by Rita Herron
Anxious to leave, she started the van, her pulse pounding when she pulled onto the road. The dark sedan followed. She wove through town, making several turns, hoping to lose the car, but it stayed behind her.
Heart drumming, she sped up and drove toward the sheriff’s office. She slowed as she approached it. The sedan was still behind her.
Nerves on edge, she jerked her vehicle into the parking lot in front of the sheriff’s office.
The sedan slowed and coasted by her. She tried to see the driver inside, but it was too dark outside and his windows were practically black.
The car finally went on, and she leaned her head into her hands and inhaled several deep breaths. She checked the parking lot for Harrison’s police SUV. If he was inside, she’d tell him about the car.
But what could he do now? The sedan had already gone. And what if the driver hadn’t been following her?
Why would anyone follow her anyway? No one but Harrison knew she was in town; well, except for Mrs. Lynch and the people who’d seen her at the café. But why would one of them want to scare her?
Shaking her head at herself for being paranoid, she pulled back onto the road and drove to Lower Tumbleweed. Her shoulders and muscles ached from fatigue and the stress of the day as she parked at her father’s house.
The streetlights in the neighborhood had long ago burned out, casting an eerie darkness to the houses and overgrown properties.
Tomorrow she’d talk to her father’s lawyer and finish cleaning out this place. Hell, if she had to, she could hire a crew to come in and empty it out.
So far, there was nothing she’d found inside that she wanted to keep.
Just as she climbed from the van and headed up the walkway to the porch, car lights flickered. She glanced back at the road, her pulse spiking.
That dark sedan was driving by her house.
Her hand trembled as she shoved the key into the lock. She fumbled with it, dropped the keys then picked them up. The sedan slowed, almost pausing in front of the house as if the driver was stalking her.
She jammed the key into the lock, twisted it and shoved the door open. The telephone inside was ringing as she fell into the foyer and slammed the door closed. She twisted the lock frantically and looked out the window. The sedan was still there.
The phone trilled again.
Nerves rattled, she darted to the table for her phone. Maybe it was Harrison calling to check on her. Praying it was so, she clenched the handset.
“Hello,” she said shakily.
Heavy breathing rattled over the line.
She ran to the window and looked outside, the phone still in her hand.
More breathing.
Anger rallied inside her, blending with fear. “Who is this?”
Another heavy breath. Then a low, throaty voice. “Get out of Tumbleweed or you’ll end up like your father.”
Chapter Seven
“Harrison, wait up!”
Harrison paused by his car. He’d had to leave or he would have lost his temper with his mother.
Footsteps crunched gravel, the air charged as Lucas and Dexter joined him.
Harrison braced himself for a confrontation. “I know Mom’s upset—”
“Brayden is trying to calm her down,” Dexter said.
“Good. She may need a lawyer.” He prayed it didn’t come to that, but his cop instincts screamed that it might.
Lucas stared at him head-on. He was the same height as Harrison and they had similar builds. But even as the younger brother, Lucas could be intimidating. “What aren’t you telling us?” Lucas asked.
“Yeah, spill it, brother,” Dexter added. “We might be able to help.”
Harrison clenched his jaw. That was true. Lucas was FBI and Dexter, a PI. “I told you all I know.”
“Come on,” Dexter said. “You’re not talking to Mom. It’s us.”
“Yeah, we have as much interest in Granger as you do,” Lucas said.
He doubted that. “I’m the one who was supposed to babysit that night,” Harrison said gruffly. “It was my fault we lost our sister, and it’s my job to find out what happened to her.”
Dexter cursed. “Your fault? Hell, it was mine. I got mad at Chrissy that night because she kept following me around and I told her to get lost.” His voice cracked. “Then she did.”
Harrison studied Dexter with new eyes. He hadn’t realized Dexter harbored guilt as he did.
“It’s not either of your faults,” Lucas said. “But it might be mine.”
Harrison and Dexter both frowned at Lucas. “What are you talking about?” Harrison asked.
Lucas looked tortured as he glanced back at their childhood home. “I should have said something a long time ago.”
Dexter cleared his throat. “About what?”
Lucas heaved a weary breath. “I was a jerk to Chrissy back then. You remember Geoffrey Williams?”
“He was that cool kid whose family had all that money, wasn’t he?” Dexter said.
“He’s on the town council now,” Harrison said.
Lucas nodded. “He was the captain of the baseball team. I thought if I sucked up to him, he’d tell the coach to let me be assistant captain.”
“What does this have to do with Chrissy?” Harrison asked.
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. “Chrissy wanted to tag along with us to the fields, but Geoffrey didn’t want a kid around. He told her to leave us alone, then he pushed her down. I...just stood there. I didn’t do anything to defend her.”
“You all were just kids,” Dexter said.
