“No surprises. What you see is what you get.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” He steepled his fingers and stared at her across the table, his gaze somber and much too knowing.
But Chloe didn’t plan on sharing more about her life, her hobbies, her past or the shadows that lived in her soul. “Doubt it all you want, but it’s the truth. How about you? What surprises are you hiding?”
“The fact that I cook surprises people, but it’s not something I hide.”
“I wouldn’t have thought a widowed pastor in a small town like this would ever have to cook. Aren’t the church ladies knocking on your door begging to cook you a meal?”
“They were. That’s why I had to learn to cook. By the time I’d been in town a month, I had so many casseroles in my refrigerator there wasn’t room for anything else. No milk. No eggs. No vegetables or fruit. Learning to cook was a matter of self-preservation.”
Chloe laughed, relaxing into the moment and the conversation. Enjoying the company. The man.
“You’re laughing, but it was a serious issue.” His eyes gleamed with humor as he lifted Chloe’s camera. “Now it’s your turn.”
“My turn?”
“To tell why you got into photography.”
“I moved around a lot when I was a kid. Taking pictures helped me remember where I’d been.” So she would know where she didn’t want to go, the kind of life she didn’t want to have.
“So you do landscape photography.”
“And architectural. The pictures on the wall are mine.” She gestured to a black-and-white photo of the White House and a colored photo of Arlington National Cemetery.
“They’re good. Mind if I take a look at the ones on your camera?”
“Only if I get a chance to sample your cooking.” The words were out before she could stop them and Chloe regretted them immediately. “What I mean is—”
“That you’d like to have dinner with me?” His eyes dared her to accept the offer.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Really? Two friends sharing a meal sounds like a great idea to me.”
She should refuse. Friendship with Ben wasn’t a good idea. Friendship with anyone wasn’t a good idea. “I don’t want to drag you into my troubles, Ben.”
“I’m not the type of person who gets dragged anywhere I don’t want to go.” He leaned across the table, and squeezed her hand. “So, how about that dinner?”
Say no.
But once again Chloe ignored her own advice. “All right. A meal with a friend.”
There was no harm in that.
She hoped.
Ben smiled and released her hand, turning his attention to the camera. As she watched, his smile faded, a frown creasing his brow.
“Interesting choice of subject matter.” His voice was tight, his frown deepening.
“What?” She leaned toward him, curious to see what he was looking at. It had been months since she’d used the camera. There might be photographs of Adam, of the house they’d planned to buy. Of the church where they were going to be married.
But the photo wasn’t of any of those things.
Bright flowers. Dark wood. Adam lying in white silk, his face almost unrecognizable.
Ben scrolled back and the same picture appeared again. And again.
Chloe gagged, shoving away from the table and stumbling backward, her mind rebelling at what she’d seen, her body trembling with it. Panic throbbed deep in the pit of her stomach, stealing her breath until she was gasping, struggling for air.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Ben’s voice was soothing, his hands firm on her shoulder. “Chloe, you’re fine. Take a deep breath.”
“I can’t.” Blackness edged her vision, the shadowy nightmare coming closer with every shallow breath.
“Sure you can.” His hands smoothed up her neck, cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look up and into eyes so blue, so clear, she thought she could lose herself in them. “You’re a survivor. A couple photos can’t take that away from you.”
His words were warm, but she sensed the hard determination beneath them. He had no intention of letting the nightmare take her, and that, more than anything, eased the vise around Chloe’s lungs.
“Right. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” His words were gruff, his hands still warm against her cheeks. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I didn’t take those pictures.”
He stared into her eyes for another minute, then nodded. “I’d better call Jake.”
His hands dropped away and he strode to the phone, leaving her in the kitchen with the camera and the horrifying images.
Chapter Eight
“When was the last time you used the camera?” The question was the same one Jake Reed had asked fifteen times in the past ten minutes. If he were hoping for a different answer than the one she’d already given, he was going be disappointed.
Chloe’s fist tightened around the coffee mug she held, but she kept her frustration in check. “I don’t know. A few months before the accident.”
Jake lifted the camera in gloved hands, staring at the image. “And you didn’t take these photos?”
“No!” Her tone was sharper than she’d meant and she reigned in her emotions. “They’re sickening.”
“Sickening, but fake.”
“Fake?”
“Take another look. The guy in the casket is in a different position in each photo. The ‘casket’ is too wide. Looks like a twin bed with pillows and white silk on top of it.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You thought it was your fiancé?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not. The date on the photos is September of this year. Months after your ex-fiancé’s funeral. And he was your ex-fiancé, right?”
Apparently, he’d been talking to people in D.C. What else had they told him? Chloe’s hands were clammy, but she looked him straight in the eye as she answered. “Yes, but I don’t think that’s relevant.”
