“That’s fine with me. So, I’ll see you around four.” Avery watched as the heavyset woman disappeared with Lulu into the back, and then she turned and left the building.
Lulu never minded coming here. Regina made sure the last thing she did before handing a dog back to its owner was give it a spoonful of peanut butter. That way the dog’s last memory of being at the groomer was getting to eat a delicious goodie.
Avery pulled back out on the road that would take her home, and had been driving only a minute or two when she saw a pickup in her rearview mirror. The vehicle was advancing on her fairly quickly.
“You’re obviously speeding, buddy,” she muttered. She fought the impulse to step on the gas. She was going the speed limit and refused to go faster. The coast was clear for him or her to just go around her.
When she looked in her rearview mirror once again, the truck was right on her butt. It was a dark blue or black truck with tinted windows that made it impossible for her to see who was driving. All she knew for certain was the vehicle was riding way too close to her for comfort.
She moved over as far as she could in the lane to make it easy for the truck to go around her, but instead of doing so it smashed into her. The force of the collision ripped the steering wheel right out of her hands. She gasped and grappled with it in an effort to regain control before she flew off the pavement and into the nearby ditch.
What was wrong with the person driving? Was he or she drunk? Drug impaired? Had the truck accidentally hit her? What in the hell was going on? As her seat belt seemed to tighten around her belly, she thought of her babies.
She yelled as the truck banged into her car again. It was definitely no accident. Panic fluttered in her heart and seared through her veins. She stepped on the gas in an effort to escape the other vehicle.
“What are you doing?” she screamed. All she could think about were the babies she carried. She couldn’t be involved in a wreck. She had to maintain control of her car for her twins’ sake.
Despite her effort to outrun the truck it crashed into her again. Her car careened to the right, nearly sliding into the ditch before she managed to straighten it.
She felt as if she was in a horror film, with a killer truck chasing her down a deserted road. And why was there nobody else on the road to see what was happening? What was happening? What did the driver of the truck hope to do? Drive her off into the ditch and then what? Shoot her? Kill her?
As she remembered the note that had been tied around Lulu’s neck, her fear exploded. Sobs choked her and terrified tears half blurred her vision. Ahead she saw the turnoff for the Colton ranch. If she took it would the truck continue to follow her?
Praying that the answer was no, she slowed at the very last possible minute and then yanked the wheel to make the turn. Dust billowed up behind her, but thankfully, the truck shot on past the turn.
Still, she drove as fast as possible toward Dallas’s cabin. She had no idea if the truck that had followed her, the driver who had attacked her, would turn around and come after her. She grabbed her cell phone out of her purse but was too busy frantically driving to make a call.
Fear clawed at her throat as her eyes shot to her rearview mirror over and over again. She didn’t see anyone following her, but feared the truck would suddenly appear right behind her once again.
She finally pulled up in front of Dallas’s cabin and skidded to a halt next to his truck. Safety. She continued to sob as she grabbed her phone and raced for his front door.
“Dallas!” She beat on the door with her fist. Fear was still a frantic, screaming beast inside her. There was no answer. She banged on the door once again. “Dallas, please help me.”
Despite the presence of his truck in front of the cabin, apparently he wasn’t home. Oh God, if the guy in the truck returned, she would be a sitting target standing here. Through her tears she frantically looked around. She finally crouched behind an evergreen bush on the left side of the porch.
With trembling fingers, and trying to staunch her tears, she punched in Dallas’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“Dallas, I’m—I’m at your cabin. Could...could you please come home?”
“Avery, what’s wrong?”
“Please, come home. I—I just need you.”
“Sit tight. I’ll be right there.”
She clenched the phone tightly in her trembling hand and tried to control the terror that still iced the insides of her body. If the truck had come after her, surely it would have appeared by now. Even knowing that logically, she couldn’t stop the waves of fear that continued to wash over her.
She didn’t know how long she’d been behind the bush when Dallas appeared. He was on horseback and riding hard and fast toward the cabin. He looked like the hero in a Western movie riding to the heroine’s rescue.
He pulled up and dismounted, and she stood up from behind the bush. “Avery!”
Instantly she began to cry again. He rushed over to her, took her by the shoulders and gazed at her worriedly. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I—I am now.”
“What happened? What’s going on?”
She nervously looked at the road. “Please, can...can we go inside?”
“Of course.” He took her by the arm and led her to the door. He unlocked it and they went inside. He guided her to the sofa and then took her hands in his. “Now, tell me what has you so upset.”
She told him about the truck slamming into her car over and over again, and Dallas’s frown deepened with every word she spoke. “Did you get the make or model of the truck?” he asked when she was finished.
“No, I only know it was either a black or a very dark blue pickup.”
“Could you tell who was driving?”
“No,” she replied. “I can’t even tell you if the driver was male or female. The windows were tinted. I was so terrified, Dallas. I was afraid my body would be found in a ditch on the side of the road.”
