Midnight Shadows (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Post, Carol J.

  The hallway was still, the other bedrooms shadowed caverns, dark and ominous. She forced herself to tiptoe from the relative safety of her room, then, stealth forgotten, broke into a full sprint, panic snapping at her heels. Her bare feet slapped the hardwood floor and pounded down the steps, skidding to a stop at the front door. The locked front door. Brow creased, she looked through the peephole, then released the dead bolt.

  Chief Branch stood on the porch wearing a dripping yellow rain slicker and an irritated scowl. What was he doing responding to a call in the middle of the night? He always left that to one of his subordinates. He lifted a bored gaze to hers and shook his head. “Less than five months back in Harmony Grove and you’re already being a problem.”

  Her panic of several moments ago was swept aside by annoyance. She would have laughed off a comment like that from anyone else. But Branch wasn’t joking. For as long as she could remember, their relationship had been one of tolerance, with the occasional jab thrown in for good measure. “I figured you’d send Alan or Tommy rather than lose any of your beauty sleep.”

  “Tommy’s on vacation, and Alan spent all day with his grandmother at Lakeland Regional. I told him I’d cover tonight.” He spoke with a heavy Southern drawl, a typical small-town cop, but without the friendliness. “So what seems to be the problem?”

  “I woke up, and a man was standing in my bedroom doorway.” He raised both brows but didn’t comment, so she continued. “I screamed, and he disappeared. I guess I scared him away.”

  “Well, let me have a look inside, and I’ll see if I can figure out how he got in.”

  Watching him pocket his flashlight and hang his rain jacket on the hall tree, she wished it was Alan or Tommy who’d responded. Branch never liked her, and she had no idea why. She had never had any brushes with the law, not even a speeding ticket.

  Whatever his reasons, she wasn’t too crazy about him, either. He always walked with the swagger of someone who thought way too much of himself. Granted, he was chief. But chief of two hardly qualified him for national recognition.

  He walked into the living room, where he began to separate slats in the blinds, checking the window latches behind them. “Everything was locked when you went to bed?”

  “Definitely.” After five years in the city, that was a given. Even more so since encountering Eugene.

  “What about the front door? Before you opened it just now, was it locked?”

  “It was.”

  He went through each room checking the locks, searching for signs of forced entry. The effort earned him some labored breathing, accompanied by a slight wheeze. The dark blue uniform stretched taut over his substantial paunch, threatening to send a button sailing through the air, and the black leather belt holding his holster looked painfully tight. He obviously spent more time sitting behind a desk than apprehending criminals.

  She followed him into the kitchen, where he crossed the room to check the back door. It was locked, too. The same held true for the kitchen window. He nodded toward the end of the short hall that separated the pantry from the broom closet. “Does that door go to the garage?”

  “Yes, it does.” At least it used to be a garage. The Tylers had traded the garage door for a sliding glass door, with plans to turn the space into a game room and build a carport off the back. But that was as far as they had gotten. So she was left with a monster-size laundry room and lots of storage space. And two choices for entry—a trek up the sidewalk to the front door or a hike around back.

  Chief Branch reappeared within moments. “Well, I’ve checked the entire downstairs, and there’s no sign of forced entry anywhere. Does anyone have a key besides you?”

  “Just the Tylers and Mrs. Johnson next door. I know it wasn’t Mrs. Johnson, and the Tylers are in Washington.”

  “Well, I think it’s safe to assume no one could get in from the second floor. So either you didn’t see what you thought you saw or you were dreaming.”

  A wave of uneasiness swept over her. She wasn’t dreaming—someone had stood in her doorway. She was sure of it. And she wouldn’t be convinced otherwise until every square inch of the house had been searched. “Would you please check upstairs anyway?”

  He didn’t respond, just gave her that expression of condescension that he had perfected so well.

  “I wasn’t dreaming,” she insisted. “I was fully awake and had been for several minutes. I know what I saw.”

