Saving Sarah

by Nan Reinhardt

  It took about ten seconds for him to assess the situation, slowly step down one step from the top, and hold his hands, full of closet poles and a shopping bag, up in the air.

  “Hello,” he said, keeping his tone as even and measured as he could.

  “Who are you?” Her voice trembled. Clearly, she was terrified, even though her crystal blue eyes were shooting angry sparks. She was tiny—not much over five feet—and if she weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, he’d eat his favorite Chicago Cubs hat.

  “I’m Tony Reynard.” He glanced over his shoulder and backed down another step.

  “Don’t move.” She shook the gun at him and he realized it was a .22 semiautomatic, which could certainly be deadly, although by now he was fairly sure she wasn’t going to shoot him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m going to put my hands down now, okay?”

  “I wouldn’t,” she advised, sounding a little bit braver. “Unless you want a bullet through your heart.”

  “Hey, I’m just the local handyman.” Tony kept his hands up and moved down one more step so they were more eye-to-eye. He’d reached his full height by the age of sixteen, so he’d learned not to tower over people. He didn’t mean to be intimidating, but six feet three and two hundred and thirty pounds of bulky male tended to be daunting. “I’m here to install the poles in the new closet.” He peered around her. “Looks like you could use them.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What’s in the bag?” She jerked the gun toward the sack in his right hand.

  From his vantage point, Tony could see that the safety was off and her finger was inside the trigger guard.

  Shit.

  He was fairly sure the damn thing was loaded—she seemed too serious to be trying to frighten him with an unloaded weapon. She was afraid, but she meant business. He wasn’t interested in getting shot by a crazy-scared female, so he gave her his best charming smile even though sweat ran down his sides.

  Just act calm. Show her you mean her no harm. That was the key.

  “Hangers. I bought some of those velvet hanger things at the Target in Traverse City. Julie said you were arriving with only your clothes and nothing else from your place in Chicago, so I thought you might be able to use some hangers. I’ve also got some drawer liner here. Package says it smells like lavender.”

  She stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, but he didn’t let his gaze waver…or his smile. Finally, she took a deep, shaky breath and slowly dropped her arms, still holding the gun in both hands.

  “Maybe you could, um, take your finger out of the trigger guard and put the safety on before you shoot yourself in the foot,” Tony suggested. “And I’m going to lower my arms now.” When she didn’t object and did as he recommended, he sagged against the stairwell wall for a moment before he said, “You must be Sarah, Julie’s friend from Chicago.”

  * * * *

  Sarah’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding, even though she’d mostly figured out that this guy wasn’t going to hurt her. However, now she was pissed. He stood on the stairs, clearly waiting for an invitation to come up, but somehow she couldn’t say those words. Instead, anger won out and she lashed out, in spite of herself. “What the hell is the matter with you?” she barked. “Who just walks into someone’s house without knocking first?”

  “Someone who has a key and is here to fix the closet? Someone who thought you were arriving on Friday?” The guy gave her a smile and a raised brow that was probably meant to charm her. But she was too angry to be taken in by a man with gleaming white teeth and who was built like a small mountain.

  She stuck her palm out. “Hand it over.”

  He looked at her blankly.

  She said impatiently, “The key. Give me the key.”

  “No.” His deep voice was soft and firm. “The key belongs to Noah, who’s paying me to do a job. I’ll return it to him when I’m done installing the closet poles.” He eyed her for a moment longer. “Now, I’m going to come up and do exactly that, so I’d appreciate it if you’d put the gun down and let me do my job.”

  Sarah took a deep breath and then another while he waited patiently on the stairs. Julie hadn’t mentioned that anyone would be working on the apartment. However, maybe she didn’t know. Maybe he wasn’t who he claimed to be. What if he was one of Paul’s goons? “Stay right there.” She waved the gun at him. “Don’t move. I’m gonna call Julie.”

  He plopped down on the top step and sighed. “You do whatever you need to do, ma’am,” he replied with a grin. “Tell Jules I said hey.”

