Stalked In Conard County (Conard County: The Next Generation Book 41) Page 6

  The guy at the window was another matter, but he wouldn’t even be able to peek in tonight, if he bothered to return.

  With that in mind, she determined she’d spend the night in Grandma’s room. It was where she wanted to be, and it even had a small television on the bureau, something that had surprised her. Maybe an addition when her grandmother had started to become ill.

  Soon she was settled in, wrapped comfortably in blankets and surrounded by good memories. The best memories.

  To hell with the creep.

  Chapter 3

  The church ladies started to show up, casseroles in hand, Edgar noticed. Hell. Nearly a week had passed and Haley showed no sign of heading back to wherever she’d come from. Boxes had been picked up by charities and carted away, but still the woman remained.

  He tried to tell himself he was getting wound up for no reason, but that didn’t help. He was seldom successful at calming his own anxieties, and this one was growing.

  He told himself if he just stayed out of Haley’s way, she never had to see him, and there’d be no risk that she’d recognize him. He couldn’t make himself believe it, most especially if she decided to stay.

  He could stay out of her sight line for another week or two, but not indefinitely. He reminded himself that he could always pack up and leave—his usual method for dealing with matters he couldn’t control—but a couple of things made him truly reluctant to do that now.

  For one thing, he was now in his fifties. Finding a job wouldn’t be all that easy. Second, he was heavily invested in his current job at the vocational school. He liked the work, liked his colleagues, liked his students...and for the first time in his adult life he felt as if he truly belonged somewhere.

  Was he supposed to throw that all away because some woman might remember him from a quarter century ago? He thought not. In fact, he rather thought he might kill her before he allowed that. He hadn’t had much in his life, working as a roughneck in the oil fields, but now he had something important to lose.

  Respect. He was respected in his current position. He’d never felt that way before. People sometimes called him sir. Throw that away because some twit might remember him? After all these years? The cops probably wouldn’t even believe her when she hadn’t been able to remember him around the time of the crime.

  Nope, he assured himself, he was safe. Just keep a low profile. Because even if her identification didn’t convince the cops, it could mess up his life anyway. Make people wonder. People wondering was to be avoided at all cost. He’d seen what gossip and unanswered questions could do, especially in a tight-knit area like this.

  Edgar gave himself a mental pat on the back for having thought this through instead of giving in to an immediate impulse to act. He didn’t often consider the possible consequences when strong emotion drove him, but this time he had.

  Good man. He was getting better at this. For now...keep his head down and out of that woman’s way. Easy enough to do. She had no reason to come out to the college, and he didn’t need to walk Puddles anywhere near her house.

  But if something went wrong, he didn’t doubt his ability to deal with her. She’d never testify against him. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Once again calmed down, he put Puddles in her backyard kennel and headed out to work at the college. Friday, his favorite day of the class week because Fridays were when he tested his students on what they’d learned during the week.

  Handling drilling equipment required more than brawn, it required knowledge and understanding what each nut, bolt and pipe joint did. Well blowouts were anathema, and he made sure his students understood that before they left with their certificates for oil fields.

  He even enjoyed showing them film of what happened when someone cut a corner, whether the oil company or some worker. He loved watching the violence of the results, but he never wanted to be the cause. A man would never work again if it got pinned on him, so he’d better hope he was a casualty.

  Whistling tunelessly under his breath, he pulled out of his driveway and headed toward work. He couldn’t resist passing by the McKinsey house, though.

  Yup, the woman was still there. Anxiety crawled along his nerve endings anew. She’d better go soon or he’d have to protect himself.

  Yeah, protect himself. That made him feel better about what he might have to do. Nothing pointless, something essential.

  Yeah. Protection. Self-defense.

  * * *

  Roger needed to get back to finish that ductwork for Haley but, more important, he needed to get back to check on her. He’d gotten caught up in some pressing work that hadn’t left him with a whole lot of time to spare. He’d glanced toward the house when he’d needed to run out for supplies and had seen that she was still pulling all the curtains closed at night. Probably wise. She didn’t need another shock like that.

  He’d also noted when he was out back getting the hose to bring water into his work shed that some of the church ladies were beginning to show up. So Haley wasn’t completely alone, and he was sure those women were full of stories about Flora that must entertain her.

  But she was still too much alone, he didn’t know what she’d decided about remaining here, and at some level he felt he was falling down on his job. A self-imposed job, maybe, but he’d known Flora well. She’d count on him to keep an eye on her granddaughter.

  On those occasions when Haley had come to visit as a child and young teen, they’d had a lot of fun together. Sure, he’d been older, but being an older guy meant being able to relax a bit when he was away from other guys his age. No comparisons. No showing off. No “I’m better than you are” stuff. Male competition. He’d always competed as well as anyone, but he’d worked hard for his father and being able to relax with Haley over a board game had felt almost tranquil, more relaxing than the boys’ club that had surrounded him for so long.

  He’d thoroughly enjoyed every one of her visits until she’d stopped coming and Flora had started to go visit her and her mother. He had little idea what had happened to her all those years, except tidbits dropped by Flora in passing. One thing you could say for Flora, she was never a gossip and friendship had given Roger no special entrée.

