by Rachel Lee
“Yeah.” She sighed. “I was sitting on the porch swing with Edith and her dog when she said some man down at the corner was staring at us. I looked, but there was no one there. Then she said she had some pretty bad cataracts and couldn’t be sure what he was looking at.”
“Didn’t make you feel much better, I suppose.”
She gave a quick negative shake of her head. “Are you getting sick of me yet?”
“Hell, no,” he said forcefully. “Don’t even think that. In fact, because I was concerned about you, I looked stuff up online. And you know what, Haley? Many, many women who’ve been peeped on develop fears and the same kind of insecurity you’re experiencing. Call it normal, because it is.”
She looked at him, feeling herself soften again. He was such a good man. “Thank you, Roger.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything. Now drink, because a cold latte...well, it’s not the same, is it? I suppose pouring it over ice like some coffee shops do would work, and if that’s what you want...”
She laughed quietly and lifted her cup obediently. It was still warm and tasted delicious. “Thank you so much for this.”
“You’ll thank me for the meatloaf, too. Maude does a bang-up job. I’d like to snatch her recipe.”
Another deep roll of thunder shook the house and Haley couldn’t help but look toward the window.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Roger asked. “We’re generally in the rain shadow of the mountains, so this is a treat.”
“Rain shadow?”
“Yeah. When clouds come across the mountains, the colder air generally makes it rain over them. Often by the time they get to us, they don’t have much to dump. It’s arid here.”
“I thought it seemed drier.”
“Oh, it is. Which is why that fishing trip I took you on was such a flop.”
The memory made her grin. “You were so disappointed. But we did find another place to fish.”
“I know, but that was my favorite spot. A great place to spend a morning or evening daydreaming and waiting for a bite.”
The rain hit suddenly and heavily. For the first couple of minutes, as it struck the kitchen window, it sounded like hail. Then it turned into sheets that almost completely hid the house next door.
“Well, I guess we’re not going to open the windows,” Roger remarked.
Haley didn’t care. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been opening the windows for a little while for the past several days. He was right, though, about the scent of the air just before a storm hit. She was sorry she’d missed it.
There was only one reason she had. A man who was probably not anywhere near. Damn, she needed to gather herself and soldier on. She was no wimp. She had to let Roger get his work and life back, and stop leaning on him so much.
But she said nothing just then. Dinner surrounded her in foam boxes, thanks to him, and she was sipping a warm latte that he’d brought to her.
She never wanted him to feel that she was tossing him out.
Conundrum. Double damn.
* * *
Edgar sat in his house, battling fear and frustration. It kept coming back to him that one time when that girl had fallen asleep after crying her eyes out, he’d taken his mask off. He’d quickly turned and pulled the mask back on, but he couldn’t escape the certainty that she had seen him, however briefly.
He’d allowed himself to be lulled by the fact that absolutely no description of him had ever reached the press. No Wanted posters in the post office. He’d figured she either hadn’t seen him well enough to describe him or that trauma had completely blocked her memory.
But if there was one thing he’d learned over his lifetime, it was that people never forgot a face even when the years had changed it somewhat. The eyes, the shape—he had no idea how it happened, but people he hadn’t seen in decades could remember his face even if they couldn’t recall his name. If Haley got one good look at him, it might stir her memory.
And the way she had stared at him when he was walking Puddles. She’d remembered something. Strides, too, were easily recalled. He knew that because he’d recognized people from the back based on the way they walked.
She showed no sign of wanting to leave town, and right then he wanted to bang his head on the useless brick surround of his equally useless fireplace.
Life had taught him how easily he could get muddled when he tried to deal with matters he wasn’t used to dealing with. Familiar things, okay. He could teach kids all about drilling an oil well. About shutting it off. About handling a blowout. But getting rid of someone? No practice. No idea.
One thing he knew for sure, he had to be very careful. Killing both her and that damn Roger would unleash a manhunt that would force him to leave town and his rebuilt life. But he couldn’t find a way to get the woman alone or to remove her in a way that wouldn’t raise hackles all over this county.
Poison? He couldn’t find a way to get close enough to poison a bottle of milk or a can of coffee grounds. He’d been looking online to try to find a poison that would be fatal in a single dose, but what good was that if he couldn’t get it to her?
A box of azalea leaves presented as a box of tea might do it; killing her over a period of days would leave almost no trace if they even figured out the flu symptoms resulted from poison. But how to get them to her? Cripes. And how to get azalea leaves anyway? No one grew them around here.
Maybe some other local plant.
Castor beans, he’d heard, could be used to make ricin. But he still didn’t know how he could get it to her.
He needed to figure this out. Desperation was growing, driving him until he could barely think about anything else.
Puddles was getting desperate, too, pawing at his leg and whimpering. Finally, he rose and put her leash on, leading her to the back door. She could go out in that rain to do her stuff while he stayed under that small overhang.
Dang, when he’d tried to walk by one street over to see if Roger was still hanging there, he’d seen Edith Jasper sitting on Haley’s porch with her. And that big dog of Edith’s. God, he wouldn’t want to tussle with that animal.
