Accident Waiting to Happen

by Hart, Trinity

  Translation? Don’t make his life any more difficult.

  Yet when Hope thought of Caleb standing at the sidelines today, it was a warning she could not take offense to. “I understand.” She only wished Sally thought more of her than to fear she’d hurt her son.

  “So you can imagine my surprise when I noticed the two of you holding hands after church.”

  Hope bit her lip. “Caleb and I have grown close this week but we’re simply good friends.” How to make her understand? “He’s helped me.”

  I depend on him, she left off. Emotionally and spiritually, Caleb had become lighthouse in her life, leading her.

  “I see.”

  Several seconds ticked by, wrought with burgeoning questions. A furry dog brushed her leg, much like a cat would.

  “Forgive me, sweetheart, but Doc’s wife mentioned you had a boyfriend stop in after your accident.”

  “Ex boyfriend. I’m very much single.” Touching a green berry on the branch, Hope felt as if she had to say something more. Sally obviously wanted the situation more clearly defined and for that, Hope couldn’t blame the doting mother. “I guess you could say with Neil, I picked love a little too early. Way too early. But the good news is all that heartache ripened me.” Feeling foolish the moment she said it, Hope laughed off the little piece of herself she’d just revealed and asked, “Would Caleb enjoy a pie out of these?”

  “Are you kidding? I suggest you make two. One for him and one for everyone else. Word of advice—hide the second.”

  Normally, Hope might’ve found humor in that but Sally’s concerns clung.

  “Your son…” Hope weighed her words carefully, not wanting to indicate anything was going on that wasn’t. “He’s a really good man.”

  “He is.”

  “I truly value that. I value him.” She gave the woman a smile. “His parents must’ve brought him up right.”

  “That’s all I need to hear then.”

  An half-hour later, as Sally and Hank waved to Caleb’s truck rumbling down the dusty lane, husband turned to wife, “Caleb says there’s nothing beyond friendship between them.”

  “Funny,” Sally chuckled. “Because I can tell you right now our boy is going to marry that girl one day. I suspected it the moment I set eyes on her but now I know it for sure.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Caleb looks at her with forever in his eyes, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.” Hank slipped his hand in his wife’s, squeezing. “I’m worried about our Sophia, though.”

  Despite her outward concerns, Sally had instantly liked Hope, while the man they’d met in El Paso the week prior—the cop their daughter intended to marry—worried them greatly. Speaking with him had offered no recompense, only apprehension.

  “I as well, darling. I as well.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Samson!” Where could the little dog have scampered off to? “Samson!”

  Leaning against the deck rail, Hope’s heart slugged in mounting dread as she desperately searched the wood’s edge for a glimpse of black and white.

  “Samson, come on boy! Samson, want a treat? Treat!”

  There was no response to the pup’s most favorite word.

  “Oh Samson…” Gripping the rail, Hope prayed he wasn’t hurt. “Come home, please…”

  A disenchanting end to an otherwise glorious day, she and Caleb had arrived home under the ginger glow of the falling sun to an eerie, empty silence. No eager jumping and twirling. No hungry puppy kisses and yaps hello.

  No Samson anywhere.

  Not at first overly concerned, they inspected under the porch where he liked to dig sleeping holes. They walked the yard. They called the dog’s name over and over and over.

  The rapidly passing minutes while they searched darkened the world around them from evening to night.

  “Samson, come on boy! Who wants a bone?”

  If something had happened to him… Unable to bear the thought, she pierced the air with her whistle, drawing zero attention save Caleb’s, who lumbered up the back stairs empty-handed.

  “And you thought I was so mean for locking him in a stall.” There was an ironic edge in his voice that belayed he was trying to make light. To avoid addressing the very real possibilities at hand. “Who knows where that mutt took off to? Probably tried to follow us into town and is begging scraps at the diner as we speak.”

  “I don’t understand. He’s never done this before. He always chases a bit then gives up and is home waiting on the porch when I pull in.”

