"A temporary boarder."
"How old is he?"
"He's a she, and she can't be more than a year if that."
"There's a vet in Benton if you want to get her spayed."
"I plan to find her a home long before that." She exchanged cash for the cat food.
"You getting all your packing done?"
"I'm working on it. Do you mind if I take more boxes? I'm going to need more than I originally thought."
"Take as many as you can get in that fancy car of yours."
"Thanks, Hank."
After she'd loaded the SUV, she spotted Wilma opening up her shop. Kat rushed to catch up with her.
"Well, howdy, Kat. Let's get out of this blasted wind." She let Kat in first and primped her hair in front of the wall mirror. "How's it going over there? I hear you've been packing up Brianna's stuff. Making any progress?"
"Slowly."
"I also heard you've been asking around about a phone number, that you got some teenager bothering you. I ran into Clare."
"I'm only speculating." Kat showed her the number, certain of all the people in town Wilma was her best shot.
Wilma examined the number, turned the paper over, examined the number again. "It sure seems familiar. I just can't place the darn thing." She stared at it once more. "Damn. It's not coming to me."
"Yours is the most encouraging response I've received so far," Kat said. "Give it some thought, and let me know if you have any idea. Whoever is calling me is probably harmless."
"How can you be so sure?"
"They're just phone calls, nothing more than that."
"Maybe you shouldn't take this so lightly."
"That's what Chance said."
Wilma's eyes lit up, and Kat knew she'd made a terrible blunder. "So, it's Chance now."
The door opened, compelling Kat to step aside and allow in a woman dressed in slacks, sturdy shoes, and a car coat draped over her petite body. Wispy brown hair covered parts of her face.
"June Bug. How're you doing today?"
She peered up at Wilma, her hair shifting, showing the telltale signs of a yellowing bruise. She spiked her hair down again.
"You go on back, honey," Wilma said. "I'll be right there."
June tiptoed to the far end of the shop. She slipped into the restroom, and the door creaked shut.
"You saw that, didn't you."
"You mean the bruise."
"You bet I mean the bruise. That bastard can't keep his temper in check, and she pays the price. Loves those kids, but beats the hell out of his wife." Wilma kept her voice low, but her eyes glowed with rage. "That's Tim Holmes's wife."
"Really. How does he get away with it? His father's the sheriff, isn't he?"
"Tim's the only son, and that boy can do no wrong. Gordon just looks the other way."
"What about a women's shelter? Isn't there one in Benton?"
Wilma flipped the sign on the door to OPEN and turned back to Kat. "If there was a shelter, she wouldn't go. She's got three kids, no family, and she's just too dang afraid of him."
"What about the church?"
"The pastor tried to counsel her once, but she says she loves him. What can you do about that? It's like trying to take salt out of the ocean."
Kat wished something could be done about Tim Holmes, for a number of reasons. "Do you know if he ever hit Brianna?"
Wilma checked to make sure June hadn't come out of the restroom, then whispered to Kat, "I heard rumors he got physical with her, but I don't know firsthand. I never saw any marks on her."
Kat burned inside just thinking about the possibility. The restroom door opened, and Kat said to Wilma in a normal speaking voice, "I hope there are no hard feelings about the meeting Saturday night."
"Honey, if that was the case, I'd be mad at half the town, and it ain't worth it."
"Let me know if you remember anything about the phone number."
"Will do." Wilma wandered into the other room. "Okay, June Bug, let's get your hair trimmed."
Kat drove back to Brianna's, afraid if she stayed in town any longer she might run into Tim Holmes again, afraid if she did see him, she couldn't be held responsible for what might come out of her mouth.
CHAPTER 16
Chance had risen early to revise the final chapter of his novel. A few tweaks to the whole manuscript and he could turn it into a memoir, a risky proposition considering the people he'd be exposing. He weighed the ramifications of putting his past on display and how that would affect both his and his daughter's lives and the possibility of having a relationship with Kat. Before publishing the manuscript, he'd judge the best way to proceed.
