Читать книгу No Ordinary Hero - Rachel Lee - Страница 8

Del loved Saturday mornings because she put aside her work and devoted her full attention to Colleen. Yes, they usually had errands to run, things like grocery shopping, but it was still time spent together without the intervention of work or school. Sometimes, like today, they even took in a matinee at the movies.

Today they had gone to see a silly animated film that had made them laugh heartily, and then afterward she had dropped Colleen at Mary Jo’s for the night.

Sunday was always a day off, too, for her at least, but there was church in the morning, and the inevitable socializing that went with it after the service, and then Colleen usually spent the afternoon on schoolwork. Often, by then, Del felt tired enough to need a nap.

So Saturdays were a special time for them both: no school, no work, no therapists.

This Saturday, however, as she drove home from dropping Colleen at Mary Jo’s, Del realized she felt reluctant to go home. She tried to tell herself not to be ridiculous, that these brief times to herself without work should be prized, and that she deserved the break as much as Colleen deserved to have fun with her friends at a sleepover.

But a weird kind of edginess troubled her anyway in the waning afternoon light. She couldn’t put her finger on the source, and she finally decided that she must have forgotten to do something and would remember it later.

As she turned into her driveway and stopped the car, she looked up at the house and felt a totally inexplicable impulse to just drive away.

Now that was crazy! Had Colleen’s talk of noises gotten to her?

She made herself climb out of the car, but still she hesitated. Not very long, thank goodness, because she heard another vehicle and turned to see Mike Windwalker pulling up next door. She waved, trying to smile in a friendly fashion, and he nodded to her as he braked then switched off his truck.

The usual thing would be for her to continue into her house. She’d greeted him, so she didn’t have to remain outside. But something pushed her across the ragged, patchy lawn toward him.

He climbed out of his vehicle, wearing a dark blue chambray shirt and jeans, not very different from what she wore, and she thought that an instant of surprise passed over his strong features. If so, it vanished quickly.

“Hi,” he said as she approached.

She heard an odd note of caution in his tone, couldn’t figure it out, but it didn’t matter anyway because she was already committed. She’d started closing the distance between them and now couldn’t simply turn away.

“Hi,” she said. Now what? She couldn’t exactly tell him that for some reason she didn’t want to go into her house. Then she remembered the kitten question. “Can I ask you something? If you’d rather I make an appointment, I’ll understand.” She gave an uneasy laugh. “Asking for a neighbor’s professional opinion for free is something I usually avoid.”

A slow smile dawned on his face. God, he was good-looking. “I don’t mind. You never know when I might have a professional question for you.”

She gave another laugh. “Fair enough. Colleen’s been asking for a kitten. And I got to thinking yesterday, what with the possibility of mice in the walls, that might not be a bad thing. Then I wondered if a small dog would be better.”

He leaned back against his van, folding his arms, and in the process thrust his hips forward. Oh, she didn’t want to notice those narrow hips again. She dragged her gaze back to his face.

“That depends,” he said easily. Apparently on familiar ground, he felt comfortable. She could identify with that, since she was definitely off comfortable ground herself right now. “What would be easiest for you? There are some good small dogs that would take care of mice and rats, but dogs need more attention than cats. Walks and so on. On the other hand, not every cat is a good mouser.”

“Really?” That surprised her.

“Really. It depends a lot on how the kitten is raised. Most learn to hunt from their mothers, whereas with some dogs, you’ve got a strong inbred instinct and territoriality.”

“I didn’t know that!”

“Most people don’t. If you really want a good mouser, I can check around the local ranches for a barn cat, but that’s more likely to be less a pet than a hunter.”

Del sighed. “I had no idea this could be so complicated.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “You’re not alone. Just ask yourself what you want more from a pet. If it’s something cute and cuddly that would like to spend time on Colleen’s lap, I’ll find you something good.”