“What you think is relevant doesn’t matter, Chloe. What matters is finding out what’s going on. The only way to do that is to get all the information available. You didn’t provide me with that Saturday night.”
“I provided you with what I thought was important. My relationship with Adam was complicated. We were friends before we started dating and were trying to maintain that after we broke up.” He’d wanted more than that, but Chloe hadn’t been able to forgive.
“You broke up because he’d been seeing another woman.”
Chloe’s cheeks heated, but she nodded, refusing the urge to glance at Ben. “Adam was a nice guy. He collected friends like other people collect knickknacks. A lot of those friends were women. One became a little more than just a friend.”
“You’re leaving out a lot of details.” Jake leaned back in the kitchen chair and tapped gloved fingers against the table. “Like the fact that you did freelance work for Adam’s P.I. company. That the two of you had testified at a criminal trial the day he was killed.”
“I’m sure the D.C. police were glad to fill you in.”
“I would have been happier if you’d been the one to do it.”
“Jake, you’re not dealing with a suspect here.” There was a subtle warning in Ben’s voice.
“And I don’t want to be dealing with a body, either. Chloe needs to be open and honest. Hiding information is never a good idea.”
“I wasn’t hiding information. It’s just hard to talk about Adam.” Chloe stood and grabbed a bottle of aspirin, her hand shaking as she tried to pry open the lid.
“Here. Let me.” Ben leaned in, his shoulder brushing h
ers, his hands gentle as he took the bottle and popped the lid. He placed two in her hand, closed her fingers over them, his palm pressing against her knuckles, the warmth of it chasing away the chill that seemed to live in her soul. “It’s going to be okay.”
She wasn’t so sure he was right. “Maybe.”
“Things will be okay once we find out who’s after you.” Jake’s voice was hard, his face grim. “Can you tell me who had access to your camera.”
“Anyone who visited my apartment. I usually kept it out near my workstation.”
“Can you give me a list of those people?”
“Probably, but the past few months are blurry. I had surgery on my leg a month ago and the recovery was brutal. There were people in and out all the time trying to help out.”
“Do the best you can. I’ll also want a list of anyone who had a key to your place in D.C.”
“That’s a shorter list. Jordyn Winslow. James Callahan. They both worked with Adam. Morgan Gordon had the apartment next to mine. They took turns taking care of things while I was in the hospital during the months after the accident.”
“Good. We’ll start there.” Jake pulled a pen and small notebook from his pocket, jotted the names down. “Do you know the name of the woman Adam was involved with?”
“No. He wouldn’t tell me and I didn’t press for the information. Maybe I really didn’t want to know.”
“You didn’t leave a forwarding address with the police in D.C.”
“There didn’t seem to be any reason.”
“But you did leave it with friends?”
“I left it with some of my former employers. Com-panies that owed me money. No one else knows where I am. I was hoping that would keep me safe. I guess I was wrong.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions yet. It’s possible that whoever took the photos doesn’t know where you are.”
“I don’t believe that. I don’t think you do, either.”
“There’s only one thing I believe. Matthew Jackson has nothing to do with what’s been happening to you. The rest I plan to find out.” He closed his notebook and stood. “Do you have any other cameras?”
“A Nikon.”
“Is there undeveloped film in it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you mind if I take that one, too?”
“Not at all.” As a matter of fact, she’d rather have it out of the house than spend the next few days wondering what might be on the undeveloped film.
She limped to her room, pulled the camera from a storage box in her closet and brought it out to Jake. “Here you go. I think I used it the week before Adam and I broke up. We’d gone on a picnic to Great Falls. The day was perfect. We…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “Those should be the last pictures on the roll.”
“I’ll develop the film, see if there’s anything there that shouldn’t be. In the meantime, try not to worry too much.” He smiled and she was surprised by the warmth and genuine concern in his eyes.
“I appreciate it, Jake. Thanks.”
“Hold off on the thanks until I figure out what’s going on.” He strode to the front door and pulled it open. “I’ll see you this weekend, Ben.”
“Saturday, 6 a.m. Unless that’s too early.”
“The baby has us up at five every day. Six won’t be a problem.”
Jake stepped out into the hall, hovering near the top of the steps as Ben turned to Chloe.
“I’ve got to head out, too, but before I leave, tell me something?”
“What?”
“Do you like fish?”
“Fish?” She’d expected a question about Adam, about their relationship. His death. She hadn’t expected to be asked about fish.
“Yeah, fish. Trout. Catfish.”
“Sure.”
“Good. That’s what I’ll make, then.”
“Make?”
“For dinner. We had a deal. I still need to fulfill my end of the bargain.”
