Midnight Shadows (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Post, Carol J.

  There was nothing to say. Not now, not ever.

  She laid the phone on the antique chest and leaned back against the wall, arms clutching her stomach. It couldn’t be happening again. But it was. She had almost let down her guard, almost let him convince her that she didn’t really see what she thought she saw.

  When would she learn? Men like him were full of stories. They spun them at will to suit their fancy, telling their women what they wanted to hear, because anything else would be too painful. But the stark truth was staring her in the face. He was a womanizer, and there was no denying it. The first time she had caught him in the act. This time a phone call found him out.

  Twice now he had duped her. Obviously she was a poor judge of character. In fact, she was no different from her mother. The backs of her eyes grew hot with impending tears, but she blinked them back. She wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t worth it.

  But even without the tears, Smudge knew something was wrong. He walked back and forth in front of her, rubbing against her shins with each pass. She bent to pick him up and held him to her chest. His warmth and affection offered a measure of comfort. But as much as she loved her cat, she needed an understanding ear. If anything would lift her spirits, it would be spending her botched-up evening with BethAnn.

  When she rolled to a stop in front of the small bungalow-style house, she almost changed her mind. The living room blinds were open, and BethAnn and Kevin were cuddled together on the couch, watching TV. Loneliness stabbed through her, leaving gaping holes in her heart.

  For several moments, she sat with one hand on the stick shift, torn between slipping quietly away and crashing her friends’ romantic evening. Then BethAnn made the decision for her. She suddenly looked away from the TV screen and hurried to the door.

  “Hey, y’all,” she called, “come on in.” She stood on the porch waving with enough enthusiasm to welcome the president, not the least bit annoyed with the interruption. Then her smile faded and creases of concern moved in. “Isn’t Chris with you?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “What happened? This was supposed to be your big date.”

  “I know. He stood me up.”

  BethAnn’s jaw dropped. “No way! Why?”

  “I don’t know. I called to talk to him and got Scarlett O’Hara.”

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  Before she could argue, BethAnn told Kevin she’d be back later and closed the door.

  Melissa frowned at the frozen image on the TV screen, visible through the front window. “I’m interrupting your movie.”

  “That’s what pause buttons are for. This is important.” BethAnn put an arm across her shoulder and led her down the driveway toward the park a block away. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “He was supposed to pick me up at six-thirty and never showed. I finally called to find out why, and a woman answered his phone.”

  “Any idea who she was?”

  “Not a clue.”

  For several moments, BethAnn walked in silence, brows drawn together. They had reached the park and were working their way toward the lake at its west end. In the final lingering moments of daylight, the park was deserted except for two small groups of teenagers. At the merry-go-round, three girls squealed as two young men spun them at breakneck speed. Another young couple sat on two swings, pushing themselves in slow circles as they talked. Six years ago, that had been her and Chris on those very swings, exchanging stories, sharing dreams, planning the future. Life was simple then, so full of promise.

  “At least this time I found out much earlier than three weeks before our wedding date—not that I would ever again consider marrying him.”

  “I wouldn’t write him off just yet,” BethAnn suggested. “It may be totally innocent. Like maybe the other woman is his cousin.”

  “I know all his cousins, and none of them are Southern belles. Just admit it. He’s a womanizer, and I was stupid to even entertain thoughts of any kind of relationship with him.” She crossed her arms and stared over at the lake. Three mallard ducks glided along its surface, relaxed and unperturbed by the two of them walking and talking a few yards away. Ripples fanned out as they cut a silent path through the water. What a life. No complicated relationships. No tough decisions. Just lazy days of hanging out, drifting along, soaking up the sunshine. And steering clear of the gators.

  “Well,” BethAnn persisted, “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. When he calls, you’ll probably find out it was all a big misunderstanding.”

  “No, I won’t. Because when he calls, I have no intention of talking to him.” Over the past two and a half weeks, she had had her whole world turned on end. It was time to take back the reins of control. And if that meant never seeing Chris again, so be it.

  “Don’t you at least want to hear what he has to say?”

  “No, I really don’t, because it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.” She stopped suddenly and spun to face BethAnn. “Maybe there is a logical explanation. Maybe it’s as innocent as you say. But you know what? I was actually starting to fall for him again, and I can’t live like this, always wondering when I’m going to catch him with someone else.” She expelled a heavy sigh and stalked down the sidewalk that circled the lake. “You thought God might be trying to bring us together. Well, I think this is God’s way of showing me it would be one huge mistake.”

  “You could look at it that way. Or it may be the devil trying to throw a monkey wrench into God’s plans. I think you need to have an open mind and keep praying about it.”

  She grunted a nonresponse. The answer she had was perfectly fine. If she took this canceled date as a sign she wasn’t to be with Chris, she couldn’t get hurt. Definitely the safest way to go.

