Читать книгу Defender for Hire - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 13

FOUR

Tessa hated silence—her mind filled it with voices from the past. Daniel’s. Andrew’s. The dozen children she’d been teaching the night of the attack.

If she hadn’t been at the church with them, she’d have died in the tiny hut that she and Daniel shared. The one they had been standing in front of in the photograph.

She shuddered.

She vividly remembered the day the photo had been taken. They’d been in Kenya for three days and had two years of work stretching out ahead of them. A villager had taken the photo. Tessa hadn’t seen it since the massacre.

She flicked on the small radio that sat on the kitchen counter, letting classical music drift into the silence. Better, but not the same as having Bentley following behind her as she paced to the window that looked out over the backyard.

Amy should be calling with an update soon. If she didn’t, Tessa would call her. Bentley was the closest thing to family that she had, and she wanted to know that he was going to be okay.

She frowned, tucking Seth’s business card into the junk drawer beside the fridge. She had no intention of calling him. He was too much of everything that she didn’t want in her life. Confident, decisive and driven, he was probably the kind of person who devoted time and attention and complete commitment to whatever cause he was championing. Right now, he seemed to be championing her, and that felt too good, the temptation to lean on him and let him take care of things for her almost overwhelming her common sense.

Almost?

Completely.

She’d given him the photo and asked him to bring it to Logan. As if getting it out of the house could change the fact that she’d received it.

A light bobbed on the hill, appearing and disappearing as someone moved through the trees. Probably Logan. If Tessa had been brave enough, she’d have joined him. It would have been easy to pinpoint the place where she’d been attacked, show him the direction the attacker had come from.

She turned away from the backyard, her chest tight, her eyes hot. She’d dreamed big when she was in college, imagining a life that was exactly the opposite of the one she’d had growing up. Security and routine, love and happiness. She thought she’d have it all with Daniel, and she almost had.

Instead, she’d come full circle, ending up right back where she’d been when her parents had died and she’d been shipped off to foster care.

Alone and terrified.

She shoved the thought away. She was alone by choice, because relationships were too complicated and too risky. She liked her old Victorian house and her job, and loved the serenity and slow pace of Pine Bluff, Washington.

The bruises on her throat throbbed.

She didn’t want to leave Pine Bluff, but she wasn’t sure she could stay.

Walking up the curved staircase, she ran her hand over the smooth mahogany banister. She’d spent days stripping paint off the hand-carved wood and polishing the intricate spindles, imagining the generations of people who had walked up and down the stairs, trailing their hands along the railing. She’d planned to become part of the house’s history.

Her plans were changing.

She might not want deep connections and all the complications that went with them, but she wanted a life lived in peace without the past making constant appearances.

Maybe that meant doing what she’d considered doing dozens of times since the first rose had arrived—changing her name, becoming someone completely new. People went into hiding all the time, created wonderful new lives out of the ashes of their old ones.

In her room overlooking the backyard, she pulled back the gauzy curtains and stared up at the hill behind the house. The light was gone. Either Logan had finished his search, or he’d crested the rise and was heading down toward the river.

He’d want to talk to her when he returned, but for now, she needed keep her mind occupied and her hands busy. She lifted the phone that sat on the nightstand and dialed Amy’s number. She’d check on Bentley, and then she’d go up to the attic and grab the suitcase she’d put there when she’d moved in.

Never again, she’d told herself. No more packing and unpacking and packing again. This is it forever.

She should have known things wouldn’t work out that way. Should have kept the suitcase under her bed like she had for the first four years she’d been back in the States.

She left a message on Amy’s voicemail and walked down the hall to the attic door. The old-fashioned glass doorknob gleamed in the overhead light, the skeleton key that was usually in the small nook on the wall beside the door already in the keyhole.

Had she left the key there the last time she’d gone in the attic? When had that been? A week ago? More?

Wouldn’t she have already noticed the key in keyhole if it had been there since the last time she used it?

Of course she would have. She’d spent the past five years noticing everything, constantly on the alert, tracking changes in her environment and looking for any sign that danger was closing in.

She hadn’t left the key in the hole. Someone else had.

Her heart jumped, her throat dry with fear. Someone could be in the house. Her attacker could be waiting in the attic for her to settle down and go to sleep.

She backed away from the door, her pulse pounding frantically.

The doorbell rang and she screamed, whirling away from the attic, then turning back, afraid if she wasn’t watching the doorknob, it would start to turn.

The doorbell rang again and the front door opened, cold air gusting in.

“Tessa?” Seth called from the foyer.

“Upstairs,” she responded, her voice gritty with fear. Footsteps pounded on the stairs and Seth appeared on the landing, his hair mussed from the wind, his eyes glowing deep blue.

“I thought you’d left,” she said, more relieved than she wanted to be that he hadn’t.

“I gave Randal the picture and I thought I’d check in with you one more time before I went home,” he responded. “What’s wrong?”

She gestured to the doorknob and key. “Someone has been in the attic.”

“You’re sure?” He moved past her, the comforting scent of pine needles and winter air filling the wide hall.

Was she? With Seth there, she suddenly wasn’t sure that she was in danger. Did she really know that she hadn’t left the key in the lock?

“Tessa?” he prodded in a gentle voice that didn’t match his sharp gaze.

“I usually leave the key in that little nook beside the door. I don’t remember leaving it in the keyhole.”

