by Jan Springer
How’d the number get changed so quickly? Even the government couldn’t move this fast. It was as if the woman had been waiting for Jo’s call. But that was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?
Before heading out, Jo quickly memorized the address, ripped up the paper and flushed it down the toilet.
—
Early the next morning the rain fell in torrents and Sara drove a newly disguised Tom to the outskirts of town. She’d been given a terrific shock when she’d found him sipping peppermint tea at the kitchen table when she’d gotten up. He’d cut his hair very short, almost military style, and dyed it blond by using an old carton of unused blonde hair color that had once belonged to Jo when she’d been a blonde.
He still looked as sexy as sin with his new look and she wanted to keep him tucked away safely at Peppermint Creek Inn, but now that the road was passable, he’d insisted on coming along with her to drop off her peppermint products and pick up supplies. She’d begged him to stay back at the inn, but he’d told her he had cabin fever. His other argument being perhaps he’d been in the town before and would see something that would jar another memory loose.
She gave him some spending money and they made arrangements to meet back at the side of the road in two hours. Zipping her husband’s raincoat up and pulling the hood over his blond head she watched with a heavy heart as Tom slipped out of the truck, threw her a wave and disappeared into a gray swirl of rain.
—
Rainbow Falls was an old mill town, topped full of rustic clapboard houses and stores. A few men hung about under the canopy in front of the hardware store when Sara pulled into a free parking space. The parking lot in front of the dull gray-planked hardware store was already almost full of pickup trucks at this early hour, most of the trucks in similar condition to hers. Old, battered and beat-up over the years.
Times were tough in this small town. The pulp and paper mill, the major employer within miles, had been working at less than half-capacity over the last few years. With the assistance of a concerned citizen’s environmental group headed by her late husband, the government had implemented new pollution constraints, whereas the mill had opted to downsize its output production, instead of upgrading their pollution controls.
Word had it the mill was on the chopping block. Living on borrowed time. It was only a matter of months before the rest of the workers would be thrown out on the street.
As she passed the crowd of men, she felt the suspicious glances penetrate her back. She knew every one of them, but none hailed a greeting as she headed toward the dull gray clapboard structure housing the building supplies.
The sweet smell of hay and seed hung heavy in the air and the rickety floors creaked beneath her feet as she entered. Inside the front door lay a long wooden counter that separated the customers from the cashier. About five people stood in the line up. All conversation died and heads turned to watch as she passed by.
Sara moved slowly, meeting everyone’s gaze quite openly. Luckily, no one said a word today. It was if they all sensed she was in a mood to fight.
After passing the customers, she grabbed a cart and headed down the aisles, picking the items from the list Tom had supplied. Her gaze took in the wooden shelves upon shelves stacked full of sacks, bottles, cans and kegs of items.
Toward the back of the store she could see the monstrous heaps of hundred-pound sacks of feed and seed the locals would be needing soon.
“Got yourself a new man, Sara?”
Sara froze as she recognized the whiskey-wrecked voice of Cran Simcoe. Once a good friend of hers and her husband, he had turned into one of her worst tormentors. After Tom’s revelation early this morning about Cran being her shadow, she’d been shocked to say the least. Sure, his intentions had been honorable or so he’d told Tom last night, but he’d given her so many sleepless nights and made her question her sanity.
Her instincts told her to curse him up and down until he left but she had to think about protecting Tom. Trying to ignore him she reached for an item she needed on the shelf then turned her back against him fully intent on getting out of here as fast as she could.
“I’m talking to you, girl,” Cran slurred. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
Damn him!
Go away!
“I’m hoping your new man is a hell of lot better than that backstabbing husband of yours was.”
His comment lit her fuse.
Son of a bitch! She wouldn’t let him talk about Jack that way.
Taking a deep frustrated breath, she counted to three then slowly turned to find thirty-five-year-old Cran staring intently at her at the end of the aisle.
