“I’ll see if I can get in touch with Paige. She probably heard all flights are canceled.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Paige lay in bed and sighed. The moonlight broke the darkness in her room and highlighted each piece of antique furniture displayed in their bedroom. Melancholy made her wonder if these purchases were the reason Cooper was upset with her.
The blizzard winds howled against the house, and she pulled the covers up to her chin. As the wind rattled the windows, she could actually sense the wood bracing itself for the next gust. She shuddered. She never knew this house had so many creaks and groans.
Sweat burned her eyes, but she settled under the covers and tried to relax.
Cooper was gone, so why was she frightened?
Cooper’s vivid blue eyes filled her thoughts, and her lips tingled when she remembered his warm kiss goodbye as he walked out the door. His goodbye seemed genuine, and he said he would miss her. Was that all an act?
A lump in her throat grew until it was hard to breathe. That kiss came before his earth-shaking phone conversation.
“I will not think of that now,” she said. She squeezed her eyes together and felt herself relaxing under the warmth of the blankets. Sleep was what she needed. Cooper had been gone for two hours. His flight must be on its way by now. At least she wouldn’t have to think about anything more until in the morning.
Wiggling her shoulders deeper into the pillow, Paige shut her eyes and opened them again when her cell phone rang.
Slipping the covers from her head, she stared at the phone on the nightstand. The “Hello Moto” tune was Cooper’s special ring.
He was probably calling to say the flights were canceled. Would he be coming home?
Shakily, her arm snaked out of the covers and pulled the phone from its charger.
Cooper’s face stared back at her, and for some reason it seemed more sinister than before. She dropped the phone on the empty pillow beside her and covered her head again, trying to ignore the incessant ringing.
Eventually it stopped, and she rolled over and sobbed into her pillow.
How had she come to this—afraid to speak to her own husband? Sorrow and sadness settled over her, as welcome as an electric blanket in the summer time.
When sweat and tears mingled in her eyes, she thrust off the covers and sat blinking at the moonlight filtering through the curtains. A distorted beam fell across the vintage cedar chest at the foot of her bed, and she saw a box—a glowing, shiny, red and green box.
Paige sat up straight.
Cooper’s Christmas gift. She had forgotten about it.
She got out of bed and stood in front of the gift. Leaning over, she gasped.
Was that ticking she heard?
The next breath caught in her throat. She was afraid to move or breathe—afraid the smallest movement would make it explode. No, she saw Cooper bring it in the bedroom, and it hadn’t exploded when he tossed it on the bed.
Maybe it contained a timer?
If that was the case, it would explode when time ran out. She should get rid of it before it blew up the house and her with it.
But what if it was a special gift as Cooper said? Indecision prodded her forward.
She stretched her hand toward the box and froze. Her legs shook until she thought she would collapse.
She had to do this.
She would throw it in the garage. If it exploded there, she would be safe.
Instead of picking it up with her hands, she pulled her make-up case out of the closet and raked the gift into the case with a coat hanger.
The ticking noise seemed louder as she rushed through the upstairs hallway. She took the stairs two at a time but checked herself at the garage door. If it was a bomb and it exploded in the garage, it would still catch the house on fire.
Throwing it into the yard was a better option. Paige ran to the back door and groaned. Snow swirled across the back porch so thick she could hardly see ten feet into the yard.
She would never be able to throw the box far enough from the house.
Her eyes fell on the portable barbecue grill sitting at the bottom of the steps. If she put the gift inside the grill and dragged it away from the house, the grill might contain some of the blast.
She grabbed her coat from the closet by the back door and yanked it on. With stiff fingers, she slid the handles of the make-up case over her arm and hurried out the door.
At once, the wind tore the hood from her head and snow stung her cheeks as it whipped in every direction. Turning away from the driving snow, she placed the make-up case on top of the wire rack inside the grill and slammed the lid shut. Fighting the winds, she clutched the hood on her head with one hand, and tugged the grill as far away from the house as she could with the other.
Satisfied she did the right thing, she ducked her head and blindly fought the fierce winds back to the house.
For a long time, Paige stared out the window of the back door, expecting the grill to explode any second. When nothing happened, she went back to bed—sure she would dream of explosions and bombs. Dreading the unpreventable, she closed her eyes and finally went to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cooper pulled into Dave’s driveway and killed the motor. After two near misses with a car and a truck and an uncontrollable skid through a red light, his hands still trembled. It’s a good thing he hadn’t tried to make it home. He would probably be stranded at the base of a snow-covered hill after slipping and sliding his way to the bottom—or in a wreck with another vehicle.
He picked up his phone and tried Paige one more time, hoping he would catch her before she went to bed. Had she had opened his gift yet?
After several rings, Paige’s voicemail was activated. Cooper left a message and slumped in the seat.
Why didn’t she answer? And why hadn’t she called?
She mentioned going to Rosie’s—maybe she forgot to take her phone, or maybe she was stranded at Rosie’s because of the storm and didn’t have her charger. No, Rosie would have loaned her a phone to call him.
