Stalked In Conard County (Conard County: The Next Generation Book 41) Page 13

  Roger had been right. She had slept better knowing he was out there. She just hoped he had slept well, too.

  Man, she didn’t want to move. It seemed like forever since she’d felt this relaxed. Every muscle in her body had uncoiled, like one of those cold mornings under a heap of blankets when the bed felt like a heaven she didn’t want to leave.

  She didn’t want to get up, but she knew this feeling wouldn’t last long. It seldom did. Soon her mind would be sending action signals to her body and making her want to move. She’d never been very good at holding still for long. One of the main reasons she’d never want to work in surgery. The ER kept her on the move most of the time.

  But gradually that wonderful relaxation began to pass and, with a sigh, she picked up the day’s mantle. Memories returned, fear tried to make a comeback, but the thought of Roger spending his night on the floor to make her feel safe seemed to dispel all the bad things. At least for now.

  She washed up, dressed in fresh jeans and a purple T-shirt with a green superhero on the front. Kids got a kick out of it, and she had a whole collection of such shirts she’d been building over much of her life. They amused her. Sometimes they spoke to her.

  Be a superhero. Yeah. As if.

  Refreshed, ready to face the day, pleasant or unpleasant, she left the bedroom and walked through the dining room around the door into the living room and foyer area. She wasn’t sure the bed and bath off the dining room had been intended for that use, not with four good-size bedrooms upstairs and a full bath. Whatever, Grandma had always slept in there, maybe because it felt cozier to live on one floor.

  Certainly, the upstairs wasn’t cozy. Big and roomy, but not cozy. She wondered which of her ancestors had thought four bedrooms would be necessary, because she wasn’t aware of any big families among the McKinseys. Somebody had been hopeful. Or maybe that’s the way they had once been built.

  My, wasn’t she avoiding any serious thought this morning? As she rounded the corner from the living room toward the foyer, she saw that Roger’s bedroll had already been folded up, the air mattress leaning against the wall. Not exactly getting ready to leave.

  Her spirits lifted at once. She must have been hoping he’d stick around. But really, that wasn’t fair to him. He had a career he needed to tend, saddles to make, orders to fill. He couldn’t babysit her forever.

  Niggling at the back of her mind was an awareness that no one else had reported a peeper. It made her feel as if she’d been personally targeted. That frightened her.

  She tried to shake off returning anxieties as she followed the aroma of coffee to the kitchen. She wondered what Flora would think of all this coffee drinking. She’d been absolutely wedded to her tea, either green tea or English breakfast. Maybe she ought to brew some, just to make this house feel like her grandmother once again.

  In the kitchen, she found the coffee already brewed and Roger bent into the fridge, looking around. He at once straightened and greeted her with a smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead. A good night?”

  “The best since the creep. Thank you so much. But what about you?”

  “I’m accustomed to air mattresses. I’ve reached the age where I don’t go camping without one.” He looked into the fridge again, still talking. “You ever do much camping?”

  “Yeah, my dad liked to. Mom usually stayed home. She swore nothing could keep her warm.”

  “I’ve known some folks like that.” He straightened again, bringing out the eggs. “You remember that rock? Well, it probably was bigger than a pebble, but not quite a rock.”

  She got it instantly and giggled. “Oh, I do. No matter how you smoothed out the area under the tent there was always one rock or root that somehow found you in the wrong place. No matter how you tried to move around.”

  “I finally had enough and got an air mattress. I forgot the air pump one trip. Never knew I could blow so hard.”

  He placed the eggs on the counter. “I’ve found enough for a loaded omelet. If there’s anything you don’t like, speak now.”

  “Hey, if it’s in my kitchen, I like it, right?”

  “Good point. Want some coffee?”

  “I’d love some.” What a luxury to sit at the table and be waited on. She glanced at the clock and started. “Good heavens, back home it’s almost ten o’clock. I never sleep this late!”

  “Enjoy it. Most of my sleeping-in days are fading into the past. I don’t like it when someone points out I’m getting older.”

  She giggled again. “Was that a sideways remark?”

  “Absolutely not.” He brought her a mug and placed it in front of her. “You know, I was never able to talk Flora into insulated mugs. With one of those I can pour myself two cups in the morning and go until after lunch with hot coffee. And I hate lukewarm coffee.”

  “She was a traditionalist in some ways.”

  “In more than a few. But then she’d have these surprising moments, like when she bought a smartphone. And the smart TV in her bedroom. Almost overnight she became a streaming addict and thus came the Wi-Fi. No computer, though.”

  “I noticed that. If I stay, I’ll have to get one.”

  He arched a brow at her as he whipped eggs. “If you stay? Are we back to that again?”

  “Not really, I suppose. Roger, has anyone else reported a Peeping Tom?” She watched as he pulled out a green pepper from the vegetable drawer then added a leek.

  “You don’t mind if I use this?” he asked as he waved the leek at her.

  “Not at all. I seem to remember a grocery not too far from here.”

