Seeking Refuge

by Alana Terry

  It probably wasn’t important. People get texts all the time. But what if it was about that big project he had been working on? People expected to be able to reach you immediately.

  The phone buzzed again; this time it was an incoming phone call. Maybe it was an emergency. Feeling like she was snooping, she glanced at the screen. Tony DiMarco. That was the developer. This must be important. The call went to voice mail, and the text showed on the screen again.

  Call me ASAP. Got info on the farm and farmhouse to our benefit.

  Her stomach sunk, and she slid on to a barstool. She reread the text, certain she must be reading it wrong. Was Grayson involved in the vandalism? He couldn’t be the vandal; he didn’t fit the body type. But did this big project he was working on involve taking the farm away from the Samashimas? Was that the point of the vandalism, to get them all to give up? Had he just gotten close to her to feed information to whomever was behind the vandalism? She was going to be sick. Her mind rolled through all their times together, their kisses. Had they meant nothing?

  The back door squeaked open, and she heard Grayson come in with Cam, hang up the leash, take off his shoes. Cam ran in and panted by her legs, but she couldn’t look at him.

  Grayson came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders, planting a kiss on her cheek. She stiffened.

  He pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

  She shoved his phone at him. “Tell me there’s an explanation for this. One that doesn’t involve you feeding this guy information about me so he can ruin my life.”

  “What are you talking about?” He read the text. “I don’t know what he means. When we were at lunch, I probed him for some information. He’s the one that has the most to gain if the farm goes under. He’s got developments all around, owns some vacant land, and has the most capital to buy the farm quickly. He admitted to wanting the farm but said that everyone else did too.”

  He slid onto the barstool next to her, but she wouldn’t look at him. What he said made sense, but it also sounded like a good cover story. “What about the farmhouse? What does he mean by that? Because it sounds an awful lot like my house.”

  “I suppose it is, though I don’t know what he means by any of this being favorable to our project. I asked him how he let this house get away. I wanted to see what he would say, if it would be anything that would indicate he had any thoughts of revenge against you or wanted to force you out. He doesn’t like you, but I didn’t get any sense that he was trying to run you out of your house.”

  She dropped her head in her hands. She wanted to believe him, but she’d heard too many excuses and logical explanations from her parents for their actions. Bottom line was she still sat alone in the dark with only the TV for company far too many nights. Excuses came cheap.

  This week it had been pretty obvious Grayson’s priority was his project. What exactly was he willing to sacrifice to make it happen? Was she simply one more problem to solve?

  “Cait, you have to believe me. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

  The pleading in his voice threatened to crack her composure. What if he was telling her the truth? Her emotions piled up in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She needed to be alone to sort this out.

  “I’d like you to leave.” She didn’t look at him; if she did, the look she imagined in his eyes would undo her resolve.

  “Cait, please. Let’s talk about this. I don’t want to leave things this way between us.”

  She swallowed. “I can’t. Not right now. Maybe later.”

  He didn’t move. After what felt like an eternity, he slid off the stool, picked up his phone, and made his way out the back door. Until she heard his car start up and drive away, she didn’t lift her head. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and sobs burst from her chest. She wanted more than anything to be wrong about Grayson, but in her experience, people were selfish and didn’t care if you ended up as collateral damage. No, it didn’t pay to let people close to you.

  GRAYSON LEFT CAIT’S house baffled by how such a good day could turn into such a mess. He drove home and flopped on to his couch, completely unsure what to do next. He reread DiMarco’s text. What in the world could he mean? He listened to the voice message which said the same thing. What was going on?

  Did he call DiMarco and find out what he meant? He wanted to think this through first. He didn’t want to do any more damage than he already had.

  And regardless of that, how could he prove to Cait that he had nothing to do with the vandalism? He could see her point, in a way. He had started spending time with her after the first act of vandalism. But that was because she needed a ride. If he’d had his way, he would have been dating her right after Christmas.

  And he was doing a big development deal that needed DiMarco as the key player. And DiMarco was the one that stood to gain the most if the farm was sold. And if her house was sold. But Grayson was the one who had put those pieces together.

  He grabbed his laptop and opened it to his project plans. If DiMarco was behind the vandalism, Grayson didn’t want to be in business with the guy. But he didn’t know for sure DiMarco was. Just because he stood to benefit the most didn’t mean there wasn’t something else going on—like ecoterrorism or some other angry individual out for revenge that they just hadn’t figured out yet.

  The sick feeling in his stomach grew. There had always been rumors that DiMarco was shady. Grayson had even questioned including him in the deal originally for that reason, but dismissed it as gossip. But was it really? The old saying, where there’s smoke, there’s fire . . . But he didn’t want to convict a guy based on gossip. How would he ever know?

  God, I could use some wisdom here. How do I convince Cait that I’m on her side? I want to protect her, not harm her. And what do I do about DiMarco?

  He looked at the project again. What if he did it without DiMarco? He tried to look at the project with new eyes. There might be a possibility, but he was too tired to see it. Could he trust God to direct the next step?