Paige was expecting him to be on the plane. She might think he had turned off his phone during the flight. Or she might already be in bed, and the wind drowned out the sound of the phone. It was early, but Paige was an early riser and practically turned in when the sun went down.
She was probably okay. He’d call her again in the morning.
He gathered his briefcase and pushed on the truck door. The fury of the blizzard forced the door shut before he could peel himself out.
Gathering strength, he pushed the door open with both hands and dragged himself out of the truck. He fought the wind all the way to the door where Dave was there to let him in.
“You must have watched me slide into your driveway,” he laughed as he shook the snow from his coat.
“Yep. I was watching for you. It’s nasty out there.”
“You’re telling me.”
Dave pointed to the den. “I have a couple of calls to make, so make yourself at home. The remote is on top of the TV, and there’s mac and cheese in the frig if you’re hungry. Help yourself.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you letting me stay. I don’t think I could have made it home.”
“No trouble, man. I pulled out several war movies and left them on the DVD player. Pick which one you like best.”
Dave left the room, and Cooper sat down in one of the leather chairs. He watched Dave’s Christmas tree lights reflected in the windows. Sadness washed over him. He wished he was home watching a movie with his wife. He missed Paige. It was their first night apart since their wedding.
CHAPTER NINE
“Screeeech.”
Paige bolted up in bed. Was she dreaming or was someone in the house?
Silently, Paige pushed the cover aside and sat up in bed.
Her shallow breathing was barely detectable.
Could it be Cooper coming home? Had his flight been canceled after all? Maybe his previous call had been to w
arn her he was coming home.
Now she had a decision to make. Either she could hide somewhere upstairs and hope that Cooper would think she was at Rosie’s for the night or she could confront him with the accusations floating around in the back of her mind.
When a footstep sounded downstairs, she got up and tiptoed to the bedroom door. Peeking out from behind the Christmas wreath on the door, she listened for movement downstairs.
As she stood there, a strange odor drifted up the stairs. Slipping into the hall, she sniffed.
Was that skunk she smelled?
She remembered in the fall when a skunk family took up residence in the crawl space under their house. Flushing them out resulted in smelly consequences that hung around for weeks as well as a resolve to never try that again.
What should she do?
She tiptoed to the banister and peered over the side into the darkened downstairs. The night light shining from below the wall cabinets in the kitchen illuminated the downstairs hallway and the back door. Dead silence filled the house, but she could hear a quiet hissing sound.
Did skunks hiss?
Visions of rattlesnakes popped into her head. In her mind, she imagined Cooper releasing venomous snakes into the house, hoping she would be bitten. A cold sweat crept over her skin. Was that his way of “getting rid of her?”
She clenched her fists and turned back to grab the phone from the pillow. After punching in a nine and a one, she stopped and ended the call. She couldn’t call dispatch unless she actually saw the snake. How embarrassed she would be if they came all the way out here, and it was something simple. Something like … What could it be? Air escaping from one of the mylar balloons left from the Christmas party last week?
Sitting on her knees, she leaned up under the bed and turned the combination on the safe hidden there. Having Cooper’s pistol would give her enough courage to walk down the stairs and see for herself.
She opened the door and gasped. The pistol was gone.
Now even more questions flew through her head. Did Cooper take out the pistol to use it on her? She was sure he couldn’t take it with him on the airplane even if he did have a carry permit. Was that him in the kitchen trying to lure her down to a room full of rattlesnakes?
This was crazy. Her thoughts were running wild, and this was Cooper she was talking about. He loved her—at least she thought he did. That knowledge didn’t make her feel better about facing the unknown noise downstairs.
She looked around for a weapon—a broom, an umbrella—anything to give her courage. She found an old curtain rod in the closet. Holding it high, she crept toward the stairs.
CHAPTER TEN
The inside of the kitchen closet wasn’t much bigger than a postage stamp, and Tag grunted as a broom poked him in the back. How stupid could he be? Usually machine oil was one of the first things he packed in his bag when visiting a house that didn’t belong to him, but tonight he had nothing to stop the old back door from squeaking. Now the woman was awake.
He tensed as he heard her moving around overhead and cracked the door enough to get a clear view of the stairs. Light from the kitchen revealed a curtain rod in her hand.
A curtain rod? But no weapon.
A strange odor filtered through the cracked opening, and Tag struggled to identify the smell. It smelled a lot like rotten onions. Wondering if there was a trash can near the door, he tried to slow his breathing and ignore the smell as he listened. Inside his coat, he touched the semi-automatic sheathed there. With a steady hand, he slipped the gun out of the holster and pulled back the slide until he heard the bullet enter the chamber.
It didn’t really matter if she found him or not. If she opened the door, he would make sure she’d never be able to identify him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The smell of skunk was stronger as Paige walked down the stairs, and the hissing sound grew louder.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, her nose burned, and her eyes watered. She could barely see in front of her.