Lucas shrugged. “Maybe. But later I realized how mean Geoffrey was. I saw him push some other little girl around, too. He was a bully. It made me wonder if he might have done something to Chrissy.”
Harrison considered the information. “Was Geoffrey at the bluff that night?”
Lucas nodded. “Yes, I ran into him while we were out searching for Chrissy.”
“Did you see him with Chrissy?” Dexter asked.
Lucas shook his head. “No. But he had dirt on his jacket. He said he skidded on the hill by the cave but...later, I wondered if he might have seen Chrissy. He could have shoved her again and she could have fallen over the edge or maybe he saw her in the cave...”
Harrison had no idea that Lucas blamed himself all these years or that he’d had his own theory about what happened to Chrissy.
“Why didn’t you tell someone about this back then?” Dexter said.
Guilt and anguish darkened Lucas’s eyes.
“Because you still wanted him to name you assistant captain,” Harrison finished.
Lucas nodded. “I should have spoken up, said something.”
Harrison and Dexter exchanged worried looks. “You’re right. I can use the help. Talk to Williams.”
Lucas shifted. “All right, I will.”
“What can I do?” Dexter asked.
“Track down and question all of the kids who were at the bluff that night. Maybe someone lied or remembers something and is ready to talk.”
Harrison’s cell phone buzzed at his hip. He jerked it up and checked the caller ID. Honey Granger.
Aware his brothers were watching and listening, he answered the way he did on a business call. “Sheriff Hawk.”
“Harrison, it’s Honey.” Her voice warbled. “Someone just called and threatened me.”
Harrison tensed. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Honey said. “But I’m scared.”
Harrison cursed. “I’ll be right there.”
* * *
HONEY’S HAND TREMBLED as she ended the call. She rushed back to the window and peeked out. The sedan screeched away, disappearing into the night and leaving her wi
th the eerie sensation that the threatening call had come from whoever was in that car.
She tried to read the license plate, but it was too dark.
Nerves raw, she clenched her phone and ran through the house to make sure no one was inside.
The rooms looked disheveled from her cleaning rampage, but nothing appeared to be missing and no one was inside.
Satisfied an intruder wasn’t hiding in the house, she hurried back to the living room to wait for Harrison. Too antsy to sit or relax, she yanked another trash bag from the box and filled it with old magazines to take to recycling.
Several minutes later the sound of a motor rumbling startled her, and she rushed to the window. Harrison.
Relief filled her, and she opened the door and met him on the porch.
Harrison’s dark gaze raked over her, concern in his eyes. “Are you all right?”
She nodded although tears pricked her eyes. She’d told herself she had to be strong and not lean on anyone, but she couldn’t help herself. She threw herself against him and dropped her head forward, her breathing erratic.
He felt so big and strong, solid as a rock. A comfort in the wake of the night’s unsettling events.
For a brief second his body tensed, muscles bunching, his breath puffing against her hair. But then he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back.
“It’s going to be okay, Honey,” he murmured. “I’ll make things right.”
She leaned into him and closed her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but no one could change the past or make people think differently of her.
* * *
AS SOON AS he murmured the promise, Harrison regretted it. Remembering his mother’s reaction to Granger’s death stirred fear that she had something to do with his murder.
But why would she have killed him now, after all the time that had passed?
Had she learned something incriminating against him then confronted him?
Honey’s fingers dug into his chest, and he held her tighter, hating the fact that someone had frightened her.
Worse, what if his mother had called her to scare her off? She’d made no bones about the fact that she disliked Honey and didn’t want her in Tumbleweed.
He rubbed Honey’s back, his fingers brushing the long, silky strands of her golden hair. She felt small and fragile and so damn feminine that Harrison’s body hardened in response.
He closed his eyes, hoping to rein in his libido. But she shifted against him, her belly brushed his sex and heat rippled through him.
His sex pulsed, thick and aching, and need hit him hard.
Dammit. It had been a long time since a woman had aroused him like this.
And Honey Granger was the last woman on earth he wanted to feel this way about. But she was vulnerable and had been hurt by his family and this town, and protective instincts surged through him.
Just as his brother felt bad for not standing up for Chrissy, he regretted not defending Honey years ago.
He wasn’t an impressionable kid anymore. He would stand up for her this time if she needed it.
* * *
HE SLOWLY PULLED back until their bodies were no longer touching. He had to before he did something insane like kiss her or slide his hand lower to feel the curve of her breast or even lower to her hip.
He moved his hands to her arms and held her facing him. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
She pushed a strand of hair from her face and blinked, then seemed to compose herself. “I dropped some of Dad’s old clothes at the church, then stopped at the café to get something to eat.” She hesitated as if debating what to say.
“Go on,” Harrison said.