  Branch shrugged. “No problem. I’ll search upstairs, too. Your intruder might have had an extension ladder...or a bucket truck. We’ve had a lot of those cases lately.”

  Annoyance surged up again, but before she could respond, the front door swung open and a panicked male voice called her name. Chris stood in the foyer, hovering at the threshold, creases of worry lining his face. The creases smoothed and disappeared the instant he saw her.

  Suddenly she was in his arms and wasn’t even sure how she got there. Relief washed over her, sweeping away the uneasiness that clung to her even after Branch’s arrival. She pressed her cheek against his chest and drew in his masculine scent, fresh as a mountain stream, mixed with a hint of the woods. It was a scent that bespoke strength and safety and dependability.

  Then something stirred deep inside, a whispered warning. Nagging doubts clawed their way to the surface. It didn’t matter how safe she felt in his arms. She was clinging to a mirage, a sweet-smelling vapor that would, without a moment’s notice, disappear into the mist.

  She would never be able to trust him with her heart.

  If she thought otherwise, she was a fool.

  * * *

  Suddenly Melissa stiffened and pulled from his embrace. “I’m sorry. I was just— I shouldn’t have done that.”

  As he watched her turn and walk away, acute emptiness wrapped around his soul. For one exquisite moment, he held her tightly against him, his face buried in that luxurious mane of hair. The years that separated them melted away, along with everything ugly that had ever come between them.

  Then just as quickly, the moment was gone and he was alone, arms cold and empty.

  He caught up to her in the living room. She stood with her back to him, hair falling in disarray about her shoulders, silk robe fluttering with each breath. She looked so beautiful. And so...vulnerable. It was all he could do to stay where he was and not haul her back into his arms.

  He cleared his throat, and she turned to face him, stiff and uncomfortable.

  And he wasn’t so comfortable himself. He had no business feeling the way he did. Wanting to protect her was okay. It was his job. Maybe not in Harmony Grove, but that was what he did—protect the public. And that was what he would do for Melissa. Anything more would be out of line.

  He hauled in a deep breath. “Look, don’t feel bad about what happened out there. It was a natural reaction—relief and gratitude at seeing a friendly face. And I didn’t take it as anything more.”

  The corners of her mouth quivered upward. “Thanks.”

  He tried for some levity, for his own sake as much as hers. “Next time you need a friendly hug, keep me in mind. I’m always ready to lend a helping hand.”

  She smiled more broadly. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

  He needed to change the subject, because all he could think about was how warm and soft she had felt in his arms. “Have they found anything? Any sign of forced entry?”

  “Nothing downstairs. He’s checking upstairs now.” Concern crept across her features, darkening those crystal-blue eyes.

  Heavy tread sounded on the stairs, and moments later, Chief Branch strolled into the living room. The years hadn’t been as kind to him as they had to Melissa. Hair that was thinning five years earlier had vacated completely, leaving behind a pale, shiny scalp. His trek down the stairs had left him gasping for air, and the massive belly announced just
how out of shape he had become, a warning poster for what can happen with too many donuts and too little exercise.

  If the old chief was surprised to see him, he didn’t show it. He just gave a brief nod and turned to Melissa. “Nothing upstairs, either. The entire house is locked up tight. There’s no need to dust for prints.”

  “I don’t understand. I could have sworn...” Her voice trailed off, worry etching itself more deeply into her features.

  “It was dark. Your eyes were playing tricks on you.”

  While the chief strolled to his patrol car, Chris waited with her in the foyer. With a heavy sigh, she sank back against an oak chest that sat along one wall and closed her eyes. “I feel like an idiot. But it seemed so real.”

  Her dejected pose stirred something in him that went far beyond mere civic duty. He didn’t want to just see to her safety—he wanted to draw her into his arms and hold her until all the tension fled her body. He curbed the desire and settled instead for a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Tell me about it.”

