Survive the Night (Lost, Inc.)

by Hinze, Vicki

  She didn’t look him directly in the eye. “He cleaned out all my undergarments, even my socks.”

  Paul processed that. Smelled something fresh. Fabric softener? “What about the closet?”

  She did look at him then. “Untouched as far as I can tell.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” He reached for her, and she brushed past him.

  He didn’t take it personally. She felt violated in a way only a woman violated could fully understand. She needed to be in control. Paul let her.

  Downstairs, he called Jack Sampson’s brother, Ken. He was the best locksmith in North Bay and a part-time volunteer at Florida Vet Net. They spoke briefly, and then Paul stashed his phone and told Della, “He’ll be here after lunch.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Are you sure the items weren’t missing before the note?”

  “They were here when I got dressed for the festival. The package had to have been mailed before then to be delivered late yesterday.” She frowned. “But Gracie saw the guy with the box leave at midnight. He could have waited for us to leave last night, come in and written the note—he remarked on the cartons in the fridge—stuffed it in the box and then resealed it.” She shrugged. “That’s the only way I can see everything happening in one trip.”

  Paul nixed that. “The seal wasn’t broken and there’s no evidence of retaping.” His stomach muscles knotted. “He’s been here twice.”

  She rubbed her arms. “Can we go now?”

  “As soon as we call the police and get this on record.”

  He checked the front door lock, and they went outside. Gracie still sat on Miss Addie’s porch. She was drawing on a sketchpad and watching a man in a broad-brimmed straw hat wearing an October Fest T-shirt push a mower over the lawn across the street. “I need to check your car. You stay on the porch.”

  “Don’t even do that to me.” She set down her case and started up the driveway toward the garage. Looking back over her shoulder at him, she said, “I’ve had the same training—” Something snagged her shin. She tumbled and went down hard, face-first.

  “Trip wire!” Paul flung himself over her, covering her head with his arms.

  The garage exploded.

  FOUR

  “Are you hurt?”

  Della frowned at Paul. What an amateurish mistake! “Only my dignity, but my garage and car are history.”

  Flames still flared high in the sky and licked at the walls of the garage. The entire front side of it had blown out, littering the drive and lawn with debris. The car had exploded and stood engulfed in flames. A gaping hole in the roof funneled out thick ash and billowing black smoke, and heat stretched through the distance and filled the air with a charred stench. Her nostrils burned, her skin heated.

  Paul got up, offering her a hand.

  She clasped it, scrambling to her feet on legs so shaky she feared they wouldn’t hold her. Neighbors flooded the street. How had they gotten out there so fast? Had she been knocked out? She didn’t think so, but...

  “Della! Della!” Miss Addie came running across the yard, half dragging Gracie. Her silver hair bobbed and the edge of her apron flapped in the breeze. “Thank heaven. The fire department is on the way.” She looked Della over and then Paul. “Are you really all right? You look all right—”

  “We’re fine, Miss Addie.” Della smiled to reassure Gracie.

  Paul swiped at a brush burn on the right side of his face, where he’d kissed the concrete protecting Della’s head. “We’re fine.”

  “What’s going on?” Miss Addie was nothing if not blunt. “I know you just got home less than an hour ago.”

  “I told her,” Gracie confessed.

  “Of course you did,” Della said, then looked at Miss Addie. “We were at the office in a meeting.”

  “I heard mention of a vandal there last night.”

  “He slashed everyone’s tires.” The mother in her refused to bring up the bomb in front of Gracie.

  “Tires and more, though he didn’t mess with anyone parked next door at my café.” Miss Addie nodded, letting Della know she was aware of the bomb on Paul’s SUV. “Is this more of the same?”

  “Appears so.” Paul and several other guys kept everyone across the street, away from her cottage. Both, Della suspected, in case of a secondary explosion and to negate the destruction of any residual evidence—not that she expected much of it as hot as the fire burned.

  “One of your cases?” Miss Addie asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Della responded, but the last thing she wanted was to encourage questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. Why the trip wire? Obviously the intent wasn’t to kill her but to scare her. Create a spectacle. Show her he could do what he liked.