“Okay.” He nodded, took her arm and led her to the stairs. “Randal is on the porch. I want you to open the door and tell him what’s going on. Don’t go outside, though, okay?”

She hesitated. As much as she wanted Seth to take care of the problem, she knew that she shouldn’t let him. Relying on other people usually led to heartache. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. “What are you going to do?”

“Check the attic, but I don’t want you anywhere nearby when I do it.”

“That’s not necessary. I can just—”

“Do what I asked, okay, Tessa? It’s the safest thing for both of us.” He turned away, pulling gloves from his coat pocket and sliding them on.

“What if there is someone up there?”

“I can handle him. But not if you’re in my way. Go tell Randal. It’ll be good to have him around if I find someone.”

“Okay. Fine,” she mumbled, feeling like a coward as she fled down the stairs. She heard the key turn in the lock and Seth’s footsteps on the attic stairs.

“Where is Seth?” Logan asked as soon as she opened the door.

“The attic.” She explained what she’d found, and Logan frowned.

“So, Seth went to check things out?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Just what I need. A loose cannon,” Logan responded with a sigh. “Go in the kitchen. Stay there until I give you the all-clear.”

Logan was up the stairs before Tessa could move from her spot near the door.

A faint creak. The soft groan of old wood giving beneath heavy feet. She knew the sounds of the attic floorboards, could picture Seth and Logan moving through the cavernous room. All the boxes left behind by the people who’d come before her would make easy hiding places for anyone who might be lurking up there.

She shuddered, backing into the kitchen, her gaze on the ceiling, her muscles tense with fear and anticipation.

If they found someone, it would all be over. Bad guy caught and brought to jail—danger gone. Maybe the roses would stop, too. Maybe the past would finally fade into distant memories. She wanted that more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time. To let go. To breathe without the heaviness of secrets and fear pressing on her chest.

She wanted that, and sometimes she thought she could have it if she’d just allow God to give it to her. If she could just forgive Him for offering her everything and then taking it all away.

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She hadn’t cried since Daniel’s funeral, and she wouldn’t cry now. She’d trusted God, and He’d failed her. Not just with Daniel, with her parents, too. Twice, she’d lost everything. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Boots pounded on the stairs. The men were returning.

They walked into the kitchen, Logan slightly ahead of Seth, his eyes deeply shadowed, his smile kind. He looked like a guy who’d been through a lot, but who’d come out on top. The kind of person who could be counted on.

She didn’t look at Seth. She knew what she’d see—confidence, strength, conviction. He could be counted on, too. He’d already proven that more than once, but she didn’t want to count on him. Doing so could become a habit. One that she might find very difficult to break. “We didn’t find anything, Tessa, but I’m going to dust the doorknob for fingerprints,” Logan said.

“It could be that I forgot to put the key back the last time I went in the attic. My fingerprints might be the only ones you find.” Now that they’d checked the attic and found it empty, she felt a little foolish. She wasn’t one to overreact, and despite what she’d lived through in Kenya, she didn’t jump at shadows.

“If they are, no problem, but I’d rather err on the side of caution than miss something. I’m going to get my fingerprint kit.” Logan turned and walked out of the kitchen. Which left Tessa alone with Seth.

She couldn’t avoid looking at him forever, so she met his eyes, was surprised by the sudden jolt of awareness that shot through her.

She’d been a widow for five years. In that time, she’d never even been tempted to go on a date. Friends had tried to hook her up with brothers or cousins or coworkers, and she’d always refused, because she hadn’t wanted to feel the kind of longing that made a person vulnerable.

“I have to head out,” he said, his gaze steady, his eyes deep blue. “You still have my card, right?”

“Yes.”

“But, you’re not planning to call even if your life depends on it?”

The comment made her smile. “If my life depends on it, I might call.”

“How about we turn might to will, so I can get out of your hair and you can rest?” he responded, his Southern drawl more pronounced.

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to rest,” she admitted.

“Give it a try. You’ll heal better if you do.” He touched her cheek, his fingers brushing lightly down her jaw. Such a simple gesture, but longing shot through her, so intense that it filled her heart and her throat. “You’re going to have a bruise there. You’d better put some ice on it.”

She nodded, afraid if she spoke, he’d hear everything she was feeling. He frowned. “Maybe I should stick around until Randal gets back.”

“I’ll be fine.” She forced the words out, because she really needed him to leave.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I’ll see you next week.”

“Wait!” she nearly shouted as he turned away.

He swung back around to face her again. “You changed your mind about wanting me to stay?”

“No, I...” What? She couldn’t think of one good reason for calling him back. Except that she was scared and that as soon as left, she’d be alone again. “Just...thanks.”

“Anytime.” He walked down the hall, offering a brief smile as he stepped outside and closed the door. The house felt emptier without him in it, and that wasn’t a good thing.

Tessa had been doing things on her own for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone around. Seth made her remember.

After Logan finished dusting for prints, she’d face the attic head-on, drag her suitcase to her room and start packing, because she couldn’t stay. Not just because of the danger that seemed to be dogging her, but because of Seth.

He was his own kind of danger.

The kind that could fill a woman’s heart, seep into her soul. Make her want things that she shouldn’t want. Long for things that were out of reach.

Tessa didn’t want to go down that path again.

She didn’t want the heartache it would bring.

Sometimes, though, she wanted more than a big old house and an oversize dog.

Sometimes, she wanted forever with someone she loved.