  Flopping back against the couch, he picked up his phone. He could call DiMarco and see what he wanted. Maybe that would help him figure out what to do.

  DARKNESS HAD FILLED the room while Cait laid curled up on her bed, Cam asleep next to her. Her eyes were swollen, and her throat hurt. She flipped on the bedside lamp. She didn’t feel like eating anything, but a cup of tea would help. Maybe that and a good book while soaking in the tub would help her feel better. At least take her mind off things. In the morning, she might see things more clearly.

  She swung off the bed; Cam didn’t stir. She headed downstairs, flipping on lights as she went. She wished it were already summer when the days were longer. The rain made things particularly gloomy.

  Downstairs, she made tea in her favorite mug and found the book she’d been reading. Back upstairs in the bathroom, she started the tub. Since the water took forever to warm up, she had a five-gallon bucket she ran the water into until it warmed. California was under a drought, and she wanted to do her part to not waste water. It could go on her garden, though it wouldn’t need watering for a while after all the rain today.

  She set her mug and book on the antique milking stool next to the tub then headed to her room for her jammies and robe. She was done with this day.

  Just as she reentered the bathroom, the lights went off. Lovely. Now the electrical was out. Could this day get any worse? This was exactly why she had hoped to have the money to fix the electrical before now. Shutting off the water, she pulled her phone out and flipped on the flashlight app. She heard Cam jump off the bed and pad over to her. “Come on, boy. Let’s see what’s wrong now.”

  Two steps down the stairs, she heard the back door open and shut. The wind? That didn’t make any sense. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Was it the vandal? Or was there an innocent explanation?

  Legs like water, she took the next step down, careful to avoid the creaky spots, straining to hear anything else. Her blood rushed to her head, he
r pulse so loud in her ears she probably couldn’t hear anything.

  At the bottom step, Cam let out a soft growl. Was there an animal in the house? Right, an animal that could turn doorknobs? She shone her phone light down the hall and into the living room. Everything looked okay. She needed to check the back door, but she was flat-out afraid. Which was completely ridiculous. Wasn’t it? She’d never been afraid in her own home before.

  But she’d never been the victim of a series of deliberate attacks either. Should she call the police? But if it was just an animal or the wind, she’d feel stupid.

  Embarrassed maybe, but alive. Shoving down her pride, she touched the phone screen, shutting off the flashlight and bringing up the keypad.

  With a barking growl, Cam shot off to the kitchen.

  “Cam!” She darted after him.

  His barking drowned out nearly any other sound, but she heard a muffled curse. She stopped before reaching the kitchen and punched in 911. Backing down the hall, she ran into the living room. She knew this house better than whoever else was in here with her. Right now, darkness was her friend.

  Another muffled curse and the squeaky floorboard in the hallway.

  She edged toward the dining room, the 911 operator’s voice in her ear. “I have an intruder,” she whispered, giving her address. Hoping that was good enough, she shoved the phone in her pocket, still on. She would need both hands free.

  Another step, plus Cam’s barking, let her know the intruder was at the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t want him going up there. She tried to make a noise, a shout, but her voice barely squeaked. He probably didn’t hear it because he stepped on the bottom tread.

  She jumped on the squeaky board just inside the dining room and was rewarded with a footstep in the hall. Forcing her legs to move, she hurried into the dining room and bent down, shoving the plywood off to the side. He had to have heard that.

  He did. He was in the living room now, slowly walking toward the dining room.

  She backed up to the dining room window. There wasn’t much room to escape if this didn’t work.

  The footsteps stopped.

  She needed him to keep moving. “Hey!” Her voice cracked, and she tried again. “What do you want? Who are you?”

  The steps moved again, this time with more certainty as they oriented toward her voice.

  “Why do you keep doing this to me?” Anger began rising over her fear. “Who do you think you are, trying to ruin my life?”

  A slight chuckle then a step and a crack of wood. “Wha—” A muffled thump and a curse as he fell through the hole in the dining room floor.

  More energized now, she grabbed the plywood and shoved it back over the hole. That should keep him until the police came. Hopefully, he was afraid of spiders.

  Cam stood over the plywood and continued to bark and growl. She’d let him.

  “Cait?” Grayson’s voice came from the back porch.

  She hurried to him, careful to avoid the kitchen island. “I’m here.” Pulling the phone out of her pocket, she saw she was still connected. “I have the intruder locked in my root cellar. Please hurry.”

  “What?” Grayson put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. Grateful, she sank into his embrace.

  “Are you in any immediate danger?” the operator asked.

  “No, I don’t think he can get out. But please hurry.”

  “Units are on their way. But stay on the line.”

  “Cait, what’s going on? Why are the lights out?”

  “I don’t know. But I suspect the vandal in my root cellar had something to do with it. Why are you here?”

  A thumping noise from the plywood drew their attention.

  Grayson snapped on his phone light, and they saw the plywood jump off the floor a few inches with each thump. He ran over and stood on the plywood, keeping it from moving.

  “Units are on site,” came the voice through the phone Cait had almost forgotten she was holding. “Where in the house are you?”