  BethAnn put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What do you say we go back to my place for a movie? It’ll take your mind off everything for a while.”

  Melissa forced a half smile. A movie actually sounded good.

  BethAnn continued. “And let’s plan something fun for this weekend. Nothing extravagant, just something to get us away from Harmony Grove for a few hours. Have you ever been to Mary Holland Park over in Bartow?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Kevin and I were planning to take a picnic lunch and go out there Saturday afternoon. But I can leave him at home.”

  Melissa smiled again, but this time it didn’t feel so forced. “I’m so glad you came back to Harmony Grove.” She had friends, but none like BethAnn, who knew her almost as well as she knew herself.

  “Harmony Grove has a way of luring people home.”

  “In your case, Harmony Grove had some help.”

  “Yeah,” BethAnn agreed, green eyes dancing. “Kevin might have had something to do with it.”

  “I think Kevin had everything to do with it.” Melissa looked back out over the surface of the lake, her heart a little lighter than it had been minutes earlier. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your Mary Holland Park invitation. But Kevin can come.”

  “Great! We’ve got tonight and Saturday covered. And we’ll fill up every night in between, if it’ll help.”

  “That won’t be necessary. If I took you away from Kevin that long, I think he’d go through withdrawal.”

  A slow smile spread across BethAnn’s face. “You’re probably right.”

  * * *

  Chris opened his eyes and tried to get his bearings.

  The room was dark, and he was lying on top of the bedding, fully dressed. His head felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton, his brain trying to function through a drug-induced haze. What time was it, anyway? Something was obscuring the glowing red numbers on the digital alarm clock. He reached for the nightstand, and his hand met a squishy object. An ice pack. Only it wasn’t cold anymore. It
wasn’t even cool.

  Memory returned in pieces. He’d had a headache and had lain down with the ice pack, which he had evidently thrust aside at some point. He hadn’t planned on going to sleep; he was just going to lie down for twenty minutes, then...

  Missy!

  In one smooth stroke, he jumped to his feet and flung the ice pack on the floor. Seven-fifty! He’d promised to pick her up at six-thirty!

  Phone. Where did he leave his phone? He ran through the house, flicking on lights as he went. It was on the kitchen counter, right next to his keys. He flipped it open and dialed Missy’s number, hoping against hope she would let him explain. If he thought he owed her an apology before, he had some serious apologizing to do now.

  Four rings later, her message came on, and he snapped the phone shut with a sigh. Of all the days to get a headache. If he had to lie down, why didn’t he at least set the alarm, just in case? He shook his head and put the phone back on the counter. He really blew it. Missy finally agreed to go out with him, and he slept through their date! Hopefully she was just mad at him for standing her up. Because another disturbing possibility chewed at his sanity—that she opened her door, thinking it was him, and it was her stalker. How could he be so stupid? If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

  He snatched up his keys and headed out the door. He would make the trip to Harmony Grove. If her car was there and he couldn’t get her to the door, he would call Alan to check on her. She would really be ticked off then, but he would at least know she was safe.

  When he reached her place, the gravel drive was empty, the big old house dark except for a single porch light. She must have decided to go out.

  Hopefully, she was alone.

  He flipped open the phone and tried once more. Again, it went to voice mail. He jammed the Blazer into Reverse. As much as he wanted to apologize and make everything right, his main priority was finding her and making sure she was safe. She likely hadn’t gone far. The first place he would check was BethAnn’s.

  When he drove past the white clapboard house and saw the gold Civic sitting in the driveway, relief washed over him. She had made it as far as BethAnn’s, so she was in good hands. He could go home and rest easy. Except that she was still mad at him, mad enough to refuse to take his calls.

  He heaved a heavy sigh and headed back to Lakeland. There was nothing else he could do. Eventually she would have to talk to him. Then he would explain. In the meantime, he would let Alan know so he could check on her more often. Doing it himself would be out of the question.

  As soon as he walked into the house, he placed one last call. If she didn’t take this one, he would leave a message. If he was lucky, she might actually play it back.

  A whispered female voice answered the call. His heart leaped into his throat. “Missy?”

  “No, it’s BethAnn. Melissa’s in the bathroom.” She spoke in a rushed whisper. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time here, so I’m going to cut to the chase. Were you with a woman?”

  “What?” Where in the world did that come from? “I was sleeping, trying to knock out a headache.” Why was he on trial?

  There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “I guess Melissa’s right about you.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on?” There were lots of reasons for missing a date. Why would she assume he was with another woman?

  “You’ve already been caught, so don’t bother trying to deny it.” She was still whispering, but her disdain came through loud and clear.

  “There’s nothing to deny. I was alone.” He shook his head in disbelief. He had been tried, convicted and sentenced with no opportunity to defend himself. She had reason to be angry. He made plans then stood her up. But this other-woman stuff was totally off-the-wall. Was that what life with Missy would be like? Had that one bad experience soured her so badly that she would never trust him again?