“I saw a guy there, Elden Lynch, who I remembered from childhood.”
“I know Elden,” Harrison said. “He was mentally disabled from birth, but he’s harmless.”
“I know. I was friendly to him when we were kids, but tonight his mother told me to leave him alone.”
Harrison clenched his jaw again. “Mrs. Lynch is not always nice. She’s very protective of her son.”
Honey shrugged. “I guess I can’t blame her. He was bullied terribly when he was young.”
“People still stare at him and whisper behind his back,” Harrison said grimly.
“Some things never change,” Honey said.
Harrison nodded, although he didn’t like it. “What happened next?”
Honey rubbed her arms in a nervous gesture. “I saw a dark sedan in the parking lot and it followed me.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“No, it was dark and the windows were tinted.”
That figured.
“I pulled up to your office to see if I could lose him and he went on,” Honey continued. “But when I got home, the same car showed up in the street. I ran inside and locked the door, and it stopped in front of the house. That’s when my phone rang.”
“You think the person in the car was the caller?”
Honey nodded. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“What exactly did the caller say?”
“He said, ‘Get out of Tumbleweed or you’ll end up like your father.’”
Harrison sucked in a breath. “The voice was male?”
Honey’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. It was low, muffled. It could have been a woman.”
They were getting nowhere. “Did he—or she—say anything else?”
Honey shook her head. “I asked who it was, but the phone went dead.”
“Did the call come in on your cell phone?”
“No, the landline in the house.”
So the caller phoned Granger’s house. “That could be good news. He or she doesn’t have your cell phone.”
“But whoever it is knows I’m staying here.”
“True.” And he didn’t like that one little bit. “I’ll stay here tonight to make sure you’re safe,” Harrison said.
Panic flashed in Honey’s eyes. “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
Harrison patted his badge. “I’m the sheriff, Honey. It’s my job to protect the citizens and anyone visiting Tumbleweed.”
“I am just visiting,” Honey said.
“I figured as much.”
“Although maybe I should leave town,” Honey said. “I could hire someone to clear out the rest of my father’s house.”
“You could.” For some reason, he didn’t want Honey to leave. Not yet.
Honey straightened, lifting her chin. “No, I’m not going to let anyone run me off. Not ever again.”
“Like you did when you were eighteen?”
Honey’s gaze met his, emotions brimming in her beautiful eyes. Eyes that had seen pain and heartache. Eyes that flared with a determination that he admired.
“I want to know the truth about who killed my father and if he hurt Chrissy.”
So did he. But they might not like the answers they found.
Still, he’d become sheriff to find justice for Chrissy. And nothing would stop him.
Chapter Eight
Harrison didn’t like the fact that someone had threatened Honey. Granted, the call could be a prank or a meaningless threat, but her father had just been murdered and she was staying in the man’s house.
Maybe whoever killed him was afraid Honey would find something inside the house or on the property.
“Thank you for offering to stay,” Honey said. “But I’ll be fine, Harrison. I’m accustomed to staying alone.”
Did that mean she wasn’t involved with anyone?
“I don’t feel good about leaving you,” Harrison admitted.
Honey lifted her chin. “Don’t worry. I have protection.”
He arched a brow. “You have a
gun?”
She nodded. “I carry it when I look at properties. Sometimes I go into bad areas, and there’ve been a few times when someone was squatting inside one of the abandoned houses I was looking at to purchase.”
Harrison crossed his arms. “So you know how to use the gun?”
“Yes.” A look of defiance streaked her eyes. “I’ve been on my own since I left Tumbleweed.”
He’d wondered about that. “You didn’t go to live with other family?”
“I have no other family,” Honey said.
Curiosity ate at Harrison. She had only been eighteen, a kid when she’d left. “How did you survive?”
Honey averted her eyes as if to avoid eye contact. “It’s not important, Harrison. What’s important is that I can take care of myself.”
Only she’d been terrified and shaking earlier.
She didn’t like being vulnerable, though; that was obvious. And she didn’t want to need him or his help.
But she did need it.
“All right, but call me if you receive another threat or if that sedan shows up. I’ll have my deputy check around to see if anyone in town drives a car like that.”
She nodded and stepped back toward the door. “Thanks for coming out.”
“That’s my job,” Harrison said, although even if he wasn’t sheriff and he thought she was in danger, he would have driven over. No woman should have to be afraid in her own house.
“Right.”
Her curt tone made him tense and reminded him that she and his family had been on opposite sides for years. That Honey had reason to dislike him and the Hawks.
“I’ll be back in the morning with a warrant to search the property.”
His comment brought pain back to her eyes, but also resignation.
He moved onto the brick step, scanning the yard and sides for trouble as he strode to his SUV. When he climbed inside, he glanced back at the shabby house and saw Honey at the window, watching him.