by Kacey Linden
She nodded, and watched as he let himself in and was enthusiastically greeted at the door by what looked like three huge dogs. Willow smiled involuntarily. It might be a good sign. A man with that many dogs who clearly adored him… but then, dogs liked anyone who would feed them.
He was back about two minutes later, gas can in hand.
“You have a lot of dogs,” she noted.
“And they’re never going to forgive me for showing up in the middle of my shift like this and then leaving them again,” he said, with a brief chuckle.
“How many?”
“Three. Gotten to where every time an oversized stray shows up, the shelter calls and asks if I want another.”
“Do you?” she asked curiously.
He grinned into the rearview mirror. “Probably depends on whether they whine and put a paw on my knee and look at me with big sad eyes. My yard isn’t really big enough for more, but I’m not great at resisting those kind of tactics.”
So he probably wasn’t married. If he was, he would most likely have mentioned a wife who either adored or despised the idea of three giant pets.
“You like dogs?” he asked casually.
“Yes.” Her shepherd mix, Marsh, had been the only friend she had left, until Elliot let him race out the door and get hit by a car. He claimed Marsh bit him first, but she knew better. Elliot had been drunk. He’d simply let the dog out the wrong door and didn’t want to take responsibility for the mistake.
They drove in silence for at least ten seconds before Deputy Matthews opened his mouth again.
“So where you headed?”
“I…” Normally, she was pretty good at coming up with answers, but it had been a long twenty-four hours. And she had no idea what was nearby, or what responses might seem plausible. “Guess I’m not really sure.”
“Ugly weather to be out for a drive,” he said casually. “You from around here?”
“Right,” she retorted sarcastically. “Like you wouldn’t know if I was from around here in a town this size.”
“I might know most of the folks in Echo Creek, but this isn’t the only town in the area.”
“No, okay?” She wrapped her arms around herself again, whether for warmth or comfort she wasn’t sure.
“You got a place to stay tonight?”
“Enough with the questions! Are you this nosy with all your visitors?”
“No,” he admitted, glancing in his rearview mirror again. “Only the ones who run out of gas after ten on a freezing-cold night and don’t know where they’re going.”
And who look like they’ve been used as a punching bag, she thought, but he didn’t say it.
They pulled into the gas station, and an attendant wearing a ski jacket and a thick scarf jogged out to meet them.
“Hey, Cale.” The teenager waved a gloved hand. “You need a fill-up?”
“Not for me this time, Drew,” the deputy said, holding out the gas can. “Just fill this up for my passenger. She ran dry a few blocks away.”
“Wait!” Willow jumped out and waved a hand frantically. “Don’t fill it. I…” She could feel herself flush, even as she began to shiver again when the cold air hit her. “I only need two dollars’ worth.”
Both men turned to stare at her.
“Please.” She pressed her lips together.
“Do it.” Deputy Matthews didn’t take his eyes off her while he gave the order, and they narrowed as he met her gaze.
Her eyes dropped first.
After the bewildered attendant carefully dribbled exactly two dollars’ worth of gas into the can and capped it, Willow handed over two crumpled bills.
“Thank you,” she said tightly.
She got back in the car while the deputy put the can in the trunk. He didn’t say anything while he opened his door, fastened his seatbelt and pulled out of the station, but his thumb tapped the steering wheel as he drove.
Silence reigned until they pulled up to a wrecker yard where her car was visible, still chained to the tow truck.
After the squad car pulled up to the curb, the deputy remained in his seat, sending several texts before he turned to look at Willow.
“Marty will be out in a few. We’ll have your car started as quick as we can. And sorry again for towing you.”
“It’s fine,” Willow said shortly, just wanting to get out of the situation so she could think about her next move. If she had one.
She waited in the warmth of the car as the two men returned the Corolla to all four wheels and poured the tiny amount of gas into the tank. Deputy Matthews jogged back and cracked open the door.
