Standing Guard

by Valerie Hansen

  “Danny and I can clean it up in no time,” Lindy said. “I’ll help him right after I make supper.”

  “Tell you what,” Thad said with a shrug. “Show me where you keep the ingredients and I’ll cook for all of us tonight. I make a mean spaghetti sauce and anybody can boil water for pasta.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t invite you here to put you to work.”

  He began to smile, and, in spite of the emotional turmoil caused by the scattering of her son’s possessions, Lindy felt her spirits lift.

  “Actually,” he drawled, grinning, “you didn’t invite me at all. Danny did. You just went along with it because you were too polite to tell me no.”

  He held up a hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to rebut his statement. “The first thing we’re all going to do is go over this house room by room, closet by closet, starting up here, and make sure this is all that was messed with. Then you can give me a quick tour of the downstairs before I get to work.”

  Although she knew he was only being sensible, Lindy fisted her hands on her hips and faced him. “Are you always this bossy?”

  “Yes. Especially when I know I’m right.” The grin widened. “You know I am, too.”

  “Unfortunately, I do.” Sweeping her arm in the direction of the hall she said, “After you, Mr. Pearson.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to call me Thad.”

  “Considering the way you’ve been ordering me around, I feel more like I should salute and call you Sir.”

  “I’ve been known to answer to Sergeant,” Thad said, sobering, “but I’d rather we stuck to civilian titles if you don’t mind.”

  Taken aback by his swift change of mood, Lindy remembered what Samantha had told her about Thad’s medical discharge and wished mightily she had not brought up the military.

  “Sorry, Thad,” she said. “It was just that the way you were barking orders you reminded me of a soldier. I suppose that’s natural.”

  “I suppose it is. Once a marine, always a marine, as they say.”

  He turned and started on his rounds, stopping to open the linen closet and then inspect a bedroom and bath.

  “My husband’s home office was in this bedroom,” Lindy said, pausing at the next door. “If they were going to bother any room it should have been this one.”

  “Unless Danny’s was hit to distract us. Wait here while I check.”

  Obeying, Lindy subdued a shudder. When someone had picked on her son they had crossed an invisible line and she was growing more convinced by the minute that she must do something about it.

  Lindy watched Thad continuing his search. She had not ventured into that particular room, except to accompany some men from Ben’s firm, since his untimely death.

  “What about the desk?” Thad asked. “Would you know if anything is missing?”

  She shook her head and sighed. “Probably not. I wasn’t involved in my husband’s business. A few of the partners in the investment company he worked for stopped by and I let them have whatever they wanted after the police and the DEA were through, but that’s been months ago. If there had been anything important to find, either those men or the investigators would surely have taken it.”

  “If they knew what they were looking for,” Thad said. “What about his computer?”

  “Drug Enforcement confiscated his laptop and a backup hard drive.”

  “Is there any other computer in the house?”

  Backing away so Thad could continue to precede her down the hall, Lindy said, “There’s mine, downstairs, but I only use it for email, paying bills and things like that. Oh, and Danny has a little one his dad gave him to play games on.”

  “Does it have much memory?”

  “Only enough to load some simple games, I guess. It’s pretty small.”

  Hearing Thad chuckle softly she frowned at him. “What’s so funny?”

  “Even the most rudimentary computer these days has more memory than the vehicles that NASA first sent into space. So do smart phones. Size is relative.”

  “You’ve made your point. Tell you what. There’s nothing in Danny’s room that won’t wait. How about we all pitch in and make supper together?”

  The broad smile that lit Thad’s handsome face warmed her heart. When he turned that smile on her son and she saw the gentleness in his expression, her heart was more than warmed. It was jubilant.

  This kind of interaction was what she’d hoped for. The problem was, she didn’t want Danny to get too attached to any man and then be disappointed the way they’d both been before.

  Lindy’s fertile mind began to imagine scenarios in which Thad played the villain. He had not given her any reason to see him that way but that didn’t matter. He was too good to be true. Too caring. Too good-looking. Too easy to like.

  Perhaps she’d become jaded via her bad marriage and was painting everyone with the same broad brush but she couldn’t help herself. After a betrayal like Ben’s, it was very hard to trust anyone, especially strangers. And that’s what Thad Pearson really was.

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to reflect on the circumstances that had brought them together. A simple, accidental meeting had led to too much, too fast, to suit her. Chances were the ex-marine was on the up-and-up, yet it did seem awfully strange that he had managed to be in exactly the right places when she’d needed him. If she’d been reading a mystery novel, she’d have doubted that such handy coincidences could have occurred the way they had without a sinister plot behind them.

  So, what should she do now? Lindy wondered. In her vivid imaginings she saw two choices: praise God for bringing Thad into her life to help her, or throw him out and bolt the door so he couldn’t get back in.