After making the revisions, he wrote out two checks—one to his daughter, Stella, for college tuition and the other to Francesca, his beautiful Italian mother. Francesca never asked him for anything, but nevertheless a check was in the mail monthly.
Chance owed her everything. He grinned as he recalled the story of how she'd named him Chance. His father had left her when she was three months pregnant. She'd almost miscarried, and it was only by chance that he was born into this world. Later in life when Chance was able, he bought her a home in upstate New York where she'd scratched out a living as a nurse while raising him.
His cell phone rang. Upon flipping it open, he hoped it was Kat. "Hello."
"Bonjour, Chance. It has been such a long time, no?"
"Monique."
"It is good to hear you again."
This woman from his past wasn't someone he cared to talk to. His mind churned through excuses to end the call.
"I have a proposition for you."
"Monique, I told you before."
"Oh, we had such a good time, oh, too many years ago," she gushed. "I am in Seattle, darling. Meet me at the Four Seasons. We can catch up on old times, just as we did four years ago. Oh, such catching up we did, do you remember?"
"No, Monique, and you can tell Philip I'm not interested. As I told you then, I'm retired, for good this time."
"You disappointment me, Chance. We work so well together. But you must remember you are still bound by the agreement you made. You were paid dearly."
"That's why you called, isn't it? You're checking up on me to make sure I'll keep quiet." He glanced at his manuscript, knowing full well it would expose the con.
"If you say it, it is so, but I can assure you that you still have a place in the organization. And in my heart. I am faxing you the details of my visit. Do not disappoint me."
"Don't expect to see me. I'm not interested. Goodbye, Monique." He snapped the phone shut. The past. Would it ever stop haunting him?
He switched on the printer. As the machine spit out his latest revisions, he purposely left his fax machine off and opened the window to let out the stench of the conversation. The odors of scattered hay and grazing burros left him feeling surprisingly strengthened and renewed, assured he'd made the right decision to change the direction of his life.
His gaze fell on the picture of his daughter and his ex-wife. Monique was nothing like Meredith. Yet it was a woman exactly like Monique who'd tempted him away from his wife. Meredith was honest and loving, fiery too, like Kat Summers. Although he'd only known Kat a short time, she was the first woman he was attracted to in the same way he'd been attracted to Meredith. If he could break down Kat's defenses, he knew there was a powerful connection between them, an undeniable connection.
He shut off the printer and marched outside where Zeke greeted him, whining and wiggling. Chance paused to give his head a couple of pats and proceeded to the truck. Zeke galloped ahead, anticipating the ride.
Rusty looked up from filling a bucket beside the barn. He meandered across the driveway to meet up with Chance.
"I'm going to Benton," Chance said.
"Anything I can do for ya?"
"No need. I'm just picking up some office supplies. But first I'm going over to Brianna's house. I left my Crock Pot there. Keep hold of Zeke, will you?" Chance slid i
nto the driver's seat, and Rusty stared, chuckling. "What are you looking at?"
"Crock Pot ain't that important." His smile widened. "Sounds like an excuse just to see that Summers woman." He grabbed Zeke's collar.
"Haven't you got work to do?" Chance revved up the engine and headed down the driveway. "Damn ranch hand. Eyes like a chameleon. Doesn't miss a thing."
At Brianna's house Chance waited a full minute before exiting the truck, waited for the butterflies to settle. "Damn woman." He planned to ask her to accompany him to Benton, and like a teenager hoping for a first date, worried she might refuse. He viewed his reflection in the rearview mirror, slicked down his hair. "Get a hold of yourself. You're a grown man."
Kat was in the doorway in shirt and jeans, her hair swept into a ponytail, her arms folded. She had a quizzical look on her face.
He strode toward her, hoping she hadn't seen him primping. "I came to pick up the Crock Pot, save you the trip."
He followed her inside where Tiger rubbed against his legs. He scooped the kitten into his arms. "Has Ms. Grown-up Cat been good to you?"
