Hush in the Storm

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  Tom reached down to help me to my feet. “There you go.”

  I smoothed my skirt back into place and eyed him. “How did you know to do that?”

  “What? The elevator panel? I’m an electrical engineer-tech. Or at least I was before I took this desk job analyzing accounting figures for the construction clients.” He snatched his umbrella, then handed me my purse and walked toward the glass front door.

  I scrambled to match his longer stride while I crammed my left foot back into my shoe. “Why did you take a job here of all places?”

  “It has its perks. Indoors. Warmer in the winter, cooler in the summer.”

  I scrunched my nose. “For real?”

  He punched in the security code, pushed open the glass and motioned for me to pass first.

  “There were other reasons.”

  “Such as?”

  His face became expressionless, mouth taut. He tilted his head toward the door. “I might explain someday. Not now.” He raised his jacket collar around his neck.

  “Right,” I whispered and slipped through the opening. I got the message. Don’t ask. Maybe something in his past embarrassed him. Best not to know. “Sorry, Tom. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  He shrugged the awkward moment away, slid his access badge into the lock, and opened the glassed main door. The rain cascaded fast off the second floor ledge, enveloping us in an urban waterfall. I pressed my back against the building’s picture windows. “It’s really coming down.”

  As if on cue, a bolt of lightning zapped across the sky, chased by a huge rumble. Tom raised the umbrella and pulled me underneath. It barely covered us both, but I admired his chivalrous efforts—at least I hoped that’s what they were.

  His voice filtered into my ear above the pounding of the rain. “We’d better take Seventh. Roads are really slick. Must be a wreck on Dead Man’s Curve again. It’s a parking lot out there on I-30.”

  My mind jumped to another rainy commute last autumn…the night I learned why the curve on the fly-away into downtown Fort Worth had that nickname. For the thousandth time, I saw red and blue lights pulsating at the edge of the sharp turn, mirrored in the sodden asphalt. The sound of sirens and news crews refilled my ears.

  Tom’s face paled, hand to mouth. He touched my shoulder. “Geez, that was where Robert, uh, your husband...”

  “Yeah.” I waved the awkward moment away and pushed the tears back into the deep, dark crevice where they belonged. “It’s okay.”

  “That’s your car over there, right? The silver Mazda?” He pointed with his head. “By the fence?”

  I bit my lip. “Sorry. My attempt to lose a few pounds. Park at the far end and walk. Great idea at the time.”

  “You look fine to me.” His hand dipped to the small of my back.

  I didn’t want to continue that train of thought, not while we were hunched together under his umbrella. I inched forward. “Let’s go.”

  In sync, we puddle-hopped across the vacant parking lot. I turned to point the clicker at my car. Taillights flashed in response.

  Tom stretched his arm over the top of the car. “I’ll hold the umbrella for you while you get in.”

  I slid onto the front seat and shut the door. He dodged the raindrops to his sedan. Once he got there, I started my engine.

  “Not a bad guy, really,” I said to my windshield wipers as they waved back and forth. “He’s been a gentleman. Maybe I’ve misjudged him.”

  I clicked my seatbelt and ignored the inner voice warning me to drive straight home. I had to eat, so why not eat with Tom? After all, he was Irish. I was half-Irish on my dad’s side of the family. Thus the deep ginger-colored hair and occasional flash of temper.

  My cell phone rang.

  Tom’s voice came over the speaker. “You lead, I’ll follow. Just to make sure you get there in one piece.”

  How did he get my number? I didn’t remember giving it to him. Surely I must have. I shook it off. Oh well, widow’s fog strikes again.

  With a wave of my wrist, I acknowledged his request. When his car edged behind mine, the ball of my foot tapped the accelerator. As I flicked on the blinker to indicate we were to turn right, my inner leprechaun whispered, “If ye can’t trust part of the clan, me dearie, who can ye trust?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tom continued his chivalrous routine when we got to Bob’s Burgers. He parked close enough to me to offer the umbrella again, but I whipped out a compact-sized one from my glove box, opened the car door, and fanned it open. “Always keep one in the car, just in case.”

