Winter Awakening (Wyoming Fever Book 4)

by Elizabeth Lennox

  Winter Awakening

  By Elizabeth Lennox

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  Copyright 2021

  ISBN13: 9781950451364

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited, unless you have the direct consent of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from “Mike”! (A Delta Forces Romance)

  Chapter 1

  Returning home.

  Some say it never works out. One could never go back and we should leave the past behind us, so that we can keep moving forward. But for Kate, coming home to Cheyenne felt like…slipping into a comfortable sweater and taking a deep breath. One that fit perfectly and warmed the soul.

  It was time. Time to come home and deal with the issues from her past. Staring at the two story craftsman house where she’d grown up, and where her mother had fallen and broken her leg in several places, resulting in a trip to the hospital and then the rehab center, she acknowledged that it was past time.

  Getting out of her car, Kate looked around, memories from her past flooding over her. Some good. Some bad. When her eyes lit on the refinished Victorian house on the corner, a few of those memories caused a surprising shiver to race down her spine. Delicious shivers. Smiling at some of those memories, she pulled her eyes away with a sigh. Those days of happy, blissful summers, sneaking into that old house on the corner and dreaming about what the future would hold…well, unfortunately, that beautiful fantasy hadn’t materialized.

  “Get on with it,” she whispered into the dusky light.

  Forcing her feet forward, she flipped the key ring on her finger in a circle, expertly catching the keys on the flip side in the palm of her hand, then repeating the process as she walked up the broken concrete sidewalk towards the house.

  Her mother’s house. Her mother had asked her to clean out the house, pack up whatever Kate wanted to keep, and donate everything else. Her mother was “starting over” in Colorado after she got out of the rehab center. New life, new ideas, new surroundings, her mother had said.

  The lock to the front door still needed that extra little wiggle before the key could release the lock. And the heavy wood door still squeaked as it swung open. There was no sneaking out through the front door, she’d learned. The hard way, Kate thought with a smile as she reached out and flipped on the lights.

  There wasn’t a sudden shock of bright light filling the room. Instead, the surrounding lights emitted a dull, hazy glow. Sixty watt bulbs couldn’t penetrate all the way into the corners of this room. They merely warmed the room, almost humming as the light brushed over the worn, plaid sofa and matching recliner, now fuzzy from use, but still sturdy. The nineteen-seventies style furniture had been made to last, she thought with a sigh. And her mother hadn’t wasted money on replacing something that still “held my body”.

  There was a thin layer of dust over the small room as well as her mother’s most recent cross-stitch project resting on the arm of the chair, right where she’d left it every night for as long as Kate could remember.

  She pushed the front door closed, the heavy wood groaning in protest, but Kate ignored it. The house was too small to have both a family room and living room, but there was a formal dining room, with her grandmother’s heavy wooden table as well as the cumbersome china cabinet filled with the ugliest china set ever created. Kate had always hated the thick, ugly furniture, preferring cleaner lines and more modern designs. But she acknowledged that the furniture “fit” in the room. The heavy furniture seemed to sigh with acknowledgement that “Yes, we’re still here” and Kate shook her head at her imagination as she moved into the kitchen.

  The “earwax gold” walls and dark kitchen cabinets were truly a sight to behold! Gold walls, gold curtains and heavy, dark brown cabinets with the curves and curlicues that had been so “avant guard” back in the seventies. Then her eyes landed on the avocado green fridge. Ugh!

  Her mother had even loved the brown dishes with the tan edging! She’d matched those dishes with gold glasses. Pulling open the cabinet, Kate smiled at the neatly stacked glasses. They were made with some sort of weird material that never broke. The military should investigate those gold drinking glasses. Surely the material could be used as a weapon somehow.

  In the bottom drawer was…Kate shuddered at the stacks of old plastic containers shoved haphazardly on top of one another. Her mother hadn’t bothered with stackable containers for food storage. She’d used old cool whip or margarine containers. Another way to save money.

  Turning away from the memories, she walked up the stairs and peeked into her childhood bedroom. The pink décor was cringe-worthy. The walls and synthetic comforter were bright pink. Her mother had cross-stitched several pillows to match the pink, all of them perfectly lined up on the bed.

  That’s when the old Victorian house on the corner caught her eye through the sheer pink curtains.

  It had been empty during her high school years. Something had happened to the owner. One day, the elderly man was tending his garden and the next day, he was gone. The house had stood silent and lonely during her high school days, slowly decaying as the weather chipped away at the paint and old, dry wood trim.

  Oh, the memories she had of that house! Because it had gone empty for so long, it had been the perfect sanctuary for two teenagers who were…well, looking for some alone time!

  What was Mack doing now? Was he still in the Army? Was he still as handsome as he was then? Okay, no, that wasn’t right. Mack had never been handsome. He’d been ruggedly attractive. She’d loved running her fingers over his cheek, feeling the raw scruff of his new beard. Mack had been so irritated when he’d had to start shaving in high school, way ahead of the other guys in their class.