He swayed slightly. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and the man was already drunk.
“You have something to say about my husband, Cran Simcoe, you’d better say it to my face.” His high forehead wrinkled in surprise as she quickly headed toward him. Obviously he wasn’t used to seeing her being so bold. When she reached him, she recoiled from the sour smell of whiskey on his breath. Behind him, she noticed about a half dozen older men milling in the nearby corner. All turned to watch.
From what Tom had told her last night, this man thought he owed her husband a debt for helping getting him off the booze. He’d stayed off for awhile, but when Cran had been one of the men laid off at the mill, he’d hit the bottle once again. Sara finally understood why Cran had been tormenting her all this time.
Obviously he was the type of man who had to join in with his peers, instead of standing on his own two feet and fighting for what he believed in, which was obviously protecting her. Suddenly she came to the realization that the hatred she saw in Cran’s eyes wasn’t being directed toward her but toward himself for using her to impress his drinking buddies.
“What happened to you losing your job was your own fault, Cran. Had nothing to do with Jack.”
“Your husband helped to downsize the mill, Sara,” an old crony from the group yelled back.
“A mill that was polluting the area, Mel Roberts,” Sara replied calmly to the man who’d spoken. “You know very well the mill was warned in advance of the upcoming regulations. They chose to downsize rather than upgrade. Had nothing to do with my husband. All Jack did was guide the government people to the sources of pollution and give them a fair hand at the hearings.”
“He’s the one who put us out on the street,” Mel grumbled angrily.
“Better you out on the street, than the fish and wildlife dead, Mel. Oh, but I forgot you’re a hunter yourself aren’t you, Mel? So maybe you wouldn’t care much about the wildlife.” She knew it was a cheap shot. The hunters around these parts hunted within the government limits.
But it irked her when someone shot at animals. Sometimes when the animal was wounded, the hunters didn’t bother to track them down and put them out of their misery.
She turned her attention back on Cran. “As for you, Cran, Jack was a thousand times better a man than you’ll ever be in your entire life. If you picked up anything from my husband when he helped you off the booze you’d better start remembering it and put it to good use by getting some professional help. Jack’s probably looking down and shaking his head in disappointment at seeing you this way.” A loud snicker cut loose from the old cronies.
Cran’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and his voice lowered so only the two of them heard. “You better watch your step out there in that wilderness, missy. You never know what can happen when you’re all alone.” She bit down the urge to tell everyone Cran was her shadow but decided against it. He would only deny it and no one would believe her anyway.
“You better go and dry out, Cran, or you just might find yourself facing charges of hunting out of season along with attempted murder. I have the bullet from your gun in my porch wall to prove it.”
Her message sunk in loud and clear and he slowly nodded his head. To her surprise a bit of a smile tipped his wide lips. Abruptly, he turned and walked out of the hardware store all amidst mor
e chuckles from the elderly group.
Chapter Ten
Sara was still ticked off at her confrontation with Cran when a few minutes later, she entered the general store/post office, her arms laden with a huge plastic-wrapped cardboard box crammed full of the peppermint products Widow McCloud had ordered for this month.
“Howdy there, Sara.”
She jumped as Widow McCloud appeared from behind the nearby post office counter. At first glance, people thought Mrs. McCloud a man because of her short feathery cut and long witchlike nose, but her affectionate demeanor made up for her odd looks.
“Haven’t seen you in a long while, dear.”
All her anger evaporated at Widow McCloud’s friendly voice. The old woman was one of the very few people who had remained friendly with her despite Jack’s involvement with the environment group and the rumors about her possibly being involved in his murder.
She found herself laughing as the woman’s eyes widened with delight and she clasped her hands to her chest as Sara placed the carton box onto the countertop. “You brought the goodies! I’m just about out of every line. The customers are getting hostile.” Widow McCloud squealed happily and took a quick breath before continuing. “I hope you enjoyed the groceries I sent over with Justin.”
