Standing Guard

by Valerie Hansen

  I am not going to cry again, she insisted. I am not.

  Still, unshed tears gathered and dampened her lashes. Fighting to temper her emotions, she couldn’t even give thanks in prayer because she knew that doing so would release a flood of weeping and embarrass everyone, especially Thad.

  But she was overwhelmingly thankful—and sure that the Lord knew what lay in her deepest heart. The world outside these walls might be against her but, in here, she had found true sanctuary. Real peace.

  Lindy chanced a sidelong glance at Thad, saw how lovingly he was looking at Danny, and added one more element to her burgeoning gratitude. Thad Pearson.

  * * *

  During the service, Thad had to keep forcing his attention back to Logan Malloy’s sermon. That took monumental effort because what he wanted to do was mull over his early morning encounter with the government agents and try to figure out his next move.

  If he broke silence and confided everything to Lindy she might inadvertently do something that made her look guilty when she wasn’t. However, if he left her in the dark and allowed her to muddle through the financial mess “big brother” had evidently dumped on her, she’d worry needlessly.

  But she’d be safer from unwarranted prosecution that way, he argued. He had seen how upset she became if she thought she was about to be physically assaulted and had to assume that awareness of who was behind the financial attack would unhinge her.

  This unnecessary harassment couldn’t go on much longer. Lindy was already flat broke and her house was in foreclosure. If anyone was expecting her to access secret bank accounts to bail herself out, surely they’d soon see that she wasn’t hiding anything like that.

  Thad’s thoughts drifted to James Reed, the executive who had recently informed Lindy that the checks from his firm were stopping. Could he be in on it? Possibly. Stranger things had happened. Especially lately.

  When the congregation stood for the closing prayer, Thad was chagrined to realize he’d missed the second half of the sermon thanks to his musings.

  Smiling at Lindy as they were dismissed and started walking out, he asked, “How about letting me treat you both to Sunday dinner?”

  “That really isn’t necessary,” she said, “but thanks for asking.”

  “Aw, mama....”

  “Danny wants to go eat, don’t you, pal?”

  “I want ice cream,” the boy piped up.

  “And I do owe you that since I totally forgot to bring any when we had spaghetti at your house.”

  “I put the leftover sauce in the freezer,” Lindy said flatly. “We can go home and eat that.”

  Thad totally understood her rationale. Throwing away food was bad enough when a person had plenty of money. For a single mother struggling to feed her family it was unthinkable.

  “Okay. Tell you what. I’ll stop by the market and pick up some ice cream for dessert and maybe some garlic bread. Unless you want to come with me.”

  “I don’t expect you to spend every moment looking after us,” Lindy countered. “We’ll be just fine.” She began to grin. “Though, yes, you’re welcome to join us if you really want to.”

  Talk about embarrassing. He had just invited himself to her house for another meal and hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Thinking back on her exact words, she hadn’t mentioned including him in their Sunday dinner, he had simply assumed that was her intent.

  Lindy’s genial laugh helped relieve some of his discomfiture. Maybe she had meant for him to be included all along and had been teasing. He sure hoped so.

  Returning her grin, Thad knew his cheeks were flushed because he could feel the creeping warmth. When his gaze met hers and he saw the twinkle in her emerald eyes he was positive he’d been the target of a subtle joke.

  “Sorry,” Lindy said, still chuckling. “I couldn’t resist. Just go get the ice cream. We’ll meet you back at the house.”

  He reached for her, gently touched her arm through her sleeve. “Come with me to the store?”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Call it a hunch if you want. I’d just feel better if we stuck pretty close after—” he glanced at her car “—you know.”

  “I’m not going to let some sicko run my life,” Lindy insisted. “I’ll go home and defrost the spaghetti sauce while you shop. I was careful to lock all the new dead bolts you installed. Nobody strange will be in the house.”

  How could he argue with such a sensible plan? “Okay, you win. My truck is right over there. I’ll wait ’til I see you’re on your way and then head for the market.”

  Traffic around them was already thinning as other worshippers filed out of the lot in a slow convoy of cars and trucks. Until churches dismissed on Sunday mornings, the streets of Serenity were virtually deserted—except for the flatlanders—the tourists—who happened to be passing through town on their way to recreational areas. Right after twelve noon, long lines formed at all the local restaurants. If a preacher talked longer than usual, his followers generally had to wait quite a while to eat unless they, too, opted to dine at home.

  Thad climbed into his truck and watched Lindy drive away slowly, cautiously, smiling and politely waving to give others permission to pull out in front of her.

  There was no way a sweet woman like that was knowingly hiding a stash of loot from her late husband’s criminal activities. It simply wasn’t possible. Lindy was kind. Honest. Forthright. There wasn’t a crooked bone in her body. All a person had to do was look at her to see how totally innocent she was.