  “Maybe he’s off hunting a rabbit or squirrel.” Grim, he stuffed his hands in his front pockets and came to stand beside her. “He is growing up, developing instincts. Try not to worry. He knows where his food dish waits.”

  “He’s so little. Just a baby.”

  “If he doesn’t show by tomorrow, this is a small town. We’ll hang some signs around, put out word and he’ll be home in no time.”

  “I can’t stand the idea of him being out there lost and all alone. It gets chilly at night.”

  “He has plenty of fur and extra padding. You grip that rail any harder, it’ll splinter. Come here.” Enveloping her with his arms, he pulled her into a strong embrace. “Sweetheart, we just have to pray. It’s getting dark now but if he’s out there to be found, we’ll find him tomorrow.”

  If.

  Face resting on his solid chest, she listened to the rapid pace of his heart. Zeroed in on the lack of promise behind his words.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you? The disappearing dog…it’s like a staple in suspense movies. The dog disappears, they find him dead…killed to keep him quiet. Then there’s another attack or something.”

  “Don’t say that, sweetheart. Don’t.” She moved her face to bury it in the crook of his shoulder as a sob choked out and he insisted, “We don’t know anything has happened to Samson at all.”

  “If they hurt him…” Whoever they were. “He chased them last time. Tore their costume.”

  Gently, he stroked her head. “Listen, you can’t think like that. You can’t, please. The children need you tomorrow, right?”

  She sniffled. “Right.”

  It was true. Arriving at the church by eight a.m. required a bright and early morning. Plus she had her meeting with Lewis Harkins directly after.

  Still, how would she ever sleep?

  “Pull it together and count on us finding Samson soon, okay?” Tenderly, he coursed a finger down the damp edge of her face. “That silly mutt is just off causing trouble.”

  His comforting arms drew her, squeezing her tight. “I’ll be awake standing guard. If he shows, I’ll bring him straight to your room.”

  “Promise?” A tinge of guilt twisted within. This man, without provocation, had turned his life completely upside down for her. “Caleb, you’ve done so much for me. I don’t know how—”

  “Please, don’t. I’m not after praise.”

  Inhaling the natural scent of him, she marveled at the man God had made in Caleb, thanking Him. Asking him to protect and heal the friend who’d begun to mean so much to her.

  Caleb sent up a prayer, sealing his words—and her thoughts—with a strong, “Amen.” Straightening, she smudged the tears from her face and sucked in strength. “I’ll just put out some food for him, in case.”

  She moved to gather the dishes but Caleb’s hand stopped her short. “Wait.” A cold chill chased her spine at the one-word warning and she froze in place, knowing what he was thinking.

  Samson’s bowls were right in the open, on the deck outside the back door, where anyone could sneak up and poison the poor baby.

  “Leave ‘em.” Regret singed his tone. “Get new dishes. Use some Tupperware, maybe.”

  As she walked past the now potential evidence, her hands shook.

  Her new pup might very well be dead.

  Old doubts threatened to roar to the surface but Hope tamped them down. She didn’t want to feel like that sorry person, not ever again.
r />   She chose to believe God had a plan for her, even if it wasn’t an easy one.

  Twenty minutes later, she’d set out some kibble, water and a fresh bone and Caleb had inspected every closet and cranny in the house.

  Per the normal drill, she hugged him goodnight and locked the bedroom door behind her, sinking against it.

  It was going to be a long, lonely night.

  * * * *

  For Hope’s sake, Caleb had contained himself—barely. Now, as he left her safely tucked in her room, his pent-up worry and frustration fissured the very seams of his being, snaking a dangerous combination through his hard-beating heart and knotting his fists.

  From the moment he’d stepped from his truck into the seemingly peaceful evening, void of Samson’s barks and yaps, he’d felt as if a blow had been delivered to his gut.

  Had sensed, far more than he’d let on, trouble was afoot.

