Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 #1

by Margaret Daley

  Colm’s stomach churned. Ethan’s praise for Gretchen was true, but hearing the man voice such things felt offensive. At one time in Colm’s life he would have dropped the hat, then dropped Ethan to the floor. Thankfully for Ethan those fighting days were over.

  “Keep things professional, Hunt. We don’t need a lawsuit.”

  “Of course, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I guess I’m just excited to be working on the show. It’s a real step up from painting real-estate flips. I’m grateful to you for taking me on.”

  “Your credentials were stellar. Troy and I both agreed right away you would make a great fit. I said I wouldn’t have to babysit you, and Troy said you had a great face for the lady viewers to chat about with their girlfriends.”

  Ethan laughed. “Glad to hear you really put some thought into it.”

  Colm smiled in return, letting his ill feeling toward the man slide away. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought the same thing about Gretchen. She was a striking beauty, and Colm was positive every person she met thought it. What did he plan to do—fight every man who found her pretty? He couldn’t. He’d made a promise that there’d be no more using his hands for anything but hard work, preferably woodwork.

  “I heard about Miss Gretchen’s fall earlier today.” Concern replaced Ethan’s pleasant smile.

  “You’ve heard already?” Colm gripped the hard hat a little tighter.

  “Everyone’s talking about it. She looked well enough when I saw her walking an old man out to his car, but still, it’s disturbing. Are you sure the house is sturdy enough for us to be renovating, or should we demo it instead?”

  “It’s safe. The construction is old, but it’s solid. That’s the problem with this whole situation.”

  “Problem?” Ethan asked with a quizzical expression.

  “The house is too sturdy for a break like that to occur unless it was done on purpose.”

  “Whoa. You think that break was more than old floorboards rotting away?”

  A rap on the trailer door saved Colm from speculating further.

  “Let’s go, Colm,” a female voice called through the flimsy steel. “Troy’s ready to film you introducing the home owner. Now.”

  “That’s Wendy from makeup. Not a word. Understand? Just keep an eye out around here.” Colm headed out the door and allowed Wendy to sponge some stage makeup on him.

  “No shiny foreheads allowed,” she said in a sweet singsong voice as she gave him a cheeky grin. She looked straight into his eyes when she finished up. “You’re the best canvas an artist could ask for. Just handsome.” She sighed and stepped back to let him pass.

  “You’re such a flirt, Wendy. I’m glad I know you’re like this with everyone. Do me a favor, though—go easy on the new guy. I need him focused.” Then Colm caught Gretchen walking in front of the camera and thought of Ethan’s praise of her beauty. “On second thought, have at him,” Colm called back to Wendy and walked forward with the hard hat in hand, getting ready to place it on Gretchen’s head. He smiled again thinking how adorable she would look in his hat. For the camera, of course. It was only for the camera.

  Colm saw Gretchen taking Troy’s direction about where to stand. The man had her backing up against a lumber pile. With all this beautiful scenery? The ocean was off in the distance on one side, the conifer forest on another. What about the clapboard Victorian they would be working on? So many places would be great backdrops. What was the man thinking?

  Gretchen turned, and that was when Colm saw the hazard. A piece of lumber protruded from the pile, level with her head. Troy wanted her to bump her head?

  Colm picked up his step, ready to call her to watch out. Only, the next second she reached up and pushed the wood back.

  Colm opened his mouth to yell but the spillage of lumber happened so fast that even Gretchen’s scream was cut short by the tumbling pieces. All he could see of her as he raced forward was a clump of her corkscrew hair fanned out on the ground around the pile.

  “Gretchen,” Colm rasped out as he reached her and fell to his knees, not knowing where to start.

  “I think it’s too late for the hat.” Ethan appeared beside him and Colm looked down at the hat still in his hands. “Two mishaps in one day. You just might be onto something, McCrae.”

  Colm threw the hat aside and dug in. “Help me by clearing some of the wood. Carefully.” Colm found a hand and felt for a pulse. “Gretchen, can you hear me?”

