by Lacey Baker
Preston nodded slightly.
“I investigated anyway. You know I don’t take orders well,” he said grimly. “The next thing I know, I get home and there’s someone else there. But they don’t kill me. Why is that, Pres? Why am I still alive?”
“I suspect there are a lot of people asking themselves that right now.”
“Yeah.” Parker sighed. “Namely me. They didn’t kill me that night in my apartment, but weeks later they try to run me off the road. Then last night they shoot up an entire restaurant trying to get at me.”
“But they miss,” Preston said.
“Yeah, they missed. But what if they hadn’t?”
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation,” his brother replied stoically.
Parker frowned. “I don’t want to always be known as the Cantrell that messes up. The one that doesn’t listen and makes a mess for his family to clean up.”
“Wait, are we talking about you or Savannah?” Preston asked.
Parker almost smiled. “Savannah doesn’t mess up, she just doesn’t listen. Ever.”
The two shared a knowing chuckle about their youngest sister.
“You were busy with your case and I didn’t want to distract you with this business. Then Gramma died and I didn’t want to add to that trauma for any of us. I just wanted to sit here in Sweetland and forget about the shooting, forget about the man who died in my arms and his family, who cried hopelessly at his funeral.”
“That’s why you never talked about when you were going back.”
Parker shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t looking forward to going back. I mean, this suspension has been close to six months now. The odds of me getting my job back are looking kind of bleak.”
“And yet you’re here about to start a family with Drew.”
His brother was making one clever observation after another. Parker frowned at how consistently this attorney-at-law hit his mark and how calmly he did so.
“That wasn’t a part of the plan. It just happened. And now I’ve put her and my baby at risk. I’ve got to clean this up fast, because if something happens to her…” He trailed off.
Preston stood then and walked over to Parker, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard. “Nothing’s going to happen to her. We’re not going to let anything happen to her, just like we’re not going to let anything happen to you. Ryan’s got some backup coming in tonight, and one of the numbers on Vezina’s cell phone bill turned out to be from an international suspect on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, so now he has complete jurisdiction.”
“And he didn’t tell me?” Parker asked.
“He tried to call you earlier. When he didn’t get an answer, he called me.”
“I had some issues down at Drew’s shop.”
“What? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, just that asshole Mansfield. He had the audacity to try and go after her right in front of me. I wanted to put my fist down his throat, the conceited bastard!”
Preston groaned. “I hope you didn’t hit that man again.”
“I subdued him, with Rufus’s help,” Parker replied. “Besides, Carl was there and he arrested him. So I at least feel better about that situation.”
“Well, this other situation is going to resolve itself, too.”
“Cantrells to the rescue.” Parker sighed glumly.
“Hey,” Preston said, moving so that he stood in Parker’s face. “That’s what we do, Park, you know that. We’re all in this together. Gramma wanted us back here in Sweetland together for reasons just like this. When your back is to the wall, we’re here for you, always. And it’s not because you’re trouble or trouble is always following you. It’s because we love you.”
Parker’s chest clenched, his lips drawing in a tight line. “I guess I forgot for a while what family I was from.”
Preston smiled. “I think we all did. That’s why it was good that we all came back for the funeral and that we’re all still here.”
“But how do I stay here without a job, without a way to support my family? I mean, I have a good savings, and thanks to you, I made some really sound investments over the years, so I’m not completely broke.”
Preston was already shaking his head. “It will all work out. Just follow your heart.”
“Is that what you did?” Parker asked.
Preston smiled, looking toward his desk where a picture of him and Heaven sat prominently facing his chair. “That’s what I’m still doing.”
* * *
“Home alone?” Mr. Sylvester asked Parker when he returned to the B&B.
Parker noted the man was sitting in the exact place he’d been when Parker had left earlier. His cane was still propped against the chair, but this time Parker noticed something else. When Rufus had begun running off, Parker had purchased a new collar for him, one with a GPS chip embedded inside. The collar was black leather with Rufus’s name in red, and it was now looped around Mr. Sylvester’s cane.
“Rufus was at Drew’s,” Parker said slowly, taking a seat in one of the twin Victorian chairs near the window.
Mr. Sylvester only nodded. “Funny how he keeps ending up there.”
“Yeah,” Parker added, rubbing his hand over his chin. “That sure is a funny thing.”
“Must be something over there for him,” he said.
“Since he’s been over there so much, she bought a box of those doggie treats he likes. Maybe that’s why he keeps breaking out of the pen and going all the way over to her place.”
The older man reached for his glass—a new glass that Michelle had no doubt brought to him—took a slow sip, then set it down as he smacked his thin lips. “That gal makes some damned good lemonade. Some lucky man’s gonna snatch her up one day and y’all are gonna miss her hanging around here so much.”
Parker continued to watch him closely, thinking about the last couple of weeks and some of the things that had happened and that were said in that time. “Michelle’s never leaving Sweetland or The Silver Spoon, they’re both a part of her.”
Sylvester shook his head. “Don’t be so sure. Love makes you do strange things.”
“Really? I wouldn’t know.”