“Well, she can’t walk a dog very far yet, unless it’s really well behaved. On the other hand, would a kitten hang around or take off?”

“Despite what some folks think, if you get a young kitten it can be trained to tolerate a collar, and even a leash. Not as easily with a dog, but cats are smart. When they realize they can’t win, they give up.”

Again she laughed, this time more comfortably. “So how long would that take?”

“I can probably do it for you in about a week.”

She felt surprise. “You’d do that?”

“Of course. No charge. If Colleen really wants a kitten then I’d be glad to give her one that won’t run off.”

Del bit her lip. “It’s just that I try to keep Colleen outside as much as possible when I’m making a lot of dust or using chemicals. I don’t want her to suffer any harm. And I sure wouldn’t want to bring an animal into an environment where it would have to be inside all the time with that stuff either.”

“We’re agreed then. Kitten or puppy?”

“Maybe I’m nuts, but if you think it’s okay, I’d rather give her what she wants.”

“I agree. Kitten it is. And I’ve got plenty over at the clinic. People drop them on my doorstep all the time. If you want, bring her over on Monday afternoon to pick one. Or let me work with a few for a week and find the one most amenable to a collar and leash.”

Del thought about that. “I already know she wants a calico, so maybe surprising her would be more fun than making her wait for a week or so. Do you have any calicos?”

“Just one. They’re relatively rare. But she’s certainly a friendly little one. Loves to be hugged and petted.”

“That sounds ideal then.”

“Consider it done. But since it’ll be me and one kitten mano a mano, rather than just picking the most cooperative animal, it might take a little longer to leash train it.”

Again he had made her laugh, with the mental image of him in hand-to-hand combat with a stubborn kitten. “All right, I won’t tell her.”

“Probably best, unless you like to be nagged.”

Her smile widened and she decided she liked Mike Windwalker. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“No thanks necessary. I’m always happy to find a good home for an animal.”

“Well, I’ve kept you long enough.” She started to turn away then saw her empty house waiting for her. And she stopped, unable to say why. Just that for some reason that house no longer looked as welcoming to her as it had when she bought it.

“This is ridiculous.” Unaware she had spoken out loud, she was surprised when she heard a response.

“What is?” Mike asked.

She blew a long breath, impatient with herself, and now embarrassed. She should have made up some excuse, but she’d never been much of liar. “It’s ridiculous that for some reason I don’t want to go into that house tonight.”

She was still staring at the building, but when she heard him move she looked at him. He stood straight up now, and he moved to her side, glancing at the house, too.

“I can’t say,” he said slowly, “that I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Her heart slammed. What was he saying? Was he just trying to scare her? No, he didn’t seem like the type. On the other hand, how well did she know him? “What do you mean?”

He gave a slight shake of his head, then shrugged. “Damned if I know.” Slowly his dark-as-ebony eyes came to meet hers. “Want me to come in with you? Just to look around?”

She wanted to laugh the whole thing off, as if they were just joking, but somehow she couldn’t. And as independent as she’d become since Don’s death, she was surprised that his offer didn’t put her hackles up.

Maybe because her hackles were already up over something she couldn’t even define. “I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me,” she said, trying to find a rational explanation for that lingering feeling of reluctance.

He didn’t answer, just waited for her decision.

Finally, forcing briskness into her tone, she made it. “Sure, come on in and I’ll show you around. Maybe you’ll enjoy laughing at me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I was crazy enough to take on a project this size?”

At that he chuckled but shook his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re a hard worker who isn’t intimidated by huge jobs.”

“Maybe I should have been intimidated with this one. Come on, I’ll show you what I meant about the rot in the walls.”

She thought he hesitated, but he was only a half step behind her as she led the way.

With each step she wondered what the heck was wrong with her. And why he could be so contrarily reluctant and friendly.

Walking into Del’s house in plain sight of any nosy neighbor who might be watching through sheers or around the edges of curtains might not be the smartest act on the planet, Mike thought. On the other hand, he could sense how troubled Del felt, and he couldn’t ignore that.