  She drew in a shaky breath, eyes twin pools of concern. “The storm was coming, but I don’t think that’s what woke me. I heard creaks, you know, like old houses make. But this sounded like someone was coming up the stairs. Then there was a flash of lightning, and I saw someone standing in the doorway. At least I thought I did. I guess I heard the creaks and let my imagination run away with me.” She attempted a small smile but wasn’t quite successful.

  Suddenly her brow creased. “I just realized something. I haven’t seen my cat.”

  “He’s probably sleeping somewhere.”

  “No, he always sleeps with me.”

  He followed her up the stairs toward what he guessed was her bedroom. When she dropped to her hands and knees beside the bed, he circled around to the other side and lifted the bed skirt. Wide gold eyes peered out from a solid white face.

  “Well, hello, kitty. What are you doing hiding under there?”

  The cat hissed and took a swipe at him. He jerked his hand back. “Whoa, I just about got zapped.”

  In three seconds flat, Melissa was beside him. “He never hisses.”

  She pulled him from his hiding place and rose to her feet, holding him against her chest. The contented rumble began almost immediately. “Meet Smudge.”

  He scratched the top of the cat’s head and moved to the furry cheeks. The purring grew louder. “I didn’t know you were a cat person.”

  “I wasn’t, but Smudge changed that. He showed up at my apartment cold, starving and soaking wet. And when I discovered he was deaf, that clinched it. I had to keep him.” She laid the cat on the bed and stroked his back a couple more times. “He’s usually really friendly. Something must have scared him.”

  “Maybe it was having Chief Branch in here tromping through your house. You know, really big, strange guy in a uniform.”

  He stepped back and let his gaze scan the room. A mahogany four-poster bed occupied one wall, with a coordinating dresser and chest of drawers on two others. In the corner, a water pitcher and bowl sat atop an antique stand.

  “This is a really nice place.”

  “I know. It’s like getting to live in my dream house. It’s even furnished the way I like.”

  He raised his brows. “It is? When did you get interested in antiques?”

  “A couple of years ago. A friend in Atlanta was looking for some antique china to replace missing pieces in her great-grandmother’s set. While she checked out dishes, I browsed the furniture, and it really started to grow on me. My apartment was furnished, but I picked up a few smaller pieces here and there.” She pointed to the corner. “The water pitcher and stand are mine. So is the Bombay chest in the foyer.”

  “So you now like cats and antiques.”

  “And gardening,” she added. “I’ve got a killer garden going right now.”

  “Any other surprises? You’re not getting ready to go Goth or anything, are you?”

  A smile lit her eyes. “I might have some other surprises, but that won’t be one of them. I don’t look good in black.”

  She made two more strokes down the cat’s back and walked from the room. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I panicked and called you before I thought it through.” She turned at the top of the stairs and gave him a weak smile.

  “Don’t worry about it. That’s why I gave you my number. I’d much rather get a false alarm than find out you were in danger and didn’t call.”

  He followed her down the steps and into the foyer, where she turned to face him.

  “Are you going to be okay alone? I can crash the rest of the night on the living room couch if you’d like.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” She reached out and brushed her fingers against his arm, her touch featherlight. “Thanks for rushing over here. That was sweet.”

  He nodded slowly, feeling the tug of everything that had drawn him to her all those years ago, mixed with a solid dose of regret. If only he hadn’t listened to Adrianne. But she had been so convincing, dropping hints, then making him pry it out of her. And the confession had left him reeling. He had accepted her comforting hug. But when she had locked him in a sudden kiss, he had been too stunned to react. That was the moment Melissa had walked in. And all he’d done was hurl accusations.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.”

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she blinked them away before they could pool against her lower lashes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all in the past. What’s done is done, and we can’t go back and change it...even if we wanted to.” Something in her tone said she didn’t.

  At one time, they’d had something special. At least he thought they had. But she walked away so easily. She didn’t even care enough to work through it, to try to reassure him that what Adrianne said was a lie. She’d just left. And it almost destroyed him.