As soon as Haley’s head had started to turn his way, he’d fled around the corner of a building. Edith had likely seen him and mentioned it, but since Edith’s cataracts were known to many, he wondered if she’d even been able to see him clearly. Maybe not. He hoped not.
Puddles finished quickly and followed him back inside, shaking her coat vigorously. Water flew everywhere, but he didn’t care. When you lived with a dog, you had to put up with a few things. No escape.
But he was beginning to feel like a man who had no escape available at all. He couldn’t live like this.
That’s when he started thinking about guns. If she’d just open a curtain where he could see her, he had no doubt of his marksmanship. Or if she’d just get on the road outside of town by herself, he could knock her into a ditch and cause her little car to roll. If she survived, she’d want to get the hell out of this place.
He liked the car idea. He could latch onto an old banger from the student shop at the high school, steal it and drive it after her. No link to him as long as he was careful to wear gloves. He’d heard that everyone touched the rearview mirror when they drove, to adjust it, and often forgot to wipe away their prints.
Yeah, he kinda liked that idea. But she needed to get out on some road alone. The state highway might be best because if he rolled her into the ditch at a high speed, she was less likely to survive.
He toyed with that idea, letting go of some of his desperation. That or poisoning. A gun fired in town would attract too much attention too quickly. Unless he could use it on the open road. How the hell did he get her out there on a road?
He could start by dragging Roger away from her, he guessed. Cause some kind of problem at the guy’s shop he couldn’t ignore and would have to fix.
He knew Roger worked with flammable materials. A small fire. One that could be ignited without leaving evidence. Using an electrical line that could spark, maybe. Then there were those containers of propane he kept in the back of the shop. Open one of them, wait long enough, and flicking on a light could set it off.
Yeah. Then Roger would be too busy to drool after Haley. Long enough to maybe get her out of that damn house alone.
He fed Puddles her supper, dried food with a few cooked chicken livers thrown in. She loved it. It made him feel good to watch her dig in with such evident pleasure.
But his mind wouldn’t stop rolling around ideas. Apparently he’d been a fool to think he could scare Haley McKinsey away. Well, he’d been a fool in the past. No surprise there. He just couldn’t afford to be a fool now.
* * *
The meatloaf was as wonderful as Roger had promised. Succulent, flavorful and not at all dry as so many she’d eaten in the past. Perfectly steamed broccoli and fresh salad were flawless accompaniments, although she left most of the mashed potatoes for Roger. He seemed to need the carbs. She wasn’t working hard enough today to justify them, especially with a piece of chocolate pie in the offing.
The phone rang just as they finished cleaning up, and she answered it, hearing the voice of her friend with pleasure.
“What’s with you, girl?” Della demanded. “We’re missing you in more ways than one. Overwhelmed at work, and no coffee klatches to make up for it.”
Haley felt herself grinning even though Della couldn’t see it through the phone. “I’ve been missing you, too.”
“You could fool me. So when are you coming home?”
Haley hesitated. “I’m not sure I am.”
Della fell silent for a moment. “You met a cowboy. The kind who used to be in those cigarette commercials.”
“Gak,” Haley answered. “Not him. He was a heavy smoker.”
“Quit the evasions. You know exactly what I mean.”
Haley did know exactly what Della meant. She almost laughed, because in a way it was true. “I ran into an old friend from my childhood. We’re catching up.”
“Sure. Old friends grow up. So what’s happening?” Della let go of that have-you-met-someone line of questioning.
“I’m just realizing how attached I am to this house, for one thing. Some of my happiest childhood memories happened here.”
Della sighed. “It’s hard to let go of those. But, girl, you got a whole life here and a bunch of friends who are wondering if you’re abandoning us.”
“Abandoning? Isn’t that pretty strong?”
“Depends on which side of this relationship you’re standing on. Like I said, we miss you and we’re talking about how you haven’t told us when you’d be back.”
It was Haley’s turn to sigh audibly. “I’m just not sure, Della. I’m dealing with some stuff here, bad stuff from the past, and you could say I’m feeling pretty shaky. I’m having trouble making decisions.”
“Hoo, boy. That’s not like you. Maybe the biggest favor you could do yourself would be to come back here at least for a while.”
“Maybe.” Della’s voice was making Haley feel a bit homesick, but she could also feel herself digging in for some reason. She didn’t want to be frightened away, she realized. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forgive herself for that.
“Well, on to other news,” Della said. “I shouldn’t badger you. But you need to know, Casey just got a positive mammogram.”
“Oh, my God. For real? Have they run a second one?”
“Yup. She’s scheduled for a biopsy early next week. Doc thinks it’s early, but who can know for sure. She’s scared to death but trying to hide it.”
Haley closed her eyes, visualizing Casey, one of the bubbliest and most irrepressible people she’d ever known. “I’ll fly back. I don’t want her to feel like I don’t care.”
“I’m sure she’d understand.”
