by Piper Stone
“God help us if that’s the case. Just keep doing what you’re doing. The entire town stands behind you.”
“Yes, sir.” As Stoker walked out of the building and toward his truck, he stopped to gaze up at the mountains. They were beautiful, surreal by nature alone. They were also very much in danger. The madman was going to strike again and when he did, Stoker feared there would be a devastating catastrophe.
Jessica remained in the idling car at the bottom of the driveway, garnering what little courage she had left. She fingered the leather steering wheel, contemplating her actions for the umpteenth time. Who was she to interfere? Maybe she should leave well enough alone, allowing Stoker to live out his life his way, but he was miserable. She’d seen fleeting moments of happiness, a breathtaking view of a guarded being, then he shut down, sliding further into the abyss.
She glanced into the rearview mirror, half expecting she’d see Stoker’s truck zipping in behind her, admonishing her for her misguided behavior. No one came. No one was going to guard her against herself. Groaning, she thought about her conversation with Shannon. If she’d really carved out a special place in his life and had given him joy, then she had every right to push. She nodded her head, as if her inner voice was going to give her permission.
Placing her hand on the gearshift, she inhaled then plastered on her rock and roll smile. No one could avoid her snazzy demeanor when she was kicked into high gear. She could do this. Another five minutes passed.
“This is ridiculous.” She yanked the gear out of park and drove slowly the rest of the way, unsure of what she would find. The pleasant looking cabin style home was complete with several out buildings, a garage, and a fenced in yard. She could see several dogs running behind the fence, along with a single horse standing in the middle of an overgrown field. There was something so lonely about the lovely creature. No friend. No partner. She shook her head and parked next to a beat up old Ford truck and what appeared to be a brand-new Mercedes.
Jessica continued to tap the steering wheel as she craned her neck, drinking in the surrounding area. The landscaping was pristine with a patch of the most beautiful green grass she’d ever seen. Two pots were swinging in the breeze from the porch ceiling and a wreath hung on the front door. The home was inviting. Unassuming.
The dogs were already barking, announcing her presence. There was no turning back. She eased out of the car and stood next to the door, wiping her hands up and down the front of her jeans. She was perspiring, her heart racing. This was perhaps the dumbest decision she’d ever made. Who was she, matchmaker of the year?
The front door opened and a well-dressed black woman stepped outside. She squinted as she turned her head in Jessica’s direction.
Jessica walked closer, keeping the smile, her gait unsteady. “Mrs. Graham?”
“Oh, honey, I haven’t gone by that in several years. My ex-husband was the single reason. It might be my legal name, but you can call me Stephanie. Can I help you?”
“By any chance, is Cooper here?”
She hesitated before answering. “Is Cooper expecting you?”
“No,” Jessica managed, her throat dry and scratchy. “I probably shouldn’t be here.”
Stephanie walked down the stairs, her eyes never leaving Jessica. “Then why are you here?”
“I came to talk to Cooper, but he isn’t expecting me. I’m trying to right some wrong. Maybe I’m just out of my mind.” Her words sounded jumbled to her.
The woman walked closer still, her smile fading. “I’m sorry. Unless Cooper knows you, he isn’t going to meet with you. He’s not much into company these days I’m afraid.”
Jessica could see deep seated sorrow in Stephanie’s expression. “I understand. Perhaps I could talk with you for a few minutes? This is very important.”
Stephanie studied her, glancing up and down the length of Jessica before nodding. “All right. You have my curiosity piqued. Come inside.”
Guilt continued to ride her as she followed the kind woman inside. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you. Hard to keep up sometimes but I refuse to move to a smaller place. Besides, I absolutely adore my dogs and Thunder, my horse. They’re special to me.”
Jessica instantly felt akin to the woman, who ushered her to the couch. “Thank you for seeing me. I won’t take much of your time.”