  Hardly able to hold back, he exited her house with the slam of the backdoor, secured the deadbolt and forced himself to coolly stride the twenty yards to his place.

  Once inside, he lost it. Gave himself up to the storm of rage brewing within, swiping aside a kitchen chair with a damaging clatter. Hurling an innocent orange from the fruit bowl into the refrigerator.

  Never had he felt more helpless. Useless.

  If something terrible had happened to Samson…if he wasn’t off chasing rabbits…

  There was one way to possibly find out, or at least confirm whether the ranch had any visitors in their absence.

  Fearing the worst, he backtracked through the dark night to the game cameras. If he hadn’t been trying to make light out of concern for Hope, the task would’ve been already completed.

  Removing the memory cards, he folded them in his grasp and headed to his computer. Since the cameras were motion triggered, the first few slides were filled with deer and even a fox. Then his finger stilled over the mouse. There it was.

  A car, dark colored, tags not visible. Time stamped eleven-thirty-three this morning. Seconds later, the side view of a female. Small in stature, long, curly blonde hair. Sunglasses nearly as big as her face.

  A woman? Could be she had nothing to do with the attacks.

  Could be she did. Could be the reporter Hope had mentioned.

  Questions churned in his stomach as Caleb clicked onto the next picture. There the broad was again, lifting Samson. Still no clear shot of her face.

  In the third still, the trunk was raised, blocking the view. Time stamped a few minutes after that, she was snapped sliding in the driver’s seat.

  So she’d taken Samson? Sure looked that way...but why?

  Switching media cards, he searched through multiple slides, mostly all of Samson and even a few of Hope and himself moving about the property. Nothing much to note—

  Whoa.

  Caleb clicked back a frame, realizing he’d almost skipped right over the perp in question, assuming the blonde-haired woman in the picture was Hope. Of course, these photos weren’t the best quality but the resemblance was uncanny.

  Only the picture was time stamped this afternoon and unless the camera’s clock was way off, suffice to say, Hope couldn’t be in two places at once.

  Hitting print, Caleb leaned back in his office chair and smoothed a hand over the stubble on his face.

  So this woman, whoever she was, had removed Samson and returned carrying a bucket. For what? And why?

  * * * *

  Knowing she’d never sleep, Hope took her time showering then wrapped a towel around her torso while she blow dried her roots for body, alerted several times by the strangest sound. A rattling of sorts, muted by the hairdryer, that made her pause her work more than once and stood the hair on her arms on end.

  The doors were locked, she told herself. The windows secure.

  Still, plagued by the strangest sense, she rushed to scrunch her curls into some measure of reason then draped herself in her nightgown and robe. Securing the belt, she hurried to the bedside table where the radio Caleb had given her waited.

  Clear as thunder in a storm, a rattle echoed off the bedroom walls.

  Beneath the covers, a spiraled outline. A shake under her bedspread. “Oh please, no!”

  Instinct raged forth in an ear-piercing scream and she lunged for the door. It jammed in place, not opening. “No!”

  Too terrorized to think straight, she almost forgot the deadbolt. She flicked the lock. Still, the knob was unyielding, refusing to twist. Once or twice it slipped as she tugged desperately, only to reject her efforts.

  Triggered by the noise she was making, the snake inched from the covers, forked tongue hissing her direction.

  “Oh God! Please, God, please!” All she could think of was escaping that room. The sight of that viscous creature. But no matter how she fought, the door would not open. “Caleb!”

  Hope leapt away just as the rattlesnake issued its first strike. “Help!”

  Panic fueled her as she desperately ran to the window, fumbling with the latch and struggling to push the old frame from its stuck position.

  Sweat beaded her brow. Terror gripped from within.

  The angry snake advanced, slithering from the bed, intent on its prey.

  Finally the window gave and she shoved the screen out, screaming bloody murder. “Caleb, Caleb, help! Hellllllp!”

