Accident Waiting to Happen

by Hart, Trinity

  “I figure I’ve had my fair share of dogs,” the words were out before he knew he was speaking them. “You don’t want him locked in the stall then consider him all yours.”

  Her head jerked up, blonde hair swinging. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Didn’t think you did.”

  “He’s your dog.” She pulled her sunglasses away, staring at him directly. “I don’t expect you to give him to me.”

  To glimpse happiness in that big brown eyes, even if only for an instant, would make the lonely night he faced—not having his toes chomped on and appliances destroyed—so worth it. “You’re doing me a favor.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.” He’d miss Samson, maybe more than he’d liked to admit, but he’d feel a world better having made her day a little brighter. “A friend thought Samson would be good for me but I wasn’t really looking to take on a dog.”

  Richly rewarded by the pleasure that bloomed on her pretty little face, he sealed the deal by complaining, “Be warned, he can chew holes through steel.”

  Though currently, he looked intent on gnawing off her fingers.

  “Thank you.”

  “Craziest thing I’ve ever been thanked for. He’s going to terrorize you.” He returned the dirty sock for the dog to gum and stood, walking to the window and moving aside a dusty blind to peer out. “So how’s the head feeling?”

  Sunlight streaked across the greenest of grass, all quiet and peaceful. Too peaceful. Like in the old days, he could feel danger lurking about. Threatening. Closing in.

  “A lot better, actually.”

  “Yeah? That’s great.” So she’d feel up to a few questions. “Look, there’s something we need to talk about. Neil—”

  He’d never seen a woman go so stiff so fast.

  Lips cringed, she slid her sunglasses back on as if to hide. “Let’s not, please. We’ve been over this.”

  He’d expected such a reaction but he just didn’t see a way around the conversation. Several seconds ticked by as he debated on the best way to continue.

  She did so for him. “Down at the dock, there was something more you wanted to say?”

  “Yeah.” Caleb dropped the blind, clearing his throat. “About that—”

  She raised her hand, halting him from continuing. “You’re wrong. I’m sure it was a reporter. This crazy one has been following me. She even attempted to sneak in my hotel room last week while I was in the pool but I caught her.”

  “Listen sweetheart, something here reeks of foul play.”

  Stubborn as they come, she rolled her eyes in disbelief. “How’s that?”

  “For starters, we found a tracking device on your car.”

  * * * *

  “Pardon?”

  Crazy… Hope thought he’d said a tracking device. Surely she’d misunderstood.

  Neil wouldn’t have…couldn’t have…

  No way. For one, she’d just purchased the vehicle. He’d never had access to it.

  For two, he wouldn’t have known what she was driving, not unless he’d been spying on her.

  I saw your car being towed… How had he known?

  Startled, Hope jerked her hand from Samson to cover her mouth and the puppy whimpered and groaned in disappointment. “I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”

  “A tracking device was located on your car under the right front fender.” Caleb spoke low and clear, the deep baritone of his voice driving home the seriousness of the matter. “Someone trailed you to Serenity Cove and it wasn’t to give you flowers.”

  Flinching at the reminder of Neil—and an impending headache—she rubbed her temples. “You’re sure?”

  Dispose of her… She’s worth more to me dead than alive.

  “Very.” The one-word answer seemed to echo around her. Very.

  Images from the night prior flitted through her mind. Jamming the brakes desperately. The helplessness. The terror.

  Instinctively, her hand traveled to her chest and knotted at the spot where a golden cross had once dangled. A gift from her father.

  She’s stopped wearing it years ago.

  “My brakes?” Even as she asked, she felt silly remembering Neil’s face in the rearview mirror. “You said they weren’t tampered with.”

  “I said the lines weren’t cut. They appeared intact. But foul play is still a possibility.”

  A possibility. Mentally she repeated the word, feeling the need to stand up and move around. Restless at the thought of what the tracking device could represent.

  Setting the sleeping dog aside, she slid the crutches under arm and moved in the direction opposite of Caleb, as if distance could help matters.