  “Just in case, huh? Why not keep it in your desk at work?” He pushed open the door to the diner.

  “Then forget it, like you did?” I flapped the umbrella back and forth in the vestibule.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, then looked down and coughed into his fist.

  His wounded puppy-dog expression made me cringe. I huffed into my chin. “Tom. Please. I’m kidding, okay?”

  He leaned in with a smirk. “I know.” Then he winked—again.

  A smile broke across my face. It sent a streak into my heart like a ray of sunlight through storm clouds. I couldn’t remember the last time my mouth wasn’t curved downward. I’d thought my ability to grin had been buried with Robert’s body.

  “Ah, I finally got you to smile.” Tom motioned me ahead.

  Close by, sirens howled their warnings. My smile faded.

  In unison we turned to watch a fire engine speed by, followed by an ambulance. I grasped the gold cross on my necklace and whispered a prayer for the loved ones of whomever the EMTs rushed to help, hoping their fate would prove different from mine. Maybe God would be kinder to them.

  * * *

  That night I’d walked out the door with a few girls from the office when the emergency vehicles zipped past. A lump lodged in my throat, telepathically telling me what I’d learn seconds later when my cell phone rang. Black Beemer. Wreck. Robert. Hurry.

  I don’t remember who drove me to the scene. I stared at a bouquet of muddy, white roses splattered on the drenched asphalt amidst broken glass and twisted metal. The petals were highlighted in EMS’ flickers—like the neon marquee I’d pictured flashing over him and whoever else had been tangled in the dingy sheets at that cheap motel the night before.

  My neighbor Betty, who had a horrible sense of direction, took a wrong turn into a sleazier part of town just in time to see the two of them enter together. Of course she texted me immediately.

  My mind spouted rehearsed questions in furious rapid fire as I listened for the garage door to raise and Robert to stroll in—two hours late. How many other times had there been? Was this why he had to work late or suddenly go out of town on business so often? Was all that money he spent really on power lunches?

  Robert’s green eyes flashed fire. With a clamped jaw, he insisted my accusations were unfounded. His voice steeled. “If you must know, I was there with a coworker. But only for moral support while she registered. She’d finally walked out on her abusive husband, and she was scared.”

  “Oh, sure. But you couldn’t phone me and tell me what you were doing, huh?” I dug my fingernails into my palms. “Please. I’m not a fool.”

  “And you think I am?”

  For the first time in my life I wanted to slap his face. Maybe it was because I saw in his eyes the ability to lie. I grabbed an antique vase, a wedding present from his beloved great aunt, and smashed it to the floor. It shattered, along with my trust in him.

  “I can’t believe you’d think I’d be guilty of something like that.” He stomped from the room and slammed the door. Our marriage vows shook with the vibration, threatening to explode under the pressure.

  All night, I tossed and turned alone. He slept on the couch in the den. We left the next morning in smoldering silence. Our individual prides refused to give way to reason.

  Robert must have decided to appease me with the white roses now crushed across the highway. He’d probably zoomed too fast around t
he curve in an attempt to catch me before I headed to my aerobics class. Four days later, they laid roses on his coffin.

  I never had the chance...

  * * *

  Tom laid a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I inhaled a deep breath. Then another. Better. My legs felt more solid. “Just brings it all back, you know?”

  He wiped a strand of damp hair from my face, barely touching, but enough to flame my cheeks.

  “Still feel like eating?” His voice softened with emotion. “’Cause if you don’t...”

  I swallowed the black memory. It hit an empty stomach. “Yes. Definitely. I’m starved.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary Stetson, Texas-gentleman style. His voice mocked me, but his eyes didn’t. He held the door open, and beckoned me inside the restaurant.

  A waitress approached.

  “Hi. Welcome to Bob’s Burgers. Table for two?” She clutched menus with covers as plastic as her greeting.

  “Yes, please.” I returned the same expression.

  In silence, we followed single file. The bow on her apron swished over her slender backside as she walked. Tom waited for me to choose my side of the booth. Then, he slid in across from me and took a menu the waitress placed on the table.