“That’s not necessary, Ben.” All thoughts of a quiet dinner spent with a friend were gone, replaced by cold dread. Something terrible had followed her from D.C. Something that was determined to destroy her and anyone who got near her.
“Isn’t it?” He smiled, brushing her bangs out of her eyes and tucking long strands behind her ear.
Her stomach knotted and she stepped away. Surprised. Uncomfortable.
Afraid.
For herself. For Ben.
“No. It really isn’t.”
“You’re chickening out.”
“I’m not. I’m just…” Terrified that something terrible was going to happen. Scared that she’d be hurt. That Ben would be hurt.
“Just going to have dinner with a new friend. Is that so bad?”
“I don’t want to get hurt again, Ben. And I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“How can having dinner hurt either of us? How does Saturday night around six sound?”
He was purposely ignoring the point and Chloe frowned. “You’ll be fishing with Jake that day.”
“Right. Fresh fish for dinner. What could be better?” He smiled, his eyes flashing with humor and inviting her to join in.
And despite herself, despite the warnings she knew she should heed, she relaxed. “You have a lot of faith in your ability to catch fish.”
“No. I’ve got a lot of faith in my ability to track down a meal. If I don’t find it in the lake, I’ll get it from the grocery store.”
“Won’t that be cheating?”
“Only if I try to pass it off as my own.” He grinned. “Your place or mine?”
“Mine.” She answered without thought, and knew she wouldn’t take the word back.
“Great. See you then.” He stepped out into the hall, joining Jake there.
The other man nodded at Chloe, but she couldn’t miss the concern in his eyes. Obviously, he was as worried about Ben’s safety as she was. “I’ll be in touch, Chloe. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to call if something comes up.”
“I won’t.”
Jake hesitated, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “Listen, my wife is part of a quilting circle that meets at Grace Christian on Wednesday nights. Seven o’clock. They make blankets for NICU babies and little bears for kids who have to stay at Lakeview General. They’d love to have another set of hands.”
“I’ve never quilted before.” But she couldn’t deny the small part of her that longed for something new, something more than flowers and bows and evenings spent alone.
“They’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“I don’t usually go out at night.”
“Understandable, but you’ll be with a large group of people. That might be better than being here alone. Think about it. Here’s my home phone number. Call my wife if you’ve got any questions.” He scribbled the number on the back page of his notebook and tore it out.
“I will, thanks.”
“No problem. Now, I really do need to get out of here. You coming? Or are you planning to spend another half hour saying goodbye?” He glanced at Ben and the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Knock it off.” Ben growled the words, but smiled at Chloe, waving as he and Jake started down the stairs.
Chloe closed the door on their retreating figures, shutting out the sounds of their lighthearted banter and pacing across the living room.
She’d thought the room cozy before. In the wake of Ben and Jake’s departure, it seemed empty and hollow, a sad reflection of her life.
She grimaced, moving into her bedroom, flicking on the light and turning on the CD player she kept near her bed. An upbeat modern tune filled the room, the thrumming, st
rumming tempo of it doing nothing to lift Chloe’s mood.
“Get over yourself, Chloe. Things could be worse.”
She flopped onto the bed, knowing she should get up and do something. Television. A good book. Anything that would take her mind off the loneliness that she was suddenly feeling.
Her gaze caught on the Bible lying abandoned on the bedside table. Opal had given it to her when she was twelve and she’d had it ever since. Lately, though, she hadn’t spent much time reading it. She picked it up, thumbing through it, skimming some of the passages Opal had highlighted in yellow. Little by little, she was drawn into what she was reading, her loneliness slowly fading away. She might feel as if God had abandoned her, but the truth was much different. Despite the trials and troubles she’d faced, she had to hold on to that certainty, had to believe that He was there, working His perfect will for her life. Had to trust that in the end everything would turn out okay.
But would it?
As much as she wanted to believe, to trust, Chloe couldn’t imagine things getting better. She could only imagine them getting much, much worse.
She shook her head, closing the Bible, setting it back on the table and praying that she was wrong. That somehow everything would be okay. That what she imagined wasn’t what would be and that eventually the nightmare would be over and she’d be able to rebuild her life.
Chapter Nine
Maybe quilting wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Chloe stood in the doorway of the reception hall and eyed the people gathered there. Old and young, tall and short, thin and stout, they were a swarm of bees, humming with energy as they performed a dance that had meaning only to them.
She took a step back, pretty sure she’d made a poor decision when she’d left Blooming Baskets and headed toward Grace Christian. She’d come on a lark, another night alone at the apartment appealing to her about as much as a root canal. Now she was thinking a root canal might not be so bad.
“You must be Chloe.” A tall redhead stepped from the throng, a broad smile creasing her face.
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