Читать книгу Secrets And Lies - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 11

THREE

Ariel wouldn’t fall apart.

She absolutely refused to.

And not just because Tristan was beside her, his dark gaze focused on her, his eyes filled with concern and compassion.

No. She wouldn’t fall apart, because if she did, she wasn’t sure she’d ever pull herself back together again.

Legs trembling, heart racing, she still managed to walk out of the school and make her way toward the minivan she’d purchased a week after the divorce was finalized. Mitch had wanted the Jaguar, and she’d been happy to give it to him. She’d still had plenty in her savings account, all the money from her great-aunt’s estate that Ariel had refused to allow Mitch to spend on trips or expensive toys because she’d wanted to buy a house one day. It didn’t have to be big. Just cute and cozy with a nice fenced yard.

How many times had Mitch laughed at that dream? Told her that high-rise condo living in the city limits was more their style?

More his style, but she’d never said that, because she’d loved him and she’d wanted him to be happy. Plus, there’d been a part of her that had thought that eventually he’d get tired of the fast-paced, high-flying lifestyle and settle into the kind of pedestrian family life Ariel remembered from childhood. Before her parents had died, she’d had the pretty little house, the big yard, the fresh-baked cookies when she got home from school. At least, she thought she’d had it. She’d visited the house when she’d moved back to Desert Valley and realized it wasn’t nearly as pretty as she’d remembered it, the yard not as spacious. That hadn’t bothered her. She still cherished the memories she had of her time in the house, but she also realized they’d been made even more beautiful by the time that had passed since she’d been there.

Time changed memories and tricked the mind. Sometimes it made the past into what a person wanted it to be. Sometimes it made connections that weren’t really there. Was that what had happened with the handwriting on the piece of paper? Had it only seemed to be like Mitch’s writing because Ariel had been terrified, the memories of Mitch’s last words to her, still haunting her mind and her dreams?

“Get rid of the baby or I’ll do it for you!”

An idle threat is what she’d thought, words meant to manipulate her into giving him what he wanted—freedom from her, from every obligation and burden that marriage and family brought.

She’d despised him for that for way too long, wasting weeks fuming over what he’d asked her to do, and then he’d died, and she’d had nothing to do with her anger but let it go.

So, maybe all those pent-up memories and emotions had made her see what wasn’t on the piece of paper. Maybe the writing had been nothing more than a note scribbled by a student who’d needed to find her class.

She fished her keys out of her purse, unlocking the minivan as she reached it. She could feel Tristan standing behind her, his presence both disconcerting and comforting.

“I’ll follow you to your place,” he said as she climbed into the vehicle.

She wanted to tell him not to bother. Not because she didn’t appreciate the offer, but because she didn’t want to start needing someone again.

Isn’t that why she’d been with Mitch? Because she’d been alone in the world, and she’d needed someone to connect with, someone to call family?

Look how well that had worked out.

She’d ended up married and alone. Then, she’d ended up divorced and alone. Now, she was alone and in trouble. It would be nice to rely on someone else. Especially when her entire life seemed to be falling to pieces. But, needing someone left a person vulnerable. She’d learned that lesson a little too late to save herself from heartache, but she’d learned it well.

She wouldn’t make the mistake again.

On the other hand, she wasn’t foolish enough to think she didn’t need protection. With a gunman on the loose, his motive unclear, she couldn’t turn down Tristan’s offer.

She was too afraid.

“Sounds good,” she said, fumbling with her seat belt, because she didn’t want to look into Tristan’s eyes again. There was something unsettling about him, about the way that he looked at her, the way he really seemed to see her.

“Let me,” he offered, taking the belt from her clumsy bandaged hand and reaching over her stomach. He snapped it into place easily and moved back quickly, but for some reason, her cheeks heated, her face flushing a dozen shades of red.

“When you get to the house, stay in the van until I check out your property, okay?” He closed the door before she could respond, jogging to an SUV and opening the back hatch for his dog. Jesse jumped in, the lab’s golden fur nearly white in the evening light.

It took a couple of seconds for Ariel to realize she needed to start the van and a couple more to actually do it. By the time she drove out of the parking lot, her cheeks had cooled.

Delayed reaction from the attack. That’s what she told herself as Tristan’s SUV pulled onto the road behind her.

She wasn’t sure she believed it.

Night would fall soon, blackness shrouding the quiet street where Ariel lived. She’d chosen the location purposely—close to school and the town’s business district, but far enough away that she could have the solitude she needed. The house had been on the market for a while. A fixer-upper that no one had wanted to put the time and money into, the two-story farmhouse stood on a double lot that backed to a wide swath of open land. She’d purchased the place well under market value, and she’d been spending most of her free time getting it ready for the baby.

Mitch would have laughed at the idea, but she’d known she could make the old house into a comfortable home. Eventually, she’d invite people over, do a little entertaining, get back into the swing of being the person she’d once been.