  Through her smacking gum, she asked, “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Iced tea?”

  We replied in unison. “Coffee.”

  She nodded and trotted off. Tom eyed the bouncing bow from the rim of his menu. His eyes shifted to me.

  I sighed and motioned to the vestibule. “Sorry.” I spread my napkin in my lap. “I get cranky when my sugar level drops.”

  “That’s okay. I get wimpy when I’m wet.”

  My hoot echoed over a thunder clap. Several heads turned toward our booth. My cheeks had forgotten how to stretch into a laugh. It felt good.

  Dinner proceeded with scrumptious, juicy burgers, crisp fries, and light conversation—mostly about work and the weather. Safe topics. I sloshed my last french fry through the ketchup pond on my plate. For a second I stared at the design I’d made. It resembled the kindergarten finger paintings my mother used to hang on the fridge door.

  A tingle along my spine told me Tom had locked his gaze on me. I raised my lashes and plopped the now-soggy fry into my mouth. “What?”

  “You’re quite artistic.”

  I squirmed and repositioned my purse beside me. “No, I like to play with my food. Always did.”

  He reached over and grabbed my hand, tight. When I jerked as a reflex, he strengthened his grip. “Jen, there is something you need to know. But not here. Not now.” His eyes darted around the diner then landed back on mine. “Come back to my place. I’ll explain it there. Trust me, okay?”

  I yanked my hand into my lap. “No.”

  He sighed and slammed his back into the booth. “Look. Truth is, I didn’t forget my umbrella. I meant to come back for you. You’re not safe. You shouldn’t be staying after work alone.”

  I let out a nervous giggle. “What are you talking about?”

  He flipped his table knife from side to side, yet his eyes zeroed in on my face. “I told you. Not here. We need to talk in private.”

  I returned his stare as my mind tried to fill in the blanks. What was he talking about?

  After a moment of playing dare-you-to-blink-first, he rolled his eyes and leaned forward. “Please. Come with me for the night. I’ll protect you. Nothing will happen.”

  I grabbed my purse, and then my keys. “You’re darn straight.” I flopped a ten-dollar bill on the table and began to scoot out of the booth.

  Tom clutched my elbow. He clenched his teeth in a hiss. “Look, I’ve asked nice. Now, I’m demanding. You are coming with me.” He bolted from the booth and yanked my arm. His Irish temper spread from his icy, blue eyes into his flared nostrils. Then, he flashed a badge of some sort inside a black folder. “I’m with the Feds. My job at the accounting firm is only a cover. I was sent to protect you, okay?”

  When he re-pocketed his badge, his jacket opened to reveal a black pistol handle tucked in a holster. That silenced me into submission. I nodded rapidly.

  He snatched the money from the table and shoved it into my skirt pocket. “I’m paying. No arguments.” His eyes cooled back to blue. “Look, I’ll explain it all to you later. For now, just follow my lead and you’ll be safe. Got it?”

  “Yes.” The word came out in a squeak.

  “Good.” He released me from his intense stare, but his hand still gripped my arm. With a slight yank, he spoke low through a clamped jaw. “Let’s go.”

  We strolled to the cash register. His fingers pressed hard into my flesh like a too-tight blood pressure cuff. It sent a pulsating pain through my arm. At last he released me to dig for his wallet.

  I watched as he made small talk with Bouncy Bow, handed her cash, then shoved a toothpick in the side of his mouth. The last french fry flipped over in my stomach. Part of me wanted to scroll “help” in the glass case housing the gum and mints. But this gal would never understand. Besides, her eyelashes fluttered only at Tom.

  She wiggled her fingers in a coquettish goodbye.

  “Goodnight.” He sugar-coated his response. Then the sternness in his voice returned, as did the vise-grip on my arm. “We’re taking my car.”

  He pushed open the restaurant door.

  A bit of gumption emerged, which my dad always said I’d inherited from his side of the family. I planted my feet into the rubberized welcome mat. “Why?”