  The latter would have been easier except for the fact that she really needed her job—and his help on the computer. That should have been enough to make her believe the poor guy was honest. And it was. Sort of.

  She would have liked it better if she’d been able to fully convince herself that Thad wasn’t far too good to be true.

  * * *

  It didn’t take a genius to tell that Lindy remained shaken up. She put on a happy face for Danny and tried to act relaxed but Thad suspected that the slightest unusual noise would send her right through the roof.

  He busied himself at the stove, stirring the bubbling tomato sauce while Danny set the rectangular table in one corner of the kitchen and Lindy made a salad. Being there with the two of them almost made him feel normal again.

  Humph. That would be the day. The closest he’d ever come to feeling as if he was a part of a real family was when he’d visited Rob and Ellen and played with their kids.

  He shuddered at the thought that those innocent children might have perished in the same fire that took their parents’ lives.

  “Are you all right?” Lindy asked.

  “Fine. Why?”

  “I thought I saw you shiver.”

  Shivering didn’t even begin to cover his tenuous emotional state, Thad mused. If he wasn’t careful, he’d slip over the edge into the kinds of intense memories that sometimes triggered a relapse of his PTSD. He could not let that happen. Especially not when an already fragile child was present.

  Thad’s everyday calm demeanor wasn’t an act. What he was doing was managing his thoughts enough to redirect them and temper the irrational fear and survivor’s guilt that sometimes flowed through him no matter what mind games he played w
ith himself.

  “I’m fine. Just thinking about your situation and wondering how I can make your house safer.” While you still have a house, he added to himself.

  “That’s hardly your problem,” Lindy said flatly. “If I’ve learned anything in the past six months, it’s to face one day at a time. This is the second break-in we’ve had and I’ve decided it’s time I reported the crimes to the sheriff.”

  Thad couldn’t help grinning. “Now you’re talking sense.”

  “I hope so. I really do.” She carried the salad bowl to the table, then went to the refrigerator and returned with bottled dressing. “Since nobody left any threats this time, maybe the two incidents aren’t connected.”

  “And maybe pigs can fly,” he quipped.

  When Danny piped up with, “Really? Can they?” it made both adults chuckle.

  “No, honey. Mr. Pearson was just joking.”

  Thad figured it was time to lighten the mood even more so he drawled, “If their wings were big enough, I think it might be possible.”

  It pleased him to hear Danny giggle. “Pigs don’t have wings. I saw some when Mom took me to the county fair.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” Thad replied with a wide grin.

  He noticed that Lindy was laughing, too, and, before he could stop himself, his amusement and sense of belonging caused him to wink at her. He didn’t mean anything by it, it just happened. At least he thought it did. Truth to tell, he wasn’t sure why he’d done it and judging by her astonished expression she hadn’t expected it, either.

  Blushing, he cleared his throat. “Um, sorry about that. I didn’t mean...”

  To his relief she quickly recovered her composure, smiled and said, “No offense taken. I sometimes get something in my eye and have to blink it out, too.”

  The ensuing silence in the small kitchen was so noticeable that everyone paused. Danny looked first to his mother, then to Thad.

  That caused Thad to glance over at Lindy. The moment her eyes met his and he saw the lively twinkle in them, he knew they were sharing and enjoying a private moment just the way Rob and Ellen often had.

  Such happenings were so foreign to Thad he became extremely ill at ease. Clearing his throat he found his voice and said, “Well, then, now that we know we don’t have to worry about seeing pigs roosting in trees, I guess we can relax and enjoy dinner.”

  “Supper,” Danny corrected.

  “Right. Supper it is. I’ll drain the pasta and get this all stirred together.”

  “Ewww. That’s not how you do it,” the boy insisted.

  Lindy stepped up. “We usually serve the sauce separately. I’ll get a couple big bowls.”

  Leaning down, she opened one of the oak cupboards beneath the far end of the granite countertop and peered inside.

  Thad paid little attention until she suddenly shrieked and jumped back.

  He dropped the stirring spoon into the pot and crossed to her in three long strides, cupping her shoulders and steadying her. “What is it? What happened?”

  Lindy’s mouth opened but no sound escaped. She pointed.

  Stepping in front of her, Thad had to bend low to see what she’d found so frightening. Once he laid eyes on the problem he understood perfectly. The dirty-brown-colored thing was nearly as big as a rolled-up dish towel. It was also quite dead.

  “Don’t worry. That rat can’t hurt you. I’ll dispose of it.”

  “We’ve never had a rodent problem in this house. Not even a stray mouse.” Her voice cracked. “Somebody had to put that there.”

  “You didn’t actually touch it, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Thad wasn’t about to pick up the carcass barehanded. He looked under the sink for a pair of rubber gloves and settled for a discarded plastic grocery sack instead.