“You caught me at a good time. Let me get us some lemonade,” Stephanie said then moved out of the living room. Jessica glanced around the room. Seeing pictures of a nice looking black man standing next to Stoker, she exhaled. Stephanie came back and sat down, her eyes pointed. “Now, what kind of business do you have with my brother, given I can tell you’re not from around here?”
“That obvious?”
Stephanie smiled. “I know a local when I see one. Lived here my entire life. You’re like a breath of fresh air.”
“I’m not certain you’re going to say that when you hear what I have to say.” Jessica looked down as she wrung her hands.
“Dear, I’ve been around a long time. You’re not selling. You’re not buying. You’re not pushing. So, I’ll simply ask. What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you about Stoker Hansen.” The moment she said the words, she noticed the flash of uncertainly in Stephanie’s expression. While she covered up the emotion quickly, she remained on edge.
“I never thought I’d hear that name spoken in this house again. Are you his girlfriend?”
“Not exactly. My name is Jessica. I’m just a friend.”
“But you’d like to be more.”
Jessica shook her head. “I don’t really know Stoker that well. I’m in Missoula trying to find myself again. I don’t know. Maybe I never will.”
“Some say the mountains are magical and that you can find your peace with your maker, if you care to open your heart.”
She smiled and thought about the broken relationship. “I’m not trying to step out of bounds, but why won’t Cooper see Stoker any longer? I know there was an accident in Afghanistan. Stoker won’t tell me all the details, but he’s a heartbroken man. I just wanted to see if I could help in any way.”
Stephanie took a sip of her drink and remained quiet.
The silence was deafening.
Jessica fidgeted, swirling her finger around her glass. She’d made a mistake. No doubt.
“Honey, Cooper would love to see Stoker. He moved back into town to try and regain his life, his friends. Stoker is the one who refuses to see my brother. They’re both damaged after what happened. There’s no denying that, but Stoker won’t let go of the past. Cooper doesn’t sleep most nights. He’s filled with so much anger, almost violent rage. He blames the entire world for his condition. I never thought I’d see such a joyous man unraveling right before my eyes. I haven’t been able to pull him away from his demons since he came home. If only Stoker would see him, just talk to him, I think things would improve.” Stephanie’s eyes misted as her voice broke.
She hadn’t expected the frank but telling words. Taken aback, she had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry.”
“Steph, leave it alone. I don’t care any longer. Remember?” The voice was gruff, disgruntled. He struggled to come further into the room, hindered by the set of crutches.
Jessica turned her head. Cooper was a tall and muscular man, his features once handsome, but now full of such darkness. “Cooper, I know you’re hurting. Stoker is, too.”
“Get out of here!” he commanded. “You don’t know me and you sure as shit don’t know anything about Stoker or you wouldn’t be here. I have one piece of advice. Get away from him before he destroys your life.”
The words were chilling, echoing in her ears. Jessica rose to her feet but stood her ground.
“Cooper! Stop. This young lady has come to talk to you about Stoker. Hear her out,” Stephanie implored.
“Fuck this! I’m not playing games any longer. He has his life. I have mine.” Cooper glared at Jessica, his
expression full of fury. “You keep telling me to move on, sis. I plan on doing just that.”
Jessica’s eyes drifted down to his missing leg, amputated just below the knee. She swallowed hard, trying her best to keep the tears at bay. “Stoker is hurting almost as much as you are. He’s also the most pigheaded man I’ve ever met, or maybe one of two anyway. He’s your best friend, the man you entrusted with your life. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Fueled, she knew she had nothing to lose.
Cooper’s upper lip curled. “Almost as much? Last time I checked his limbs were intact. He’s able to do everything he used to before the war. Meanwhile, I’m left a cripple.”
“Jesus, Cooper. Mother didn’t raise you this way. Jessica doesn’t want to hurt you and she’s right. You are pigheaded, stuck in your ways,” Stephanie admonished before turning toward Jessica. “I’m so sorry that you wasted your time.”