  “Well, I can’t use an entire one for an omelet. Anyway, back to other reports of Peeping Tom. I haven’t heard any, but that doesn’t mean much. I was going to check with the chief and the sheriff today to see if they’ve heard anything. I’m not plugged into all the tentacles of the grapevine around here.”

  “Thanks,” she answered. “I appreciate it.”

  “You can come with, if you want.”

  “I might.”

  He pulled out a cutting board from a lower cabinet and the chef’s knife from the knife block on the counter. My, that man was dexterous, she thought as she watched him make short work of slicing and dicing. A bit of butter went into the frying pan on the stove, followed by the veggies as it heated up.

  “I saw some salsa in the fridge, and some shredded cheese. You up for either?”

  “Both, actually.”

  “My version of huevos rancheros coming up.” He gently stirred the vegetables around in the frying pan, releasing wonderful aromas. “Why’d you ask about other reports of that creep?”

  “Because if there aren’t any, maybe I was specifically targeted.” The thought sounded ridiculous as soon as she said it, but it was out now, lying there to be criticized as it probably deserved.

  “I was trying not to think about that possibility,” he said after a moment. “Not worth worrying about until we talk to the cops, though. Right?”

  He was right. No point in borrowing trouble. Letting go of the thought with difficulty, shunting it to the side where it was going to simmer anyway, she put her chin in her hand, sipped a little coffee and watched him finish the omelets.

  “You ever think about becoming a short-order cook?” she asked.

  “Hardly. These are bachelor survival skills. Easy and quick as it might be to run to Maude’s or the truck stop diner, my arteries can take just so much.”

  “Ha. And you teased me about being a nurse.”

  He flashed a grin her way as he placed perfectly folded omelets on two plates and brought them to the table. “I forgot toast,” he said. “Dang.”

  “This is fine. Eat while it’s hot. Then maybe you can tell me the secret of folding an omelet like this. I always make a mess and usually just scramble the eggs.”

  “I’ll show you next time it com
es up,” he promised.

  Quiet settled over the table as they took turns sprinkling cheese and spooning salsa over the eggs.

  “Ooh, this is good” were the only words Haley spoke. “You can make this for me anytime.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  She looked up from her plate and felt a blush creeping into her cheeks, something she thought she had lost the ability to do ages ago. Evidently not. This guy sure affected her, and so far only in good ways. Slowly it was beginning to occur to her that the reason she wanted to stay here was him.

  Maybe that wasn’t a good idea?

  His eyes were smiling at her. Just his eyes. She loved their color, a mossy green, and the way they crinkled at the corners, making a friendly expression all by themselves. The corners of his mouth just barely tipped up to join them.

  Warmth was filling her, a good warmth. In fact, he made her feel good all the time. Impossible for anyone to do that constantly, but for right now she wasn’t going to argue with herself. He made her feel good.

  They skipped toast and washed up together. When they were done, he asked, “Wanna come with me when I go see the sheriff about this voyeur and whether there have been other complaints?”

  “I’d love to.” Maybe that would settle her down some, if other women had lodged complaints. At least she wouldn’t feel as if she had a target on her back, which was utterly ridiculous, but the fear wouldn’t quite quit. Then she made a strike for her freedom.

  “Let’s walk,” she suggested. “I need some time out of this house.”

  * * *

  Roger was glad to see that spark. This whole incident had really gotten to her, and while he could understand why, she still needed to shake it off. He hoped they could solve the problem soon. Once the creep was caught and arrested, she was bound to feel a whole lot safer and the distant past would probably move into the past again.

  What had happened to her as a child was horrifying. If that word was even adequate. It had left scars that had followed her through life like the footsteps of a stalker. He didn’t blame her for that. He couldn’t see how anyone could go through what she had and come out unscathed.

  Yet she had made something of herself, something good and helpful. How many lives had she helped save? Probably more than even she could count. Every day at work she faced sights and the human pain of both victims and families that would mess up a lot of people. A lot of the firemen and EMTs, not to mention cops, that he knew carried similar haunting scars from the things they had seen. He’d known some to just quit because they couldn’t bear the thought of ever seeing such things again. But they saw them in their nightmares anyway.

  Haley had faced life head-on in one of the most difficult ways imaginable. Meanwhile, he spent his days in the mostly peaceful pastime of working with leather, cloth and wood, taking artistic and professional pride in his creations. A far cry from what she did.

  He spoke as they strolled along the leafy street. This day was going to get warm. “Ever think about being a doctor?”

  She turned her head, eyeing him. “Once in a while I did. But I was in a rush to go ‘hands-on.’ I just wanted to get into it, and it took only six years. Being a doctor would have taken a whole lot longer.”

  “And a whole lot more money, I suspect.”

  She nodded. “Of course. But that didn’t hold me back. My dad’s been doing well since he started taking jobs around the world. I think he would have helped me quite a bit. So, no, I wasn’t thinking about money. Mostly my impatience to get on with helping people.” She looked at him again. “You ever think about another line of work?”

  “Nope. I guess I’m boring. I grew up in this business and I take a lot of pleasure in it. Never wanted anything else.”

  “I don’t think that’s boring. I think that’s enviable.”

  He held out his hands. “The only scars I get come from sharp objects when I’m cutting leather.”