  But why should he have expected anything different? How could he trust her to stay when his own mother hadn’t? If there was one thing life had taught him, it was not to count on any kind of long-term commitment. Because no matter how perfect everything seemed, eventually that all-important person in his life would leave, and he would be right back where he started.

  Alone.

  FIVE

  Melissa placed the last jewelry kit in the box and smiled at BethAnn. “That’s all of it. And there are more empty boxes than full ones, so that’s a good sign.”

  The park had been a flurry of activity all day. Once again, the Harmony Grove Fall Festival and Craft Fair was a smashing success. Now, at five o’clock, the visitors had gone, and everyone left was boxing merchandise, disassembling canopies and cleaning up any trash left behind.

  BethAnn took the box and stacked it on the hand truck with the other two. “I’m pooped. I bet we got thirty people signed up for my workshops, and I don’t even know how many craft kits we sold. Thanks for your help. I couldn’t have handled it by myself.”

  “No problem. I enjoyed it.” The only downside was being in such close proximity to Chris all day. She couldn’t believe it when he showed up shortly after she arrived and began helping Marge Tandy set up a booth catty-corner from BethAnn’s. Fortunately, there hadn’t been enough lulls during the day to pay much attention to what he was doing a few yards away.

  BethAnn started to pull the tablecloth from the table. “Everyone says last year was the best fair ever, but I think we had an even bigger turnout this year.”

  Melissa reached for the other end of the tablecloth. She couldn’t vouch for last year’s turnout, but it had been a long time since she had seen so many people in one spot. All day long, moving from one booth to the next had involved navigating through a maze of bodies. The vendors, half of whom were from outside Harmony Grove, offered everything from paintings to hand-carved wood to stained glass and pottery.
And the groups performing at thirty-minute intervals on the center stage were just as varied. As always, the contest tent was a popular spot, with the gaudy four-inch “Harmony Grove Champ” medallion as the prize for every victory, whether raising the biggest eggplant or eating the most pancakes.

  Melissa tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. “As much as I enjoyed it, I’m glad it’s over. I went to sleep way too late and then was up at four baking eight dozen cookies.”

  BethAnn grinned over at her. “Nothing like waiting till the last minute.”

  “I know. But they’re so much better fresh.” She looked past BethAnn to see Chris remove a painting from its easel and stand it on a cart with several others. In his boat shoes, cargo shorts, sailfish-print shirt and bucket cap, he looked like he was ready for a day on one of his dad’s boats.

  BethAnn followed her gaze. “I think you should give it another try.”

  “Out of the question. I’d never be able to trust him. Besides, he doesn’t want a relationship. He just wants to get everything wrapped up and get back to his life in Memphis. He told me so.”

  “Plans can change.”

  “Not these plans.”

  Chris looked up suddenly and waved a greeting, one which was returned enthusiastically by BethAnn. “Don’t you think it’s odd your paths have crossed after all these years?”

  “Not really. I mean, this is where we’re both from.”

  “But you both left and were never going to come back. What if God is trying to bring you back together? He does work in mysterious ways.”

  There she goes, bringing God into it. But that was expected. BethAnn found the Lord right before returning to Harmony Grove, and her faith colored everything she did. In fact, it was her testimony that had led Melissa to make her own commitment.

  BethAnn grasped the hand truck and began rolling it toward the sidewalk. “So why did you get to sleep so late?”

  Melissa shrugged. “Just tense, I guess. Still on edge from my scare a couple nights ago. When it’s late and I’m all alone in that big old house, it gets kind of spooky.” That was part of it, anyway. Wednesday night’s scare had shaken her in an entirely different way. Having Chris rush over, seeing the concern on that handsome face, feeling the strength and protection of those muscular arms, and knowing that, at least for a few fleeting moments, she didn’t have to face it alone—the whole experience had left her yearning for something she didn’t even realize she needed.