  “Dawson?” Miss Addie persisted.

  “Maybe.” At this point, who knew? Though he and Gary Crawford seemed equally suspect. Was Dawson this skilled? With Internet access, he could be on a device like the one used on Paul’s SUV. They needed to know more about the device here to determine what skill level was required. “I’m so sorry about your garage.”

  The thin woman gave Della a strong hug. “You’re okay. That’s what matters.”

  Gracie craned her neck.

  “What are you looking for?” Miss Addie asked.

  “The man mowing the grass. He left the lawn mower running. Why’d he leave the mower running?”

  Della darted a glance across the street, saw the running mower and called out, “Paul!”

  He came over, and she relayed what Gracie had said.

  Paul squatted to get down to Gracie’s eye level. “I saw him, too. You were drawing him, weren’t you?”

  “No, I was drawing pumpkins.” She tucked her chin to her chest.

  “Why were you watching him?” Paul asked.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged a slender shoulder. “He made me feel funny. Kind of creepy.”

  “Did he say or do anything to you, Gracie?” Her elbow burned. Della rubbed it and discovered another scrape.

  “Where was he, hon?” Miss Addie wrapped an arm around Gracie’s shoulder. “Which house?”

  She pointed to the cottage directly across the street. “See his lawn mower?”

  Miss Addie’s eyes narrowed. She darted her gaze from the mower to Della and then to Paul. “That cottage is empty.”

  “Lawn service?” Paul asked.

  “Not likely. I own it, and I ain’t hired nobody to cut the lawn.”

  Della sent Paul a loaded look “Gracie, what did the man look like?”

  “He had on a big hat.”

  “What color was his shirt?” Paul asked.

  “Orange. It matched the little flowers.” She pointed to marigolds.

  “It was an October Fest T-shirt,” Della said. “I saw it from the back, but not his face. Was he wearing jeans?”

  “I dunno. But he had on blue shoes.”

  “Blue shoes?” Paul grimaced. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, looking up at Paul. “I never seen shoes that color before.”

  He glanced at Della. “I’d better report it.”

  Della nodded. Gracie might have seen Della’s stalker again. Had he returned to silence the child? Her landlady had lost a husband, then her only daughter to breast cancer, and Gracie’s father to the war. She didn’t need to risk losing more. “Miss Addie, it’s a good time for you and Gracie to go visit your sister.”

  Quick on the uptake, she nodded. “It is.”

  “We’ll wait while you pack.”

  “Gracie—” Miss Addie patted her shoulder “—we’re gonna have ourselves a real-life adventure.”

  “We are?” Her face lit up.

  “Yep. And it starts right now. We leave in ten minutes, so wait by the driveway and plan what you’ll want to stuff in your suitcase while I chat with Della a second.” When Gracie got out of earshot, Miss Addie asked, “Where you gonna be until this jerk is caught?”

  “Not here.” Telling her would on
ly put her and Gracie in more jeopardy. “You can reach me through Madison.”

  “Same here.” She snorted. “If it was just me, I’d stay, but not with Gracie.”

  “No, not with Gracie.” After Danny, Della wouldn’t advise or allow any parent to take chances.

  Miss Addie hugged Della hard. For a thin woman many considered frail, her grip was surprisingly strong. “I’m worried about you, dear heart.”

  Della was worried, too. A stalker and the Nest security breach. One would have been more than enough, but two major challenges at once? “Have Jimmy check your house. Make sure when you ran over here, Blue Shoes didn’t run in there.”

  Nodding, she called out, “Jimmy!”

  He came running to her. “Yes, ma’am, Miss Addie.”

  “Take a peek in my cottage, and make sure that varmint supposedly mowing my lawn over there didn’t slip in on me. I’d hate to have to shoot him, it being Sunday and all.”

  He took off, high-fiving Gracie as he sprinted past her, then disappeared into the cottage.

  “You watch your back and Paul’s, too. That viper Gary Crawford likes to blow up things as much as Leo Dawson.” She frowned. “It ain’t him, is it?”

  “I don’t know who it is. But I’ll watch our backs,” Della promised.