  Sarah tucked the gun in her back pocket and turned to get her purse before realizing that her cell phone was charging downstairs. There was a landline on the nightstand by the bed, though, so she dialed Julie’s cell while keeping an eye on the very large man sitting on the stairs.

  He simply grinned at her and she couldn’t help the tiny pull of attraction that quivered through her at the dimples that bracketed his full lips. She quelled that thought as Julie answered briskly.

  “Hey, sweets. You getting settled in?”

  “I was,” Sarah said, “until some guy let himself into the apartment. He says his name is Tony something and—”

  “Reynard.” The man supplied, his voice deep and gravelly before it rose slightly as he called, “Hey, Jules, tell her I’m okay.”

  “He’s fine, Sarah.” Julie laughed. “He’s been doing some reno work on the apartment for Noah.”

  “Okkkkaaaay,” she drawled in disbelief. How had Julie not mentioned some dude was working on the apartment?

  Julie picked up on Sarah’s doubtful tone immediately. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I should’ve remembered to tell you he might be there. Seriously, Tony’s the best. You want to make friends with him. He’s the deputy sheriff in town, so he’s always only a 9-1-1 call away.”

  “Is that so?” Sarah eyed Tony Reynard, who was now digging through the big Target sack, emptying it on the floor. Sure enough, he pulled out two twelve-packs of velvet hangers and a couple of rolls of flowered drawer liner.

  “That is so.” Julie’s grin was loud and clear over the phone line. “Breathe, Sarah. Just breathe.”

  Easy for her to say.

  Sarah sighed. “Thanks, Jules.” She hung up and gave Tony a short nod. “Do what you need to do.”

  Sarah kept an eye on Tony as he placed the four poles in their appropriate holders in the closet and opened the hanger packages and filled two of the poles. He scowled as he yanked a length of the drawer liner out, releasing the soft scent of lavender into the room.

  “Dammit, I didn’t bring my tool belt in, so no scissors.” He turned the box around. “I guess I thought this thing would have a cutter on it, like waxed paper or aluminum foil.”

  “There’s probably a pair around here somewhere.” Sarah made the offer reluctantly, then backtracked. “But, I can do the drawers. You don’t have to.” She was too aware of him, his bulk suddenly made the master suite seem small.

  He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him; he was tall and broad and very male. He didn’t frighten her anymore. Not after talking to Julie. And her sensible mind assured her he had no intention of hurting her. So why was her heart pounding? No, she wasn’t afraid, not exactly, but he was a stranger and a man, clearly able to overpower her in a heartbeat. She wanted him gone.

  It didn’t look like that was going to happen as he stood there playing with the drawer liner. “Nope, I need to do it,” he said as his shoulders filled the door to the bathroom. “Noah is paying me.”

  A shiver skittered up her spine at his determined tone. “I’ll tell him I sent you away.” Her breathing became shallow as she edged to the French doors, her hand behind her back on the grip of the gun. “Please.” The word came out in a strangled gasp that exasperated Sarah. Dammit, don’t show him the fear. Her heart pounded and tears stung her eyelids. She blinked them away as she stood her ground.

  Tony’s focus suddenly shifted from t
he drawer liner to Sarah. His brows drew together as he regarded her, clearly bewildered. Without leaving her view, he set the box on a shelf behind him and grabbed the hanger packaging and the empty bag from the bathroom floor. “Okay, I’m going to get out of your way now,” he said and held up a single key with colored tag hanging from it. “Here’s the key.” He laid it on the nightstand by the bed. “Please give it back to Noah for me.”

  Sarah’s heart rose to her throat as he moved toward her and she backed onto the loft landing. The little pistol pressed against her behind in her snug jeans—a small comfort against the vulnerability currently overwhelming her. She nodded, keeping as much distance between them as she could.

  Tony slipped through the doors, sticking to the opposite side of the landing. At the top of the stairs, he stopped and gave her a cockeyed smile that lit up his brown eyes, making them glow almost amber in the late afternoon sun streaming in the front windows. “I wouldn’t carry that gun in your back pocket if I were you, Sarah. You’re gonna shoot yourself in the butt.”