  Or was he doing something else? Goodness, how she’d adored him! How she’d ached when she’d gone away to college! And she’d been shattered when he’d told her that he wouldn’t be here when she came home from college. Her heart had broken when she’d gotten that letter. She’d been a sophomore and Mack had been a senior. From the moment they’d looked at each other, he’d been it for her. Mack had been “the one”.

  “Stupid dreams,” she hissed, firmly turning her back on that old Victorian house. The memories were bittersweet now, she told herself. Both the good and the bad.

  Turning, she left the pink room, refusing to sleep here. Not because the room had a perfect view of the Victorian house, but because…well, because she just didn’t want to sleep in here.

  The guest room would be better. It had a bigger bed and she wouldn’t have to see the old house. Not that the memories of that house bothered her anymore. She was over Mack. Had been for a long time!

  Chapter 2

  Mack rubbed the scruff on his jaw, wondering when he’d last slept. Had it been today? Maybe. Or maybe not. His eyes were gritty from fatigue and his th
oughts were fuzzy. This latest murder was a puzzle.

  The investigation was going to be tricky. Trying to figure out who had killed the guy while the remaining family descended on the house to claim their inheritance had been frustrating. He hoped he and his partner, Detective Dean Gibson, would be able to continue sifting through the evidence tomorrow.

  For tonight, all he wanted was to sleep for the next twelve hours. Beer. Yeah, maybe he’d grab a beer first, he thought as he pushed through the back door of the house.

  He didn’t bother to turn on the lights because there wasn’t any furniture in the house yet. Maybe he’d look for some furniture this weekend. Opening the fridge, he flinched in irritation as the bright light of the fridge illuminated the emptiness of the house. But the light also revealed the last two beers, which were all that was there. He opened the bottle, tossing the cap to the right and absently noting the ping as it landed in the trash. He needed to take out the trash too. But…wait, what day was it? When was trash pick-up day?

  Lifting the bottle to his lips, he wandered through the dark room towards the “parlor” at the front of the house. Yeah, he really needed some furniture, he thought again. It would be nice to sit down to drink a beer.

  This weekend, he promised himself. Unless today was a weekend day. Was it Monday? Or Saturday? He wasn’t sure and suspected that he needed a few days off. He’d been pushing himself pretty hard over the past few weeks.

  Mack leaned a shoulder against the front window, looking out at the dark street. This was a pretty neighborhood, for the most part. There were some beautiful yards and well maintained homes. And then there were the curmudgeons that rarely mowed their grass. There was no home owner’s association in this neighborhood of Cheyenne, Wyoming. It was in the older part of the town, with the state capital a short walk to the east, the hospital even closer.

  Mack noticed an unfamiliar car parked in front of Ms. Maven’s house. He made a mental note to run a check on the license plate number in the morning. Ms. Maven had broken her leg last month and hadn’t been able to maintain the house. She’d already moved to Fort Collins, about a forty-five minute drive south, in Colorado. It was a bigger town, and didn’t have the wind issues that seemed to bedevil Cheyenne.

  He wondered what Ms. Maven’s daughter was doing. Was Kate in Fort Collins with her mother? The possibility that Kate, with her long, wavy, sandy blond hair and those glowing, green eyes, could be so close made his body tighten. Kate with her amazing laughter, her boundless energy, and her unending optimism and dreams.

  Pushing away from the window, he muttered a few choice expletives that the mere memory of Kate, even after all these years, could cause his body to tighten with this level of urgency.

  Finishing off his beer, he tossed the bottle into the recycling bin, then headed upstairs. Sleep. He needed sleep! He definitely did not need to think about the beautiful woman that had gone off to college all those years ago. Their relationship had been doomed from the start. From the first time he’d laid eyes on Kate Maven, Mack had known that she’d be trouble. But he’d fallen hard for her anyway. And of course, it had ended exactly as he’d anticipated. Kate lived life too big. She was too enthusiastic about the world and its possibilities to remain here in Cheyenne. The world was a huge, wonderful place filled with adventures. She’d gone off, exploring the world and, as far as he knew, had thrived!

  She’d done really well for herself, he thought as he stripped off his clothes, brushed his teeth, then literally fell onto the bed as exhaustion hit him like a freight train. He didn’t have to turn off the light. There was only one light in the room and he hadn’t bothered to turn it on. He only took the time to secure his weapon in the safe beside his bed, checking to make sure that it was locked before he fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 3

  The cold air felt good! Kate pushed harder, letting the pavement under her feet set a rhythm for her thoughts. She remembered every turn, every street and even the cracks in the sidewalk. After all these years, those cracks were still there. Some new ones too, but for the most part, everything was pretty much the same.

