Grabbing the root firmly with both hands once again, she cautiously looked below her. She saw nothing, only a dark yawn of blackness that filled her with terror. She moved her feet once again, seeking a better brick to stand on. Finding nothing, she returned to the small brick, the little bit of leverage easing slightly the strain on her arms.
Her arms were beginning to tremble with weariness and her fingers cramped painfully. She closed her eyes once again, her mind filled with visions of Jackie, of Lindy...of Reese. She wasn’t afraid to die, but she would leave so much unfinished business behind. Jackie wasn’t grown up yet, Lindy wasn’t well, and Reese...she wasn’t sure how she felt about him, but she knew they had unfinished business between them, too.
Dear God, she was going to die here. It didn’t seem fair. But she knew more than anyone that nothing was ever fair. If life had been fair, she and Reese would have gotten married and lived happily ever after. Jackie would now have a loving father as part of her life.
“Sarah?”
The cry was faint, questioning, and Sarah responded, screaming her sister’s name over and over again. A shadow fell across the opening of the well and Lindy’s face appeared, her expression mirroring the horror Sarah knew was on her own face. “Oh, Sarah, what should I do?”
In an instant, Sarah knew Lindy couldn’t help—at least not by herself. Lindy wasn’t physically strong enough to reach down and pull Sarah up, and Sarah didn’t have the strength left to assist in her own rescue. “Lindy, go back to the house and call Reese. Hurry, Lindy!”
Lindy nodded and disappeared, leaving Sarah alone once again. “Hurry, Reese. Dear God, please hurry.” She said the words over and over again, like a mantra to ward off death.
It seemed as if hours passed, but finally she heard the distant wail of an approaching siren and knew Reese was on his way. It was only then that she allowed the first tears to fall.
“Sarah?”
“Reese!” His name came out with a sob as she looked up and saw him peering down at her.
“It’s all right, sweetheart, I’m here now.” His voice was soothing and calm despite the concern she saw in his eyes. “Are you hurt?” He shoved the remaining piece of wood out of his way.
“No, but, Reese, please help me. I can’t hold on any longer, and this root is about to pull out. I’m going to fall.” Her arms trembled violently beneath the physical strain of holding herself up.
“You’re not going to fall,” Reese exclaimed forcefully. He leaned over the hole, stretching his arm down to her. “Grab hold of my wrist, Sarah,” he commanded.
“I—I can’t.” She was afraid to release the root, afraid to reach out for his wrist with her fingers cramped and exhausted.
“Yes you can.” His eyes blazed and his voice was as hard and demanding as she’d ever heard it. “Grab my wrist, Sarah.”
She took a deep breath, reaching inside for the last strength she had left. With a cry of terror, she released the root and grabbed onto him. His hand immediately clamped tightly around her wrist. He grunted beneath the strain and she could hear him shifting his body to get better leverage. “Don’t let go,” she whispered fervently.
“I’m not going to let you go.”
She looked up, somehow knowing from his tone of voice that he was talking about more than this moment, more than their clasped hands. And then she had no more time for thought as she was being pulled up... toward Reese...toward life.
They both collapsed onto the grass, Reese breathing harshly from his exertions and tears of relief brimming in her eyes.
He stood and helped her up, drawing her into his arms, where his strength absorbed the trembling that still overwhelmed her body. Her legs barely held her up and she leaned weakly against him. She was vaguely conscious of Lindy in the distance, standing in the glow of the porch light. As Sarah watched, Lindy turned and went back into the house.
Sarah knew she should push herself away from him, be strong. But she couldn’t be strong. Not now. Instead she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensation of being held, safe and warm, in Reese’s arms.
She shuddered, remembering the yawn of darkness beneath her, the dank air that had reached up to her, as if wanting to swallow her.
“Come on, come sit down for a minute.”
She didn’t protest when he led her beneath the grape arbor. She needed some time to calm herself before she went inside and saw Lindy, needed to settle her nerves before Jackie came home.