  She took a shaky breath. “I know how to use the gun.”

  His steady gaze never left her face. “No, you don’t, but you can learn.” This time his tread on the steps was surprisingly quiet for a man of his size. She walked to the bedroom window and a few seconds later, saw him bound across the gravel parking area and get into a large late-model pickup. When she went downstairs to check the back door, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. He’d locked it up again.

  * * * *

  Tony checked his watch before peering into the window of the Daily Grind, searching the newly enlarged space for… Ah, there they were. The three women were as dependable as his old Timex. He pushed the door open, inhaling the scent of freshly brewed Columbian and… What was it today? He sniffed. Bran muffins. Another sniff and he sorted chocolate croissants from the delicious odors that filled the coffee shop. Man, what a choice.

  “Morning, Deputy.” Round, balding Perry Graham, who’d hopped on the designer coffee wave almost fifteen years ago to open the Daily Grind, greeted him with a smile. “Got your medium half-caf right here.”

  “I can wait my turn.” Tony shouldered his way through the clutch of patrons waiting at the pick-up counter. “Warm me up a bran muffin, too, please?”

  “These guys have all ordered. Kelly and Seth are working on their fancy-schmancy beverages.” Perry grinned at the others as he handed Tony a cardboard cup. “You were next anyway. And put your money away. Law enforcement never pays at the Grind. You know that.”

  “I’ll accept the coffee and thank you, but I’m paying for the muffin,” Tony protested, even though he and Perry had this argument almost every single morning.

  “Fine, I’ll put it on your tab.” Perry waved him away and turned away to put the muffin in the microwave. “Go sit. I’ll bring it to you.”

  “And yet somehow that tab goes missing every time I try to pay it,” Tony replied with a smile.

  “What can I say, man? Computers.” Perry shook his head and winked over his shoulder.

  Sipping his coffee, Tony headed for the back corner. Like everyone else in town he’d been delighted when Perry had expanded into the space left empty by Bertie Chalmers, who moved her yarn shop to a sprawling house over on Cherry Street. Perry didn’t use the extra space to crowd in more tables, although he’d added several; rather, he’d set up five new areas with deep armchairs, small sofas, and coffee tables. Each little space was a cozy spot for conversation, and they all contained accessible outlets for laptops.

  Nearly every chair and a lot of the tables in the place were occupied despite the fact that it was past nine in the morning. That didn’t surprise him one bit. In the city, a place like the Grind would’ve been emptied out by now with folks heading to work or school. Except for the bank and the drugstore and the market, most of the businesses in Willow Bay didn’t open until ten and school, which was in session for another three weeks, started at eight a.m. Life in the little resort village was pretty quiet until summer got underway, and even with the tourist trade, it was a laid-back place that suited Tony just fine.

  Pete Carvey and his charter boat crew sat together at one of the bigger tables, a large lake map spread out on its surface. “Morning, Deputy.” Pete’s white teeth gleamed through his dark bushy beard. He’d gotten new implants last month and grabbed any opportunity to show them off.

  “Hey, Pete.” Tony stopped for a moment and nodded to each of the crew in turn. “Kyle, Mark, Samantha, Kenny.” He peered over Mark’s shoulder at the map. “Getting ready for the season, eh? How’re the salmon running?”

  “They’re not running, Tony, they’re still just swimming,” Samantha replied and grinned up at him. They indulged in the tired old joke damn near every morning during tourist season, but Tony still laughed along with the crew. The camaraderie of village life was something he’d never tire of after so many years of living in Chicago. He patted Samantha’s shoulder before heading off to the three women sitting in the mini-living room in the corner.

  “Tony!” Julie Miles grinned. “Hey, baby, pull up a chair.”

  “Thanks.” He plopped down in the only empty armchair. “Hey, Carrie. Sophie. Where’s Libby? I need to talk to you, Jules.”

  “Good morning to you too, Tony.” Carrie looked up from the papers she had on her lap and stared at him over her reading glasses. “Libby’s bottling pinot noir this morning. Is this official police business? Do you need Sophie and me to leave?”