Just because some held on to old prejudices, it didn’t mean everyone did. Hell, didn’t this county have a couple of Native American lawmen?

But his people had been involved at Little Big Horn, something he’d had rubbed in his face for years when he was younger. Now that he was big enough to defend himself, most just plain didn’t say anything, so he might well be attributing those animosities to more folks than deserved it.

But he knew damn well the prejudices were still there, whether in most or just a handful, and he hoped Del wouldn’t suffer for what he was about to do. From what he could tell, she had quite enough problems on her plate.

Then he told himself to stop worrying about it. He was a grown-up and so was she. All that mattered was that she was nervous about entering her own house, and he’d learned early in life not to ignore those feelings. You might not be able to identify what triggered them, but ignoring them could get you into trouble.

As soon as he stepped through the front door, he looked around and remarked, “I can see why you bought this house.”

She cocked an eye his way, smiling faintly. “Why?”

He waved one arm. “Most houses from this era are shotguns, one room behind another. But this one … Look at this wide hallway. And the stairway. In most places it would be right in the living room. It seems extravagant considering the era when it was built.”

“It is.” Her eyes brightened as she smiled. “I couldn’t resist it because it’s so different, and because it’s more amenable to a modern lifestyle. When you have the shotgun floor plan, where rooms were just added straight back, it’s hard to change things enough so that you’re not walking through bedrooms. A real challenge. But this place is just perfect.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Except for all the hard work you have to do.” That much was impossible to miss. Even the railing on the staircase had been painted, as had doors and moldings. He suspected there was plenty of fine wood to be uncovered in this house. “Somebody with money built this place.”

“That’s my guess, but I really haven’t looked into the history of the house.”

“You should. There’s probably a fascinating story somewhere.”

Yet, despite the architectural grace of the place, there they stood just inside the door. Mike hesitated, looking inward, trying to sense the cause for that. He’d gone through the house with her because she felt uneasy. Because something had made him feel a bit uneasy, too, yesterday, and again today. But instead of taking that walkthrough, they both stood here as if an invisible wall held them back.

His uneasiness had grown, he realized. But just a shade. Not enough to worry him. Finally, feeling the tension in the woman beside him, he asked, “Would you just like me to walk through on my own?”

He was willing, and a bit of a street fighter out of necessity. He could handle just about anyone who didn’t have a gun. Although why the hell he should be worried about that he didn’t know.

He paused a few seconds, searching places in himself that he usually kept hidden. There was something about this house …

Del gazed at him, her blue eyes reflecting perplexity and even some embarrassment. “What’s going on?”

He got the feeling she was asking herself, not him. But he hesitated only a moment before saying, “This house feels sad.”

She nodded, surprising him. “I never noticed anything before but …” She sighed. “Okay, I’m feeling really weird. I’m not an overly imaginative person. Maybe Colleen’s complaint about noises is getting to me.”

“Could be,” he agreed smoothly, although for an instant he wanted to disagree strongly. But he’d turned himself into a man of science on purpose, and if he were to consider the empirical evidence, it was nuts to say the house felt sad. He managed a crooked smile. “I guess it must have gotten to me, too. Your daughter just doesn’t seem like the kind of kid to think she has bears in her closet.”

“She’s not. We got past that stage before she turned four. So if she says she’s hearing something, it’s got to be mice in the walls.”

“Or a water pipe ticking. I don’t have to tell you how many sounds an old house can make.”

“Plenty,” she agreed. “And now I not only feel ridiculous, I feel stupid. You don’t have to walk through with me. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do.”

He almost took it as a dismissal, which he was used to getting often enough in life. But her expression gave him pause. No, she hadn’t lost her uneasiness, but she was feeling silly for it. He tried to think of a way to continue to accompany her while taking her concerns seriously. She was obviously a quite independent woman, and there was a good chance she didn’t like leaning on a man, especially over an inexplicable feeling. And there was still something about this damn house.