  Behind him Nate loudly cleared his throat and whispered, “Colm, Irish accent.”

  Colm ground his teeth at being reminded that he wasn’t in charge, but he put his pumping adrenaline into helping Gretchen. “I’m right beside you, Goldie,” he assured her with his native accent, but at the same time he thought that no matter how far he distanced himself from Dublin, he still lived and breathed under the weight of a bully.

  FOUR

  “We really have to stop meeting like this,” Gretchen mumbled as she tried to joke for the hovering camera filming her second folly of the day—and with the microphone clipped to her collar, her every word, as well. Playing this off was a must, no matter the pain a load of falling lumber caused.

  Colm faced her, the camera behind him unable to capture the wild look of his steely blue eyes. His dilating pupils told her the severity of the situation.

  The pain exploding in her head agreed with him.

  His face began to blur in front of her, and she dropped her eyelids, needing more time to right herself.

  “Someone call 911! She needs a doctor.”

  “No,” she responded, flashing her eyes wide again. Calling the sheriff’s office would only dispatch a certain deputy. “I mean, no harm done. I’m fine.” Gretchen bit back the pain but was sure she winced when she pushed up. “What’s a few sticks of wood?”

  Colm scoffed. “About 1.28 pounds per square foot of each two-by-four. You had a good forty boards fall on you. You do the math, if you can even think clearly.”

  “My fault.” Gretchen sat straight up and glared, warning him not to make a scene in front of the camera.

  He glared right back, but thankfully took her lead.

  Gretchen relaxed a bit, ignoring the throbbing. “I don’t know what I was thinking pushing that wood back. The pallet had just been transported over on the ferry. It was unstable.”

  “You shouldn’t have been standing here in the first place,” Colm said. He looked over her head at Troy standing behind her.

  “It’s not Troy’s fault, either. He didn’t tell me to touch the wood. I did that all on my own. But I’ve learned my lesson for sure. A wood pile is like an apple cart—one wrong move and watch out.” She grunted as she pushed up to her feet. “It seems I’ve been upsetting a lot of apple carts lately. It was only a matter of time before one of them took me down.”

  Gretchen pushed away Colm’s hands that he’d offered to help her up and dusted herself off. “Kids, don’t try this at home.” She looked at the camera and hoped her forced smile would belie the true fear she felt.

  A few laughs from the solemn crew broke the strained atmosphere. Good, she thought, it was working. Now if I can just amble out of here to regroup…and maybe cry a little. But at her first step away from the crowd, Colm shot an arm out to halt her.

  “Not so fast,” he said.

  “I think it’s best,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “Well, I don’t.” He wasn’t looking at her but at the crowd assembled around them, watching intently. About twenty crew members were there to help renovate her home. She had so much to be thankful to them for, but judging by Colm’s stare-down he didn’t feel the same way. The tension returned thicker than before, and Gretchen didn’t need a cue card to know this was not a laughing matter.

  Someone had set her up to fall…again.

  “Cut.” Colm reached over and ripped her mic off her collar. He ripped off his own and threw them to Nate. The man caught them both without a word.

  The director yelled,
“McCrae, you’re over the line. When I am on the set, I say ‘Cut.’ You do not.”

  “You had your chance when the wood fell. The fact you kept rolling makes me think you’re sadistic. Did you set this up? How about the floor—did you do that, too? You sure arrived a lot earlier than planned. You had ample amount of time.”

  “Those are dangerous accusations with no basis to back them up, McCrae.”

  “Increasing your ratings is all the basis you need, and we both know it.”

  “Perhaps Dumpster-diving should be in your near future again. Or maybe you would rather finish this like old times?” The warning in Troy Mullen’s voice set Gretchen backing away from the two men.

  Gretchen had no idea what the man meant by his comments. Her head hurt so much now, she really needed to find a place to sit down, preferably away from the grating voices of the men.