  The fire department arrived, along with the police, and the neighbors lingered on the street. Some had pulled out lawn chairs as if at a ball game. They sat in clusters and chatted. Someone brought out iced tea, someone else, snacks for the kids. It was turning into a block party.

  People here seemed to take whatever happened in stride. Why the cops didn’t insist they go indoors until they searched and cleared the neighborhood, she had no idea, but they didn’t.

  Twenty minutes later Miss Addie and Gracie left the subdivision. Jimmy was right behind them, making sure no one followed them out of town.

  Two hours later, Della and Paul finished up with the police and reports and the cottage had been deemed safe. Della informed her insurance company and Madison and Mrs. Renault, who had already talked with Miss Addie about getting repairs lined up. When the last of the authorities had gone, Paul turned to Della and said, “It’s time to take five.”

  “Too much adrenaline to even think about it right now. It’s still gushing through my veins.” She swiped her windblown hair from her face. “I called and updated Mrs. Renault. She’s arranging all the repairs for Miss Addie since she’s gone. Now I want to check out the package shipper, but I need a rental car first.”

  “Emma’s sending one.” Paul looked up the street. “Should be here any time.”

  Emma. Florida Vet Net’s Mrs. Renault. “Can you take me to get a car? Then you can get to your office or do whatever you need to do.” She felt horrible, keeping him tied up as she had and away from church and his work.

  “I’m not leaving you. We’re checking out the package. Then we’re meeting Ken Sampson—”

  “Who?”

  “Ken Sampson, the locksmith,” Paul said. “Then we’re going to the ranch. Sound like a plan?”

  Relief shamed her. She was a grown woman and alone. She shouldn’t rely on him. But relying on him felt good. Not facing all this alone felt better than good. It felt great. And that made it all the more important she stop it. It wasn’t fair to either of them. She could never be what he most wanted—a wife and mother and woman of faith—and she couldn’t dare want anything ever again. She couldn’t survive another loss. Her precious Danny was dead and no matter what anyone said, it was her fault, just as Jeff had said. She was his mother. In all things, her first responsibility was to protect him, and she failed. Pain swelled in her chest and her heart hollowed. “Thank you, but—”

  “No buts. We’re in this together. Crawford or Dawson or anyone else—it’s us, Della, not just you, and on the other problem—” he referenced the security breach “—I’ve got as much to lose as you.”

  It was them. This wasn’t just about her, and he was right about the Nest breach, too. Who knew which of them would be tagged for sacrifice? While what he said should have scared her to death, it actually made her feel better. The need for them to work together wasn’t wholly a matter of her reliance on him. He was also relying on her. The joint effort was a necessity for them both and, in the matter of the security breach, the team effort was essential to him and to everyone at Lost, Inc. She could live with that. “Rental’s here.”

  “Good.” Paul headed to the CRV being parked at the curb, taking off his cummerbund and removing his jacket. He’d lost his tie hours ago, and now he rolled up his once-white shirtsleeves. “I feel like a fool running around in a penguin suit at ten in the morning—especially one as grimy as this. Want me to grab your mail or did you get it yesterday?”

  “No.” Della shot a glare at the mailbox. “Please, just leave it. It’s probably fine, but honestly, for now I’ve had all the excitement I can stand.”

  * * *

  Hiding in plain sight.

  It was one of many skills he’d learned and put to good use in the past couple of days. Thrilling in an odd way, but watching Della hit that trip wire had been exhilarating. For a minute, it looked as if she’d spot it and foil his plan. But she’d gotten cocky, giving Mason the what-for about wanting to protect her. Silly mistake. But predictable. So she’d tripped the wire and set off the explosion. He relived the pinnacle moment again in his mind—and watched them pull away from the curb in their rental.

  You were afraid, Della. But I know you. This, me being in your house, knowing I could have killed you but chose not to. He chuckled. That’s nothing compared to what you’re about to discover. You think you’re so strong, but you’re weak. Soon you’ll know what fear really means.

  She’d be dysfunctional. Totally unable to do anything for fear it’d be the wrong thing. Scared still.

  His body tingled. I can’t wait.