He pulled her into his arms and she cried once again, though this time they were tears of relief because she knew she was safe. She finally stopped crying and he released her.
“We need to call Chief Thompson.” He got up off the sofa.
She remained seated and listened as he made the phone call. When he had finished telling the chief what had happened, he hung up. “He wants us to drive your car to the station. Are you okay to drive? I’ll follow you into town.”
She released a tremulous breath. “I can drive.” She started to rise.
“Sit tight and relax for a few minutes. I’m not ready to leave yet. Do you want anything? A glass of water...a cup of hot tea?”
“No, thanks,” she replied. Now that the abject fear had gone away, she felt both exhausted and slightly nauseous.
“I’ll just be in my room for a few minutes,” he said.
She waved her hand at him. “Take care of whatever you need to. I just appreciate everything you’re doing.”
“And I’m glad you had the foresight to come here when you were being chased.”
“Me, too.” She leaned back and closed her eyes as Dallas disappeared into his bedroom.
The note she had received the day before, tied around Lulu’s neck, had apparently been a very real threat. Somebody wanted her either badly hurt or dead. But who?
Dwayne Conway had a bunch of thug friends. Who among them was behind this? She had had moments of being afraid for herself before, but nothing in the slightest compared to this.
She moved her hands to her stomach and rubbed it slowly...lovingly. She would have died if something had happened to her twins.
What she was now afraid of was that somebody would kill her before she gave birth to her beautiful babies. She didn’t care so much about herself, but her children had to live.
Questions once again burned in her brain. Who had be
en driving that truck? What had the plan really been—to run her off the road to scare her? Or had it truly been a plan for murder?
And more frightening, what might come next? Would another attempt be made on her life? If so, then when? And where? There was no way for her to know what to expect.
“All set,” Dallas said, as he walked back into the room with a large duffel bag in his hand.
She stood and eyed it. “Are you planning on leaving town?”
“No. I’m staying in town. In fact, I’m moving in with you, Avery.”
She stared at him in stunned surprise. Moving in? “Dallas,” she began to protest.
He held up a hand to halt anything she might be going to say. “I won’t argue with you about this, Avery. You have not only been verbally threatened, but somebody just tried to run you off the road. Somebody wants to hurt you, and until we know who that somebody is, from now on I intend to be with you day and night.”
Tears threatened to fall once again as Avery left the cabin with Dallas by her side. She didn’t know if she was emotional because she felt as if her life had suddenly spiraled completely out of control, or because she was eternally grateful that at least for now, Dallas was going to be her personal bodyguard.
* * *
They dropped Avery’s car off at the police station, where, hopefully, techs could pull some paint off her smashed rear bumper and back end that would point to a specific make and model of the attacking truck.
Once they were finished making a detailed report, they went to her house. The minute they walked inside a line of worry creased her forehead.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and set his duffel bag down.
“I have a home office set up in my spare bedroom and the nursery in the other spare room. I don’t have a bedroom for you to sleep in.”
“Don’t worry about that. The sofa is just fine with me,” he assured her.
“You won’t be comfortable there,” she protested.
He smiled at her. “Avery, I was in the army. I’ve slept on rocky inclines and in dark, dank holes in the ground. Trust me, I’ll be just fine on your sofa.”
The line in her forehead smoothed. “Can I get you something? Maybe a cup of coffee?”
“I never turn down the offer of coffee.” They moved into the kitchen, where he sat at the table and watched as she got the coffee ready.
When he thought of how she had looked, bent down and hiding behind the bush next to his cabin, he wanted to hurt somebody. As he’d held her and felt her trembling with terror, he’d wanted to kill somebody.
Who was responsible for what was happening to her? Would they have killed Avery if they had managed to force her off the road? God, the very idea chilled him. It would have been a triple murder, for his babies would have probably died along with their mother.
He suddenly remembered the thug who had bumped into Avery at the diner. At the time it had seemed like it could have been an accident, but was he the one behind these threats?
“What was the name of that guy who bumped into you at the diner the other night?” he asked, as she set the cup of coffee before him.
“Joel Asman. Why?” She sat across from him.
“Do you know the names of some of Dwayne Conway’s other cohorts?”
She frowned once again. “There’s Phil Saunders and Ray McMann and Chuck Owens. I only know them because I’ve had a few run-ins with each of them in court. But I know there are others. Why? Do you intend to take them out one by one and beat them up in an alley?”
He didn’t miss her attempt to try to interject some humor in the situation. “Hell, no. Forget about taking them out one by one. I’d take them all out there together and still beat their butts.” He was grateful to see a sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there since she’d shown up at his cabin.
However, there was nothing funny about what had happened to her, and the sparkle in her eyes lasted for only a moment. “Unfortunately, we can’t be sure it’s one of those men. Like I said before, there are a lot of thugs and dangerous dope dealers in town,” she murmured.