Sylvester fluffed a pillow behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I think you know more than you want to admit.”
Parker took in a deep breath, then sighed. He did know more now than he had twenty minutes ago, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the new revelations. “You’ve been letting Rufus out of the pen, haven’t you?”
“Janet left those dogs to you kids,” he began. “She wanted you to take care of them and love them.”
“I know that, Mr. Sylvester. That’s not what I asked you.” Parker was trying not to sound as testy as he was feeling. He hadn’t liked leaving Drew alone in her apartment. Sure, he’d left Rufus there, and yes, Rufus had attacked Jared’s ankles earlier today, but he was no vicious killer guard dog. He wasn’t going to bite some assailant in the nuts or the jugular to save Drew’s life. And as good a cop as he thought Jonah was, drive-bys every half hour just weren’t enough protection for him.
“Let me ask you something,” Sylvester countered. “Why do you think your dog spends more time with the mother of your child than you do? Why do you think your dog wants to spend more time with the mother of your child than you do?”
Parker leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking Mr. Sylvester right in the eye. “I think my dog was being purposely let out of the pen and taken to Drew’s house as someone’s way of trying to tell me something.”
Sylvester was quiet for a moment. Then another moment. He blinked, then closed his eyes. And his eyes didn’t open again. Parker got nervous and went to Mr. Sylvester’s side, touching his chest. “Mr. Sylvester?… Mr. Sylvester, can you hear me?”
His eyes remained closed, and Parker was just about to call for Michelle when a hand grabbed his wrist. Mr. Sylvester’s eyes shot open then, wider than he’d ever seen them before.
“Did you hear what you just said? About someone trying to tell you something? It’s a shame a person has to go through all these dramatics to get you to open your eyes.”
Parker sighed at his words, closing his own eyes and counting to ten as he tried to steady the quick beating of his heart. He’d thought the man had had a heart attack or stroke or something and died right there in front of him. Not that Parker had never seen a dead body before; he had on too many occasions to count. But he didn’t want Mr. Sylvester to be counted as one of them.
“You took Rufus to Drew’s so I’d follow him over there. You wanted me to be with Drew. That’s a pretty elaborate matchmaking scheme,” he said quietly, pulling his arm from Mr. Sylvester’s grasp.
“Ha!” the old man laughed. “Did it work?”
Parker went back to his chair and dropped down. “I don’t need a matchmaker.”
“No, you need a knock on your head. Not a bullet, just a good hard knock so you can come to your senses.” He was sitting up in the chair now, mimicking Parker’s stance, elbows resting on his knees.
“Everything happens for a reason, Parker. God does not make mistakes.”
“Gramma used to say that.”
Mr. Sylvester nodded. “True. And she was right. So don’t go thinking that the baby Drew’s carrying is a mistake. It’s not. It was a soft knock on the head for you. Rufus running away was another soft knock. Those bullets flying like hail the other night, that was the hard knock you needed to get your butt in gear. Now you get yourself a nice house, marry that girl, have a healthy baby, and keep your dog in your own yard. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
Mr. Sylvester reached for his cane, pulled the collar from it, and tossed it over to Parker. “Good night,” he said, and walked out of the room with more energy than Parker had seen in him in weeks.
* * *
Footsteps on the stairs. That’s what Drew heard in her sleep. Try as she might, she could not stop dreaming. Just one night she’d like a blissful rest without any intrusions. Tonight was obviously not meant to be the night.
She rolled over and felt the warmth of Rufus at her chest. His soft fur brushed across her cheek.
More footsteps.
Rufus moved and Drew reached out to cuddle him closer. He barked and she jumped.
The footsteps were no longer on the steps, but closer.
Sitting up in bed, Drew stared at the doorway leading from her bedroom into the living room—where she could swear she heard more footsteps. She reached for Rufus, but he’d already jumped down from the bed and was barking his way into the living room.
“Dammit!” she cursed, pushing back the sheets and getting out of bed herself.
Something crashed to the floor in the living room. There was a curse. A man’s curse, and Rufus barked louder. Searching for something to use as a weapon, she settled on the autographed Cal Ripken baseball bat that had belonged to her father and which she kept hidden behind her door instead of selling because her mother said it was worth something. Clutching the bat in both hands, she entered the living room, only to be faced with a splash of spray in her face.
“Jared, you bastard!” Drew screamed, and dropped the bat. She fell to her knees, her eyes burning, lungs stinging as she tried to breathe.
She heard more footsteps, more things falling, and then the intruder was going down the steps. Drew knew her little apartment like the back of her hand, so even though she couldn’t see a damned thing and could barely get a breath out without wheezing, she crawled across the living room floor, banging into the lamp that had fallen and what she figured was the pillow from the futon, until she got to the steps.
Rufus appeared at her side then, and Drew turned backward to crawl down the steps. She figured this way was safer since she couldn’t see. Rufus must have agreed because he stuck close to her as she moved. By the time she reached the bottom—she’d been counting as she went—Drew was groping blindly for the railing when there was a loud noise. Everything around her shook and she was tossed backward until she landed flat on her back, the little bit of breath she’d had knocked completely out of her. Then her eyes weren’t burning anymore, her back wasn’t hurting, and her lungs didn’t feel as if they were about to explode.