"She's spoiled already." Kat held the Crock Pot out for him to take. "You can have both."
He grinned while exchanging Tiger for the Crock Pot. Tiger meowed to get down and rubbed one cheek then the other over the top of his boots.
"I didn't hear from you last night," he said. "I'm assuming you didn't have any problems."
"I slept better than I have since I got here."
"That's good, Kat. I'm glad," he said, and Kat edged toward the door, giving him no time to dally if he was going to ask her to go with him. "I'm going to Benton. Do you need anything from the big city?"
"I don't think so," she said, "but do you know if they have a thrift shop that takes donations?"
"I'm not sure about that." He lied. He knew exactly where the thrift shop was. "Why don't you ride along with me, and we'll check it out?"
"I don't know. Couldn't you check for me?"
"Aw, come on, Kat. You need a little time away from Rosswood. You need a break. It will do you good."
"Well, all right, but can you wait for me to change and do my hair?"
"You don't have to go to all that trouble. You look stunning just the way you are." He grabbed her arm to prevent her from escaping into the bedroom. "I mean it, Kat. You don't need to do a thing." He came close to embracing her, but he was holding the Crock Pot, and she seemed a little too aloof today. He didn't want to scare her off.
"What about my hair?"
"Leave it be. I like it that way."
She settled her shoulders with a sigh and hunted down her purse. On the way out she hastened Tiger outside.
* * *
By the time they were rolling along toward Benton, the noonday sun had heated the truck's cab. Both windows were lowered. Chance's cowboy hat lay on the seat between them. The air felt refreshing, cool on her cheeks, and Kat was glad she'd tied her hair back.
"I went into town this morning and asked around about the phone number, but I didn't get anywhere," Kat blurted without thinking, then realized she'd slipped up. She didn't want him to make a big deal of it.
"What phone number?"
She paused. "Oh, did I say phone number? I meant the phone calls. I was asking about the phone calls."
"Do you want me to check around about that? I could do some digging."
"That won't be necessary. I've got Wilma on it."
Chance laughed. "Then it should only be a matter of time."
"Those calls have to be a prank. Besides, I'm leaving my cell off just in case the jerk gets lucky."
"You shouldn't have to put up with that even if it is a prank. If it keeps up, promise me you'll let me handle it."
"If it gets threatening, I will. If the calls happen again when I get home, I'll handle it there."
The towering pines passed in a blur as Kat withdrew into her private thoughts about Brianna. "I wish I knew what was going on in Brianna's mind. Did I tell you she called me a day before she died? She begged me to visit. She seemed so happy. Isn't there anything else you can remember about her comings and goings? Did she have any other friends I might talk to?"
"I don't know about any friends. So much of her time was taken up by her job at Bertie's and by Tim Holmes, and after that she spent her free time at the ranch." Chance ran a hand through his hair, pushing the wind-blown strands into place.
"She did go to Benton quite regularly to pick up supplies for me," he continued. "She would take her laptop with her. She said she had someone there who printed off her stories for her. I asked her if she wanted to use my printer, but she refused the offer."
"That's odd. Lenny said she mostly used his printer. How often did she go to Benton?"
"At least once a week," he said. "That was Rusty's job, but she insisted on going."
"Did you ask who was helping her?"
"I could have, but I figured it was her business."
Kat slumped in her seat, deep in thought. So much about Brianna's life and death in Rosswood seemed a mystery. At the touch of Chance's hand, she jerked out of her daze. "What?"
"You seem sort of lost today. Are you okay?"
His tender expression spooked her. "Just thinking about Brianna. Why did you care so much about her?"
"Maybe because I spent so much time caring for Meredith when she was sick. Having Brianna around pushed a few buttons I suppose. She needed someone to care for her, too."
Kat shifted around to get a better look at him. "You're an enigma, Eliason."
"Why do you say that?"
"One minute you're hot-tempered and the next you're as soft as a kitten."
He huffed at Kat. "I could say the same about you. I'd say we're a good match."