She allowed him to pull her down beside him in the cool shadows beneath the barren, twisted vines. The darkness of the approaching night combined with the thickness of the vines overhead and surrounding them created a natural cocoon of privacy.
He pulled her into his arms and she went, needing his warmth to chase away the lingering fear, wanting his very aliveness to confirm her own. He rubbed her back, tangling one hand in her hair as he murmured words meant to calm, to soothe. Sarah kept her hands clenched into fists at his back, knowing that to open them, to spread them out and caress the broad plane of his back, was to invite the insanity back into her soul.
Still, she didn’t have the strength, either physically or emotionally, to pull away from him. Instead she burrowed her head against his firm chest, enjoying the clean scent of his cotton shirt and the other, more subtle masculine smell that belonged innately to Reese. She could remember nights after she’d left town, lying in the single bed in her aunt’s old brownstone, when suddenly the memory of his scent would come back to her, fill her with an aching loneliness and cause tears to spring to her eyes.
“Sarah.” He whispered her name softly, bidding her to look up at him.
The caresses meant to soothe had subtly changed. His hands moved more slowly and seemed to have gotten warmer. A gasp caught in her throat as one of his hands found the bare skin between the bottom of her sweatshirt and the waistband of her jeans. His fingers stroked her flesh softly, his touch creating a spark of desire deep inside her. Against her will, she tipped her head back and looked at him, his eyes consuming her in flames of want.
Before she could protest, his lips descended, claiming hers in a hungry kiss that shattered what few defenses she had. Without thought, she opened her mouth to him, allowing his tongue to touch her bottom lip, then delve inside. With a small groan, Sarah unclenched her hands and spread them across his back, reveling in the play of muscle beneath his cotton shirt. He was a memory she’d not been able to forget, and each teasing dance of his tongue, each stroke of his hands, sharpened the desire she’d thought had gone with the passing of years.
But the past fell away in a frantic heartbeat. He pulled her closer and she felt her breasts swelling, growing fuller to press against his chest. With a sigh, she welcomed his hands as they moved beneath her sweatshirt, stroking the skin of her back with tendrils of heat.
How many nights had she slept in her lonely bed, dreaming of being back in his arms? How many times had she remembered his touch, his kiss, and wondered if the passing of time had made it more than it had been? Now she knew that her memories hadn’t deceived her, that it was every bit as magical, as wondrous, as she’d remembered.
His mouth moved from hers, kissing her neck. Sarah closed her eyes, shivering as his hot breath tickled her ear, stirred against her neck. She was caught in a maelstrom of emotion, where there was no past, no future, only this moment in time. As his mouth captured hers again, she felt drugged, mindless beneath his onslaught. His hands moved from her back to cup her breasts, his fingertips finding her erect nipples through the thin material of her bra.
She pulled his shirt out of his waistband, needing to feel the warmth of his skin. Her hands swept across his chest, reveling in the familiar contours. She paused, puzzled as her fingertips lingered over a ridge of scarred tissue. It hadn’t been there before, and the feel of it beneath her fingers brought reality thundering back.
What was she doing? The past was gone, dead beneath a myriad of broken dreams and shattered hopes. She
couldn’t go back, couldn’t rewrite their past, couldn’t reclaim the innocence that had once been so much a part of her love for Reese.
She pushed against him, breaking their embrace. “I—I need to get back to the house.” She stood, not meeting his gaze.
“Sarah.” His voice was soft, eliciting an involuntary, lingering spark of desire in her. He stood, moving so close to her she could feel the heat from his body. “Sarah, look at me.”
Reluctantly she looked up, seeing the fires of passion that still flamed in his dark gray eyes. He reached out and touched her chin, then lightly stroked down her jawline. “I told you yesterday that I want you, and I know you want me, too.”