“If you give me your keys, I’ll warm it up for you.” At her suspicious look he held up both hands defensively and grinned. “I swear I’m not going to steal your car!”
Willow instantly felt bad. “I know,” she snapped, to cover her embarrassment, and dug the keys out of her sweatshirt pocket. “And… thank you.”
He took the keys, jogged back to the car, opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.
Willow waited while he turned the key, but nothing seemed to happen. He leaned forward, jiggled the key again, then gestured at Marty, who shrugged and lifted the hood.
Oh no. No. This could not be happening. That car couldn’t quit on her now.
The deputy got out and both men leaned over the engine. Then Marty went back and turned the key again. Still nothing. Willow jumped out into the snow and ran to her car.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Why won’t it start?”
Marty shook his head and hunched his shoulders. “Starter could be bad. Maybe the fuel pump. I’d need to get in there and check some stuff out to know for sure.”
“But it can’t be.” Willow pulled her hands inside her sleeves to keep them warm. “It was just running. I drove it here. How can it just not start? Does it need more gas?”
“Gas should have been enough to start it,” Deputy Matthews said with a shrug. “But don’t worry. Marty has a garage here and he knows cars. He can check it out in the morning and let you know what the problem is.”
“But…” Willow stood in the snow and let the news sink in while the wet slush leaked through her shoes and the wind sliced through her clothes. Her car was dead. She had no money left. The closest city was hours away, and the only way to keep running was on foot.
Her legs gave way without warning and she sat down, hard, on the curb.
“You okay?” The deputy moved quickly around the car to crouch down in front of her and study her face.
She couldn’t even answer. Her lips were as frozen as her fingers and her toes.
The deputy swore softly and yanked off his coat to drape around her shoulders. She didn’t even have the energy to protest.
“Tell me your name?”
“Willow.” Why not tell him? She’d reached the end of the road in a quaint, sleepy little town called Echo Creek. There was no way of knowing what they would do with her, but she was more or less at the mercy of these two strange men.
Surely they wouldn’t ship her back to Seattle. Back to Elliot. Anything before that. Maybe they would put her in jail if she assaulted a deputy. Even the jail in Echo Creek had to be better than going home. But when she glanced up at Deputy Matthews’ face, all she saw was warmth and concern. She couldn’t bring herself to take a swing at him, and even if she tried, she suspected he would just laugh at her.
“Willow, I get the feeling you don’t have anywhere to go. Or anyone to call.”
Humiliation made her cheeks burn, but she shook her head.
“And if you had a credit card, you would have used it for gas.”
He stood up. “Marty, can you keep the car here and check it out tomorrow? Let me know what you find.”
“Sure thing, Cale.” The middle-aged man took the keys out of the ignition. “Mind if I keep these? Just till I get it fixed.”
“That’s fine,” Willow whispered. She looked back at the deputy. Cale. “Does Echo Creek hav
e a…” She swallowed her tears and her pride. “A homeless shelter? Somewhere I can sleep tonight? Normally I would sleep in my car, but…”
“Like I said, nobody freezes to death in Echo Creek. Not if we have anything to say about it.” He held out a hand. “Can you trust me enough for one more ride?”
She let the razor edge of her despair creep into her voice. “I wouldn’t be here if I had choices, Deputy.”
“It’s Cale,” he said, as she put her frozen hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. His gloved hand was strong and warm and he didn’t let go until she was steady. “Let’s get your bag, and then I’m taking you to the best hotel in town.”
Her spine stiffened. “I won’t let anyone pay for me, and you can’t make me stay.” There was no way she was giving anyone a chance to hold a debt over her head.
But the deputy just smiled, and the warmth of it shot straight to Willow’s toes.
“Trust me,” he said.
If only it were so easy.
Chapter 2
In the end, she didn’t have a choice and she knew it. Willow agreed to at least go with him as far as the destination he had in mind, and he agreed to take her somewhere else if she didn’t want to stay.