  * * *

  Della tapped her sunglasses at the bridge of her nose. “Mrs. Renault said the shipper was in Panama City.” She reeled off the address and set the GPS.

  “Just over an hour.” Paul tapped the turn signal and moved into the right lane, pulling in behind a white truck. “Hungry yet?”

  “I’d better wait until my stomach stops shaking.”

  “Okay.” He clasped her hand. “We got sloppy, Della. We’re lucky to be alive.”

  Sloppy? “Too full of myself is more like it.” She spared him a glance. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “I know it irks you when I get protective.” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I wish I could say I won’t do it anymore, but we both know I will, so I won’t. It’s just that...”

  “What?”

  He shrugged, draped an arm over the steering wheel. “Later. This is definitely not the time to talk about it.”

  Talk about what? Now he had her curiosity up. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last three years, it’s to seize the moment. It might be your last.”

  “Ouch. Fatalistic.”

  “Truth is not always kind or gentle. It is always truth.”

  He conceded the point. “Okay, but I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it.”

  Getting away from the cottage had her feeling more like her old self rather than a hunted victim. “I’ll get ready.”

  He kept his gaze fixed on the road. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation on the porch.”

  She wasn’t ready. “You’ve decided I’m right and want to put some distance between us—as soon as all this is over?” She braced for an answer she didn’t want to hear. What if he said yes? She’d mourn him forever.

  “No.” He glanced over. “You matter, Della. You’ve always mattered.” He put both hands firmly on the wheel and squeezed. “From the first time I heard your voice, I knew you were special, and you are.”

  Her heart lurched. “Paul, you know I can’t—”

  “Hang on. I’m not pushing you into a relationship you don’t want. I’m just
saying you matter to me.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It hit me at the cottage that with the explosion, the debris could have been deadly.”

  “I guess it’s good I was distracted and klutzy.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” The smile faded. “I won’t ever lie to you, either. Or leave or blame or abandon you. Not today, not ever.” He cleared his throat. “That’s all I wanted you to know. As long as I’m alive, you’re not alone.”

  The intensity in his voice rocked her world. All her ex-husband had done that hurt her so deeply, Paul had promised not to do. What did this mean? Did Paul love her? No, he’d definitely not said that. Or maybe he had. Maybe he loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her. Big difference. Confused, she tried to wrap her mind around this. In three years, he’d never said anything remotely close. She had no idea what to do with this confession or what it meant. “Is this related to your faith?”

  He laughed. “Sort of. When I was in crisis, I tried to shun faith, too. Like you, I felt God had failed me. But it worked out that faith was the very thing that pulled me through it. He gave me the strength I needed.” Paul passed a blue truck, a white Honda, then turned and whipped into the drive-through at Starbucks. “But it’s related to me as a man, too.” He grunted. “I understand you and where you are inside. The lack of sleep is getting to me. Want some coffee?”

  Her mind reeled. She couldn’t slot all her thoughts, so she just nodded.

  “Your usual?”

  “I have a usual?” One he knew?

  He hiked an eyebrow and placed the order. “Two grande Caffè Mistos. Two-percent milk. One with two sugars, one with one Splenda.”

  When he passed her the cup, she took it. “I guess I do have a usual.”

  “You order it every time, Della.”

  “You don’t.” She hadn’t realized she knew that. What else didn’t she realize she knew about him?

  “You noticed.” He smiled, genuinely pleased. “You haven’t said anything about what I told you.” He sipped from his cup, set it in the holder, then put the car in Drive and returned to the road. “Did I scare you?”

  “After the night and morning I’ve had?” He’d scared her silly. Not in the way the stalker did. But scary stuff all the same. She was an abandoned woman consumed by guilt and shame, one who’d determined that living her life alone was the only way she could function from that point on. And then a man she respected and admired and whose company she enjoyed because it was no threat to her, and, well, because he was special, unloaded by saying she mattered and he might ask her to marry him one day when he knew she never wanted to marry again. It knocked a woman off her feet. Not swept. Body slammed. She had no idea what to do with all that. Or even an opinion on what she should think about it beyond one thing, and that one thing scared her more than everything else.