“I’d actually like to see where Colleen’s hearing the noises.” He shrugged. “You never know. I might hear them and be able to identify them.”

“I wish you could,” she admitted. “I haven’t heard them myself, at least not yet.”

“So let’s go hunting.”

At that she chuckled and led the way.

The downstairs was quite spacious and nicely laid out. Kitchen and dining room on one side of the unusually large hallway, living room and an extra room on the other side. They skipped the extra room initially, though Mike could see color through the door that was slightly ajar.

Upstairs there were another three spacious bedrooms with walk-in closets and an unusually large bathroom that boasted an iron tub with clawed feet. A real antique, and a tub that a full-grown man could actually fit into.

“I wish this house had been available when I bought mine,” he remarked. “I’d have snapped it up.”

She flashed a smile. “You can always buy it once I get it fixed up.”

“I may take you up on that.”

The bedrooms, as yet, had clearly not been worked on, but even so their condition wasn’t bad. Her room held an ordinary double bed and a dresser, and not one personal item was in view. He found that a little odd. The two others were empty.

When they returned downstairs, she led him to the room at the back end of the hall, the one they had skipped the first time through.

It proved to be Colleen’s room and was a riot of color, with posters and a shiny mobile, and a bed nearly filled with pillows and stuffed animals. A lovely old table was obviously being used for a desk, high enough that the child’s wheelchair could slide up to it comfortably, and it sported a good laptop computer along with books, papers and doodads. Over the bed was a bar hanging from a chain, probably to help Colleen maneuver into and out of her chair. He squashed a natural sympathetic reaction, because he sensed it would not be welcome either by Colleen or her mother. That child showed every sign of becoming just as independent as her mom.

“Does Colleen only hear the sounds in here?”

“So far. I’ve checked the attic and upstairs, but I haven’t found any spoor, or anything else for that matter. I put in some traps but they haven’t been sprung.”

“Can we just stay here for a little bit?”

Del shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” She sat on the edge of the bed, leaving him to sit on a wooden chair in the corner, which meant moving an oversize stuffed rabbit.

“Does she only hear the sounds at night?”

“Mostly, but sometimes in the evening when she’s in here doing homework. They’ve always stopped by the time I get in here when she calls me.”

“That’s … strange.” Something warned him to be very careful here. There might be some emotional land mines he didn’t want to trip by blundering around. “I like your daughter. She’s so friendly for someone her age. I’m used to kids kind of glancing my way and dismissing me unless I’m caring for one of their pets.”

“Kids that age are so awkward about things. Some of them anyway. Colleen has had so many adults in her life, in one capacity or another, since her accident that I think she’s more comfortable with older people.”

“That could be part of it. And she’s certainly outgoing.”

They sat a few minutes in silence and Mike realized that Del seemed to be growing uneasier, rather than less so. He wanted to ask what troubled her, but he didn’t feel he knew her well enough.

“You know,” Del said finally, “maybe I should sleep in here tonight. Colleen is spending the night with a friend, and it might be the perfect time to do a little more detective work.”

He nodded. “Might be a good idea.”

Suddenly her blue eyes, as sharp as lasers, met his. “Why did you say this house makes you feel sad?”

Crap. He’d kind of hoped she would let that go, because he never should have said it, even out of natural sympathy. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “It was just a feeling.”

She nodded slowly. “I’m Irish enough to be superstitious. Or maybe I should say my mother raised me to be superstitious. Don’t open an umbrella in the house, knock on wood, don’t tempt fate, all those things. I rebelled against all of that, of course. Sometimes I even open an umbrella in the house just to prove I don’t buy it.”

Her lips curved almost impishly, and he had to smile back. “I hear you.”