  Was that why everything felt so…right? She had only been back in Cheyenne for a couple of weeks, but a part of her rebelled at the idea of leaving this town again. Leaving last time had nearly destroyed her. Without Mack waiting for her, she hadn’t wanted to come back for the holidays. She’d done so only because her mother and father had been here, waiting for her. Her father’s death, right after she’d graduated college had brought her back again. That had been brutal. Every moment during that funeral, she’d wished that Mack had been with her, his strong arms around her, or even just his hand in hers.

  He hadn’t been here though. He’d joined the military. From what she’d heard, he’d excelled there, although she wasn’t sure what he’d done during his time in the service. It had all been very hush hush, but her mother had whispered about rumors regarding his heroics. Nothing confirmed, and Kate hadn’t responded to her mother’s comments, so Mack’s name had never come up again.

  Still, she wondered. She turned right, heading towards the park and “Big Boy”, the enormous train engine that had been retired to a place of honor in the town. Cheyenne had been established in the eighteen hundreds, a stop on the transcontinental railroad. It had been one of the biggest towns this side of the Mississippi at one point. But now, it was just a cozy, small town with about sixty thousand residents.

  Pushing harder, she rounded the huge train engine, barely noticing the dog that sprang into action after his owner threw a tennis ball, or the geese floating serenely on the large pond. Kate wondered how the ducks survived the cold weather. Winter here in Cheyenne was a challenge for most people. Why hadn’t the ducks gone south to a warmer climate?

  Just another mystery of life, she decided, feeling the cold, winter air bite her cheeks. Snow, she thought. They’d probably get snow later today. Maybe just flurries, but even that would be welcome. She hadn’t seen much snow since she’d moved to Florida.

  Turning back towards her house, she pushed herself harder, knowing that the rest of her early morning run would be uphill. There was a serenity during a run that allowed Kate to zone out, to release the tension in her shoulders and finish her runs with a calm that nothing else could achieve. Running…centered her. It gave her the ability to concentrate more completely during the day. She loved it, craved it! It was her time to talk with God and center herself, to list all of the things she was grateful for and give thanks to God for each of those gifts.

  As she ran up the sidewalk, she wondered how many of her old neighbors still lived in the neighborhood.

  At the top of the street, Kate slowed, allowing herself to cool down. Taking in big gulps of air, she looked around, her gaze immediately drawn to the old Victorian. The memories of being in that house were merciless. Pausing in front of it, she peered at it through the pre-dawn light. It didn’t look nearly as rough as it had when she’d been in high school. The house had basically been abandoned. The lack of a full time owner was a big reason she and Mack snuck into the house so often. It had been their secret meeting place, she remembered with a wistful smile. Her father had forbidden her to see Mack, referring to him as “that asshole kid with no future!” But Kate had adored Mack. She’d loved him with all of her teenage heart. She’d loved his calm silences, the way his eyes would light up when she teased him, or the way he’d initiated her, slowly and carefully, into the world of making love. Oh, if those rooms could talk….

  Turning, she pushed the memories away, the stab of pain in her chest warned her that those memories still hurt. Even after all these years, they were too painful for her to probe.

  But maybe it was time, she thought. Perhaps she should exorcise those memories, give her aching heart a nudge to finally get over Mack, once and for all.

  Mack startled awake. In one smooth movement, he pulled himself out of bed and froze, pistol in hand, the safety off as he listened. Nothing.

&nbs
p; But the hairs on the back of his neck warned him something wasn’t right. He’d learned to pay attention to that warning signal. It had kept him alive too many times to count. Grabbing the jeans from the floor, he pulled them on, but didn’t waste time on shoes or a shirt. He estimated that it was about twenty degrees outside, so he hoped that he didn’t have to go out.

  He grabbed his cell phone and stuffed it onto his pocket as he went through his house, room by room. Nothing. It wasn’t as if someone could hide in the house since the only furniture was the mattress and box spring in his bedroom. The other rooms were refinished, reflecting their original beauty after years of hard work at refinishing the house, but they were empty of both furniture and criminal activity.

  Moving silently, he slipped down the stairs. It was still dark outside, but he could feel someone in the house. Still, there was no noise. Nothing to tell him why his senses were firing on all cylinders. He thought about calling it in, but waited, needing to be more specific about the barely perceived threat.

  Nothing on the first floor. He looked around, his eyes now adjusted to the low light coming in through the windows.

  There! A movement outside caught his eye. Someone in a dark outfit was staring at his house. He froze, peering out the window while keeping most of his body hidden by the wall. The person wasn’t doing anything. Just staring. Casing his house? They’d be disappointed if they tried to break in. There was nothing here to steal besides his dirty laundry.

  The person crossed the street and turned up the walkway to a house. Ms. Maven’s house! Damn it! The person moving through the early morning light was smaller than average, but even short people could be a threat.

  Slipping out the side door, he moved across the street, keeping the person in his sights as he dialed the phone. “This is Detective Hayden,” he murmured to the dispatcher, reciting his badge number. “There’s a break in in progress.” He gave the dispatcher the address. “I need back up now.”