Jessica shook her head. “I guess I found what I expected. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She turned to go then stopped, shifting until she could face Cooper. “Being a cripple is more a state of mind than one of body. If you have a will to live and enjoy life, find love and happiness, you will no matter what obstacles you face. My fear is that both you and Stoker will be crippled for the rest of your lives and that would be the saddest tragedy of all.”
The words hung in the air.
Cooper snorted and stomped toward the doorway. He gripped the doorjamb, digging his nails into the wood. “I was his best friend. I would have died for that man and still would.” Struggling to finish, he glanced over his shoulder, a single tear slipping from his eye. “What you don’t understand is that Stoker can’t say the same thing.”
Click. Click. Click.
Jessica held her breath as he lumbered out of the room, her heart heavier than when she’d arrived. The echo of his metal crutch tapping against the floor was deafening. This was a lost cause. She backed toward the door, smiling as Stephanie nodded. “Thank you.”
“And you, dear. You’re the only one with the guts to try and get through to the man. He’s stubborn but he has his reasons. I wish you well.”
She trotted down the steps, ready to leave and never come back. She certainly wasn’t going to mention her clandestine visit to Stoker, especially not now. As she shoved her hands in her pockets and headed for the car, she looked back once, certain Cooper was peering out a window.
How tragic for both men. After climbing into the car, she sat quietly, waiting to stop shaking. She locked away the concept in an ugly black box, never to release the idea again. Backing out, she gave the cabin one last look before pressing on the gas. As she passed by the now open and cluttered garage, she hoped whatever Cooper was building was therapeutic. She sensed a lasting depression in the man. One day, Stoker was going to receive a horrific call. The day when Cooper decided to end his life.
Chapter 11
“What the hell did you just say?” Stoker asked, his mind reeling.
“You heard me. Either the Sheriff has some pretty solid evidence and is trying to flush out our arsonist, or someone leaked information. Word on the street is that homemade bombs are the cause of the fires. As you can imagine, the damning information has placed the town on an even more heightened edge. We didn’t need this shit.”
“We sure as hell didn’t.” Hearing Garcia’s clipped tone meant he was just as bothered by the indication as he was. “Do you think our arsonist is goading the press, providing details about the fires?”
“Something like that. Only the team has any indication that explosives were used and I doubt one of the guys said anything.”
“No. I’d bet my life on that.” Stoker thought about his conversation with the Sheriff. Would the man use the information to try and draw out the suspect? Given his tumultuous albeit limited past with the man of the law, anything was possible. “This will either infuriate our arsonist or give him endless joy.”
“Yep. I’m certain the story will be in the newspaper in the morning given you don’t have a television set,” Garcia teased.
“This is the very reason I don’t own one.” Stoker looked out the window.
“I just wanted you to know before you walked into the station. A lot of tension here.”
“I appreciate it.” Yeah, he’d sniff around in the morning, find out what the press knew for a fact. With little to go on and his gut churning, he knew he’d have to be careful. If the arsonist wanted fifteen minutes of fame, he dare not fuck it up for the asshole or there might be consequences.
“Hey, wanna grab dinner, play some pool tonight?”
Stoker glanced at his watch. Jessica was due any time. “Can’t tonight.”
“Hot date?”
“Something like that and don’t you dare utter a word.”
Garcia chuckled. “Who me? Never. Just glad to see you’re getting laid, before your dick falls off.”
“Get off the phone.” Stoker rolled his eyes. Getting laid. The thought was scintillating.
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
Stoker eased the phone down on the kitchen counter, his thoughts racing back and forth over what he knew. He could certainly compare a list of the last few Zulie candidates. Perhaps one left or flunked the program and had an ax to grind. Well, the case wasn’t going to be solved tonight. He had a chance to enjoy an evening for a change. Antonio had been acting weird, but then again, he had nothing to compare it to. He couldn’t jump to any conclusions. Wouldn’t do any good anyway.