Her small smile faded. “But there’s a definite atmosphere in this house I didn’t notice before. I thought maybe I was imagining it because I couldn’t find a source for the noises Colleen complains about. But then you said the house felt sad.”

He wished he could take those words back. But he couldn’t, and by saying them he’d not only revealed something about himself that he ordinarily kept private, but he’d apparently also increased Del’s concern.

He ought to kick his own butt. “Sorry,” he said. But he couldn’t deny that he felt something in this house, because that would mean lying.

“It’s okay. At least I know I’m not riding the crazy train alone.” She sighed, then smiled. “Let me make us some coffee or something. We could probably sit here for hours and never hear the sound.”

Long experience warned him to leave, that he’d been in her house long enough to stir talk if people had noticed. But another part of him, the real person who’d been tucked away inside out of necessity, told him to stick around. If she wanted him gone, she wouldn’t have made the offer, and her suggestion that he stay intimated that she didn’t want to be alone here. Nor could he blame her.

But she caught his hesitation, and he saw her fair cheeks color faintly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You just got home and I’ve already taken too much of your time.”

This time he didn’t hear a dismissal. Far from it: this was genuine courtesy. And it warmed him.

“I’d love that coffee if it’s not too much trouble.”

She hopped up from the bed, clearly pleased. “No trouble at all. In fact, I need to make dinner for myself, so why don’t I just make it for both of us.”

She hurried from the room, apparently intent on doing just that. He remained a moment longer, wondering if he’d just put his foot in it for both of them.

But the sadness in the house called to him, and he couldn’t help thinking that, in her own way, Del was probably as lonely a soul as he was.

And that called to him, too.

In the big scheme of things, impulsively inviting a neighbor to stay for a cobbled-together dinner probably didn’t amount to much. But for Del it was a big step. She liked to know her neighbors, yes, but rarely socialized beyond the most casual conversations. Not since the accident.

Once she’d been quite engaged with friends and a social life, but since Don’s death she had begun to note how she had narrowed her world and limited the people she allowed to become close. In fact, she had even let close friends go, slowly, simply by not keeping up with them.

Afraid to make new connections because she was afraid of more pain? Yeah, and she knew it. But it didn’t bother her. She had more than enough to occupy herself, and she could justify narrowing the scope of her life by the need to take care of Colleen.

So in the big scheme of things, asking Mike Windwalker to join her for dinner was nothing. In her scheme of things it seemed like a huge step. But, she assured herself as she began to pull things from the fridge and cupboards, it really was a minor thing. He’d offered to help her get an appropriate kitten for Colleen. Asking him to stay for a run-of-the-mill dinner hardly seemed out of line.

And maybe it was time for her to pull at least one foot out of her self-imposed rut. She wasn’t opposed to healing—she just didn’t seem to have time for it. Maybe she needed to make time, for the sakes of both her daughter and herself.

“What can I do to help?” Mike asked as he entered the kitchen.

“Have a seat and keep me company.” She looked over her shoulder at him and said frankly, “I’ve turned myself into a hermit. It would be good for me to start practicing my social skills again.”

He smiled as he pulled out a chair at the small table and sat. “I probably could use some of the same myself.”

“I doubt it. You deal with people all day long. I deal with wood, plaster, paint and noxious chemicals. They don’t talk back.”

A chuckle escaped him. “You picked quite a profession.”

“I enjoy it. I like working with my hands and solving the problems that go along with restoring a house.”

He was silent a moment, then asked carefully, “Why’d you turn into a hermit?”

She faced him then, folding her arms and leaning back against the counter. “Truth or social quip?”

“I vastly prefer the truth to social ice skating.”

At that she felt a smile tip up the corners of her mouth. A smile she hadn’t expected. “Truth it is, then. My husband was killed in the accident that paralyzed Colleen. You know what they say about once burned, twice shy? I seem to have applied that lesson to everything except Colleen.”

“I can definitely see how that might happen. I have a similar story, but I’ll leave that for another time.”