  “Um…” Tony turned to Julie. He was fairly certain that anything he wanted to say to Julie about her friend Sarah wouldn’t be a secret from two of Julie’s three best friends; however, he wasn’t prepared to bet the farm on it. “It’s about your friend.”

  “Oh, sure.” Julie nodded. “You can talk in front of these two, they know the whole story about Sarah.”

  “Want to let me in on it?” Tony accepted the muffin that Perry’s barista Kelly handed him. “Thanks, Kel.” He took a bite as he waited for her to walk away. “What is the deal with that woman? She pulled a freakin’ gun on me yesterday.”

  Carrie gasped. “Sarah Everett pulled a gun on you?”

  “Shh.” Julie tapped Carrie’s wrist with her coffee stirrer. “And it’s Sarah Bennett.”

  “Oops. Sorry,” Carrie whispered. “I’m never going to get used to that.”

  “You’d better. It’s her name now.” Julie turned back to Tony. “I didn’t even know she had a gun.”

  Tony settled back in his chair. “She does,” he said quietly, “and my guess is she hasn’t had it very long because it’s a coin toss which of us was more frightened of the damn thing.”

  “Oh crap.” Julie reached over, pulled off a piece of Tony’s muffin, and popped it in her mouth. “I’ll bet a nickel she…um…acquired it the night before we left. She slipped out while Will was over at the shelter packing up her stuff and I was in the shower. I caught her coming back in when I came out of the bathroom. She claimed she’d stepped outside to clear her head.”

  “Maybe she met up with someone who gave it to her,” Sophie offered. “Jules, leave the poor man’s muffin alone.”

  “Yeah, get your own for once,” Carrie added as Julie snitched another bite of Tony’s pastry. “Probably one of the women from the shelter brought it to her. Had she been on the phone at all?”

  “She was texting.” Julie’s perfect brows came together in a V under her wispy blonde bangs.

  He couldn’t help smiling at the trio of women he’d referred to as the Posse ever since Sophie had moved up to Willow Bay permanently a couple of years ago. They’d adopted his nickname and, in a moment of true Julie-style irreverence, became the Menopause Posse. They had a fourth with Libby Nolan, who owned the winery up by the lighthouse, and they were the village’s movers and shakers—always setting up town events and working to improve the park or the beach or some historic site. The four women single-handedly raised the funds to repair an old barge, and brought back the
summer tradition of fireworks over the bay every Saturday night.

  Only last month, they’d won a battle with the school board over free breakfasts for the underprivileged children who lived in the trailer park south of town by simply holding a huge town-wide rummage sale in Dixon’s Marina’s parking area. The money they earned would pay for breakfast for twenty-seven kids every morning for the next school year. Their newest mission was to open a battered women’s shelter in the county.

  Tony had assumed that Sarah, who he heard had worked at the shelter in Chicago where Julie volunteered in the winter, had come to help her with that project. Now, he suspected Sarah’s sudden arrival in Willow Bay went deeper, and he was a little irritated that his friend Will Brody, who also happened to be Julie’s significant other, hadn’t filled him in.

  “It’s a pretty safe bet she doesn’t have a permit to carry that thing in the state of Michigan, no matter how she acquired it, and she’s gonna hurt herself or someone else.” Tony munched his muffin thoughtfully for a few minutes while Carrie, Julie, and Sophie speculated in soft tones about Sarah and the gun.

  “Are you going to tell me her story, Jules?” he interrupted.

  Julie and Carrie exchanged a long look before Julie sighed deeply. “You probably should know, given you’re the law around here, but it’s not my story to tell. It’s hers.”

  “She’s carrying a weapon she probably got illegally, ladies. At the very least, I need to confiscate it.” He kept his voice low, even though the coffee shop had started to empty. It might have been unfair to pull rank on three good friends, but Sarah’s combination of vulnerability and bravado worried him. And, okay, he’d admit it. That mass of auburn hair and those flashing eyes intrigued him, too. He glanced around the group that had suddenly gone silent and none of the women could meet his eyes. “Can you give me the basics?”