And for the first time in Drew’s life, she slept, without dreaming, without anything but the blackness that had engulfed her.
* * *
Parker’s cell phone rang just after midnight. He was awake instantly, not bothering to look at the screen.
“Cantrell,” he answered.
“This is Sheriff Farraway. There’s been an explosion.”
Parker disconnected the call before Kyle could finish. He called Preston and Quinn as he ran out of the house and to his bike. Then he was gone, heading over to Drew’s because he knew Farraway would not have called him unless that’s where this explosion had occurred.
The normally ten-minute ride seemed to take triple the amount of time no matter how much gas he applied to his Suzuki. He cut corners, almost ran up on the sidewalk, and barely missed the tables and chairs and umbrellas sitting out front of Jana’s Java as he turned quickly onto Main Street. All he could think about was Drew. Drew being alone. Drew being hurt. Their baby being hurt. His chest felt heavy as he jumped off the bike and applied the kickstand. But he quickly came to a stop.
Caleb Brockington, a six-foot-five-inch tall, 220-pound man dressed in a fireman’s uniform, pressed a hand into Parker’s chest, halting his motion almost immediately.
“Fire’s still burning pretty hot in there, Parker. I can’t let you go in,” he told him.
Parker moved so that he could see around the man. There were other firemen, one holding a hose, the other heading inside the building slowly. Kyle and Jonah were also standing on the sidewalk, glass and debris all around them. Kyle came over the minute he saw Parker.
“I’ve got ’im, Caleb. You get back over there and keep that fire from spreading,” Farraway told him. “I can’t believe we have another fire in Sweetland. The last one had fatalities, let’s hope this one doesn’t.”
“Drew?” Parker yelled. “Where’s Drew?”
Kyle held on to Parker even though it was a struggle. The bigger, rounder man was clearly getting old, and for that reason Parker tried to rein in his anger.
“Where the hell is Drew?”
“Calm down, son. She’s already on her way to the hospital. She and that dog of yours were trying to get out the back. That’s where Jonah found them, lying in her flowers.”
Chapter 20
Parker had never wanted to walk these halls again. Even though the last time he was here he hadn’t actually walked. He’d been pushed to the front entrance, where he’d waited, feeling like a colossal ass for being in a wheelchair and angry beyond words at the car that had run him off the road.
Now he was back at Easton Memorial Hospital, walking toward the emergency room with his heart beating wildly and sweat beading at his forehead. He’d driven the Suzuki faster than ever before, not giving a damn about speeding tickets or crashing or anything beyond getting here to see Drew.
“Drewcilla Sidney?” he asked the nurse a second before he actually made it all the way to the front desk.
She looked a little startled, this older woman with silver hair and warm gray eyes. “Did she walk in or was she an ambo delivery?” the woman asked calmly.
“Ambulance,” Parker told her. “Should have been just in the last ten or fifteen minutes. She’s pregnant and there was an explosion and—”
“Okay. Okay. I think I’ve got it,” she said, looking down at something and then back up to Parker. “They just took her down to exam room four.”
Parker had already turned away from the desk and begun walking when the nurse hurried behind him, grabbing him by the arm.
“Sir, you cannot just go back there.”
“Why can’t I?” Parker asked, daring her to stand there and try to stop him.
“For one, because e
xam room four is that way,” she told him, pointing down another hall through a different set of double doors. “And because I have no idea who you are and why you’re looking for this patient.”
“Look, I don’t have time for this. Let me go back and see Drew and I’ll answer all your questions. Hell, I’ll even give you some blood!” he yelled, frustrated, worried, and impatient.
The nurse simply shook her head. “The doctors are with her, and at this moment they are the most important persons back there. You can take two seconds to tell me what your relation is to the patient and to offer any health background if you can.”
She was pulling him back to the desk while she talked. If it were a male, Parker might have punched him. If it were a younger female, he might have charmed her. As it stood, he found himself walking back with her and keeping his curses to himself.
“Now, who are you and how do you know the patient?” she asked in a no-nonsense tone.
“My name is Parker Cantrell and I’m … I’m … ah, I’m the father of her baby,” he finally managed, hating the distant sound of that title.
Drew was so much more to him than the mother of his child. She meant more than just the vessel for his baby to be brought into this world. And though Parker didn’t think he’d ever had one before, not a real and serious one, for that matter, he thought that Drew might even be more than his girlfriend. But he didn’t know how to say that, not even to this stranger.
The nurse simply nodded at him. “I see. And how far along in her pregnancy is she?”
“Ah, what’s today?” Parker thought aloud. “She’s twenty-one weeks.”
She smiled at him then, and Parker blinked in confusion.
“Room four is through those double doors and to your right, Mr. Cantrell.”
While sighing his relief, Parker managed a smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Thank you very much.” He was about to walk away, then he turned back to her. “I’m Drew Sidney’s boyfriend,” he added to his earlier statement.