  She took another step away from Colm. This time he didn’t try to stop her. A boulder on the cliff’s edge beckoned to her. She could see it through the trees, and she started walking toward the forest. Each step away from the onlookers allowed her to acknowledge the pain radiating through her, but more important, to escape the maliciousness this television show brought to her little island.

  Correction: the maliciousness she invited.

  *

  Gretchen didn’t fool Colm for one second. She walked steadily but so slowly he could tell each step pained her. Why would she try to hide it? Was she like his ma, never admitting to being hurt? Ma always pushed him away, too, just as Gretchen had done when he tried to help her up. But Ma did it out of weakness. There was nothing weak about Gretchen Bauer, so why the refusal to accept help?

  “This is going to be a great episode.” Troy’s voice dragged Colm from his deep thoughts. Colm turned to find a little too much delight on the man’s face.

  “She could have died,” Colm said slowly.

  “Oh, it wasn’t like it was a pile of bricks that fell on her. Just a few boards. And she looked fine to me. Mighty fine, actually.”

  Colm’s stomach jerked at Troy’s meaning. He studied Troy’s retreating profile as the man kept his eyes on Gretchen, who was now settling herself down on a large rock on the cliff’s edge.

  Troy liked her.

  That could be dangerous.

  When Ethan had praised Gretchen, Colm felt the green prick of envy, but the only sensations rushing through Colm’s veins as he watched his boss enter his trailer were fear and concern for Gretchen’s safety.

  Colm had accused Troy of setting these incidents up for ratings, but what if there was something more between him and Gretchen? What if something happened when Troy had visited the island a few months back to interview her?

  Or perhaps didn’t happen?

  Maybe Troy asked her out and Gretchen told him no. Troy didn’t like being told no. But how far would he take his retaliation? Colm had seen the man smear a person’s character in public so the person never worked in the industry again.

  But Gretchen wasn’t in the industry. Troy wouldn’t have a way to hurt her other than physically.

  Colm looked for the rock she sat on. Her back faced him, but he noticed how she held her head in her hands. Colm fought a growing need to find Troy and make him pay.

  “You’re not thinking of taking Troy up on that brawl, are you?”

  Colm whipped around to find Sly Brewer, the crew’s electrician and Colm’s friend, approaching.

  “How’d you know?”

  “The way your fists are all clenched to match your jaw. I thought you might be reverting back to your old ways. You want to share or pray before that happens?”

  Colm closed his eyes. Sly was right. “I didn’t start this, but you’re right, I might have attempted to finish it. Where would I be without you, Sly? Dead probably. A man can only live so long when he’s living by the sword.” Colm took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Dear Lord, thank You for putting my friend Sly in my life to show me the better way to handle my anger. And as much of a bully as Troy is, I’m thankful for him, too, I guess. Without his giving me this job, I’d still be living on the streets of Dublin, or not living is more like it. And I definitely wouldn’t know You, Lord. Not without the wisdom You gave Sly to reach down into the pits to pull me out.”

  “I’ll say amen to that.” The balding man smiled. “Now tell me why you think Troy caused that lumber to fall. What’s your proof?”

  “No proof, other than the dollar signs in his eyes lighting up.”

  “The man wouldn’t put his show at risk, not even for ratings.”

  “I think it might be something more than ratings motivating him.”

  “Something like what?”

  “Like rejection.”

  Sly whistled. “We know how Troy doesn’t go for any of that when he’s on the receiving end.”

  “Exactly. If you’ll pardon me, I need to speak with the home owner. I’ll let you know what she says.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Do me a favor. Keep an eye out on the set for any more of these so-called accidents.”

  “You can count on me.”

  “Always. And don’t worry about my breaking my promise.” Colm walked toward the trees thinking about his old habits. I won’t fall back because of Troy. There was a better way. There always was.

  First, Colm needed to make sure Gretchen was aware she may be in danger. She should probably send the show packing. But she definitely needed to call the sheriff’s office and report these incidents so they were on record. She couldn’t keep this hidden from the public. It would only leave her more vulnerable and unprotected. What if the next one killed her?