She flushed, wishing she could lie, wishing she could tell him he was wrong. But she knew he’d see through any lie she might tell. Her response to him had already spoken for her. “Wanting and needing are two different things,” she replied with a weary sigh. “We always had a powerful physical thing between us, Reese. I can’t deny that it still exists. But we’ve both been down this road before, and we know it leads to nowhere. I need more than you’re willing to give. I always have.” She also knew that his desire couldn’t sustain itself beneath the weight of his anger—an anger she felt directed at her whenever they were together. It seethed just beneath the surface, ready to explode at any moment.
She stepped away from him. “I’ve got to get inside. Jackie will be home soon.” She turned to leave but hesitated as he called after her.
He took a step toward her, opening his mouth as if to say something, then closing it again. “I—I need to find something to cover that well,” he finally said.
“You can probably find something in the barn,” she answered, then started walking toward the house.
Reese watched her go, the unconscious, overtly feminine movement of her hips heating his blood once again. He tore his gaze from her and headed for the barn, still able to feel the pumping of his desire in his veins.
God, no other woman had ever managed to affect him the way Sarah did. She was an addictive elixir to his spirit, a powerful aphrodisiac that made his head spin.
When they’d been young, he hadn’t been able to get enough of her. He’d awakened each morning wanting her and gone to bed each night in the same condition. But he wasn’t twenty years old anymore, and she wasn’t seventeen. Time had passed and there was one very important difference now.
He opened the barn door and stepped inside. He knocked aside a cobweb that hung down from one of the ceiling beams and went to the back of the barn, where scraps of lumber and old plywood were stored. As he picked through the pile, he thought of how his heart had stopped when he’d looked down in that dank hole and seen Sarah hanging on for dear life.
When he’d been younger he’d played chicken with his car at a hundred miles an hour. He’d stared down the barrel of a gun and felt terror in his gut, but nothing he’d ever experienced, past or present, even began to compare with the soul-wrenching horror he’d felt when he’d seen Sarah down in that well.
And nothing had prepared him for the glory of holding her once again in his arms, tasting the sweetness of her lips and wanting her with an intensity that had stolen all other thought from his head. In those moments of holding her, kissing her, he’d forgotten all about his anger, her betrayal, the decision she’d made that had taken her out of his life without giving him any choice.
He frowned. “Jackie will be home soon,” she had said just before she’d left. She’d spoken her daughter’s name emphatically, letting him know that the child would forever be between them, a bridge to the past but a barrier to any future together.
He found a large, thick sheet of plywood and carried it back toward the well. He removed the broken piece that remained over the well and replaced it with the plywood, carefully centering it over the hole. He’d have to talk to Sarah about getting the old well filled in. It should have been done years ago.
Satisfied that for the moment the hole wouldn’t be a danger to anyone else, he picked up the piece of wood that had broken beneath Sarah’s weight.
He looked at it, shock riveting him as he stared at the edge. The wood hadn’t splintered and broken apart. It had been sawed to a fraction of an inch of being cut into. He ran a thumb down the broken edge, feeling the unmistakable smoothness of sawed wood, then the minute layer that had broken beneath Sarah’s weight.
Why would somebody saw the board practically in two, then carefully lay it back over the opening of the well? It didn’t make any sense.
His frown deepened as he rolled the implications around in his head. Had somebody wanted Sarah to fall down that well? What if Jackie had decided to walk out here by herself? His heart turned to stone at the very thought.
He carried the piece to his car, noting the scent of fresh-cut wood that told him it had been sawed very recently. He opened his trunk and placed the piece inside. He would take the wood to Jim and see what the old man’s thoughts were.
He considered the gunshot that had nearly taken off Sarah’s head. Two near tragic accidents. Somehow his gut told him it was more than mere coincidence. Somebody was trying to hurt Sarah. Now all he had to figure out was why...and who?
Chapter 7
Reese sat patiently while Jim studied the piece of wood, his bifocals resting where they had slipped down on the end of his broad nose. “Yup, I’d say this was cut recently...within the last couple of days.” He set the wood aside and studied the chessboard that was on the table between him and Reese.
