“Surely you can squeeze me into your schedule for dinner. You have to eat some time.”
He clearly wasn’t accustomed to being told no. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to take a rain check.”
“Fine.” He clipped the word short. “Happy Thanksgiving.” The phone went dead.
Grace hung up. She hadn’t meant to upset him. Maybe she should meet with him to tell him face-to-face to let him know she wasn’t interested in anything but friendship. But it would have to wait until after Thanksgiving. Right now, all she wanted to do was shower and get to bed early. She needed all the sleep she could get to confront Elena with her suspicions in the morning at work.
The house was oddly quiet without Papa there. Normally by now, he’d be leaned back in his recliner, the TV remote in one hand as he flipped between various channels. Offering a silent prayer for his safety, she sauntered down the darkened hallway toward the bathroom. The fluorescent light over the sink flickered on with its normal hum, casting long shadows around the dark-paneled room. She twisted the hot water knob and plugged the bathtub drain.
A few minutes later, she soaked in the warm sudsy water, the tension in her neck and shoulders slowly ebbing away. Her thoughts turned to Matt. How had she been so wrong about him? She brought fingertips to her lips. The kiss they’d shared had left her mind and heart spinning, but in a good way.
Grace looked toward the ceiling, and released a breath. Maybe her planned meeting with Elena tomorrow would set the record straight, and she’d feel better about allowing herself more time with him. But it wouldn’t be that easy. Something told her Elena wouldn’t take kindly to her questions or comments.
The phone sounded from down the hallway, but she didn’t move to answer it. Surely whoever it was would call back later. But what if it was Papa? On the third ring, she stood, wrapped a towel around her and dripped down the hall.
“Hello?”
No answer.
“Is anyone there?” Probably just a wrong number. She‘d just made it back to the tub when the phone rang again. Once more she traipsed down the hall, but again no one answered. Okay, this was getting a little creepy.
Grace glanced at the clock. It was already almost ten-thirty, and she hated to wake Matt over something as stupid as a prank phone call. And why call the police? What could they do about it? What if it was just Elena’s strange way of keeping tabs on her?
She returned the phone to the receiver, shivering from cold in the drafty old house. By the time she made it to the bathroom, the water had already lost its warmth, so she drained the tub and put on her flannel pajamas. An idea filtered through her brain before she crawled into bed. The phone calls and the misplaced chair might have a simple explanation, but they also might not. Without Papa here, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Grace slipped on her house shoes and shuffled to the kitchen, digging in the junk drawer until she found what she wanted. She opted not to put on her coat, but left the front door open while she hurriedly did what she’d never done before in all the years she’d lived in Miller’s Creek—padlocked the gate.
Restlessness plagued her sleep, her mind preoccupied with the events of the day. She’d just drifted off when the ringing phone broke the silence. Grace bounced to a sitting position, her heart pounding. The phone continued to ring, but she refused to answer. Instead she plopped back down in the bed and covered her head with the spare pillow. The ringing eventually stopped.
Early the next morning, a squeaky noise at the window near her bed awakened her. Grace forced her eyes open to peer at the clock. Only five. The sound resumed. Still half asleep, she threw off the covers and padded over to peek between the blinds. On a hasty impulse, she yanked on the cords and pulled the blinds up in one swift move. There was no one there, but what she saw sent fear coursing through her veins.
While she slept, someone had drawn a face in the condensation. The crooked mouth drooped downward, and where the eyes were drawn, water had pooled and now made a slow crawl down the face, like ice-cold tears.
Grace jumped back and released the cord, the blinds crashing to closed position. Further sleep no longer an option, she fixed a large pot of coffee and tried to gather her thoughts for the upcoming meeting with Elena. She left the house thirty minutes earlier than usual, all for the purpose of arriving early to talk to her boss. But as she hurried to the gate to unlock it, her mouth gaped open.
During the night, someone had yanked several pickets off the front fence, and the mailbox had been ripped from its post. Who would do something like this, and why? Her mind instantly flew to Elena. Would she really stoop to scare tactics?
Grace cleaned up the mess the best she could, deciding to call Ernie after work. At least he could offer her advice as to what she should do. Soon she was on her way to Morganville, and arrived in plenty of time. Her backbone and her resolve solidified as she entered and peered toward Elena’s office where a shaft of light shone from the cracked door. Good, she was here. Grace deposited her things on the desk, then proceeded to Elena’s office and rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
She prayed as she turned the knob. God, give me strength to say what needs to be said. Help me to speak the truth in love. Give me a discerning spirit.
Elena perched behind her giant desk with pen in hand, once more the picture of businesswoman perfection, but she glanced up with a frown when Grace entered. “You’re here early.”
“Yes, I need to speak with you. Is now a good time?”
“Actually I was just on my way to Harry’s office. Why don’t you join me?” She made her way to the door.
So it was starting already. Grace followed her down the hallway to the attorney’s office, certain Elena was about to let her have it.
Some of the anger had dissipated from Harry Bridges’ face since Friday, but he still looked unhappy. He did shake both their hands before he motioned for them to sit.