  It made no sense. Neil had made it clear she was nothing to him, nothing that mattered. Just a target. A meal-ticket.

  One that did not—and would not—payout.

  The thud and drag of Caleb’s boots brought him closer in the silence ticking with tension. Hope meandered around the kitchen, observing her world through shades of gray as she swept her hands over the old wooden counter. Touched the knobs on the practically antique gas stove.

  A year ago, she would’ve dashed to the nearest home improvement store to blow her meager inheritance on updates.

  Now, the old kitchen felt different. Special, somehow. A comfort. Maybe she’d leave the house as it was.

  “You need to be straightforward with me. Tell me about Neil.”

  “There really isn’t much to tell.” Not much good, at least and she really wasn’t in the mood to share. “We dated, we broke up.”

  “Any particular reason why?”

  “Isn’t there always?”

  “So you don’t believe he’s behind the tracking device?”

  “Let’s just say the decision to split was mutual.” Neil couldn’t have made his true feelings toward her any more clear.

  “Didn’t appear that way earlier.” Eyes following her every movement, Caleb leaned against center island with hands knotted together. “You ever hear of body language?”

  Back to him, she paused a moment. “Let me guess, you can read mine.”

  “Sure can. For one, you keep lowering you head, making like your looking around. We both know you’re avoiding something.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You also keep fiddling with your sunglasses, pushing them into place.”

  Flushing at the thought of how obvious she was, Hope moved on to the pantry, swinging open the heavy door to find dusty canned food. “I’ll need to go shopping soon. How long will my car be in for repairs?”

  “You can’t avoid this conversation.”

  “Listen, Neil is just a jerk. I just don’t know what else to tell you.” Moving aimlessly, she worked her way to the cupboard and hutch, smiling at the sight of her mother’s wedding China. “Someone else must’ve placed the device on my car. The past owner maybe. I just purchased it.”

  “Didn’t the dealership offer any sort of inspection?”

  Hope didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

  Still, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t wrap her head around the idea. Neil tracked her here? She couldn’t think of a single thing he had to gain.

  “Why did you end your relationship?”

  Oh, the cruel reasons. Scalding heat rushed to her face, emotion lodging a knot in her throat as she thought of the woman he was truly engaged to. Even Hope’s ring had belonged to her. A real diamond had never been so fake.

  “He was unfaithful,” she answered simply.

  And she was so, so stupid. From that very first moment, when she’d left a football game only to discover she’d a flat and who’d been conveniently waiting nearby to come to her rescue? Neil, of course. Within a week, he’d been professing his undying love. How could she not have seen, known? Sensed something wasn’t right?

  “That’s all? Come on, Hope, you need to be straight with me.”

  “I am.” She hated how the words came out sounding.

&nb
sp; “Was he abusive?”

  “No.”

  “Did he ever threaten you?”

  Had he? Just what might Neil have meant by “dispose” of her? “Do you have any idea how humiliating such questions are?”

  “That’s not a very reassuring answer.”

  Staring into the hutch’s empty, dark recesses, she mentally willed Caleb to go away. To leave her be. Let her think.

  To wallow in her pathetic problems alone. She didn’t need a nosy guardian—she just needed to tell Neil off once and for all. He was probably hanging around because he was worried she’d out his scamming nature to his circle. The fact that he was really a penniless thief.

  Appearance had been everything to Neil. Designer labels, expensive wines. Oh yes, he wouldn’t want his friends discovering the Vandermonde name was nothing but a farce.

  “Did you get a glance at whoever was snooping around earlier?” she asked, hoping to change the direction of this topic.

  “Blonde hair, red shirt.”

  See? Not Neil. “The reporter who’s been bothering me these past weeks has blonde hair. She works for some radical Christian publication and actually had the nerve to insinuate my father was less than respectable.”

  “I suppose it could’ve been her.” Predictably, Caleb’s footsteps closed in on her. That heavy hand rested upon her shoulder. “You never answered my question.”

