Stalked In Conard County (Conard County: The Next Generation Book 41) Page 3

  Was that a dismissal? He decided not. “No rush. The nice thing about being my own boss is that if I need a few hours for something else, I can take them.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door and Kelly entered with Bugle. “Dead end,” she said. “Bugle tracked him to Ash Street and then the scent vanished. Guess he drives to his little trysts. Anyway, if Bugle smells him again anywhere, he’ll let me know. Listen, Haley, I’m going to file a report. If we’ve got a peeper, you might not be the last victim. These guys seem to like to bother more than one person.”

  “I hope he doesn’t bother me again. Thank you, Deputy.”

  “Kelly. Just Kelly. Come on, Bugle.”

  Then, in the subsequent silence, Roger took the bull by the horns. “So what did you mean when you said calling the police would make it real?”

  Chapter 2

  “I was talking about my reaction,” she said after several minutes. “At first it seemed like a bad dream, but then it raked up old memories. It was a childish thing to say, Roger. It happened. Reporting it has nothing to do with its reality.”

  She pushed back from the table and went to the refrigerator, where she pulled out a bottle of water. “Want some?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  She sat again, unscrewing the bottle cap. “I remember the tap water here being very tasty, but I’ve been chicken to try it. I suppose I should.”

  “It’s good water,” he agreed. “Better than some of the stuff in bottles.”

  Again she smiled. “I remember way back when, when we were both kids. You were infinitely patient then, too. Remember the fishing expedition?”

  He laughed. “How could I forget? I got you all excited about going to my favorite fishing hole and when we got there it was nothing but mud.”

  “And I wanted to know where the fish had gone since there was no water left.”

  He laughed again. “They had the sense to get out of Dodge.”

  “I guess. You must have been as disappointed as I was, but that didn’t stop you. We drove up a little way into the mountains and you found us a small pool. What’s more, I caught my first fish!”

  At least this memory was making her smile. He was glad to see it. In terms of time, her kidnapping seemed like a lifetime ago, at least to him. Apparently not so much to her.

  Then she sighed and her smile faded. “I know it was a long time ago,” she said, almost as if she could read his mind. “I don’t think about the kidnapping often anymore. My dad made sure I had therapy afterward, and I got over it. Mostly. But once in a while...” She trailed off and sighed again, as if some heavy weight filled her. “Once in a while... Like last night. It dragged everything up from the depths. I was kidnapped through my bedroom window, you know.”

  His heart lurched. God, last night must have been Halloween-like for her. “I didn’t know.”

  “I guess that’s why I overreacted.”

  He shook his head. “Waking up to find someone looking in your bedroom window? Well, I don’t think you can overreact.”

  “Maybe not.” She shook her head a little, as if trying to shake off bad memories. “I’m wondering if I should sleep upstairs now. I wanted to use that room because I’d shared it with my grandma on the few occasions I came to visit here. When I was really young, before you and I met, it was such a treat to crawl into her bed and have her tease me with riddles until I fell asleep.”

  “And you wanted to recapture that?”

  “Can you ever? But, yeah, good memories. And maybe I should just sleep upstairs, where no one can peek in the windows and I can leave the curtains open and enjoy the fresh night air.”

  There was a sadness to that. Maybe time to change the subject? “You can decide that later. Frankly, you look like you need a nap, but I guess you had plans for today?”

  “I did, sort of. I’m sure I need a nap, but I’m too wound up. Anyway, I was going to go through some more of my grandmother’s things. Looking for keepsakes and so on. But then...” She hesitated. “I came here convinced I was going back to Baltimore in a few weeks. But I started to wonder why I shouldn’t just stay here. I always liked it, and it’s so much quieter than my home. I called yesterday and the community hospital said they could definitely use me, so I’d even have a job.”

  She drummed her fingers briefly. “At least I was thinking about it until the wee hours this morning. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “That’s understandable. But there’s no reason to think the creep will bother you again. And now that he’s been reported, he’s going to have to be awfully careful about what he does.”

  “How will he know he’s been reported?”

  Good question. Roger resisted the impulse to reach across the table and cover her hand with his. Childhood was far behind them both and, for all intents, they were now near strangers. “You opened your eyes and sat up, right? Then he knows he was seen. He’d have no reason to think you didn’t report it. Then, Kelly’s car was out there this morning and she brought Bugle with her.”

  Haley smiled wanly. “You’re right. My head is kind of foggy. But I’m not ready to take a nap. First I want some of Grandma’s green tea, then I’m going to open all the curtains and let some sunlight in.”

  “Good idea. Then?”

  “I’m going to go back to what I was doing, going through her things for keepsakes. Everything else can wait.”

  “Mind if I go back to work on the ducts downstairs?”

  “Help yourself.” Her smile widened a bit. “Sure I can’t talk you into some tea?”

  He laughed, feeling the atmosphere leaven. “Nope. But I’d be willing to make another pot of coffee if you don’t mind.”