  Like the women who strapped bombs to their bodies, or worse, to their children, and pretended to be victims, themselves? Thad’s conscience asked with a kick to his stomach and a prickling of the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

  He had experienced that kind of cruel subterfuge while serving overseas and had fallen victim to it once. He had chosen to befriend the wrong pitiful-looking, street urchin and some of his friends had paid for his error in judgment by being seriously wounded.

  Guilt over that terrible mistake still haunted him. Worse, he knew that the military shrinks who had forced him to retire had been right. He had lost the vital ability to reason rationally during a battle and had no longer been a leader his comrades-in-arms could count on.

  Thad knew that stepping aside had been the right decision. For the good of the corps.

  His main concern was whether his overall judgment could still be trusted—particularly where Lindy Southerland was concerned. He sure hoped so.

  TEN

  The strange sedan waiting on one side of Lindy’s wide driveway when she got home gave her the willies. Who was it? And why were they just sitting there?

  She had almost convinced herself to put her car in Reverse and flee when a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman with a thick head of graying-black hair climbed out of the parked vehicle. He straightened his suit coat and tie before raising a hand to wave.

  Recognition dawned. Lindy began to grin. Parking parallel to the other car, she helped Danny undo his seat belt, then greeted their visitor.

  “Mr. Reed! What a nice surprise. What brings you to Serenity?”

  He took her hand when she offered it but instead of merely shaking it he clasped it firmly. “Hello, Lindy. Danny. I was worried after you called the other day. How are you doing?”

  “We’re okay,” she said, sobering. “I have had some financial reverses recently but it’s all a big mistake. My boss is h
elping me sort things out.”

  “So, you do have a job?”

  “Yes. I’m an executive assistant at Pearson Products, right here in Serenity.”

  “Never heard of them. What do they handle?”

  “Kitchen gadgets, mostly,” Lindy said.

  “How...interesting.”

  “I think it is,” she said, noting with disappointment how quickly the man’s attitude had become dismissive.

  Now what? Lindy wondered. The polite thing to do was to invite him to join them for Sunday dinner. That wouldn’t have caused any consternation if Thad had not been expected, too. She didn’t want to expose her friend to the kind of snobbery she’d just glimpsed if she could help it. Still, what real choice did she have?

  “We were planning to have a simple spaghetti dinner in about an hour. If you can stay...”

  “Love to,” Reed said. “I’ve been wanting to check in on you and see for myself that you’re all right. I apologize for not doing so sooner.”

  “There’s really no need for you to feel responsible.”

  “Nonsense. Ben was one of our most valued employees until that unfortunate incident with the hedge fund.” He leaned closer to speak as he followed Lindy toward the house. “I never did think he was as involved as the authorities claimed. And if he was, he must have had good reasons for the decisions that led to such a tragic end.”

  “Really?” Lindy was flabbergasted. Ben had been as guilty as sin and everyone knew it, from the local police all the way up to the top agents in the DEA. His private papers and computer files had proved it beyond a doubt.

  Yet, here stood one of the men whose firm had borne the brunt of the bad publicity and he was defending Ben’s morals. Could he be that clueless? That forgiving?

  Or was he simply trying to get on her good side by praising her late husband? If the latter was true, he clearly didn’t know what kind of man Ben had been in his private life.

  It took Lindy a few extra seconds to unlock the door and let them all in because of the additional dead bolt Thad had installed.

  “You seem to be secure enough,” Reed commented as she led the way inside.

  “We’ve had several break-ins recently. The heavier locks were necessary.”

  “I thought this was a peaceful little town.”

  “It was. It is,” Lindy countered. “Most of the time, anyway.”

  “What in the world could burglars be after? I mean, you don’t keep a lot of cash lying around, do you?”

  That ridiculous question made her chuckle. “Not hardly. Until I found my new job, I was relying on the monthly checks you were sending.”

  “You’re quite welcome. I was glad to be able to help.”

  Wandering through the kitchen and into the main part of the first floor ahead of her, Reed showed an interest in the home that surprised Lindy.

  Danny had not warmed to him, however, and was keeping his distance. Given the boy’s fondness for Thad, the contrast was glaring.

  “You don’t have much in here worth selling if you need to raise money.” Reed spoke from the doorway to the living room. “No art or expensive collectibles.”

  “I’ll manage.” Lindy was beginning to lose patience with the man. If he had not previously intervened on her behalf and arranged to send her Ben’s unpaid sick leave, she might have been tempted to snap at him for such derogatory comments. True or not.

  “I might be able to come up with something like a finder’s fee if you and I were able to track down any accounts your husband didn’t choose to report.”

  “What?”

  Lindy had been occupied removing the plastic container of sauce from the freezer and wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

  “I said, you might be due a finder’s fee.”

  “For what? Nothing is lost.” Her brow knit. “Is it?”