All she took out of her car before they left was one tiny duffle bag, half full, the denim jacket, and the blanket, which she wrapped around her after she handed his coat back.
“I’m sorry about your seat,” she said, leaning gingerly against the back seat of his car.
“That seat has seen way worse than a little melted snow.” Cale tried to keep his tone light despite his growing desire to break the face of whoever had driven Willow to flee into the winter night with nothing.
Her name fit her tiny frame. Maybe two inches over five feet, with delicate features, enormous eyes, and blonde hair, Willow looked incredibly breakable, but she wasn’t a pushover. She’d run, instead of staying wherever she’d been hurt, and she was brave enough to admit she was stuck.
Cale found himself admiring that courage as she sat in the back of his car, alone and probably terrified, but not giving up. He couldn’t even guess at her age, not in the uncertain light of headlights and street lamps, but she was clearly too young for the haunted look in her eyes. Fortunately, he thought he knew the best remedy for that look. He also knew the perfect person to provide it.
One phone call and a short drive later, he pulled up in front of an enormous, immaculately kept two-story Victorian-style house. The porch light flicked on as his car eased to a stop.
“What is this?” Willow asked, suspicion coloring her tone. “This doesn’t look like a hotel.”
“Just trust me a little longer,” he urged. “Come on. She’s expecting us.”
“Who is ‘she’?” Despite her obvious misgivings, Willow followed him up the front steps and onto the porch, with its cushioned rocking chairs and old-fashioned swing.
“Mrs. Dillon, of course,” he said with a smile, just as the door swung open to reveal one of his favorite people.
“Cale Matthews, why are you letting that poor girl run around out here without a coat on? Get in the house before I swat you!”
White haired, but still tall and full of energy, Marcia exuded enthusiasm as she herded them both into the front hall.
“I’m so sorry, I’m dripping everywhere…” Willow tried, but she was no match for Mrs. Dillon.
“Oh, never mind my floors, you must be freezing. Let’s get you into some dry clothes before you catch your death and then I’m going to have words with this boy who seems to think you’d enjoy a nice case of pneumonia.”
Willow just looked stunned, but that moment of shock gave Cale a chance to really see her for the first time.
She was older than he’d initially thought, and startlingly attractive. Oh, not in the polished, fashionable, head-turning way Marissa was. Marissa had always had confidence to spare, and her dark good looks and athletic frame had drawn attention wherever she went. Willow, by contrast, was too thin, too pale, and obviously wary. But despite her apparent fragility, despite her weariness and her injuries, she held herself with quiet assurance. There was strength in the lift of her chin as she met his gaze and refused to show vulnerability. Her eyes were hazel, he realized, and her hair a warm, honey blonde. Her face was oval, with a few pale freckles sprinkled across a straight nose, and an expressive, full-lipped mouth.
And he was about to be caught staring, so he dropped his eyes and pretended to check his duty belt.
“Mrs. Dillon, I’m going to run out and get her bag, if that’s all right.”
“Of course it’s all right! Don’t just stand there. Bring in all her luggage and I’ll get her settled upstairs before we all sit down over some tea. Or maybe you can do something about that rat while we girls get to know each other.” She winked.
Cale turned on his heel and went out the door before either woman could see his smile. He knew he’d chosen well. Mrs. Dillon would have Willow wrapped in flannel and pouring out her life story in front of the fire before he managed to bring her bag in from the car.
While he was outside, he took a moment to check the weather report. More snow, but only a few inches. Enough that neither woman was likely to be out and about early the next morning. He would have time to get together with Marty and come up with a plan.
After he retrieved Willow’s belongings and left them in the entryway, Cale flicked on his flashlight and made his way cautiously up a narrow flight of stairs to the cluttered and dusty attic. It was filled with boxes, old furniture, a few battered trunks, crates full of glass jars, and who knew what else. If there really was a rat up there, he doubted he’d ever be able to find it.