“Thanks, Hilda. The flood lasted a bit longer than usual this year and it was a blessing to have fresh food for us.”
The old woman’s eyebrows rose in wonder. “Us?”
Shit!
An icy shot of adrenaline squirted through Sara’s veins when she realized her mistake. She recovered quickly.
“I made Justin some breakfast to thank him,” she lied. “Have you got any mail for me?”
The older woman didn’t so much as acknowledge Sara’s question. Instead, she asked, “Did you hear about Sam going missing?”
“I heard about it,” Sara said flatly. Mrs. McCloud had awful matchmaking skills.
She’d been trying to get her together with Justin and then with Sam for a long time now and obviously didn’t expect Sara’s non-passionate response. But Sara had never had any romantic feelings about Sam or Justin and had made it abundantly clear to the elderly Mrs. McCloud on several occasions, but the woman still kept trying.
“I’ll be a minute to search for your mail, dear. Why don’t you look around,” she said as she began sifting through the mail.
In front of her, directly at eye level, piled in neat stacks were condoms.
Oh, my God!
Should she?
She snuck a peek down the aisle. Mrs. McCloud was still busily searching through her mailbox. Her eyes flew back to the shelf.
Which one should she pick? She’d never bought any before. Jack had always taken care of that kind of stuff.
She bit her lip as an intense excitement zipped along her veins. In a split second, she reached out, snatched a pretty-looking box she hoped appropriate and quickly tucked it under her arm.
Turning to look up the aisle back toward Mrs. McCloud she exhaled as she was still busily picking through the makeshift mailbox.
Sara could already hear the rumors flying! Sara Clarke bought a box of condoms today.
Maybe she should put the box back. She didn’t really need condoms. She didn’t really know Tom. Only that he was gentle, and caring and gorgeous and sexy and God did he know how to make her orgasm with his mouth.
Dejectedly, she took the box out from under her arm where she’d stuffed it and was about to lift it up to put it back on the shelf when she noticed Mrs. McCloud watching her. The knowing look on her face told Sara she’d been found out.
Oops. Better keep the box.
Reluctantly, she headed back to the counter where she hesitantly plopped the headache remedy and box of condoms onto the counter beside the small pile of her mail Widow McCloud had compiled for her.
She could feel her face grow hotter as the other woman’s curious gaze raked across the condoms.
“I’m so glad you’re getting back into the swing of things,” she chuckled as she tipped the prices of the two items.
She just hadn’t been interested romantically in any man, at least not until recently when Tom had shown up in her doorway.
The older woman frowned with puzzlement then bent over and disappeared behind the counter. A second later she reappeared with a shoe-sized box filled with mail and slid it onto the countertop beside the giant box Sara had brought in. Sara meandered through the store finally ending up at the pain-relief section where she picked up a bottle of painkillers in case Tom had anymore headaches. As she turned around, she froze.
“It’s for a friend,” Sara replied quickly. It wasn’t as if she was lying. The condoms were for a friend. And hopefully if everything worked out, Tom would be more than a friend.
The tiniest bit of a knowing smile tickled Mrs. McCloud’s thin lips and she knew the woman didn’t believe her. Her face grew even hotter.
She felt as if she might die of embarrassment when Mrs. McCloud suddenly gasped, “Oh! I almost forgot. Another package came for Garry. I’ll be but a minute.”
The old woman bustled off and Sara almost leaped out of her skin when the bell jangled behind her signaling a customer. Her eyes flew to the box of condoms sitting naked and in full view of prying eyes. At that moment, Mrs. McCloud erupted from the back room with a tiny brown wrapped package that fit snugly in her hand.
Sara rolled her eyes when she saw the package. Another one of Garry’s junk mail collections. The man was forever ordering cassettes and books from various clubs. Obviously, he’d forgotten to give this particular company his new address.
“This came via personal courier late last week. Sue said the man was a catch, a bit rough around the edges but that could be fixed. You remember Sue, don’t you?”