  His chest tightened with more worry, but when an image of his mother’s face surfaced, he had to ask if this anxiety was more about her. So many years he begged her to file a report. He never understood why she chose to stay under her abuser’s control. It made him more determined to keep Gretchen from acting the same way.

  And she wouldn’t. She’d already proven that, hadn’t she? She bought this house to begin her own business, never to depend on another person again, just as she said earlier. She was nothing like his mother. If someone was threatening her new life, she would be the first to stop them.

  But what if Colm and his crew were the only way to that new life? Without the show, Gretchen wouldn’t have what she was aiming for.

  And Troy knows that, Colm thought. The man had the upper hand. Colm had seen it too many times to count.

  A movement to his right took his attention away from Gretchen. A blond-haired man stepped out of the tree line and walked toward the young woman. With her back to him, she had no idea he approached. Was he sneaking up on her?

  Colm was about to call out a warning, but she must have sensed the guy coming because she half turned his way before Colm could say anything.

  She jumped to her feet and took a step back toward the edge of the cliff. A foolish thing to do, but also a telling sign.

  This guy wasn’t a friend.

  *

  Billy. Or, as the islanders referred to him, the handsome, upstanding Deputy Billy Baker.

  She knew him differently.

  Gretchen could feel the menacing power his presence had had over her since her senior year of high school. Eight long years she had behaved carefully around him, wondering if his excessive control was in her imagination and wondering what would happen if she tested it. Then one day she tried and found out.

  Billy’s movements were deliberate and tactful, the sole purpose to invade her space. That was how he worked. He stepped right around the rock without even looking, his eyes locked on his target.

  Gretchen lifted her eyes to meet his. They scalded her like lava and caused her foot to involuntarily step back.

  Gravel loosened beneath her feet. She’d nearly stepped right off the edge to the roaring ocean below. Her hands reached out on impulse and grabbed his cotton oxford shirt.

  He laughed.


  Her stomach soured.

  She dropped her arms back to her sides and reminded him, “There are people here.” Her voice broke, and all she could do was pray silently that someone would hear her if she yelled. If she could even yell. The way her throat tightened, she wasn’t sure. “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you, Billy. The camera crew arrived today to get set up for the show. They could be filming us right now. You wouldn’t want to risk getting caught on camera, would you?”

  “Caught doing what? My job? Keeping order is what the town pays me for. That, and protecting the island from the outsiders you’ve invited here without our approval.” Billy leaned in, reminding her that he had her backed to the edge.

  One push and she would be washed out to sea. If only the islanders knew they had hired a dictator to patrol their streets. Actually, they did know. That part she’d told them, but it didn’t change the fact that their rose-colored ideas for everyone’s favorite couple still trumped their good judgment. They shrugged her off as though she acted like a dramatic teenager, confused by a lovebirds’ quarrel that would rectify itself when she came to her senses.

  Billy reached for her cheek, turning his hand to brush his knuckles against her flesh. A passerby might think it a gentle caress. She knew it was a warning of what the back of his hand felt like on her face, his college ring with its cut stone positioned just right for maximum effect. She didn’t need the visual. She remembered daily the last time he’d touched her there, so violently.

  She whipped her face away. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered.

  “I worry about you, Gretchen, out here on the cliffs all by yourself. You should be in town with your mom. With me. You’ve never been able to make a good decision. Not without my help. You need me, and everyone knows it. They ask me daily if we’ve made up. You’re embarrassing me with this unreasonable quest for self-reliance. That’s not what we do here. You’ve lived on Stepping Stones your whole life. You know that we stand by each other. Protect each other.”

  “But who will protect me from you?” The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop them. Billy’s eyes darkened just as they had six months ago when she’d told him they were through. That was when she’d felt the searing pain to her cheek. How would this encounter end? A shove into the sea?