Hunted in Conard County Page 2

  She didn’t offer conversation as they drove to Maude’s diner and he wondered if being around him made her uncomfortable. Because he was a cop? Well, there was a service dog in the back seat, which meant she’d been through some kind of hell, and maybe it was the reason she was teaching instead of working a desk in her former department. He’d have to wait for her to tell him, if she wanted to. He could research her easily enough, but that would be an intrusion on her privacy. It was all up to her.

  How had matters become so complicated so quickly? He’d only just met her, was planning to spend an hour or so with one of her classes, and that would be that, right?

  Or maybe not. There had been a tentativeness when she walked with him to his vehicle, not the cop’s confident stride that was drilled into them from day one. Never show weakness. Always take charge.

  Something had been cut out of her.

  * * *

  At the diner, after Stuart edged them into an angled parking spot, Kerri opened her own door and climbed out, reaching for Snowy’s leash as he followed her. While Stu helping her get in may have been simple gentlemanliness, she didn’t trust it. Damn, she didn’t want to be treated like an invalid, not even in small ways. Yeah, she had a problem, but it didn’t make it impossible for her to do most things, including climbing in and out of a car. She was jealous of her independence these days.

  Stu opened the diner door for her, and they walked in with Snowy. Dinner hour was obviously beginning, but the diner wasn’t overly packed. Almost everybody took a look at her dog, though. He was striking, and would always draw attention, but she suspected most of them were interested in the vest he wore.

  Service dog. Stamping her immediately with the word disabled. Which she was, much as she hated to admit it.

  “I’m lucky,” she remarked to Stu as they settled at a table near the back. Snowy crawled in underneath, out of the way, but very close to her. On guard for her as always.

  “How so?” he asked, passing her a plastic menu that was surprisingly not sticky. Most places like this served grease with the menu.

  “Judging by the attention Snowy draws toward me, I’m fortunate I don’t have an obvious disability. I’m not in a wheelchair, I’m not missing a limb, my face isn’t half-destroyed. I’ve seen what those people go through.”

  He nodded. “So have I. Not too long ago I had words with a woman in the market. She was audibly fuming about a young guy in an electric cart who was blocking her access to produce. Poor fellow looked so embarrassed, like he was doing something wrong.”

  “What did you say?”

  “‘Ma’am, you’re in his way, not the other way around.’” He flashed a smile. “Guess who looked embarrassed then?”

  She smiled, liking this man. “Way to go, Sergeant Canady.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I prefer my people to be decent. Anyway, I can tell you from personal experience that everything on this menu is delicious, and most of it fattening if you’re worried about that. Maude, the owner, believes in down-home cooking. I can almost guarantee you’ll wind up with a good amount of take-home, probably enough for dinner tomorrow.”

  She looked down at the plastic card in her hands. “Hey, there’s a chef salad on here.”

  He laughed. “I said almost everything.”

  She was hungry. Having to walk everywhere meant that she could only carry home a bag or two of groceries. She needed to get one of those metal folding carts and maybe she’d be able to carry more.

  Lately, however, she delayed making that walk for longer than she should and let her cupboards grow bare. Not because she didn’t like to walk but because she honestly worried about what would happen if she dropped a sack of groceries, something like eggs, when she was having a seizure. Heck, just scattering the stuff all over the sidewalk would ensure that at least a few people came running to help her gather it all up.

  She was perfectly capable of picking it all up herself when she emerged from oblivion, but by then someone would be doing it for her. While she appreciated the kindness, she also hated the feeling of dependency that came over her. The sense of indebtedness to total strangers.

  She obviously had some issues to deal with.

  As hungry as she was, she followed his example and chose the steak sandwich. When she’d been on duty as a cop, she’d been like many others, grabbing a burger from anywhere nearby because it was fast and easy and wouldn’t prevent her from answering a call quickly. It would have been simple to choose one now, but the steak sandwich sounded good, as did the choice of steamed broccoli or dinner salad. She went with the broccoli.

  She also realized she was being too quiet. On the job, conversations with strangers were easy. She had a role and she knew how to fulfill it. There was no role now, not one that fully fit into the current situation.

  Eventually, she dared a question, wondering if he was afraid to ask her any. The obvious question would have been about why she had Snowy, but he was probably avoiding that.

  “You said you were a military MP,” she began. “For how long?”

  “Too long,” he said lightly, then shook his head with a half smile. “Not really. Twelve years. Four years ago I resigned and came here looking for a little tranquility.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “Mostly.”

  Food and coffee arrived just then, all delivered with a loud clatter. Then the mountainous woman with a frown asked, “You wanna feed that dog?”

  Stu looked at Kerri. “How does he take his burger?”

  She had to grin. “Just plain, no bun, medium.” The woman stomped away and she looked at Stu. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not a thing. Maude is the orneriest woman in this town, I’ve gathered. Everyone’s used to it and it doesn’t seem to bother anyone. I’ve joined the crowd. You’ll notice, however, that she asked about feeding Snowy. There’s a good woman under that crust.”