  Slipping his hand inside the bag, he grasped the body, then simply inverted the bag so the dead vermin was inside before he let go and held the sack closed by fisting it at the top. He might have argued with Lindy’s snap judgment about its origin if he had not spotted something odd tied to the hairless tail.

  “I’ll go drop this into the back of my truck so it’ll be safe until the authorities get here. Don’t touch anything in that cabinet, not even to close the door. Understand?”

  Lindy had backed all the way across the kitchen with her little boy as if the wild animal was still alive and about to attack them. “Why not? The whole kitchen needs to be disinfected and everything stored in that cupboard has to be sterilized.”

  “Later,” Thad said flatly. “Do that after the sheriff and his deputies have been here and dusted for prints.” Staring at her, willing her to act, he added, “Are you going to call them now or am I?”

  To his relief, Lindy replied, “I will.”

  SIX

  County Sheriff Harlan Allgood responded to the call himself and parked at the curb in front of Lindy’s house.

  She watched him swing his ample bulk out of the black-and-white, hitch up his holster and square his hat on his head. Like ninety-nine percent of the men in the rural South, he wore a ball cap, only his was emblazoned with Fulton County Sheriff instead of the usual sports team logos or hunting and fishing scenes.

  Lindy wasn’t sure Thad knew Harlan until she saw the men greet each other at the door and shake hands amiably.

  “It’s over there. In the bed of my truck,” Thad said, stepping outside to lead the way.

  Lindy stayed back with Danny and let the men poke around the animal on their own. She wasn’t usually the squeamish type. She liked all creatures, wild or domestic. But dead ones in her kitchen were a different story.

  They had decided to put off eating while they waited for the sheriff. Right now, Lindy wondered if she’d ever want to dine in her cozy kitchen again, even after she’d sanitized it completely.

  “Did you see this, Miz Southerland?” Harlan called.

  “Unfortunately. I was the one who found it.”

  “I mean this note.” The sheriff had donned latex gloves and was working on something that now lay on the open tailgate of Thad’s truck.

  “Note?”

  “Yep. I’ll have to take it with me as evidence but I thought maybe you could shed a little light on it.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  Leading her son to keep him close, she tried to put on a brave front as they descended the front porch steps.

  Danny let go of her hand and reached for Thad’s as soon as they drew near enough. Not only did his action surprise Lindy, it hurt her feelings a little. She had gotten so used to being the only person Danny relied upon that it was unsettling to see him gravitate to Thad.

  Setting aside that concern, she leaned over to look at a piece of paper. The sheriff had trained a flashlight on it and was securing one edge with gloved fingers. It had been folded multiple times and then crinkled down the middle as if cinched by the string she could see still attached to the animal.

  Incredulous, Lindy stared. Her jaw gaped. The leaf from a notepad was engraved with Ben’s former company’s logo. Worse, the scrawl was familiar. She would have recognized her late husband’s handwriting anywhere. Seeing this was like receiving a message from the grave!

  “That can’t be,” she said, her voice faltering. “It...it looks like Ben wrote that.”

  She felt a supporting arm around her shoulders and leaned into Thad without thinking.

  “It’s obviously somebody’s idea of a
bad joke,” he said. “They must have gotten hold of an old memo and are trying to scare you with it.”

  “Well, it worked,” she said wryly. “Look at what it says, how well it fits this situation. Ben is talking about handling money and keeping his mouth shut because of threats against him. And his family. Where in the world could that have come from?”

  The sheriff was shaking his head and shrugging as he slipped the note into a plastic sleeve to preserve it. “No telling. What do you suppose he meant when he mentioned secret bank accounts?”

  “How should I know? I can’t even keep my own finances straight.” Thad’s grip tightened as her voice rose. “My husband didn’t share his business dealings with me. Ever.”

  “Sorry,” Harlan said. “I had to ask. So, do you want me to dust the area where you found your furry little buddy or not?”

  “Dust my whole house if it will help,” Lindy said. “I’ve just about had it with all these stupid attacks.”

  “Attacks?” She watched the older man’s bushy eyebrows arching. “Am I missing something here?”

  “Yes,” Lindy admitted ruefully. “This is only the latest in a series of recent problems I’ve had. Maybe you’d better come in for a cup of coffee while I explain everything. We were about to eat supper when we found that—that thing in the cupboard. You’re welcome to join us for a plate of spaghetti if you like.”

  Harlan grinned. “Thanks—as long as you keep it in a different part of the kitchen than where you found this messenger.”

  “It’s safe on the stove. The rest of my food is separate, too. It’s just the idea of that thing being in one of my storage cupboards that turns my stomach.”

  “We know he didn’t get there on his own,” Thad volunteered. “The rest of the house should be clean.”

  “Unless whoever left that carcass decided that one message wasn’t enough.” Lindy shivered. “I don’t even want to think about finding any more.”