  Oh, why couldn’t he leave it alone? If he prayed for her again, she’d scream.

  “Hope, look at me.” When she didn’t, he released a ragged sigh. “Has he ever hurt you?”

  Each word was punctuated with unwavering insistence—a demand she answer—and Hope’s pride smarted.

  She was over Neil. But she wasn’t certain she’d get past the embarrassing reality she’d wasted so much of her life—her heart—on a man who’d felt nothing for her.

  “No, no he didn’t.” Not physically at least. Neil’s actions bruised far deeper than bodily wounds. “Look, Neil’s simply not a danger. He was a childish mistake and I wish I could have a do-over but I can’t, so I’d like not to discuss this further. End of discussion.”

  Caleb’s hand traveled to his chin, scraping back and forth. “When you woke up, you seem pretty scared.”

  Did he not understand what “end” meant? “I took a hit to the head.”

  She’d no logical reason to suspect Neil of anything and refused to carry the ideal on further.

  Yes, he’d betrayed her. Yes, he’d used her.

  It was her own stupid fault. She was the worst kind of fool.

  “So he cheated, you busted him and left.” He plopped down in a dining room chair as if he’d no intention of leaving anytime soon. “There’s nothing you want to add?”

  “Nothing.” It wasn’t a lie—she didn’t want to share a ounce more. “More likely, that reporter placed the tracking device so she could follow me. The woman wasn’t normal.”

  “Okay,” he relented. “If you believe that, we’ll look into it.”

  “Thank you.” About time too. Carrying a package of unopened paper plates she’d found, she lowered herself into the chair across from him and plopped them on the table. “Now, any chance you could make us some sandwiches? I’m starving.”

  A suddenly awake Samson yapped in agreement.

  “Sure. Whatever the boss-lady wants.” With a salute and scrape of his chair, Caleb stood. “Mayo or mustard, ma’am?”

  “Mayo.” Embarrassingly, her stomach agreed wholeheartedly. “I’m starving.”

  “Then I’ll remedy that.”

  “Coffee too?” she smiled sheepishly. “With sugar and cream?”

  “You got it. Before I go I’m just going to take a good look around.”

  “If you must.” Apparently, their conversation hadn’t set him at ease.

  Ten minutes later, when he’d apparently ensured himself a speck of dust hadn’t been disturbed or a window cracked, he situated his hat on his head and headed toward the door. “Take it easy and don’t go getting into trouble while I’m gone.”

  “Who me?” She couldn’t help but notice how striking he was in that black Stetson or wonder at what he’d look like in the regulatory white Ranger hat. Not that he wasn’t equally attractive without the headwear, his short golden hair simultaneously flattened and sticking up in the most endearing manner.

  “Right,” he laughed, heading out with Samson nipping at his heels.

  “Caleb?” she called after him.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Leave Samson?”

  “Samson…right.” Scooping the pup up, he gently tossed him her direction. “He’s all yours. And Hope?”

  It was her turn to, “Hmmm?”

  “If God offered do-overs, I’d be first in line. But since he doesn’t, luckily forgiveness is always as easy as asking.”

  Chapter Six

  Forgiveness. What’d Caleb know, anyway?

  Nothing, not about her. Hope didn’t need God to forgive her. She didn’t need God.

  She didn’t forgive Him either.

  Glaring at the cross that hung in the dining room—and breathing a sigh of relief she was finally, peacefully alone—Hope shoved from the table.

  Yet there was no comfort in the silence around her. Only the deep and penetrating ache that never left her these days.

  Coming home had only served to worsen matters.

  Even Samson, who danced joyfully at her feet, couldn’t lessen the burden on her heart. Hoisting herself to her crutches, she angrily made her way across the room and up the wooden staircase to her old bedroom, puppy on her heels.

  Had she really loved pink so much?

  What she wouldn’t give to regain the innocence, the happiness, of the girl who’d once played here.