  “In the kitchen. They’ll have to come through the back door. I have a friend here too now. He’s helping keep the intruder trapped.” She didn’t want them to think Grayson was the intruder.

  The back door burst open. “Police!”

  A flashlight shone in her face, and she lifted her hands and pointed to the dining room. “Under there, under the plywood he’s standing on.”

  Grayson lifted his hands and slowly stepped off the plywood.

  One officer bent down and slid the plywood away.

  Cait took a few steps until she could see the face of the man the police were shining their lights on.

  It was the same man she had seen at the farm.

  Chapter 10

  CAIT tossed her purse and keys on the kitchen counter, smothering a yawn. It had been a long day, and her brain still had a lot to process. The Samashimas had offered to give her the day off, but she knew she’d need to be available to field calls and emails from the media, customers, and vendors.

  And she had as soon as the news hit about Greg Connor, the man the police had pulled from her root cellar. But they didn’t know much else about him because he wasn’t talking. Which didn’t give her much to say to anyone who asked.

  The good news was her electrical was fine. For now. Connor had just thrown the main power switch at the breaker box.

  She grabbed a Diet Coke out of the fridge and hurried upstairs to change into clothes suitable for dirty work. Grayson would be here any minute to help fix the porch stairs. She was grateful for his presence Saturday night while the police and Detective Taylor did their work and asked their questions. Grayson had shared his theory about DiMarco. However, it was just a theory; there was no proof to go on.

  They hadn’t talked about their fight. She was a little ashamed of herself and still a little leery. He’d come back because he hadn’t wanted to leave things between them the way they were. But as it was, they didn’t have the time or energy to talk. He’d left after the last officer was gone in the early hours of the morning.

  The rumble of the Charger’s engine pulling into her driveway let her know Grayson was here. She headed back downstairs and pulled open the back door, grateful that they’d both been able to leave work early to give them extra daylight to work.

  He kissed her cheek as he entered. “How was today?”

  “Not too bad. I’m tired, took a lot of inquiries, but I didn’t have much to tell anyone.”

  He nodded. “I brought you a surprise.” He laughed. “I don’t think most women would appreciate it, but I think you will. Come out to the car.”

  He popped open the trunk and brought out two halogen work lights on tripods, which he began unfolding. “Now we can work as late as we want.”

  She laughed. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

  They grabbed tools and the lumber she’d bought and headed out to the front yard. She clipped the leash to Cam then tied it to a long piece of rope tied around the palm tree in her front yard.

  They had cleared away the broken boards and were measuring for the footings when her neighbor Mrs. Ballard walked up.

  “Seems like you’ve got a big job there.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Ballard. Yes, there’s a bit of work.” Cait stood and took a step toward the sidewalk.

  “Quite a to do here the other night. Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. The intruder fell through the floor in my dining room, and the police came quickly.”

  “I hoped so. I was actually out walking because it was the first break in the rain. I saw all the lights in your house flash off and then heard your dog barking nonstop. Something didn’t seem right so I called the police.”

  “Thank you for doing that.” Cait paused. “Has Cam’s barking bothered you before?”

  “Oh, no. I could hardly hear him, and I was standing right here. It was the nonstop nature of the barking combined with the lights going off that made me suspicious.”

  “Well, thank y
ou again.”

  Mrs. Ballard squeezed Cait’s arm. “I just think it’s lovely all the work you’ve put in on this old house. Glad somebody thought to save it.”

  Cait smiled. “Thank you. It’s a lot of work, as you can see, but I think it’s worth it.”

  “Me too.” Mrs. Ballard nodded then continued on her walk.

  Cait went back to where Grayson was working. “Getting hungry? I thought I’d have a pizza delivered.”

  “Sounds good. We won’t have to take much of a break.”

  She placed the order then put her phone on the porch. “I think Mrs. Ballard just proved my point. I knew Cam’s barking couldn’t be heard enough to bother anyone. So did Greg leave that note as one more way to harass me?”

  “We’ll never know for sure, but I’d bet yes.”

  They continued working until the pizza came. Cait grabbed a couple of Diet Cokes and paper plates from inside. They sat on the porch, feet dangling over the missing stair section.

  Grayson set his plate down. “I talked to Kyle today—Detective Taylor. He told me Greg Connor made bail at his arraignment today.”

  She nodded. “He told me that too. They put a personal protection order out so he has to stay away from me. I probably should feel more afraid, but I really don’t. I think his scare tactics only worked from the shadows. Now that we know who he is, it doesn’t seem like there is much he can do.”

  “I did some digging on him, none of which will mean anything in court, but it all bolsters our theory. Connor has worked as a general contractor for DiMarco before. Of course, he’s worked for other developers too. But the lawyer representing him today is one DiMarco has on retainer.”

  He reached for her hand. “I called off the deal with DiMarco today. While I can’t prove that he’s involved, in my gut I know he is. And I don’t want to do business with anyone like that, no matter how lucrative.”

  “Oh, Grayson.” Her heart lurched. “All that work you put into it. It was going to be your next big thing.”