Elena, very much in control, gazed directly at him. “Harry, I want to apologize for what happened on Friday, but I can assure you it was a rookie mistake.”
Grace’s mouth fell open, and she struggled to find words.
The petite attorney continued. “Grace did some research for me and gave it to me on Friday. I assumed she’d already shared it with the defense, or I would have never used it.”
He considered her words for a prolonged silence. “So what do you think I should do, Elena? This left the district attorney’s office with a huge black eye and made you look thoroughly incompetent.” He shifted his gaze to Grace for a moment, then looked at Elena.
She held his gaze. “I think we should just chalk it up to a rookie mistake and move on from there.” She glanced at Grace. “I’m sure Grace has learned her lesson.”
Grace still couldn’t find her voice.
He eventually nodded. “Okay, but the next time something like this happens, you’re both in danger of losing your jobs.”
Elena stood and reached a hand across the desk. “Thanks, Harry. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”
Before she knew what happened, Grace found herself once more in Elena’s office, her thoughts spinning.
The woman gestured to one of the comfy chairs that faced her desk. “Now what was it you wanted to see me about?”
A hot spark ignited a fire inside her. Elena had the audacity to ask that question after her cutting remarks yesterday and the big lie she’d just told? Grace somehow managed to control her volume. “I’d like to talk to you about several things actually.”
“Such as?” Elena maintained her innocent expression.
Grace’s carefully rehearsed script flew out the window, and she struggled between letting her have it and holding back. “Well, first I want to say that you’re very good at your job. It’s been a privilege to work with you.” Grace cringed inwardly. Her attempt to be kind was making her sound like a major wimp.
Elena smiled. “Why, thank you, Grace. I hope you know I feel the same wa
y about you. In spite of the mix up, I’m very pleased with the research you did on the Simmons case. Which reminds me—I have a list of a few things I could use your help on.” She snagged a legal pad from the left side of her ultra-organized desk, and handed it to Grace. “I need this research done before next Monday.
Grace skimmed the list. Completing the requests would eat up her entire holiday.
“I know it’s a lot, but I’ll be spending some much-needed time with Mama and Jessie. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”
“I have plans over the holidays, too.” Sleep, and lots of it. She glanced down. It was now or never. “The way you speak to me is verbally abusive, and I’ve had all I can take.”
Elena’s mouth gaped uncharacteristically, but she snapped it shut, flames in her eyes. “So you’re quitting on me, is that what you’ve come to say? It figures that you’re a spineless quitter. I should’ve seen it coming.” Scorn colored her tone.
Grace catapulted to her feet, her temples throbbing, thin cracks in her patience. “You’re wrong. I didn’t come to quit, I came to tell you I won’t put up with your outbursts and your demands on my free time any longer. I’ll continue to do my best at this job, but not at the expense of my peace of mind.”
The petite attorney rose to her feet, both palms on her desk. “That’s not the way it works around here. As my employee, you’ll put up with whatever I choose to give you.” Her voice held a chill.
Grace continued before she lost her nerve. “While I’m appreciative of not losing my job, you just told Harry Bridges a pack of lies. You gave me that research on the Simmons case last Thursday. I worked on it at home and gave you the information as soon as I got to the courthouse the next morning. You didn’t tell me to give it to the defense, nor did I have time to do so. I think you threw the case on purpose.”
Elena stalked slowly from behind her desk, until she stood eye-to-eye with Grace. “You have absolutely no proof.”
Grace suddenly came to her senses. God hadn’t called her here to start a fight. “Look, Elena, the last thing I want is to get you in trouble, but I believe with all my heart that you need professional help. I know you’re under a lot of stress with your job and family, but you erupt over the smallest thing. Sometimes I wonder if you even remember all the hurtful things you say.” She released a sigh as she maintained eye contact. If only she could voice her objection to the false accusations against Andy, but she couldn’t, at least not without incriminating herself, something she had no doubt Elena would use against her. Better to focus on the Simmons case. “I don’t know what you’re involved in with the mistrial, but it’s not too late to set it right.”
Elena didn’t speak, but relaxed her posture and glided to the window. After several long minutes, she faced Grace. “I apologize for my outburst yesterday on the phone. It was only out of concern for you that I asked you to stay away from Jason and Matt. As for your other allegations, they’re completely false.” Her face was a blank slate, and her voice held neither warmth nor chill. “Please work on that list for today and tomorrow. I don’t expect you to do it over the holidays. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.” Without further comment, Elena gathered her purse and sashayed out the door.
Grace wearily trudged to her desk and attacked the work. If nothing else, the massive amount of research Elena had given her provided a way to focus her thoughts away from her troubles, but she snapped a rubber band on her wrist for good measure. All day she worked, only stopping to eat her brown bag sandwich and apple before gluing her eyes to the computer once more.
At the end of the day, she reached a logical stopping point, leaned back to eye the legal pad she’d filled with notes, and scanned Elena’s list. She could finish the rest tonight and tomorrow. With a yawn, she stretched and eyed the clock. Already seven o’clock. As she made her way to the exit, a shaft of light glinted from the barely opened door of Elena’s office. Curious, Grace crossed to the doorway and peeked. Everything was just as it had been this morning. Had she been gone all day?