  No, he would help her work through it. Whatever it took, he would show her that he wasn’t like her father, that he was faithful and committed and had eyes for no one but her. There had to be a way.

  Betty! Betty could vouch for him. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll give you the phone number of my cleaning lady. She was still there when I came home and finished up while I was sleeping.”

  “You have a cleaning lady?”

  “What’s wrong with that? A lot of single guys—”

  “Gotta go,” she suddenly hissed, cutting him off midsentence. “Mary Holland Park, Saturday at one.” And the line clicked dead.

  For several moments, he stared at his open phone, as if searching for answers hidden in the image on its glowing screen. Why did Melissa and BethAnn both assume he was with someone else? And what did Mary Holland Park have to do with anything? He had heard of it, but had no idea where it was.

  He snapped the phone shut and strolled to his room. Tomorrow he would do an internet search for Mary Holland Park. And Saturday he would be there...at one.

  Because whatever was significant about Mary Holland Park, he was sure it had something to do with Missy.

  And everything to do with his attempts to win her back.

  ELEVEN

  Melissa’s eyes shot open, and she lay motionless in the darkness. Everything was deathly still. There was no wind, no scrape of branches against the roof, no approaching storm with its eerie light display and ominous rumble.

  But something jarred her out of a sound sleep.

  For several moments she waited, listening, eyes wide, every muscle taut. A creak broke the silence, sending shock waves ricocheting through her body. She drew in a shaky breath. If she didn’t stop waking with every creak and groan of the old house, she was going to lose her mind.

  She rolled onto her side, dragging the spare pillow with her and clutching it to her chest. The alarm clock announced she had once again awoken in the dead of night, its red numerals glowing eerily in the darkness. Except it wasn’t totally dark. Not as usual. A faint glow emanated from the open door.

  Goose bumps cascaded over her, and her heart began to pound. Was she simply seeing the light that found its way inside from the front porch and patio out back? Or was it coming from somewhere inside the house?

  She lay unmoving, listening, staring through the doorway and into the hall. This time there were no apparitions. And all was quiet except the occasional creaks that were as much a part of the old house as the plumbing. She would never get used to them, but maybe eventually they wouldn’t set her teeth on edge.

  She slid from the bed and tiptoed into the hall. The source of the light was definitely inside. For several long moments she waited at the top of the stairs, longing to run back to her room, lock the door and call the police. But she had already made that mistake once.

  She probably left the light on herself. It was late when she got home from BethAnn’s, and she was tired. She was also distracted. More than likely, she plodded up the stairs and fell into bed, not giving the lights a second thought.

  Decision made, she began her descent, carefully avoiding the steps that creaked. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she reached the bottom feeling like the stupid heroine Chris joked about, investigating the bump in the night instead of calling the police.

  But this was different. Aside from the usual creaks, there were no bumps. And the light being on had a logical explanation. Especially with the dead bolt in the locked position.

  The moment she stepped into the kitchen, her breath caught in her throat. One of the chairs was angled away from the table. An icy chill settled over her, and she hugged her arms to her chest. She may have turned on the light, but she hadn’t sat at the table. She had eaten at BethAnn’s—leftover roast while they watched the movie.

  But the back door was still locked. So was the door going into the garage. She crossed the kitchen and put her h
ands on the chair. A chill passed over her again, raising the hair on the back of her neck. It was as if someone had been there, touched the chair and left behind remnants of something unsettling. She shot an uneasy glance over her shoulder and slid the chair into place. No one had come into the house. She was just on edge.

  Granted, she was being stalked. Someone was watching her come and go, even looking in the windows. But he couldn’t pass through walls. So that left one explanation.

  She had turned on the light and moved the chair herself.

  She flipped the switch and trudged back up the stairs. Daylight was still two hours away, and she needed sleep. She had a lot of work to do—a full day of depositions at the state attorney’s office.

  Then tonight she would call Chris.

  He had called three times and left one message, which she deleted without playing back. Then she turned her phone off.

  But she couldn’t avoid him forever. She was going to have to face him, if not in person, at least over the phone. Preferably over the phone. Then she wouldn’t be swayed by that warm gaze and teasing smile. She could tune out the smooth timbre of his voice and focus on the words—whatever cockamamie explanation he might come up with for why a woman answered his phone.

  Then she would tell him not to call her anymore. She didn’t need his protection. If things got too scary and she didn’t feel the Harmony Grove Police Department could handle it, she would run. She had done it before; she could do it again.

  And she didn’t want a relationship, or even friendship. She wanted a clean and final break. Then she could move forward. Actually, she would be happy to move back—one month ago, she was quite content with her life and how neatly she had stuffed Chris and all related memories into some dusty, cobwebbed corner of her mind.

  Somehow she would get there again.

  * * *