No matter what time of the day or night, whenever Reese stopped by Jim’s old house, the chessboard was ready for a game. Jim had taught Reese to play when he’d brought Reese home from the hospital to recuperate from his gunshot wound. Every life-changing conversation Reese had had with the old man had taken place over the game board.
“I’d say the first thing you need to do is think about motive. Why would anyone want to hurt Sarah Calhoun? Who profits if she dies?” Jim moved a castle and settled back in his chair.
Reese frowned, absently studying the placement of the chess pieces. “How would anyone know that Sarah was going to be the one to walk over that well?” He moved a pawn up a space, his mind far removed from the game at hand. “Why not Lindy...or Jackie, for that matter?”
“I’d say the odds are good that somebody expected Sarah to go across the well. The arbor was always one of her favorite spots.” Jim grinned. “Hell, everyone in town knew years ago that you two were meeting out in that grape arbor.” Reese looked at him in surprise and Jim laughed once again. “You two were so wrapped up in each other you didn’t know the whole town was buzzing about you. I’d say it would be a fair guess that Sarah would go back out there while home visiting.” Jim made his next move.
“But who would want to hurt Sarah?” Frustration gnawed at Reese’s insides. “She hasn’t been in town long enough to make anyone mad enough to want to kill her,” Reese observed, then added dryly, “except maybe me.” He made his move, then looked back at Jim expectantly.
“Motive, look for motive and you’ll figure it out.”
“It could just be coincidence,” Reese added. “The shooting and now this...it could just be coincidental.”
Jim plucked at his bushy gray eyebrow. “I never did put much stock in the odds of coincidence.” He grinned.
“Checkmate.”
Reese stared at the board in dismay, then grinned back at Jim. “You old coot. One of these days I’ll beat you.” He stood up and grabbed his hat. “I think I need to have a talk with Sarah. She needs to know about the well cover, about what I suspect.”
Jim walked with him to the door and clapped him on the back. “You’ll figure it out. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders and you’re a hell of a sheriff.” He looked at Reese soberly. “If there’s anything I can do to help, you know I’m here for you.”
Reese nodded gratefully. “Thanks Jim.”
Reese got back into his car and sat for a moment, thinking, assessi
ng the recent events. Like Jim, he was beginning to doubt the odds of it all being coincidence.
A ball of apprehension grew in his chest as he remembered how Sarah had looked dangling down in that well. What if she hadn’t managed to grab on to anything? What if she hadn’t stopped her downward plunge? What if that dried old root had snapped?
He felt the blood leave his face and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Even though he hadn’t known where she was for the past six years, there had been times when he’d taken comfort in the knowledge that the same moonlight that shone in his bedroom window at night also peeked into hers wherever she was. He’d been somehow at peace knowing the same sun warmed her shoulders, the same stars winked down on her at night.
“You’re a hell of a sheriff.” Jim’s parting words flowed over him. Reese hoped the old man was right. If what they suspected was true, somebody had tried to hurt Sarah twice. What Reese had to do was figure out who and why, so that there wouldn’t be a third attempt. Sarah’s very life might depend on him...and that scared the hell out of him.
* * *
Jackie vacuumed up the last of her soda into her straw. Sarah frowned at the resulting slurping noise. “Can I have another one?” Jackie asked, carefully pushing her empty glass away from the edge of the table.
“You know the rules—one soda. How about a glass of milk instead?” Sarah offered.
“Oh, let her have another one,” Lindy interjected. “This is a special occasion. It’s not every night that we’re all together eating out.” She motioned for Anna, who immediately left the counter and approached the booth where the three sat.
“Anna, would you bring my favorite niece another soda, and I’d love a piece of that cherry pie,” Lindy said.
Anna nodded, then smiled at Sarah. “What about you, honey? I’ve got some pecan pie back there.”
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