She suddenly slapped her hands down on the tabletop. “I hate drug dealers. They are the absolute scum of the earth and they help people destroy themselves. They thrive while other people die.”
He sat back in his chair and looked at her in surprise. Her outburst had come out of nowhere, but tears were welling up in her eyes. Then he thought he knew what was going on with her. “Who did you know who died?” he asked softly.
“Nobody in particular,” she answered quickly, but the tears began to ooze down her cheeks.
He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “Talk to me, Avery. Why are you crying?”
She hesitated a moment and then squeezed his hand tightly. “My brother, Zeke. His real name was Ezekiel, but that was too big a name for a little boy, and so he was Zeke. And he died a little over a year ago from a heroin overdose.” She pulled her hand from Dallas’s, got up from the table and left the kitchen.
He waited a moment and then went in search of her. He didn’t have to look far. She stood in the living room, in front of the windows that faced the backyard.
He walked up behind her, but before he reached her she whirled around to face him and quickly swept tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice still shaky with emotion.
“Don’t be.”
She walked over to the sofa and sank down. He sat next to her. “You want to talk about it?”
She sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s an all-too-common story. Zeke always struggled a bit with depression. I think part of it had to do with the fact that our father was a mostly absent force in our lives. Oh, he meant well, but he’d work all day and then in the evenings he’d either go to the bar to hang out with his buddies or he’d date. He dated a lot after my mother died.”
“How old were you when you lost your mother?”
“I was ten and Zeke was seven. I was kind of like his mom while we grew up. I knew when he was about eighteen he started dabbling in drugs, mostly smoking marijuana and partying a lot. I lectured him about the drug use, that not only was it illegal, but it was also bad for him.”
She sighed again. “Despite my lecturing him, by the time he was twenty it was more than just dabbling and more than just weed. Then he got his job at Sanders’s Animal Farm and he was thrilled. Zeke loved animals of all kinds, and a place where animals were not only lodged, but also bred was a perfect fit for him.”
She paused and rubbed large circles on her stomach, as if she found the motion soothing. “And that job remained a good fit for him until he was about twenty-seven. Still, I occasionally wondered if he was using.” She moved her hand from her stomach to her forehead and rubbed it back and forth, as if her memories had created a bad headache.
“Zeke and I checked in with each other every day without fail. Suddenly he wasn’t calling me as often, and my calls to him often went unanswered.” She dropped her hand back to her lap. “When I finally confronted him he admitted he was shooting heroin. He’d lost his job, he didn’t have money to pay his next month’s rent and he had no food.”
She fell silent for a long moment, obviously lost in painful memories as tears once again filled her eyes. “I tried everything to save him. I begged him to go to rehab and I’d pay for it. I paid his rent and bought him food. When he wasn’t at home I drove the streets to find him. I went to Al-Anon meetings and learned I was enabling him. So I tried to do things differently. He made me so many promises, and each time he did, I believed him. But those promises were always broken.”
She looked at Dallas, and in the depths of her eyes he saw such pain it almost gutted him. “Then one morning I went over to check on him and he was dead on the floor in his bedroom. My little brother was dead, Dallas.”
As she began to weep in earnest, he wrapped her in hi
s arms and held her tightly. Oh, he knew her pain. He understood her grief. The agony of death was no stranger to either one of them. Somehow knowing that she had suffered such a loss made him feel closer to her.
“I’m sorry, Avery. I’m so sorry for your loss.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, wishing he had a magic elixir to stop her grief.
She cried for only a minute or two and then stopped and moved out of his arms. She raised her head to look at him and once again he felt the desire to kiss her...to steal the grief from her by covering her mouth with his.
Her lips, so intimately close, trembled slightly, as if with her own need of him. Oh, sweet Jesus, but he wanted to kiss her. And it had nothing to do with shared grief, but rather hot desire.
She snapped up and out of his arms, her gaze flitting away from his as her cheeks turned a blushing pink. “I’m sorry. The grief, it sometimes creeps up on me. That night when we met in the bar, it was the one-month anniversary of Zeke’s death. I was feeling wild and reckless and that’s why I went to the motel with you.”
“I know grief sometimes makes people do crazy things.” He pulled his mind away from desire and back to the conversation. It was interesting that he’d been feeling those same kinds of things when he’d gone to the bar. He’d been mourning the death of Ivy, who, on that night, had been gone for three months.
“The worst part is the heroin Zeke used that morning had been laced liberally with fentanyl. Some dope dealer decided to cut his heroin with a drug that kills, just to make more crap to sell.”
“And that’s why you hate drug dealers.”
She nodded. “Of course, ultimately it was Zeke who took the dope, and I’m still angry with him for choosing the path he did. I just know there are families who struggle with an addict. There are mothers and fathers who go to bed at night fearing the death of the addict. They wonder if they’ve done too much or too little to help the person get clean. I really hate that there are too many drugs being sold on the streets and in alleys in Whisperwood. And now, enough of this.”
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