Kat eyed him warily, thinking how smooth an operator he was. For the rest of the trip she sat back and counted the passing vehicles.
Chance rounded the final curve and slowed into the town of Benton. To Kat it didn't seem much bigger than Rosswood, though the main street was longer with more side streets jutting off in both directions. They passed a church, a tavern, a drugstore, a grocery, a few specialty shops, and a café. Up ahead on the left in plain sight was Katie's Used Goods. Chance inched past the shop, as if he hadn't seen the sign.
"Slow down and pull over," Kat demanded, and he aimed the truck into a parking spot just beyond Katie's. He'd known all along Benton had a thrift store. It would have been obvious to anyone passing through. She tossed him one of her scathing looks. "Go do your business, and I'll meet you back here."
"How about lunch?"
She left him wondering and stepped into the store. A rack of clothes lined one wall, tables of household items took up most of the floor space, and at the back of the store were used appliances. Kat sneezed from the dust.
A lanky woman with short, wavy hair carried a feather duster under her arm and approached Kat. "May I help you?"
"I hope so." Kat coughed and stifled another sneeze. "Allergies."
"Sorry about the dust."
"I wondered if you take donations. I have clothes, small household items, and dishes. I also have a compact washer/dryer, the kind you hook up to a sink."
"Sure, but why don't you consider having an estate sale?"
"I don't want to bother with it. I may be able to give some items away, but I really want to be rid of it all, and in a hurry."
The woman took a business card from her pant pocket and handed it to Kat. "My drop-off hours are on there. Just give me a buzz before you come so I can be ready for you."
"Thanks. I will." Kat walked out into the sunshine, feeling relieved at having a plan and hungry after all, less contentious, too, and ready to take Chance up on his offer for lunch.
Chance wasn't in the truck or anywhere else she could see. He could have disappeared into any one of a number of shops. Peering across the street, she spotted a bald man in plaid shirt and dark slacks entering an office nearby: Nate Wheeler.
On an impu
lse Kat charged across the street, just missing a passing car, and into the office of Wheeler and Associates. A desk with computer, fax machine, and printer took up half the space. The office was so bare, devoid of any warmth, it looked like the trappings of a fake company, but she knew his main office was elsewhere.
Wheeler came out from behind a partition, stopped and hitched a hip on the edge of his desk. "And what can I do for you?"
The suggestive way he'd phrased the question riled Kat. She didn't know why she was going to ask him. It was just a hunch. "Did my sister ever come in here to use your printer?"
"Maybe she did and maybe she didn't. Why do you want to know?"
"Just give me a straight answer."
"Well, let's see." He stroked his beard. "I seem to recall her coming in here a number of times. Sure, that's right. We had a deal going."
"What kind of a deal?"
"A sweet deal, if I remember right. One favor for another."
Kat felt the heat explode up her spine. She didn't know if he was baiting her, but she despised his attitude.
"Listen, honey, this is how the deal went down," he said. "Your sister came in here one day raising hell about the Rosswood project. When I finally settled her down, I took her into the back room, and we had a nice civilized chat about land use and my company. She calmed down, and we came to a mutual agreement. She told me about her stories, and how she had to use the printer at the post office after hours, so I offered to let her use my printer anytime she wanted to, day or night. The rest was her idea. If I remember correctly, we sealed the deal that afternoon, right back there." He nodded toward the partition.
By now Kat was shaking she was so mad. "You're an asshole."
He stood and aimed a finger into her collarbone. "If you start calling me names, lady, be prepared for the consequences."
She marched out of his office and heard the door slammed behind her. Chance was waiting for her at the truck. Without a look in his direction, she climbed into the passenger seat and folded her arms.
Chance slid in beside her. "I guess lunch is out of the question. Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"Just drive." A good part of the way back to Rosswood, Kat boiled inside. She could have written Wheeler off as a liar, but she knew what Brianna was capable of. Still, he could have been lying, but the arrogance of the man got to her.
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