This was more than skunk smell. The scent wasn’t this strong last summer even when they sprayed the house bricks.
Blinking her eyes rapidly, she crept through the kitchen and toward the living room. The spewing sound grew louder. The curtain rod made her hands cramp, so she loosened her grip.
The rotten smell fumigated the air, and now it was hard to breathe. She turned toward the kitchen closet to grab a dish towel. Half way there she remembered the thick hand towels she bought for the downstairs powder room. Opening that door instead, she grabbed a towel from the rack next to the sink. She covered her nose and mouth and coughed into the towel.
When Paige stepped into the living room, she stopped when she saw the fire in the gas fireplace had gone out. Walking a little closer, she realized the hissing sound was coming from the nozzle underneath the gas logs.
Gas was escaping into the room.
Frantically, she turned to the wall vent beside the fireplace and felt for the key. She gasped. The key was missing. Without the key, shutting the gas stream off was impossible.
She stumbled away from the fireplace, pulled her cell phone from her robe pocket, and froze. Last year Cooper’s volunteer fire department had responded to a house fire down the street, and she remembered his words.
Never use the cell phone if there is a gas leak.
A woman used her cell phone to call 911 when she smelled gas in her house, and the phone ignited the gas. The gas exploded and caught the house on fire.
Using her phone now was impossible. She’d have to go outside first, away from the fumes.
Tears rolled down her face as she turned to find the door. Her thoughts were jumbled. Was it to her right? Or to her left?
It was her own living room, for Pete’s sake. Why was she disoriented?
Her eyes burned, and rubbing them only made it worse.
She tripped on the oriental rug beside the couch and fell hard on her arm. Pain radiated through her bones as she tried to pull herself up into a crawling position. She couldn’t see the door, and she didn’t know which way to turn.
Squinting her eyes, she could barely make out the twinkling Christmas lights on the front porch.
Crawling toward those lights triggered a strong sense of nausea. She groaned, but kept moving. It was harder and harder to breathe, and a dull headache pounded out all reasonable thought.
Think, Paige. Think.
“Keep crawling,” she said out loud. “Just keep crawling.”
Her fingers finally touched something solid, and she felt the floor-length drapes against the outside wall. Desperately, she pulled herself up to the window sill.
Fresh air. She needed fresh air.
With all the strength inside her, she reached for the window lock to open the window. Her arms felt as heavy as an armful of bricks. She could not get the lock open.
Overwhelmed with panic, she tried once again, summoning every bit of energy she could gather. The lock refused to budge.
Defeat radiated through her, and she fell into a heap on the floor.
“God, please help me,“ she prayed. But she knew He wasn’t listening. Why should He listen to her now when she had ignored His existence for years?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Paige fought desperately to remain conscious.
Think about Cooper. This might be his doing. If Cooper did this, she would not give him the satisfaction of winning.
That competitive spirit tapped into a stockpile of determination, and once again, she forced herself to concentrate and think.
If she could break the glass, that would at least let fresh air into the room. She might even be able to crawl out the window.
Finding something strong enough to break the glass would be hard, but she remembered the wooden horse statue sitting on the table beside the window. Would it work?
She crawled to the table and pulled herself up on her knees. The statue was here somewhere. When her fingers curled around the smooth
wood, courage rose inside her. She picked it up, turned toward the window, and smashed it against the glass.
Nothing.
Gathering as much strength she could summon, she pulled herself up. Taking one step back, she lunged toward the glass, using the force of her whole body.
The glass shattered into a million pieces. Shards of glass scraped her hands and arms, but cold dry air rushed into the room. She leaned close to the opening, and fresh oxygen filled her lungs. She could breathe again.
Her fingers ached from the cold air that rushed in, but her thoughts cleared. Now she had to call for help. She took several longs breaths of the frigid air, covered her mouth once more with the towel, and stumbled toward the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tag heard the woman’s feet shuffling across the living room floor and silently pushed the closet door open.
What a break. She was nowhere in sight. He could sneak out of the house without her knowing he had been there at all.
The strong smell of rotten onions almost made him gag as he stepped into the back hallway. He covered his mouth with his hands and crept through the kitchen and out the back door. The fierce wind tore at his coat, but he cowered in the corner of the porch and pulled out his ski mask.
All he had to do was be patient, then he would come back after she went to bed and check out the gifts under the tree. If the watch wasn’t there, he would have to take care of this the hard way. He knew she was alone and without a weapon.
Everyone had their breaking point, and he knew exactly how to find hers.
It was less than a minute before he heard the sound of breaking glass. Curious, he stood up and peeked through the window of the kitchen. He could see the woman opening the front door.
She was leaving? Had she seen him and called the cops? No, she didn’t seem to be in a rush.
If he hurried, he could swipe the gifts from under the tree and get off the property before the cops showed up. Just because they had emergency vehicles didn’t mean it was easy for them to drive on ice.
Holly, Ivy, & Intrigue Page 2