“What do you think, little buddy?” Stoker took a step back, glancing over the table setting. He heard MacGyver’s tail thumping against the wooden floor. When he looked down, he laughed. “That bad, huh?” He shook his head as he glanced as the mismatched plates, ancient looking wine glasses. What had he cared over the years? Half the time he’d eaten off a paper plate.
Woof!
“Yeah. Yeah. I know. Piss pour even for a guy. Have to do, bud. I have no time to hustle on down to the store.” He checked the fire and walked out onto the porch to grab extra wood. The air was chilly. The night would bring in the cold blast of air from a new front rolling in. After grabbing a stack, he glanced up at the tops of the mountains, already snowcapped from early season snows, praying there wouldn’t be another incident this soon.
The team was running on adrenaline at this point. Another fire could prove deadly.
Woof. Woof!
MacGyver rushed out onto the porch, his entire backside wiggling.
Stoker grinned as the car approached, the tires skipping on the loose gravel. “You like her too, don’t you?”
Woof!
The second Jessica cut the engine, Mac squealed and jumped off the porch.
He’d never seen his pup act this way around anyone else. There was utter joy in Mac’s steps, boundless love just knowing Jessica was close. He stood watching as she eased out of the car then immediately dropped to the ground.
“Mr. Wiggles! I’m happy to see you, too.” Jessica laughed as she was smothered by licks and kisses, finally pushed to the ground by MacGyver’s exuberance.
“Whoa, buddy. Let our guest get in the house.” He walked closer, surprised she was dressed down. Wearing hip hugging jeans and boots instead of high heels, she no longer looked like a visitor. “I’d offer you a hand but kinda got my hands full.”
“I can see that,” she mused as she struggled to her feet. She leaned over and rubbed between the pup’s eyes before grabbing a bag from behind the seat. Leaving the door open, she gave Stoker a hard once over. “Howdy, cowboy.”
“Glad you’re here.”
Mac continued squealing as he flanked her side, looking up with love filled eyes.
“He likes you. What’s with Mr. Wiggles?”
“I adore him and the name suits given his constantly wagging tail. Doesn’t it, Mr. Wiggles?” Smiling, she climbed onto the porch, her face beaming.
Woof!
“See,” she said, the tone of her voice low. “I purchased everything
we need for a proper dinner. There’s a couple more bags in the car if you don’t mind helping out, cowboy man.”
“You did, huh?” Stoker sensed a change in her mood, an almost protective shift.
“Yep. Everything.”
Stoker lowered his head, pressing his lips against hers.
She eased a single hand against his chest and gave him a heated look as she pushed back. “First things first. Let’s get the food inside.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Stoker dropped the wood and walked back to her car to retrieve the other bags. As he reached inside, a pad scribbled in red ink drew his attention. He glanced back to the house before tugging the pad until he could read the contents. She’d been writing. Pages were filled with words, thoughts, music notes.
She was awakening, her creativity returning. A warm feeling settled in his stomach as he read over several passages. She was talented, her words a magnification of her inner beauty as well as an intense sadness. Quiet Reflection. As he read the words, more a poem than a song, he held his breath.
There are moments I need quiet reflection
On a man who steals my heart
Scattered whispers of raw emotions
Fill the darkest desires of my inner thoughts
Does he sense how I feel?
There are burning hungers that need attention
Because of a man who embroils my senses
Raging visions of the most intimate passions
Creep past the confining chains of my defenses
Does he understand what I need?
There are revelations that give me determination
To trust a man who touches my soul
Intense longings of my total submission
Allowing him all aspects of complete control
Does he realize what this means?
Stoker touched the page, running the tips of his fingers over the words. She was talking about him. Wasn’t she? Unable to breathe, he gripped the edge of the door. He re-read the entire poem and when he was finished, he carefully placed the pad back in the same position and grabbed the bags of groceries. As he walked toward the house, his heart beat rapidly, thumping hard against his chest. Let go of the past. Enjoy. He glanced up at the sky and nodded, giving himself permission. Tonight, would be very special.