  When he’d finished stretching carefully cut leather pieces onto a rack to dry into proper shape, he decided he was done for the day. He ran upstairs to his living quarters to take a shower and find some clothes that didn’t smell like the saddles he was making or the chemicals he used on the leather. Then he hopped into his truck and headed the few doors down to see Haley. He could have walked, but on the off chance she needed to make a grocery run or something, he took his wheels.

  She was slow to answer his knock and while he waited, he looked up and down the street. The early evening was beginning to quiet as families settled in for supper and television. Or video gaming, he’d learned. The thought brought an amused quirk to his mouth. Did anyone talk to anyone face-to-face anymore?

  When Haley opened the door, she appeared flushed and a little breathless. “Sorry I kept you waiting. I was up in the attic.”

  He lifted a brow. “Let me guess. You found a dusty treasure trove.”

  She laughed. “Basically. Come on in.”

  “First, I wanted to ask if you’d like me to go get something for dinner, since I’m bold enough to invite myself.”

  She laughed again. “Beat you. I’m making Flora’s goulash.”

  He leaned in a little, sniffing. “You mean with hamburger, tomatoes, celery, macaroni...”

  “Her recipe exactly. You a fan?”

  “The biggest.”

  “Well, as is necessary with this dish, I have enough for an army. Come on in.”

  “What were you going to do with the rest?” he asked curiously.

  “Fridge. Freezer. Whatever. I never feel like cooking every night. And despite all the casseroles I’ve been receiving, I occa
sionally develop a craving for comfort food.”

  He closed the door behind him. Then, seeing her hesitation, he turned to lock it. “Still uneasy?”

  “I feel like a fool, but yes. It’s awful. I love fresh air but I’m keeping this place buttoned up except for a little while each day. A couple of hours while I’m downstairs, then a few while I’m upstairs.”

  As they entered the kitchen, she faced him. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’m losing it, Roger. After all these years, the man in my nightmares couldn’t possibly come after me again. Why would he? As for the guy the other night...”

  “Probably a harmless creep.” But not exactly harmless, Roger thought. He’d brought nightmares back to this woman—nightmares she couldn’t quite seem to shake. Like post-traumatic stress disorder.

  The idea gave him a mental jerk. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but he knew plenty of people who suffered from it, not all of them vets. A guy peeking in her window... A guy had kidnapped her through her bedroom window all those years ago...

  Hell, this was no mere problem of memory. This ran deeper and, from his experience with some of his friends, he wasn’t sure there was enough therapy to get rid of it. Maybe therapy had helped her move on but hadn’t removed all the baggage. Well, how could it? She been through an event so terrifying he couldn’t imagine it. Kidnapped by a stranger as a child, right out of the safety of her own bed.

  His hands clenched into fists, then he forced them to relax. Too late now to wrap them around the perp’s throat.

  But it couldn’t be helping her at all that they’d never caught the guy who’d taken her. No closure there. No sense of him being gone for good.

  “Haley...”

  She shrugged and looked rueful. “I’m feeling like a big baby.”

  “I don’t think you should.”

  “Very kind of you.”

  He shook his head sharply. “I’m not being kind. Just honest. What happened to you all those years ago isn’t something anyone could just sweep under a rug permanently. Then this jerk, this creep, does that? You’d be nuts not to react this way.”

  She stirred the tall pot on the stove, releasing more delicious aromas, then turned to the fridge. “Beer? I felt a need today.”

  “Beer sounds great.”

  She pulled out two longnecks and handed him one. It felt frosty in his hand. She turned the top on hers and removed it, tossing it into the trash. “I’m more of a wine drinker when I drink at all, but for some reason this sounded awfully good today. Lots of B vitamins, you know.”

  She winked at him and he gave her high marks for her guts. “I like one myself after a long, dusty day, and I suspect that attic is dusty.”

  “Dusty and hot. I need to get a new exhaust fan in there. The current one is anemic.”

  “Well, that’s something I can do, right after I finish the ducts. And by the way, I didn’t mean to abandon the job—I had a hurry-up order I needed to get going on.”

  She pulled out a chair, waving him to join her. “No apology necessary. I’m not even sure I can afford you.”

  That drew a laugh from him. “Sure you can. I’m cheap. I never took a dime from Flora and I’m not about to start.”

  He swung the chair around and straddled it, resting his elbows on its back. The icy beer went down like ambrosia.

  He spoke again when her thoughts appeared to be tugging her down a dark path. “Flora used to send me her home cooking all the time or invite me to supper. I figure I got amply paid.”

  That brought her back into the moment. Her smile returned. “Her cooking was to die for.”

  “No kidding.” He cast his mind back to a happier time for her. “She was teaching you, wasn’t she?”

  “When she could get my attention. I always wanted to be doing something else, and that didn’t much change as I grew up.” Her smile grew a little wistful. “She’d come visit me in Baltimore after I started my nursing career, and when she could nail me down at the right time of day, she tried to teach me again. I kept complaining that my hours were weird and I was too tired. No excuses for her, though. She argued that having a lot of home-cooked food in my freezer would make life easier.”