She could see his barriers snap into place, and her curiosity itched. But okay, she was willing to observe his boundaries. She expected the same courtesy for herself.

“Fair enough,” she agreed and turned back to the counter. But she couldn’t help wondering what his story was. “I hope you like salad.”

“Any way it’s made.”

“Good.” Because that was all she had planned tonight, a green salad with some leftover grilled chicken breast and a choice of bottled dressings. Her time was so limited these days that she stuck with basics, the quicker and easier the better, her only nod being to the healthfulness of what she prepared.

As she was standing at the counter slicing tomatoes, a bang sounded through the house.

She whirled around, her heart accelerating, and found Mike looking upward. “Door slamming,” he said. “Do you have windows open or a fan on?”

“Not right now. I didn’t open anything when I came home.”

He rose. “Stay here. I’ll go look.”

“Like hell,” she answered. She’d been using her chef’s knife to slice, and she seated it more firmly in her grip. A weapon.

He didn’t argue with her as she followed him. For that she gave him points.

“Sounded like it was from upstairs,” he remarked quietly.

“It did,” she agreed. In the hallway it was easy to see at a glance that all the doors stood wide open, the way they’d been left. Mike glanced at her, acknowledging that he’d noticed, too.

And then he started up the stairs, stepping to the outside of the risers so as not to make noise. She followed his example.

But at the top of the stairs, they could see all the doors were open, just as they’d been left.

He spoke. “Could something in the attic have made that sound?”

“There’s nothing up there. Not so much as a box.”

They both stood for a minute, listening, but no other sound disturbed the utter silence of the house.

“It must have come from outside.” But even as Del spoke the dismissal, she knew she was lying to herself. That noise had come from inside, not from without. And there was no mistaking the sound of one of these solid oak doors slamming.

“Well,” said Mike slowly, apparently agreeing with her thought if not her words, “if one of those doors slammed open it would have been hard enough to leave some evidence.”

Del watched as he checked in every room. She didn’t need to look for herself because she knew exactly what the sound was, and it wasn’t a door opening. As often as she had the windows open and fans going, she absolutely knew how these doors sounded when they slammed shut, and it wasn’t the same as when they got caught on a gust and were pushed open. Not the same at all.

Mike returned in only a few moments. “Let me check the attic,” he said.

She looked at him, realizing he wasn’t criticizing her, understanding that he was genuinely concerned someone other than the two of them might be inside the house. Heck, the back of her own neck was prickling with that suspicion.

But surely if someone were in the house, they would have discovered it on their walk-through. Unless, as Mike apparently feared, someone was in the attic.

God, the idea made her skin crawl. She waited with forced patience as Mike pulled down the overhead ladder to the attic and climbed up. She heard him flip the switch which turned on three bulbs that hung from the rafters from one end of the attic to another. He reappeared only a minute later.

“Nobody could hide up there unless they’re six inches tall.”

“I know.” And somehow that only made this worse.

Noises for no reason? She’d lived in this house for over two months now, and she knew its sounds as intimately as she knew her own heartbeat. That had been the sound of an oak door slamming. Hard. And in the usual way, they wouldn’t do that even with the windows open and the fans blowing, even with a relatively strong breeze in the house.

Inevitably, she thought about the sounds Colleen had been hearing and tried to put it together. But it made no sense.

Mike closed the attic trapdoor and looked at her, his gaze trailing down to the knife she held. “Loaded for bear?” he asked lightly.

A faint flush stung her cheeks. “Stupid, huh?”

He shook his head. “I was just thinking that you look like you could take on the whole damn world. That’s a compliment.”

“Thanks.” But now she felt foolish. She’d investigated odd sounds many times in her life, but never before had she felt compelled to carry a knife on the hunt. “Major overreaction.”

“Not really. Not when you consider that Colleen has been complaining of noises. That’d raise my action-alert level, too.”