She pulled into her driveway, Tristan right on her bumper.

He was out of his SUV before she could open her door, motioning for her to stay where she was as he attached Jesse’s lead. The dog jumped from the back of the SUV, his blond tail wagging, his face set in what looked like wide-mouthed grin. He looked like most of the yellow labs she’d seen—stocky body, broad head, short coat. He was fitter, though, his lean body made for the work he did. In other circumstances, Ariel would have been amused by the perpetually happy dog. Right then, all she wanted was to get into her house, close all the shades and hide from the world.

Tristan made a sweep of the yard, walking Jesse along the perimeter and then to the front door. Finally, he seemed satisfied and jogged to the van.

“Ready?” he asked, opening the door and offering her a hand out.

“Not really,” she responded, the honest answer slipping out as he walked her up the porch stairs. An old swing hung from the eaves, the metal chains creaking as she unlocked the door. Across the street, Edna Wilkinson’s porch light went on. She’d probably noticed the strange SUV in Ariel’s driveway and wanted to get a better look.

“You’re scared,” Tristan said as she led the way into the house.

“I’d be foolish not to be.” She turned to face him, was surprised at how tall he suddenly seemed. At least eight inches taller than her, and she wasn’t short. “Someone nearly killed me. That’s not something I can put on the back burner and worry about later.”

“You’re right, and I can assure you that the Desert Valley police are taking this seriously.”

“They take every case seriously, don’t they? Look at what they’ve accomplished these past few months. Cracking down on that extortion ring and putting corrupt police officer Ken Bucks behind bars. Finding the bank heist money that was hidden outside town.”

“Yes,” Tristan responded. “Sometimes, though, it helps to be reminded that you’re not alone in your struggles.”

The words echoed the thought she’d had at the school—the one about being alone and in trouble—and her cheeks heated again. “Yes. I guess it does. Thanks for escorting me home, Tristan. I appreciate it.”

“It sounds like you’re kicking me out.”

“Just giving you the freedom to go back to whatever you were doing before you saved my life.”

“I was heading for a meeting with you,” he reminded her, a smile in his eyes.

She couldn’t help it. She smiled in return, some of the tension she’d been feeling slipping away. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

“Tell you what, how about I take a look at the locks on your doors while I’m here? Make sure they’re strong enough to keep someone out? Then, we can discuss my obnoxious sister and her academic troubles.”

“She’s not obnoxious.”

“Much?” he asked, and she laughed.

“That’s better,” he commented, as he fiddled with the bolt on the front door.

“What’s better?”

“You don’t look like you’re going to shatter anymore. This bolt looks good. Let’s look at the back door.” He said it all so quickly that the first few words almost didn’t register.

By the time they did, he was halfway down the hall, heading to the back of the house.

“I wasn’t going to shatter,” she muttered, hurrying after him.

“I didn’t say you were. I just said you looked like you might.” He’d reached the mudroom and the door that opened from it into the backyard.

“I’m not the kind of person who shatters when things don’t go her way,” she replied, but he was turning the lock, frowning at the door, and she wasn’t sure he heard.

“This could be a lot stronger, Ariel,” he finally said.

“I can have it replaced.”

“You could also put a door between the mudroom and the kitchen.” He touched the doorjamb that had once housed an interior door. Someone had taken it down before Ariel had bought the property.

“I think the one that goes there is out in the shed behind the house. I found it there after I moved in.”

“I’ve got the day off tomorrow. How about I stop by and hang it for you? Two layers of defense are better than one.”

“I can do it.” Probably. Although, lately the pregnancy was making her tired. The further along she got, the more difficult everyday tasks became. She tried not to dwell on that. She tried not to think about how much more difficult it would be to parent alone than it would have been to parent as a team.

“Just because you can do it, doesn’t mean you have to. If you don’t want to accept the help as a gift, you can point me in the direction of a good tutor for Mia and give me a pass on being late to our meeting today. I did miss...what? Two previous meetings?”

“You also saved my life, so you’ve already earned the pass on that, but...” She hesitated, not sure about the offer she was about to make. She liked Mia. The teen had a great vocabulary and a flair for words. She also had a chip on her shoulder and an attitude to go with it. “I’ve been doing some tutoring on the side, working with some of the local kids getting them ready for SAT and ACT tests. I’d love to work with Mia.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I offered. Just like you offered to put up my door. Bring her over tomorrow. While you’re fixing the door, I’ll help her with the paper that’s due Monday.”

“She has a paper due Monday?”

“Yes, and two extra credit assignments due by Friday. If she doesn’t get As, she’s not going to pass my class.”

“It would devastate Mia to be held back a year.”

“I know. If I could make an exception, I would. I can’t.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. She needs to pass on her own merit. It’s not like she’s not capable of it.” He ran a hand over his hair, rubbed the back of his neck. He looked exasperated and worried. Like any parent would be if his child were failing. Only Mia wasn’t his child. She was his sister. That had to be complicating the dynamics between them.