  A laugh escaped her. “Roger? Have you ever seen the average refrigerator in an apartment? The freezer will hold two ice trays and a few boxes of frozen veggies. I don’t know where I was supposed to put all the bounty.”

  He laughed with her, imagining. “When she got her mind set on something, no deterring her. Have her friends from church been stopping by?”

  “Some of them. Flora’s chest freezer is big enough to hold all those casseroles. I suppose I should have heated one, but then I got this craving.”

  “I’m glad you did. I love this meal.” But his mind kept dancing back to his thoughts about deep scars and PTSD. He wondered if he should even mention it. This woman was still afraid because of the Peeping Tom, and if that fear cut really deep, it could become a serious problem for her. But what did he know? He had no training. Best not to stir things up.

  She spoke. “So what have you been doing?”

  “Well, I had this rush repair I mentioned, and while I was waiting for things to soak and glue to harden, a little of this and a little of that. I think I told you, I don’t work just one job at a time. There are a whole lot of steps involved, and a lot of soaking and shaping of leather, so I have things in various stages. Today, I was working on fixing a saddle. God knows what the owner did to it, or maybe it was just lousy work, but I’m glad I don’t have to take responsibility for the way it’s falling apart.”

  “Were you serious about custom measurements?”

  “Yeah, I was. There are other saddle makers who rely on the fact that eighty percent of horses can wear standard measurements, but I don’t like to do that. Horses matter, too. Then there’s the rider. Some folks know how to measure the seat they like, but if I’m going to go to all the trouble to make a custom fit for the horse, I’d prefer to make a custom fit for the rider, too.”

  “So you’re like the Bentley of saddle makers?”

  He had to grin. “I pat my own back sometimes. No, I wouldn’t go that far. Details are important to me, is all. I’m fussy about it.”

  Her eyes danced, a sight he remembered from when they’d played games years ago. He liked seeing it again. “Fussy explains why those ducts in the basement look like perfection.”

  “You’ve looked? But I haven’t finished.”

  “I was curious.” Her face was shadowing again, however, and she revealed something that slammed his attention into high gear. “When I went down there, I remembered something from my abduction. The guy kept me in a basement at least part of the time. I kinda ran back up those stairs today.”

  “I guess so.” The urge to reach over became almost overwhelming, but he didn’t have the right to do so, and he didn’t want to make her jumpy about him being around. Heaven knew what opinion of men she might have been subconsciously harboring all these years. Here she was, thirty, but he’d never heard of her in a serious relationship. While Flora had never been a gossip, he thought such a development would have made her happy enough to share the news.

  But what did he know? He could almost sigh at the gaps in his knowledge of every kind. He might create a wonderful saddle, but people were more of a mystery.

  “You know,” he said presently, “this is a helluva mess that jerk put you in.”

  She nodded slightly. “You could say that.”

  “I am saying it. He raked up all kinds of bad memories, he’s taken your pleasure out of this house, you’re living in a cave because of it, and I can’t imagine why you just don’t put it all up for auction and go home to where you at least feel safe.” Saying it made him realize how much he’d been hoping she’d stay. Too bad. This was about what was best for her, not some half-formed dream on his part.

&
nbsp; He missed Flora. Surely he didn’t want to replace her with her granddaughter? That wouldn’t be fair.

  “I wonder,” she said slowly, “if it would have been any easier if they’d caught the guy. At least I’d have no reason to be thinking of him now.”

  His chest tightened as he listened to her and he realized how deeply involved he was becoming. Yeah, he’d known her years ago, sort of, but she was nearly a stranger now. He shouldn’t be getting so tangled up with her situation. But he was. He gave one great big damn about this.

  “You might not. On the other hand, Haley, you suffered a huge trauma. That’s going to leave scars that never quite erase. Even if they’d caught that guy, it still leaves this guy.”

  “True.” She fell silent and he let her be, wishing there was something he could do to be truly helpful. He liked to be helpful. It gave him purpose and justification. He also liked to fix things, but this was clearly beyond his ability to fix.

  Haley stood and went to stir the pot simmering on the stove. “Not much longer,” she remarked as she returned to the table. “The attic was interesting. I’m not sure Flora went up there for years. I’m looking at stuff that’s probably a lot older than she was. Somehow, though, it doesn’t strike me as hoarding.”

  “A lot of people who went through hard times find it difficult to let go of possessions they might need someday. And maybe some of what’s up there held memories for her.”

  “I’ll never know now. I honestly wish I’d listened more carefully and asked more questions. Especially when I was here visiting. Part of me is reluctant to get rid of anything because it might have had meaning to her.” She shrugged. “I’m beginning to sound like a broken record. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, as a lot of people say. And this other thing...” Her gaze lifted. “I’m sorry, Roger. I keep harping on the same old things. I’ve become boring.”

  “You’ve had a shock. Anyway, it’s not always the same thing. I learned a lot about your family when we went out to lunch. I shared some about mine. See, we have more than one topic of conversation.”