He really was a very nice man. Her embarrassment seeped away and she turned for the stairs. “Let’s go get that salad.”

He also turned out to be a comfortable companion. She felt no pressure to talk as she finished the salad and served them at the table. She often spent large chunks of her time inside her own head, busy with her hands, and most of the time she preferred it that way. There was a soothing rhythm in her work, and it left her feeling content at day’s end.

Someone who could share that silence while seeming to remain comfortable was unusual indeed.

“I don’t spend much time on cooking,” she said apologetically as she put the last bottle of dressing on the table. “Healthy foods are the best I can do, as quickly as possible. Oh! I have some frozen garlic bread, if you’d like some.”

“This is fine.” He smiled and gestured her to sit with him. “I don’t cook much at all myself. A fresh salad is a treat.”

She returned his smile and motioned him to serve himself first. “With Colleen I probably keep a better eye on things than I would otherwise.”

“Understandable. I think the animals in my kennel have a far better diet than I do. When I get sick of bottles, cans and frozen foods, I go to Maude’s.”

“Maude’s is one of my guilty pleasures, too. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you there.”

“I don’t go often.” Something in his tone suggested there was a reason for that, and she wondered but didn’t say anything. She didn’t know him well enough to ask any personal questions.

She paused just as she poked her fork into a bit of tomato, as the sound of the slamming door sounded once again, this time in her head. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I don’t think I can hold a normal conversation right now.”

He put his own fork down and looked attentively at her. “The noise we heard?”

“That and the noises Colleen is hearing. Yesterday I was wondering if she was imagining them, and not knowing what was worse—her imagining them or the sounds being real when I couldn’t find the source.” She tightened her lips. “I didn’t imagine that slam.”

“Hardly. I heard it, too, remember?”

She hesitated, then said, “Colleen has been through hell. So much so that I keep waiting for her to shatter in some way. I mean, to lose your dad and be paralyzed all at once, at her age …” She trailed off as her throat tightened. Finally she found her voice gain. “Except for the first month or so, she’s been an amazing trouper.”

“I get that impression. So you were wondering if her hearing things was the shattering you feared?”

“It crossed my mind. Awful of me even to think that.”

“No, I think it was reasonable to wonder. Look, I doctor animals, but I’ve seen them with post-traumatic stress reactions, too. With some of them, they seem fine at first, and then one day they start acting out somehow. Your fear was entirely reasonable. But apparently that’s not what’s going on.”

“Apparently not. And now I’ve got to wonder what caused that sound. Maybe we misinterpreted something else.”

“That’s possible.” He pushed back from the table. “Tell you what. I’m going to go through the house and slam doors. You holler out when you hear the one that sounds like what we heard.”

She nearly gaped at him, then felt almost embarrassed, though she wasn’t sure why. “I think I invited you to join me for dinner. You should finish eating first.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Salad will keep for five minutes, and I’m as curious as you are. Let me go slam some doors. You sing out if one of them sounds the same.”

In the doorway, he paused to look back. “Stand where you were before, if you don’t mind. That way we can be sure it was the same sound.”

“Okay.” She was actually glad to hop up and go stand by the counter, facing the same direction. She needed to solve this problem, the sooner the better. Then maybe she could put Colleen’s fears to rest and silence her own concerns.

Maybe.

She stood leaning against the counter, eyes closed, listening to slam after slam, first from downstairs, then from upstairs. The bangs moved through the house, but by the time Mike returned she was certain of one thing.

“None of them, huh?” he asked as he returned to the kitchen.

She pivoted to face him. “The sound was similar on the upstairs doors. But I noticed something else.”

“What?”

“The vibration passed through the whole house when you slammed them.”

His eyes widened a hair. “So we heard the sound, but there was no vibration. You’re right. I didn’t feel the door slam.”

“Nope.” And what had been a small worry blossomed into a big fear.

“This is not good,” he said.

She couldn’t have agreed more.