“Were you and Mia close before your parents passed away?” she asked, and regretted the question immediately. It was too personal, something that he might discuss with a counselor. Not his sister’s teacher.

“I joined the military when I was eighteen. Mia was one. I guess you could say we barely knew each other before I became her guardian. I saw her during my leave, but that wasn’t enough to create the kind of bond that would make this situation easier.”

“I guess it’s my turn to say I’m sorry,” she said, her heart aching for what they’d both lost.

“It’s been hard, but we’re doing okay, slowly getting to know each other better. I think we’ll both survive her teenage years.”

“Think?”

He laughed, the warmth of it ringing through the quiet house. “I should have said ‘survive with our sanity intact.’ Now, how about we stop talking about my sister and finish looking at your locks?”

He walked to a window, frowning at the wood pane and old fashioned lock. “It would be very easy for someone to break the lock and climb in the window.”

“That’s a cheerful thought,” she muttered, her heart thrumming at the thought of a masked intruder entering the house while she slept.

“What’s through here?” He pushed open pocket doors that led into the office. There’d been a desk there when she’d moved in—an old rolltop that still stood against the wall. Light from the hallway filtered in, but she’d closed the shades earlier, and the room seemed dark and dreary.

She flicked on the light, waiting as Tristan checked a front window. It was newer than the one in the parlor, but he still didn’t seem happy. “Definitely need some updating here. How about we do this—I’ll work on getting the house more secure while you work on helping my sister pass ninth-grade English?”

It was a decent deal, but she didn’t want to become fodder for the town rumor mill. If Edna saw Tristan hanging around, she’d spread the news lightning fast. Before anyone even asked for the truth, the entire town would think that she and Tristan were dating.

“I—”

Jesse growled, the hair on the scruff of his neck standing up as he moved toward the window, nosed the shade. He didn’t look happy anymore. He looked ready to attack.

Tristan took Ariel’s arm, nudging her into the hall. “Wait here.”

“What—?”

“Stay here,” he cut her off, flicking off the light and plunging the hallway into darkness.

* * *

Tristan didn’t wait for Ariel to respond. He assumed she’d do what he’d asked her to. For the baby’s sake as much as her own.

He jogged back into the office, called for Jesse to heel and then made his way to the front door. Someone was outside. That much was certain. Jesse knew the difference between a person walking past and someone lurking nearby. He only barked when he sensed danger.

He was barking loudly, doing everything he could to get his message across.

“Cease,” Tristan commanded, and Jesse went silent.

The office window looked out into the backyard. They’d go out the front, move around the side of the building, and hopefully surprise whoever had been trying to peek inside.

The sun had set, hints of light still flecking the horizon and turning the evening a dusky blue. There were few houses on Ariel’s street, the dead-end road isolated. Maybe she’d intended it that way, but it wasn’t the best situation for a woman alone. A pregnant woman alone. She might be fit and tough, but the baby would slow her down if she ran into trouble.

He surveyed the front yard, eyeing the house across the street. The lights were on there, a Toyota Camry parked in the driveway. To the left, a small rancher stood about a half-acre away. To the right, an empty lot stretched toward a fenced property. Plenty of places for someone to stay hidden. Watching a house like Ariel’s was as easy as taking out binoculars and looking through them. She had no large trees. No shrubs. Nothing to block a person’s view of the front door.

That worried him.

Someone had been outside.

He was certain of that. Jesse never issued a false alert.

The gunman? If so, the guy was taking his sweet time acting. He could have fired a few shots in the window in the hope of hitting his target. That’s what he’d done at the school, firing blindly as Ariel disappeared around a corner, and then again while she was on the other side of the door.

Why wait this time?

The question made him cautious. He didn’t pull his gun, just let Jesse have his lead, following the dog around the corner of the house. Tristan stopped there, listening to the night sounds—a few birds calling in the distance, an animal rustling in the bushes a few feet away.

Not a sound from the backyard. No footsteps. No sign that the perpetrator was attempting to enter the house, no indication that he was leaving. But someone was there. Jesse clawed at the ground, twitching in his desire to finish what they’d started.

Tristan held him back, creeping closer to the edge of the house and peering around the corner. He could see someone, a dark shadow backlit by the porch light, pressing against the screened window.

A man?

If so, he wasn’t a tall one.

“Police!” Tristan warned. “Don’t move.”

The person jumped, nearly falling over in his haste to move away from the window.

“One more step, and I’ll release my dog,” Tristan warned.

The person either didn’t hear or didn’t care. He took off, running down the porch stairs, flying across the yard, a hood pulled up over his hair and shrouding what looked like a pale face.

Caucasian. Five-six. Slight build.

He filed the information way as he released Jesse’s lead.

“Get him!” he commanded, and the dog took off, closing in on the perpetrator in the blink of an eye.