchen. A strong cup of coffee would lift her spirits.

Crossing the threshold of the warm, homey room, she glanced out the window over the kitchen sink, stared at the cruiser and thought about Sheriff Galloway staying there to protect her. She got a warm, fuzzy feeling until she glanced up and to the left, and spotted something that shouldn’t be there. Her smile disappeared and fear sank its vicious teeth into her belly, worked its way to her throat—almost strangling her with its intensity.

* * *

Even with the town’s limited resources, Noah refused to leave Ms. Mayfield with no protection. He’d handle it off the clock. He lowered the car window and called Peggy Sue. After checking that everything was safe on the home front and confirming his dispatcher could stay the rest of the night with Dylan, Noah stiffened when he spotted Ms. Mayfield running out the front door, waving both hands in his direction.

He left the car door open as he burst out of the vehicle, his Smith & Wesson M&P9 9 mm pistol in hand. The gun felt comfortable, an extension of his arm. He met her at the end of the sidewalk.

“What’s wrong?”

The blood had drained from her face, but she took a deep breath and composed herself. He was impressed. She had a lot of courage packed into her small frame.

“There’s something inside that shouldn’t be there.”

Before addressing her concern, he followed procedure. “Are you sure no one is in the house?”

She began to speak, but stopped, her expression uncertain.

Noah glanced at the dog. He was glued to Abby’s side. “Let me clear the house and then you can show me what you found.”

She gave a brisk nod.

It didn’t take long to check the house and Noah went back outside. “Let’s go in.”

She followed him into the kitchen, took a deep breath and pointed at a cabinet built into the wall above the counter. “That’s a picture of my mom and dad, but I’ve never seen it before.”

Noah grabbed a paper towel, opened the glass-fronted cabinet door and removed the picture, placing it on the kitchen island in the center of the room. He studied the photograph. Her parents were standing on a beach with nothing but ocean behind them, no identifying landmarks to be found. He focused on the couple. Abby’s father was a handsome man, her mother pretty and petite, same as her daughter. A smiling child was held in the father’s arms. All wore big smiles. Life looked perfect.

“Are you sure you’ve never seen this before?”

She rubbed her arms. “I’m positive. I’ve never seen the photograph or the frame. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of my parents, but none of them were taken on a beach.”

The phone on the wall awoke with a high shrill and Abby jumped. Noah held his hand up when she took a step forward. “Let me answer it.”

She nodded.

“Sheriff Galloway.”

A moment of silence filled the phone line before a strong voice almost shattered his eardrum. “What’s a sheriff doing at my granddaughter’s house at five thirty in the morning?” The woman didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I woke up a little while ago and felt the urge to start praying. You listen, and you listen good. I want to speak to Abby this minute.”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Noah would have grinned at the older woman’s audacity. Abby crossed the room and Noah was glad to see her eyes shining with laughter instead of concern.

“Sorry about that. It’s my grandmother. I heard her clear across the room.”

Noah handed Abby the phone and she started talking. “Grammy? No, ma’am, everything is fine. There’s been a break-in, but Sheriff Galloway is here. I’ll explain everything in the morning...Yes, Baby Bates did his job well and I have my pistol. I keep it on the nightstand right beside the bed.” She sighed. “Yes, I do believe it’s connected to what happened in North Carolina. I’ll call you tomorrow after we know more, but, Grammy, please be careful.”

Noah’s ears pricked when Abby turned away from him and lowered her voice. “Grammy! That’s not important. Fine, yes, he’s good-looking. Now, go back to bed and stop worrying. Everything is fine.”

Noah cleared his throat, buried his grin and busied himself by looking at the photo again as she hung up the phone. She swung around and her face had turned that sweet shade of pink he was coming to adore.

“That was my grandmother.”

They both knew he was already aware of that and the pink turned a shade darker.

Noah briefly wondered what it would be like to have a grandparent who loved you enough to call at five thirty in the morning to check on you. His grandfather loved him, but the crusty old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call cuddly. He almost grinned at the thought, but cleared his throat instead.

“I’ll have Deputy Cooper dust the picture frame and the break-in area for prints tomorrow.”

Bates moved into position beside Abby. Noah had always wished to be a K-9 handler, but his position in the FBI hadn’t warranted it. He’d heard a lot about the Belgian Malinois breed. Alert, ready for action and easy to train.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll stay the rest of the night in the squad car and keep watch.”

She nodded, but then stopped. “I won’t be able to sleep. Why don’t I get dressed and make us some breakfast?”

Her offer was better than sitting in the patrol car. “Sounds good.”

* * *

Abby beat a hasty retreat upstairs. She had been more shaken than she had let on. Deep down, the terror still reigned. She couldn’t believe this mess had followed her all the way to Texas. She wanted her grandmother, but wouldn’t dare move Grammy here until the situation was resolved.

She pulled pants and a sweater from an antique wooden wardrobe, shed her pajamas and dressed. In the bathroom, she glanced in the mirror and groaned. “My hair looks like a rat’s nest.” Not that it mattered under the circumstances, but Sheriff Galloway was a sharp-looking man. She smiled, thinking about her grandmother’s antics. The older woman was forever nudging Abby back into the dating game.

She brushed her teeth and tamed her hair before hurrying back downstairs, only to realize Bates wasn’t dogging her heels. Stepping into the kitchen, she saw why. Noah had started the coffee and was rooting around in the refrigerator with Bates glued to his side. The dog was definitely food driven, just like the trainer had said.

“You’ve stolen my baby boy’s affection.”

Noah jumped and hit his head on the rack above him. Abby rushed forward. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Noah glared at Bates. “Some guard dog you are.”

Laughter bubbled up and it felt good. “He does love his food. The trainer told me to keep him on a strict diet, but I slip him a few goodies now and then.”

Rubbing his head, Noah straightened and froze when he looked at her.

Her hand reached for her hair. “What? Is my hair sticking out?”

The right side of his mouth kicked up and her heart pattered.

“No, it’s just... Never mind.”

An awkward silence filled the room and Abby practically ran to the refrigerator. “We can have eggs, toast and coffee if that’s okay.”

He nodded and took a seat on one of the bar stools.

“How do you like your eggs?”

“I’m not picky. Whatever is easy.”

Eventually an easy camaraderie filled the room while she cooked their simple meal. She remembered spending many mornings similar to this one with John. The memory filled her with mixed emotions.

Loading the food on the plates, she placed them on the kitchen island counter, took a seat across from him and bent her head to pray. “Lord, bless this food we’re about to eat. Keep us safe and help us solve the mystery surrounding me. Amen.”

“Amen.” Noah picked up his fork and began eating. “We’ll start by making a list of possible suspects.”

Abby chewed and swallowed. “But there are no suspects. That’s what I keep telling everyone. And I have students coming for piano lessons today.”

“We’ll work around that.”

A terrible thought crossed her mind. “Are my students safe coming here after what happened?”

His jaw turned to granite and those electric-blue eyes hardened. “We’ll keep you and your students safe, Ms. Mayfield.”

Warmth and a sense of well-being filled her. She believed him. “Thank you, and please call me Abby.”

They finished eating their meal in silence. Abby glanced at the photograph still sitting on the opposite end of the kitchen island. Her hand, holding a forkful of scrambled eggs, froze halfway to her mouth.

Noah straightened in his chair and his gaze sharpened. “What is it?”

She didn’t want the photo anywhere near her, but she had to be sure. Laying her fork aside, she stood and slowly walked around the island. Chills snaked up her spine as she leaned over and studied the picture of the happy couple holding a laughing child.

Almost a living thing, dread crept into the very core of her being. “The child in the picture? It isn’t me.”