  Reed shrugged the well-padded shoulders of his silk suit and regarded her seriously. “One never knows. Anything is possible in this age of computer transfers and offshore accounts.”

  Rejoining her in the kitchen as she set the microwave to defrost the Italian sauce, he seemed to be trying to peer inside her mind, making Lindy feel like a bug under a microscope.

  She whirled to face him. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Should I?”

  Another shrug was accompanied by a slight smile. “Perhaps, if you think hard enough, something will come to mind.”

  Lindy busied herself drawing water for a fresh batch of pasta while she tried to sort through her confusion. James Reed clearly believed, as had other outsiders, that Ben had kept money in secret accounts. Maybe it was true—she didn’t know. She had never been privy to her husband’s business decisions. Ben had not only excluded her from his day-to-day dealings, he had inferred that she was too stupid to have understood the details even if he had chosen to explain them.

  “Look, Mr. Reed...”

  “James. Please?”

  “All right, James. I really have no idea if there are accounts out there that Ben kept hidden. If there are, he certainly never confided in me. I know some men may choose to tell their wives about the deals they make but my husband was not like that. Looking back, I have to assume he kept it all to himself, especially during the last few years of his life, because he knew I would never condone anything dishonest or illegal.”

  “Of course not. I certainly didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

  Lindy was about to assure him that she wasn’t upset when the back door opened.

  Thad shouldered through with grocery sacks in his arms and demanded, “Whose car is that?”

  She swept an arm toward her first guest. “This is Mr. Reed, from Little Rock. He’s the one I phoned from your office a couple days ago. Remember? Thad Pearson, James Reed.”

  Thad dropped the plastic grocery bags onto the countertop and extended his hand. “A pleasure.”

  Watching the faces of both men, Lindy was a little amused. They were eyeing each other like two bulldogs meeting unexpectedly in disputed territory. Thad was smiling—sort of—and offering to shake hands, while James was acting as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to accept the friendly gesture.

  Finally, they joined hands and shook, forcefully yet briefly.

  Oh, my, Lindy thought, turning away and stifling a smirk. This was really going to be an interesting afternoon. She just hoped her guests didn’t come to blows before it was over.

  * * *

  To say that Thad had been surprised to find anyone else in Lindy’s kitchen was an understatement. He’d been floored.

  The well-dressed executive seemed totally out of place there in spite of his history with the same investment firm where Ben Southerland had worked. This guy Reed was too slick. Too neat. And acting way too friendly and solicitous around Lindy to suit Thad.

  She had prepared the formal dining room table, too, making Thad suspect she was either putting on airs for the benefit of her other guest or extending him preferential treatment because his opinion mattered to her. Neither notion sat well.

  Danny had appeared and begun acting pretty normal as soon as he’d spotted Thad. That was a good sign. The way they had been seated at the table, however, was not.

  Lindy and Reed were on one side of the modern, oblong table while Danny had latched onto Thad and insisted he sit next to him.

  That arrangement gave Thad a direct view of both Lindy and her other guest. It was not pleasing to see them sho
ulder to shoulder. And, unless he missed his guess, Reed had scooted his chair closer to hers as soon as he’d politely seated her. Not only that, he was countering the moves she seemed to be making in reaction to increase her distance from him.

  “Oops. I forgot the garlic bread Thad brought,” Lindy said, jumping up and dropping her napkin beside her plate. “I’ll be right back.”

  Reed and Thad both stood.

  “I can get it for you,” Thad said.

  “No, no. I’m the hostess. I’ll do it.”

  He muttered, “You might burn yourself on the oven,” as he trailed her into the kitchen, trying to keep from stomping his feet.

  Her eyes were wide, innocent, when she looked back at him. “Really. I can handle it.”

  “Can you handle him?” Thad whispered, cocking his head toward the dining room. “That guy is as oily as they come.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Why did he come here? What does he want? If there’s no more money to give you, why show up on your doorstep at all?”

  “He’s just trying to be helpful,” Lindy explained. “He says, if we can find any accounts that Ben may not have reported, I can get a nice reward.”

  “We? As in you and Mr. Oily?”

  “James is simply a polished businessman. I admit he doesn’t fit in Serenity but neither did Ben. Not really. He was too stuffy.”

  Thad took the padded mitt from her and bent to open the oven door. “Is that the kind of man you like?” he asked, lifting the baking sheet and setting it on the top of the stove next to the pasta pot.

  Instead of replying, Lindy scowled at him.

  “Hey, forget it,” Thad added. “It’s none of my business who you hang around with. I’m just telling you to be careful, that’s all.”

  “Careful of what?”

  Of looking guilty. Of getting involved with another crook or wheeler-dealer. He couldn’t come right out and say that, of course. Not without first calling the number on the business card the senior agent had handed him that morning and getting permission.