Haley wasn’t having it. “Would you?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Della laughed. “But I’m selfish. Besides, nothing would cheer me up at my bedside after the biopsy more than to hear all about your cowboy.”
Haley laughed. “Back to the cowboy, huh? I hope you’re enjoying your fantasies. Tell Casey I’ll be there Sunday as long as I can get a flight.”
“You sure about that? Like everybody, you have your own problems to deal with.”
“If I can get a flight, I’ll be there. Casey is more important.”
They chatted a few minutes longer and then said heartfelt goodbyes. When she turned off her cell phone, she found that Roger had put out the pie on the table.
He looked at her, clearly curious, but appearing to be reluctant to ask. “Old friend?” he asked finally.
“Current friend. Della, from back in Baltimore. She wanted to know when I was returning.”
He nodded, keeping his face expressionless. “Sunday, you said.”
“Yeah. One of my friends is facing a biopsy for breast cancer. I want to be there for her.”
“Of course you do.” He nudged the pie her way. “It’s what a friend would do.”
She grabbed the still-hot coffee and poured them mugs. “I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted. She sensed what he wanted to know, but once again couldn’t answer firmly. The tug homeward Della had unleashed was very real. Leaving those people behind wouldn’t be easy. Not even for a quieter life here. Not even with Roger, who had thus far not even remotely suggested he wanted anything more. A hug and a compliment meant little on the large scale.
But as she picked up her fork and poked it into the chocolate pudding and through the graham-cracker crust, she realized he was tugging on her just the way Della’s call had. She did have reasons to stay, and Roger was certainly one of them.
But how to let him know that without being pushy? Or clingy.
He solved part of the problem for her. “Think you’ll be coming back?” His green eyes had grown intense.
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Firm?”
“Yes.”
He unleashed a long breath and smiled. “I’d hate to see the last of you now. You’ve become an important part of my life.”
Her heart skipped several beats and once again heat poured through her. “Roger...”
He shook his head a little. “As long as you’re coming back, there’s no need to rush. Frankly, Haley, I want you to be sure about what you choose, and I don’t want to apply any pressure. That wouldn’t be fair.”
Fair? How long had it been since she had thought about fairness? In the ER, she’d never seen anything she would call fair. Some incidents were less life-threatening than others, but none of it was fair. It wasn’t fair that a mother had to bring a sick child in for what should have been routine treatment for a strep throat because she couldn’t afford to go to a clinic. It wasn’t fair to battered and bloodied bodies on the brink of death because of a gunshot or auto accident. No, fairness wasn’t part of it.
Had it been fair when she’d been kidnapped from her bed to spend nearly three days in terror with a stranger? That her nightmares were plagued by a man in a ski mask? That men went to war and returned to be hammered by worse nightmares—nightmares she could almost understand from her experience as a nurse. At least she could usually help in the ER.
But that still didn’t make anything fair. She ate another mouthful of pie and considered. He didn’t want to pressure her to remain, but he seemed to want her to. Maybe she ought to think about what that might mean.
Especially since Della’s call had made her aware that she had two lives now, and that Roger was her biggest reason for wanting to stay here. Della and the other girls would carry on without her just fine. They had a wide circle. So what tugged her back other than friendships welded under constant trial at work?
Oh, that was stupid. The
y were friends. Just as she was friends with Roger. That was nothing to be placed on a balance scale and measured. The only question she should think about was the kind of life she wanted now. And she wasn’t at all sure she missed the big-city ER. From her one brief contact here about the possibility of joining the ER group that served the hospital, they’d told her, warned her actually, that she wouldn’t face the same kind of constant pressure and adrenaline rush she got in the big city.
Even then, that hadn’t sounded bad at all. She doubted she was addicted to an adrenaline rush but mostly passionate about helping people who were often in dire straits. She could do that here, too, if not as constantly.
A more relaxed way of life. That actually sounded inviting. Lately she’d been thinking more and more often that she might be getting a little worn out. Burned out. That wouldn’t help anyone, most especially patients. Some nurses could handle it for their entire lives, but over the past six or eight months, she’d begun to wonder if she was one of them.
So many battered, bloody, torn-up bodies. The worst were kids. What had a child ever done to deserve being caught by stray gunfire while sleeping in his own bed? She identified with them more than she wanted to think about. Kids!
And their parents. Watching families gather around a gurney for the last few minutes they could grab with a dying family member. Standing there, often in blood because there wasn’t time to clean it up. Because it didn’t feel right to keep the family away at such a time. Yeah, they kept the kids away when the victim was a family member, but a wife? A mother? A grandmother?
So many of them demanded to see their loved one. With only a few minutes left, it felt brutal to keep them away, even though they would never forget what they saw.
Maybe not standard operating procedure in many places, but it was in the ER where she worked. Sometimes those families got the last few precious words they wanted.
So often they were “I love you.”
She put her forehead in her hand and forgot all about pie and coffee. Those memories were stamped indelibly in her mind, although the number of them sometimes blurred together. It didn’t matter.