  “That’s good to know.” She glanced down and realized Snowy was facing outward, toward the edge of the table. Probably hoping for crumbs. “He’s such a good dog,” she remarked, then looked at him across plates holding a huge sandwich, enough home fries to feed a football team and a bowl of steaming broccoli.

  “You like it here?” she asked him.

  “Very much. Although I guess I should warn you about the grapevine. It works faster than phones and runs everywhere it seems. Great resource for us cops, maybe not so good for people who want privacy. What about you? This place seems out of the way.”

  “I wanted a smaller college to...test the waters and see whether teaching is my thing. This was the best offer I got that matched what I was looking for, and I grabbed it.”

  He picked up half his sandwich and held it while he spoke. The juice that dripped from the meat made her mouth water. “I wouldn’t have believed this was the best place. Other colleges have missed out.”

  She felt her cheeks color. “You can’t know that.”

  “I’m good at guessing,” he laughed.

  “You came here,” she pointed out.

  “And I have a hankering to own a nice piece of land where I can ride horses and maybe have some other livestock. Not sure yet, but I really like hiking around here in the mountains and I’ve always liked riding. Time will tell.”

  “Oh, that sounds so nice,” she remarked. It did. Wide-open spaces, mountains, hiking. With Snowy, she could hike. Riding, though? Well, maybe. As far as she knew, she didn’t fall over or anything. She ought to try it sometime, expand her horizons even more.

  She had a weakness when it came to fried potatoes. Not so much the fast-food variety, but real fried potatoes, so she reached for one of the large wedges. It was hot and every bit as savory as she could have hoped for. “I may pig out on the fries and take the rest home.”

  “They are good,” he agreed, then took a large bite from his sandwich.

/>   While he chewed and swallowed, she followed his lead, deciding the sandwich was probably better fresh, too, like the fries would have to be. As soon as it hit her palate, she was grateful she hadn’t succumbed to the standby burger. A quiet sound of pleasure escaped her.

  Stu grinned. “Can’t get any better,” he told her after wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “It all heats up well, too, except the fries. The sandwich is great cold, but the fries...” He shrugged one shoulder. “If you don’t mind them limp, they’re okay, too.”

  Maude returned with a hamburger patty on a paper plate. Snowy’s head was up, his sniffer working overtime. Maude put the plate on the table. “Guess you ought to give it to him, being he’s a service dog and all.”

  Kerri was touched that she cared enough to know. “Thank you so much.”

  “Just don’t tell the health department.” She glared at Stu.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her. “It just happened to fall on the floor and there just happened to be a paper plate lying there.”

  Maude snorted and stomped away. Snowy showed small signs of struggling to behave himself, so Kerri wasted no time in placing the plate under his nose. “Snowy, okay.” That burger would be gone in two or three bites.

  * * *

  Stu was enjoying himself, watching her reactions to everything new, watching her interplay with her dog. He decided he liked her more than a little, and just wished there was some way to get her full story. One or two times he’d seen what he thought was sorrow flit across her face. Leaving her job, he guessed, hadn’t been easy for her. Now she was beginning a whole new life in a strange place with a service dog at her side. He gave her points for gumption.

  “Whereabouts are you living?” he asked when the meal was nearly done. She was going to be taking home a whole lot of food with her.

  “Apartment house on Tech Street.”

  “Now there’s a story. But first, aren’t you uneasy? I mean, that place is practically deserted. In good shape, I hear, but not many folks around.”

  “I’m not worried about it. It was within my budget. But the name Tech Street seems out of place in this town.”

  “Oh, it is. Want the story, condensed version?”

  She nodded as Maude brought foam containers to the table.

  “A number of years back a semiconductor plant opened up just outside of town. They brought in a lot of new people as well as a lot of jobs for locals. Hence the apartments. Anyway, the plant shuttered after a few years, most of the new people moved on and the college considered buying the apartment building for students. They didn’t, but even if they had, an awful lot of the student body are commuters and it probably would have been a loss. Sometimes the building has been nearly full, but lately it’s been mostly empty. I don’t need to explain to you why that’s a concern for law enforcement. Big empty buildings seem to breed trouble.”

  “I know.” She shook her head a little as she moved food from her plate into the boxes. “I didn’t think about that when I rented, just that it was what I needed and the price was within my means. Is there a lot of trouble over there?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.” He knew, after what he had said, that she wouldn’t be expecting that answer. Maybe his sense of humor needed some modifying.

  She looked up sharply and he shrugged. “Look at this place, Kerri. If we have ever had a crack house, no one mentioned it to me. The current owners bought the building thinking to turn it into short-term rentals for skiers, from what I hear. Well, the ski resort hasn’t panned out yet.”

  “That’s kind of sad.”

  “In one way for certain. Younger folks keep moving away. The community college is like a launching pad for careers elsewhere.”