But Cale had long suspected that there was no rat. The house might be old and creaky, but he’d had a good long look at the roof last summer, and there were no holes large enough to grant entry to anything but spiders.
After a few years on the job, Cale had decided that being a cop in a small town was a great deal more than just handling petty crimes, handing out parking tickets and subduing drunk tourists. There were the other things—the small, intangible things he could do to make the people in his town feel secure. And for Mrs. Dillon, that meant providing a listening ear and drinking her tea after chasing the nonexistent rats that gave her a reason to call him.
He poked into corners long enough to give Mrs. Dillon a chance to allay her guest’s fears. By the time he was finished, he was sure there were cobwebs in his hair and several years’ worth of dust on his uniform, but he could honestly say that he’d looked and could find no sign of a furry invader.
Sure enough, by the time he returned downstairs, Mrs. Dillon had coaxed Willow into taking a hot bath and had two steaming mugs of fragrant tea waiting on the breakfast bar. Cale had just taken a mug and a seat when Willow came back downstairs, dressed in worn sweats with her damp hair coiled on top of her head.
Cale jumped to his feet as soon as she entered the warm, spacious kitchen and offered her his chair.
“No, thank you.” Her expression remained unreadable as she waved him off, her hands out of sight inside the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt.
“No, please. I insist that you sit.” Marcia bustled across the kitchen and pulled a giant mug out of the cupboard. “Tea or chocolate? I have marshmallows!”
Willow blinked and looked from Marcia to Cale. “I haven’t slept much and I’m beginning to wonder whether all of this is real. Where am I?”
“Echo Creek?” Cale answered carefully, knowing that wasn’t really what she was asking.
“No, where am I? Who are you people? Is there something you want from me? I just don’t understand…” She waved a sleeve at them, the kitchen, the tea, and the air in general. “This.”
“I’m Marcia Dillon.” Marcia crossed the kitchen to wrap an arm around the clearly startled Willow. “We spoke on the phone. Cale said you needed a place to stay and I insisted that you stay here.”
“Insisted?” Willow didn�
��t appear to accept this representation of the situation.
“Did you see this house?” The older woman gestured with her mug and pursed her lips. “It’s enormous. I don’t even bother using half the rooms anymore, and there are always creaky sounds coming from the attic. I hate being here alone, so I absolutely adore when guests come to stay with me.”
“But I’m not a guest, I’m an intruder. You don’t know me.” Willow was beginning to look desperate. “I could be a murderer!”
Cale choked and almost spit out his tea.
“I’m terrified, dear,” Mrs. Dillon said, taking a sip from her mug.
Willow backed away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “No, really, why would you take me in? This is insane. I can’t pay you.”
“Why wouldn’t I take you in?” Marcia insisted, looking over the top of her gold-rimmed glasses. “You’re alone and don’t know anyone in town, and I’m alone and love serving tea and mystery scones to unsuspecting guests. Seems like an ideal situation for everyone.”
“But…”
“Oh, hush. Really. I’m glad to have you. But I should warn you, I do intend to demand payment.” Mrs. Dillon’s eyes gleamed over the edge of her mug.
Willow somehow looked simultaneously more relaxed and more apprehensive.
“You can pay me by promising to have dinner with me every night.”
“Eat dinner. With you.” Willow’s eyes shot to Cale.
“Yes, she’s for real,” he assured her. “But I promise the mystery scones are delicious.”
Willow’s eyes grew, if anything, bigger, and a hand came up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice wavering, as tears gathered in her eyes. “I can’t…”
She whirled around and left the kitchen.
“That poor child,” Mrs. Dillon said softly. “Who hit her?”
“No idea.” Cale wished he could find out. “Maybe you can get her to open up a bit, but I don’t think she’ll tell me. I have a feeling there’s another cop involved somewhere in all of this. She wouldn’t even tell me her last name. She did say that it’s not a husband, but I may run her plate to see if I can find anything else.”