Sara nodded. How could she forget Sue. The woman had it made with a gorgeous husband and lovely two-year-old triplets. Why Sue would leave her beautiful children for a few hours every Friday night and work at the store was beyond Sara.
“Sue said if she wasn’t already taken, she’d have scooped up the fellow along with his Harley motorcycle into her husband’s fishing net and taken him home without a second thought.” Mrs. McCloud laughed as she produced a brown paper bag and thankfully placed the items inside.
“Said the man made an odd request, though. He asked if she’d make a copy of a videotape for him. Even gave her fifty dollars U.S. for her trouble.”
Grateful that the evidence, so to speak, was in the bag, Sara quickly grabbed it. But by the look on Mrs. McCloud’s face, she wasn’t finished with her yet. Her next words confirmed her suspicion.
“Any ideas when Garry is dropping in for a visit? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Widow McCloud had her sights set on poor Garry. He did everything in his power to discourage Mrs. McCloud up to a point. It wasn’t his style to be downright rude to her and Sara figured it would be the only way for Garry to get rid of the older woman.
“He might be dropping by soon. Speaking about him, can I use your phone to make a collect call?” Maybe she could get a hold of Jo.
“Sorry, hon, but the phones are still out all over town. According to Justin, the storms caused a lot of damage. I’d loan you my cell phone but I gave it to Sue. Her hubby is away on business and she’s all alone with the babies. I do believe Justin has a cell though. I’m sure he’d be glad to loan it to you.”
Widow McCloud smiled sweetly and Sara couldn’t help but tense at the thought of seeing Justin again.
“Thanks. I’ll see if I can track him down,” she lied.
“So, when do you think Garry might be dropping by? Any specific day?”
“Sorry, I’m really not sure.” The sooner, the better. “But the next time I speak to him, I’ll definitely let him know you were asking about him. I really have to go now. Next time I’ll buy you a cup of tea and we’ll catch up on things.”
Mrs. McCloud brightened immensely. “That’ll be a real treat, dear. But can’t
you wait a moment for a check for your products?”
“I’ll catch you next time. Bye,” Sara waved and practically ran over the elderly couple who had entered the store moments earlier.
—
Tom stuffed the tiny present he’d bought for Sara into the pocket of his raincoat and whipped the raincoat hood snugly over his head before stepping out of the hobby shop into the chilly downpour.
He’d been up all night, pacing back and forth through the house, trying like the devil himself to figure out what those visions of blood and flashing lights meant and also trying to conjure up a way out of this mess without Sara getting hurt, when he’d found the carton of blonde hair color in the upstairs bathroom and promptly cut his hair and given himself a dye job.
He had to admit, he now looked totally different as a clean-shaven blond. Far different than the scruffy character with whiskers when he’d first shown up at Sara’s home.
Nonetheless, it was best he kept a low profile, grabbing the things he needed before hoofing it back to their agreed meeting place just outside of town as soon as possible.
He smiled as he spotted Sara’s truck still parked outside the hardware store. She was grabbing the items from the list he’d given her of the things he’d used in order to keep supplies on hand back at the inn for emergencies this season. As he walked, he kept his gaze glued to the hardware store’s front door in hopes of catching a glimpse of Sara coming out. Doing so, he almost bumped into a tall dark-haired man standing right outside the hobby shop door.
“Excuse me,” Tom said politely as he tried to sidestep him.
“Haven’t seen you in these parts before.”
The familiar voice froze him solid. Through the downpour he made out the dark framed glasses, the moustache.
Shit!
“Name is Jeffries. Officer Justin Jeffries.”
I know who you are, he wanted to spit in the cop’s face. But that wouldn’t solve his problem. Obviously, the cop wasn’t going to let him go. He’d just introduced himself and Tom realized he had two options. Be stupid and polite and face him head-on. Or else be smart and run.