  They finished filling their boxes with leftovers. Kerri picked up the paper plate that Snowy had nearly licked through and placed it on top of her empty crockery plate. She hoped that wasn’t a violation. Stu went to the counter and paid the bill.

  She couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. There might be something to say for coming out of her shell, after all.

  “Let me drive you and Snowy home,” he said as they exited the diner. “You don’t want to walk carrying those containers.”

  He was right. Maude had given her a plastic bag, but she didn’t want to chance losing all that good food, and since she had to hold Snowy’s leash, she only had one hand free.

  For a fact, she still had no idea what happened during her seizures. She knew she froze and stopped responding, but she didn’t know if she’d drop things. It hadn’t happened yet, but it wasn’t long enough to be sure.

  “Thanks,” she said, feeling inordinately pleased to have a little more time with him. Man, she had to take care. It was just a desire for a human connection, nothing more. What made her think anyone would want anything else from her, anyway? She was broken, and while her seizures might not be horrendous and scary for others, she still couldn’t drive, and that seemed like a serious limitation, absent all the other baggage she carried.

  There was plenty of other baggage. Fears she hadn’t had before, some emotional trauma and constant uncertainty about herself. She hoped the next months would begin to wash some of that away. Teaching exposed her to a lot of younger people and other faculty members whether she wanted it or not. That had to help her confidence grow.

  The drive to the apartment was short. The building was situated on the edge of town, as was the college, an area not within the city limits and patrolled by the sheriff’s department.

  The few other residents were at the far end of the building, or in the facing apartment structure. She was on the very end of a nearly empty building. Short of moving out to a ranch, she couldn’t have been more isolated. She was okay with that, just as she was okay with being on the second floor. Snowy would warn her in time for her to sit on a stair if it became necessary, and the isolation...well, she had never been afraid of living alone. She could take care of herself.

  Mostly.

  She invited Stu in because it seemed the courteous thing to do, although she felt awkward about it since they’d only just met.

  Once the door was closed, she let Snowy off his leash and removed his vest. He spent a minute dashing around, checking everything out. Stu set the bag of her leftovers on her kitchen counter, easy enough to find since the bar overlooked the living area.

  “Why’d you pick an apartment so far away from other tenants?”

  She smiled. “Simple answer to that. I got an extra window in my kitchen. I like the light.”

  He chuckled. “You may regret that during the depths of winter. Even with the double-paned glass you’ll get a draft.”

  She began pulling containers out of the plastic bag. “Coming from Florida, I’m actually looking forward to what real cold is like. I may regret that.”

  His eyes almost seemed to twinkle. “It’s going to be a change for you. I’ll be interested to hear what you think.” Then he headed for the door. “You must want your evening to yourself, and I need to get home and clean the kitchen. I overslept just long enough I had to leave the breakfast dishes. I’ll call as soon as I know when I can come to your class, okay?”

  “That would be great.” Her smile was warm. “Thanks, Stu.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She stood in her small kitchen as the door closed behind him and wished he had stayed for a bit. He was comfortable company. Well, maybe they’d meet again sometime out of class.

  Then she continued putting food away. All of a sudden she paused and looked around.

  “Damn,” she said aloud. “Why did he bring it up?”

  Because for the first time since moving into this unit, she felt her isolation in the building.

  Snowy commented with a quiet chuff and as she looked at him she tried to laugh at herself. She was probably far safer here than she’d been at
her home in Florida. And now she had a dog, as well.

  Isolation? She tried to will the uncomfortable awareness away but failed.

  Uneasiness clung to her like cold, wet leaves.

  Chapter 2

  In an eyeblink, everything changed. Confusion filled Kerri. Snowy was no longer lying beside her. His head rested on her thigh. What the...?

  The faces she had been looking at had all changed and moved. Boredom was gone. Some of the students were standing. What was going on? Had something happened?

  A voice spoke from beside her. “Ms. Addison? You okay?”

  She looked up and saw the young woman standing beside her. Hadn’t the student been sitting in a desk directly in front of her, chewing on a stylus? When had she moved?

  “What happened?” she asked instinctively.

  Then the pieces began to assemble into the new picture. She’d had a seizure. She was experiencing the confusion that always followed if things had changed. The confusion would pass quickly.

  The young woman, Alice, she remembered, answered. “You stopped talking right in the middle of a sentence and you got this funny look. We waited, but then you didn’t answer when we called to you...”

  Kerri saw Alice gnaw her lower lip uncertainly.

  “I’m okay,” she replied. “Just give me a moment, then I’ll explain.”

  Alice nodded and returned to her desk. The others resumed sitting.

  Their faces had changed, Kerri realized. Where before they’d been engaged or bored, depending, now they were all looking uneasy.

  “I should have told you about this on the first day of class,” she said slowly, gathering her thoughts, wishing the seizure hadn’t scattered them like autumn leaves. She’d be back to normal any second now, but her new normal wasn’t exactly comforting to her.

  “Told us what?” another student, Jason, asked.

  How much to tell them? As little as possible, she decided. She didn’t want to become the discussion.