  In the corner stood the handmade dollhouse where she’d fantasized of the handsome prince who would sweep her off her feet and marry her. Give her lots of babies and a dog and cat and teach her to swim like other children. How wonderful life would be.

  The folly of such silly, immature dreams.

  The first sob caught her by complete surprise. The second to rack her body was like a dam had burst.

  Throwing herself to her canopy bed, she lost herself in a tirade of tears. Life wasn’t wonderful.

  It was awful.

  * * * *

  Their conversation hadn’t set him at ease.

  Pa had always said Caleb had been born with the McBryde sixth sense. That he could practically smell trouble. Tune into danger, illegal activity as if he had a certain channel for it.

  Of course, that intellect had failed him once before, horridly, and he only had to glimpse in the mirror to remind himself of the outcome. Of Annie Rivera’s death.

  Still, no matter how hard Caleb commanded himself otherwise, he couldn’t smash down the increasing intuition Hope was in some sort of danger. The hunch there was more to her story than she let on.

  Nagging doubt stalked these concerns. Should duty call, he could perform up to par?

  Piling honey ham and Swiss cheese on rye bread, Caleb decided to call his brother and find out if old Tom Howard—the town’s one and only mechanic—had a chance to look over her car yet.

  But when Caleb picked up the phone, his fingers went on autopilot.

  “Brian,” he greeted at the sound of his pastor’s voice. Caleb could hear singing in the background—choir practice—and couldn’t help but wonder what Hope’s voice sounded like. “Hey.”

  Caleb wasn’t always the best at reaching out but since the accident, he’d learned he had a true friend in the man. Besides, as the trustee regarding Caleb’s position, Brian had interest in the going-ons of the Circle C, Hope Pearson included.

  And she was a quandary indeed.

  “Hey yourself. Rumor has it we’ve added a new member to Serenity Cove and she arrived with a real bang. I stopped over the medical center but you’d already left. How is Miss Pearson?”

  Dipping a knife, Caleb started spreading mayo. “
Luckily, no major injuries. She’s home and settled in. I’m fixing her dinner as we speak.”

  “So what’s the newest member of our flock like?”

  A loaded question for sure. “Pretty,” he answered without thinking. “Pretty nice. Not what I expected though.”

  Awkwardly, Caleb cleared his throat, wrapping the first sandwich in saran wrap. Pretty. Man, he’d more important things to dwell on.

  “You mean pretty and nice. You’re attracted to her.” Brian never was one to miss a beat. “Are you concerned about these feelings given your position?”

  One of the best things about Brian was his way of giving advice. He never outright stated his opinion but one could hear the message in his words. Kind of like a shrink, who turned questions around on a person to make them think.

  Sometimes that annoyed Caleb—like now. Most times he appreciated not being told what to do.

  “It’s not that, not at all. I’m worried about her. Something is off. My gut tells me…” Caleb didn’t know what to finish with.

  “Does the accident make you suspicious?”

  “Among other things. She denies foul play, of course, but I suspect she’s hiding something. In some sort of danger. Bad ex, rotten hand, that sort of deal.”

  “Have you questioned her about this?”

  Caleb didn’t miss the hitch in his friend’s voice.

  “You know me. Once a cop…”

  “Always a cop. That, my friend, you cannot deny.”

  Except, there was a reason Caleb no longer wore the hat. He didn’t have the right. No longer ranked amongst the esteem awarded a Ranger.

  “Tell me, how did she react to you treating her like an official investigation?”

  “Contrary. Closed-mouth.”

  Clearly thought he was sticking his big nose in where it didn’t belong. And he supposed she was partially right.

  But how else was he going to protect her?

  “Hmmm.” Several seconds ticked by, Brian quiet in his thinking way. By now, Caleb knew he’d speak again when he’d decided on what to say.

  Brian never opened his mouth without first thinking. Unlike Caleb, who’d a habit of talking then regretting.

  To fill the silence, he went to the pantry to rummage for something to add to the meal.