  “Plenty of those, I see.”

  “Oh, yeah. Got a few raw knuckles from various things, too, like working on those ducts at Flora’s place. But you know, that’s all part and parcel of working with your hands.”

  “In my business, we do everything possible to avoid breaking the skin. Too much chance of infection. A friend of mind once dropped a syringe, it pierced her foot and the next thing we knew she had flesh-eating bacteria. For all we do our best to keep things sterile, it’s hard when you’re working with sick people and bodily fluids. For a little while at least, the risk of exposure is very real.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  She laughed quietly. “No reason you should.”

  He noted, however, that the farther they walked from Flora’s house, the more she looked around, as if expecting something to pounce at her. Once again, she was uptight. Dang, he hoped the sheriff or the chief could assure her they had a half dozen other complaints. Hell, even one more might be enough to make her feel as if she weren’t on a shooting range with no idea where the bullet would come from.

  The streets were quiet this morning. No kids in the park, although maybe their parents were busy at home, those who didn’t have jobs. The rest? Well, Mom and Dad went to work and the kids went to the summer camp at the elementary school, where activities kept them busy. Older teens probably still hadn’t gotten out of bed. He remembered those summer days where he and his friends would routinely stay up until the wee hours, then collapse until after noon. He was surprised his father hadn’t objected. There was always work to be done in the shop.

  He supposed he’d been indulged quite a bit. “I guess I had an idyllic childhood in most ways.”

  “Where did that come from?”

  “Thinking back to summers where I could pretty much do what I wanted as long as I stayed out of trouble.”

  She flashed a smile. “No trouble?”

  “No trouble. Like I said, boring.”

  “I don’t think anything about you is boring.”

  He caught his breath, liking the way Haley had said that, then covered his reaction by quickly pointing. “See the corner up there, just past the courthouse square? That’s the sheriff’s office. Not much farther.”

  “It’s okay. I’m enjoying the walk with you.”

  Another compliment. His head was going to swell. But he doubted that she was really enjoying herself, not when she was looking around like a soldier on patrol. Not when she quickened her step toward the sheriff’s office.

  He supposed some would think she was overreacting and unreasonable, but he didn’t see it that way at all. Some things haunted people for a lifetime, and this woman was not lacking in grit. Just look at her career.

  They stepped into the sheriff’s office and were immediately greeted by a cloud of cigarette smoke. Velma, who’d been sitting at the dispatcher’s desk since the dinosaurs roamed the earth, sat beneath a no-smoking sign and puffed away. If anyone had ever tried to get her to stop, they had lost the battle.

  She made the worst coffee in the world. Famously bad. Even folks who’d never set foot in the station had heard about it. The row of antacid bottles behind the cups said it all. But despite everything, Velma had become a beloved institution around here. No one could imagine her ever retiring.

  He watched as his cute nurse friend waved the smoke away from her face. She must find this awful. Remembering their trip to the market, he almost grinned.

  “Velma? Gage around anywhere?”

  “He’s almost always in his office anymore,” Velma answered in her cracked voice. “If I have to listen to him complain about paperwork one more time, I may dump the coffee urn over his head. Anyway, go on back. He’s probably in there hiding behind a stack of paper.”

  “Don’t computers help?” Haley asked as they walked down the short hall.

  “Sure. But there’s always a paper backup. Sooner or later, it gets mov
ed to microfiche or something.”

  “Ah.”

  He rapped once on the door with the brass nameplate and heard an invitation to come through it.

  Walking in with Haley, he heard Gage say from behind that stack of papers, “Close the door. Velma’s been blowing a mega cloud today and Emma doesn’t like it when I come home smelling like an ashtray.” He lifted his head so they could see him. “Pull up a chair and tell me what I can do for you. Just don’t hand me another piece of paper.”

  Roger laughed, but noticed Haley had begun to look tense. She didn’t want to drag her story out again, but appeared to think she might have to. And she probably would, if they were to deal with the question that had brought them there.

  “We were wondering,” Roger said, “whether there have been any more reports of Peeping Toms.”

  Gage’s dark gaze leaped to Haley. “No...” he said slowly. “If one had been reported, I’d have heard about it, either from my deputies or from Jake’s police department. We share all information.”

  “No conflict there?” Roger asked easily, trying to take this slowly to be sure Haley could gather herself to explain the reason for her concern.

  “Hell, no,” Gage said. “Roger, you know Jake used to work for me. When the city got the funding and decided they wanted their own police department...”

  He paused and glanced at Haley with his crooked smile, formed because one side of his face was covered with shiny burn scar tissue. “I think the city gets annoyed with me at times. I’m not famous for holding my fire, and I’m no politician. Power grab, I guess. Jake and I had no trouble working it out. Jake handles the town and I back him up when he needs it. Anyway, it was one of my deputies who responded to Haley’s call because Jake’s shorthanded at the moment. So much for budgeting when you overreach.”

  Roger had to laugh again. He might avoid it, but he still heard about the occasional power tussles around here. He didn’t know how it worked in large cities, but a small place like this didn’t seem to have enough power to go around.