  * * *

  The cup of tea helped. So did opening all the curtains downstairs and letting in the brilliant summer sun. The nightmare of the wee hours seemed to evaporate in the cleansing morning light. The dark miasma that had clung to her since she’d seen the man at the window began to slip into the background, like a bad dream. The sounds from the basement, where Roger occasionally hammered on something, or a duct clanged, helped, too.

  Life had returned to this house, and she was almost ashamed of the way she had reacted during the night. Overreaction. Like a child. A hot shower helped, as did dressing in her oldest, softest jeans with threadbare knees and an old T-shirt worn thin from many washings. Age improved some things, for a fact.

  She caught her wet hair back in a ponytail and tried to recall her list of tasks for today. Well, it wasn’t long before she remembered she’d wanted to air the house out. Despite her grandmother’s love of lavender sachets, the house still smelled musty from being closed for so long. Since she’d arrived here a couple of days ago, she’d felt chilled and had wanted to keep the windows mostly closed.

  The summer here wasn’t very warm. She wondered if that was typical or just a spell. At home in Baltimore, it was a great deal warmer right now, and far more humid. Wyoming felt almost bone-dry. Refreshingly so, she decided.

  She put the kettle on again, trying to center herself completely in the here and now. Another cup of tea would help. It would remind her of good things. In the meantime, despite lingering wisps of fear from last night, she opened every single downstairs window and let the soft summer breeze blow through.

  When she’d learned she’d inherited the house, she’d had every intention of cleaning it out, storing the important items and selling it. Her life was in Baltimore, after all. Her job, her friends and the hospital she had seemingly wrapped her whole life around. Did she know anyone these days who wasn’t in the medical profession?

  Anyway, she’d believed herself to be happy. Then this. Somehow over the last couple of days, she’d started thinking of staying. Maybe a crazy decision based on her childhood visits and memories, but the urge was growing. It would certainly turn her life on end, but she wasn’t sure that w
as a bad thing. She’d been kind of digging a comfortable rut at home.

  But Wyoming? The state’s name could still unnerve her, if only a tiny bit. After her kidnapping, her mother had taken her away to a cousin’s in Michigan, no doubt trying to remove any reminders. Her dad had eventually moved his drilling business to the Bakken oil fields in North Dakota. Far enough north to feel different. The family had come together again.

  Then her brother, five years her elder, had taken off with the Marines and had become a visitor in her life when he wasn’t overseas somewhere. Her mother had left, tired of the life of a woman surrounded by roughnecks, and Haley had stayed with her father because she hadn’t wanted him to be all alone.

  But he’d been alone eventually anyway. Those summers he’d driven her to stay with her grandmother for a few weeks, and then when she’d knuckled down on her studies, determined to enter a medical career. Like all kids, she became eighteen and moved on to bigger dreams.

  Her dad had evidently had some dreams of his own. These days he was working in the Middle East and would occasionally call her with stories of exotic places, but no, she shouldn’t visit him, because life was uncomfortable there for women.

  So, once in a while, like her brother, he passed through her life.

  But she had a good life, she reminded herself as the kettle whistled and she made a fresh cup of tea. Maybe, however, she’d caught a touch of her dad’s wanderlust. Maybe that was making her think of leaving everything behind to move to Wyoming.

  Although moving here didn’t sound so fantastic after last night. But stamped in her brain like a tattoo was the memory of the moon and seeing that guy peering in, silhouetted against its light. Sheesh, maybe she’d seen a werewolf or something.

  The tea tasted good and energized her. There was definitely a nap in her future, but she had wanted to sort through the sideboard in the dining room, with its drawers full of treasured table linens and, once upon a time, a bag of candy corn for a little girl who could have a few if she was very good.

  A smile danced across her lips as she carried her cup into the dining room and set it carefully on a hand-crocheted doily that she remembered making when she was about nine. Imagine Grandma saving that all these years. A warmth suffused her and she faced the real reason she wanted to stay. For all she’d built a life in Baltimore, this was the only place that had truly meant home to her.

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she pulled out the bottom drawer. Carefully folded tablecloths filled it, and the scent of lavender aroused her senses.

  “Haley?”

  It sounded as if Roger was at the top of the basement stairs. “I’m in here,” she called back. “Need something?”

  “Lunch,” he admitted as he entered the dining room. She felt him stand just a little behind her. “That’s beautiful,” he remarked.

  She reached out and touched the top layer, a carefully handcrafted lace table cover. As her hand brushed it, she heard the layers of protective tissue underneath rustle slightly. “Lots of history here,” she said. “You want me to make lunch?”

  “Heck no. I was thinking about running out and picking something up. You want?”

  It was still early, but the egg and toast had vanished some time ago. A glance toward the Regulator caused her to wonder where the hours had gone. She hadn’t done that much. Had she? Maybe dozed while she was sitting here, given last night.

  “Sure,” she said after a moment. She started to close the drawer, but Roger squatted beside her and surprised her. “There’s a story in that drawer.”

  She glanced at him and saw his expectant smile. “There probably is,” she admitted. “The sad thing about us when we’re young is that we aren’t always interested in stuff that might be important later. I have a vague memory of Grandma telling me that this drawer holds tablecloths and napkins that belonged to her mother and grandmother. Maybe her great-grandmother. I wish I remembered. Anyway, this top one? Hand-crocheted by my great-grandmother, if I remember correctly. This is a drawer full of antiques and lost memories.”