  His breath steamed in my ear. “Because they’re watching your car, that’s why. They don’t know mine yet. It’s new.” He motioned me onto the sidewalk.

  I raised my hand and twisted around to release his grip. It caught him off guard. My mind screamed “Run” but instead, my Irish temper rose. I pivoted to meet those icy blues straight on and shoved my hands to my hips. Heat seared behind my eyes. “And who exactly are ‘they’?”

  Tom looked at the diner’s neon sign reflected in the wet windshield in front of us. His Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. Then he drew a steady breath as his gaze shifted to my face. “Look. I told you, Jen. You need to trust me.” His words were metered. “Some rather unsavory men want to harm you. I’m here to protect you. Those are my orders.” He spun me around, pushed me off the curb, and opened the passenger door.

  I grabbed the door handle. “Wait. What orders? From who?”

  He wrenched my hand away. “From Robert.”

  I wilted against the car. “Who?”

  His clutch tightened. “Jen. Get in. Now.”

  His authoritative tone of voice struck an instinctual chord. It reminded me of my father. Like a scolded child, my tenacity melted. I slipped into the front seat.

  Sharp pain jabbed into my right arm. The car door slammed. Everything faded into a dark abyss.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Muffled noises filled my ears. Men talking? Colored lights flashed beneath my eyelids.

  One voice ebbed into clarity. Wait. Robert’s? No. No, my subconscious screamed. He’s dead. You buried him. This is a dream—a really nasty dream.

  “I think she’s coming to. Later.”

  Two sets of footsteps. One moved away, one came close.

  A shadow broke the brightness that filtered through my squinted eyes. The cushion under me sank with added weight. I raised my head and tried to focus. Tom’s distorted face was inches from mine.

  “Jen.”

  The sound of my name echoed as if I was in a tunnel. A brilliant light moved in front of my face again.

  “Jen, come back.”

  I cracked open one eye. He waved his flashlight’s beam at me.

  I groaned and clamped my eyes as I rubbed them.

  Tom set the flashlight down with a clunk. My eyes flew open. The light’s beam widened, yet lessened in intensity as it made a round spot on the ceiling. I felt Tom cup the back of my head in his hand and turn it toward him. He held a gl
ass of shiny, clear liquid.

  “Here, drink this water.”

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Water?”

  “Yes. Water.”

  My inner voice told me to shove it in his face and run, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. My legs felt bolted to the couch. I shook off some of the fuzzy swirling and leaned on my left arm. He held the glass to my lips.

  “Take small sips. There ya go.”

  The cold liquid cascaded down my burning throat. I flopped back on the couch, spent of effort. “Where am I?” I laid my arm over my eyes to keep the room from swaying. “Did you drug me?”

  He placed two fingers on my lips. They smelled of public restroom soap. “Ssshh. Rest. You’re perfectly safe.”

  “Safe?”

  “Trust me.”

  Those two words again. Part of me wanted to believe him. I pushed myself halfway up on to my elbows. Painful pressure pulsated behind my pupils, but I strained to see. No one else was in the room. Hadn’t I heard Robert? But no, he was dead. Think, Jen. Think. I’d heard Tom, not my dead husband.

  The dizziness washed over me again. I tried to make a coherent sentence. “You said Robert...gave you...orders? My Robert?”

  Tom shifted his weight and placed his hands on my shoulders. He gently pushed me back into the cushions. My spine slid into the micro-suede.

  “Yes, your Robert. Before he died.” He pulled a blanket to my chin, then flicked off the flashlight. The pain inside my eyes eased as the room faded back into quasi-darkness. “I’ll explain it all later. Promise. Now rest.”

  I relaxed. The drug’s effects still swam in my brain, robbing me of strength.

  “Good girl.” Tom repositioned the throw pillow behind my head. As he rose, the couch cushion filled my back. My gaze followed his footsteps toward a dim light coming from a doorway. His body went shadowy and out of focus.

  “Goodnight, Jen.” He flicked off a light and closed the door. It clicked—locked.

  The room darkened. His footsteps faded, but I never heard another door shut. Maybe he was in another room off this one. Somehow, that brought me comfort.