An odd sensation fluttered in her stomach. Something wasn’t right. She donned her coat, gathered her things, and hurried out the door. Dimly lit with red emergency lights, the hallway of the old building felt creepy at this time of day. Grace scrounged in her purse for her keys, rounded a corner, and ran squarely into someone.
She jumped back, one hand to her chest, surprised to see Jason. “You scared the wits out of me! Why are you here?”
He placed both hands on her shoulders. “Sorry to have startled you. I tried calling you at home, but when no one answered I figured you were still here. Ready for dinner?”
Obviously he hadn’t accepted her ‘no’ from last night. Grace shook her head. “Sorry, but I can’t.” She held up her brief case for evidence. “I have tons of work to do before the holidays.”
“Poor darling. At least let me treat you to a nice dinner.”
“Maybe some other time.” Grace started down the stairs.
He fell into step beside her, but didn’t speak until they reached the street. She half-expected him to once more launch into why she needed to eat dinner with him. Instead, he turned toward her briefly. “I’ll be seeing you.” With nothing further, he strode toward the parking lot on the other side of the building.
Grace puzzled over his odd behavior all the way home. As she drove up to the house, she glanced in the direction of the fence and braked to a sudden stop. Both the fence and mailbox had been repaired, as though the scene that greeted her earlier was only be a figment of her imagination.
She steered into the driveway and stepped to the front to gaze at the fence once more, her jaw slightly unhinging as she ran a hand over the replaced pickets. Next she made her way to the mailbox and gathered the day’s mail. What was going on? Who would cause the damage then return to the scene of the crime in broad daylight to repair it? After a brief search through her purse, she located the padlock, closed the gate, and snapped the lock into place. Would she be met with the same results in the morning? If so, she wouldn’t hesitate to call Ernie this time.
Dazed, she made her way to the back, her jangling keys at the ready. As she glanced around the backyard, her brain and pulse hit overdrive at the same time. The patio chair once more sat in the same position beneath her bedroom window. Heart pounding, she hurried to the door and glanced down to see Millie sprawled at an odd angle on the porch.
“Hey, kitty. You ready for some dinner?”
Millie didn’t move. Grace froze for a moment, her heart thumping and her breath suspended. In what seemed like slow motion she reached down to touch the cat’s soft fur, but immediately yanked her hand back. She slowly turned her hand over to find her hand covered in blood.
A strangled scream erupted from somewhere deep within her, mingled with the sound of a ringing phone.
15
Her screams reached Matt’s ears before he’d fully opened the car door.
Fear strangled his heart and brought a deathly stench to his nostrils. He sprang from the car and raced to the locked gate, then hurdled the fence and sprinted around the edge of the house to where Gracie stood, one hand gripping the other, as she continued to shake and scream. From inside the house, the telephone rang.
“Gracie, what’s wrong?” One glance at her bloody hand compelled him to grab the keys from her grasp and unlock the door. The sooner they got that wound tended to the better. How had a cut produced so much blood in such a short amount of time? Her scream decreased to a whimper. “It’s okay, Gracie. We’ll get you all bandaged up.” He flipped on a switch and pulled her into the house, instinctively reaching for the phone. “Hello?”
No one answered, so he returned the phone to the hook, grateful he’d given in to the impulse to check on her. What would have happened had he not been there? For the first time, he got a good look at Gracie’s face. She stared blankly at the blood that dripped from her hand to the Saltillo tiles, her pupils dilated.
He steered her toward
the kitchen sink, peering over her shoulder at the hand she clutched in front of her. Though completely covered with blood, there didn’t appear to be an open wound anywhere. Matt turned the faucet handle, gently held her hand under the stream of water, and once more took in her ghostlike complexion, damp cheeks, and unblinking eyes. “Gracie, what happened?”
She stared at him, finally aware he was there. “Matt?”
“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me.” He cleaned the rest of the blood from her hand, checking for a wound, and a frown sprang to his forehead. No cut or gash anywhere. He reached for a nearby dish towel and wrapped it around her hand. “What happened?”
Gracie started to shake, not just a little, but a lot. A low keening sound started in her throat, then worked its way out in a feverish pitch. More tears flooded her cheeks.
“Hey, you’re gonna be okay.” Matt placed an arm around one shoulder and held her close as he navigated to the couch. He took a crocheted afghan from the back of the sofa and wrapped her tightly before helping her sit.
Indecision ripped him in two. He needed to stay here with her, but there might be a clue to her emotional breakdown outside. After a few minutes of holding her in his arms and stroking her hair, she calmed down considerably, though she still hadn’t verbalized what had happened. He wiped tears from her face. “I’m gonna check on something outside, but I’ll be back in a flash, okay?”
She nodded, her normally bright eyes lackluster.
Once he assured himself she’d be fine without him, he hurried out the door into the dark night. A nearly lamppost gave just enough light to peer around the backyard and porch, but nothing seemed out of place. An old patio table and chairs sat near the garden, all awaiting warmer weather.
The Way of Grace (Miller's Creek Novels) Page 17