  “That’s at once neat and sad.”

  “Yeah.” She slowly pushed the drawer in. “She did try to tell me. The drawer above has her personal tablecloths. The ones she used frequently. They’re pretty, I remember that much. And this top drawer? I believe it holds her family silver. It also held candy corn for me.”

  He laughed at that, bringing an answering smile to her face. “I don’t suppose someone in your family would know the history of the tablecloths?”

  “Not likely. I don’t think my dad would have been even as interested as I was, which isn’t saying much. Not guy stuff, you know?” She got herself to her feet and pulled the top drawer open. To her amazement, a small, tied-off bag of candy corn sat in one corner. She touched it with a fingertip and felt her eyes burn as she blinked back a few tears. “Aww, Grandma.” After all these years. Then her gaze fell on some ceramic squares, maybe an inch-and-a-half on each side, the glaze crazed from the years, but not so much that the brown pattern wasn’t visible. “Butter dishes,” she said. “Now, those did belong to my great-great-grandmother. I think Grandma said they were well over a hundred years old when she showed them to me. See, I do remember something.”

  Beside them was the big, flat, wooden box that held silverware. The silver was probably tarnished and in need of good cleaning by now. Flora had let some things go over time.

  Haley slid the drawer closed and when it stuck just a bit, she decided she needed to wax the runners. “This house is full of treasures,” she told Roger. “I just wish I knew more.”

  “Maybe some of her friends know something. She had a pretty tight-knit group at the church. I’m sure they’d be glad to share anything they know.”

  “Good idea.” She faced him. “Do I need to change into something that doesn’t look like it came from a rag bin?”

  He laughed. “For around here, you look fine, like any other hard worker. Grab whatever you need. Did Flora ever take you to Maude’s diner?”

  “Probably.” She shook her head a little as if trying to free a memory. “Is that the one called the City Diner now? Just off Main?”

  “The same.”

  That brought another smile to Haley’s face. “Now, there’s another story. I guess I should close the windows.”

  Roger hesitated. “Usually, I’d say it’s not necessary. But after last night...yeah. I’ll go around and help you.”

  Though it was only a few blocks to the diner, Roger insisted on driving. “You had a rough night. A walk might really wake you up, but a good meal might help you nap.”

  She certainly didn’t feel like arguing. She’d been feeling like a squirrel on high alert since the middle of the night, and no matter how much she thought she was relaxing, even having slept briefly shortly after four, part of her clung to a deep tension. Man, she had to get over this. So some random creep had peered in her window. He’d leave her alone if she kept the curtains closed, and eventually he’d peep in a window where someone would recognize him. Anonymity, she remembered her grandmother saying, didn’t come easily in these parts.

  The streets looked so familiar to her, though, and soon she forgot the night and began remembering being outside on a breezy summer afternoon, jumping rope, playing hopscotch, or just sitting on the grass and looking up through leafy trees at the bottomless blue of the sky. When Roger’d had some free time, he was kind and would bring over a board game. Together they’d sit on the porch for hours playing Parcheesi, backgammon or checkers. Often her grandmother had brought them a pitcher of fresh-made lemonade, tart and sweet all at once.

  She glanced his way again and noted once more how the gangly kid had filled out. In all the right ways, too. A surreptitious smile caught her mouth as she quickly looked away.

  “You said there was a story about this diner,” Roger remarked as he steered them into a parking p
lace almost directly in front of it.

  Haley noted that it hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “Way back when, around the time this place was first being settled, my great-great-grandmother—at least I think it was, I keep losing track of the greats.”

  “Can’t imagine why,” he answered lightly as he turned off his truck’s ignition.

  She laughed. “There’s a lot of them. Anyway, about the turn of the twentieth century, or just before, my ancestors settled here. Grandad opened an apothecary and, right off it, my grandmother at the time opened a lunch counter. I hear it was quite busy with folks who traveled through by train. The tracks aren’t that far from here, as I recall.”

  “They’re near, not that you can tell that often anymore. Few enough trains come through here.”

  She nodded and pointed at the diner. “It was right there. Anyway, Grandma said they retired just before the war and their son sold it to whoever Maude inherited it from.”

  “Your roots go deep around here.”

  “Some of them. Others kind of sprang up elsewhere. Grandma didn’t talk a lot about it, but you know Miss Emma, right? The librarian?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” he asked wryly. “Founding family.”

  “Exactly. The McKinseys weren’t far behind.”

  “Another reason to stay,” he remarked lightly. Then he climbed out and came around to open her door for her. “Eat well,” he said as he helped her down. “Food is good and plentiful and, with any luck, you’ll be lights out by sunset so you can catch up on your sleep.”

  “That’d be nice.” Fatigue hadn’t reached her yet, but she figured her nursing schedule had made her reasonably immune to the occasional long stint. She could handle it for a while. Tonight she would probably crash into a dead sleep, disturbed by nothing short of an emergency.