  But where was she going? Down?

  Momentarily, Hope grappled with the idea of jumping two stories to safety.

  From across the room, Caleb’s voice buzzed over the radio. “Hope, what’s wrong?”

  A glance back revealed the snake piling on the floor. In mere seconds, he’d gather his wits again and strike. She dashed to the opposite side of the bed and as the snake’s tail swished from sight, leapt across the mattress and grabbed the radio. “Caleb, Caleb! Help!” Her cry ended in a screech as the snake twisted her direction and lunged.

  “Hope, I’m coming!” The frantic scuffle and pounding of footsteps followed. “I’m already on my way.”

  “Please hurry!” She scrambled backward, once again placing her feet to the floor and placing the bed between them.

  Then it hit her. The snake was directly in front of the door. No sooner than Caleb opened it—if he could open it—he was a dead man.

  Her shaking finger fumbled the call button. “Wait! It’s a rattlesnake.” She gasped for air as the snake violently struck once again at empty air then dropped to the floor. “Don’t come in.”

  Please Lord, what do I do?

  “Hope, I’m coming in.”

  “Wait!” What? What to do? As spine-chilling slithering dragged under the bed, she eyed the second window, this one further in the corner. “Do you have a ladder? Bring a ladder to my right window.”

  “Hope…”

  “Go back! Bring a ladder!” she screamed, forming a plan. “And hurry!”

  Meanwhile, she had to buy herself some time.

  Hope jumped on the bed, knowing she had one thing on this devil’s beast. Brains.

  She waited for its tail to disappear on bated breath. Each passing second crawled with prickling terror, yet she was strangely confident. Overwhelmed with the knowledge of what to do as the snake rose up on the opposite side of the bed, attacking as she bounded away, feet safely hitting the floor.

  And so their pattern repeated. The deadly snake struck multiple times at empty air then slithered to the floor, advancing on her once again.

  Just as she jumped to the mattress, the clatter of the ladder hit the closed window. Hope waited for the snake to emerge on the opposite side then made her move.

  The floor hammered under her feet as she raced to safety and flicked the latch. Once again, the aged window resisted as both she and Caleb shoved with all their might, the screen already disposed of. Finally, the sticking paint gave way, freeing her gate to safety.

  Through the open window, the snake’s rattle shook in the air around them as she climbed from harm’s way with Caleb’s aid.

  Sh
e was safe. Alive and well.

  She fell to her knees on solid ground, needing the strong arms that wrapped around her as she prayed aloud.

  “Thank you, Lord…Oh, God, I thank you…”

  Caleb was right. There was nothing like looking death right in the face to make one truly appreciate life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hope could’ve died tonight. Died. And not for the first time, no thanks to his “protection.”

  How did Caleb excuse that?

  He couldn’t. Just plain couldn’t.

  While she’d been cozying up with a deadly snake, he’d been sitting here staring at pictures of her attacker, clueless.

  His self-disgust at a boiling point, Caleb slapped together several turkey and cheese on rye. Busywork. No one had an appetite, especially not him.

  Then again, in high school Noah had once been given detention for eating beef jerky during a dissection. Nothing curbed the boy’s hunger, not any more than his zest for life.

  At Caleb’s small kitchen table, his brother sat across from Hope wearing chili pepper pajamas pants, a leather jacket, flip flops, that stupid hat and little more. The fingers he frequently drug through his short hair while taking Hope’s statement did nothing to help its current condition—spiky and unwashed.

  Caleb had to hand it to the kid. At least he responded to calls promptly and with enthusiasm, though without a shirt.

  “Is there anything else you can remember, Hope? You said the door wouldn’t open. Can you tell me more about that?”

  Despite being wrapped in the big quilt from his bed, she gave a shudder. “The door just refused to open, as if it’d been jammed. Or someone was holding the knob.”

  “Interesting.” Noah made a few notes. “You’re positive you unlocked the deadbolt? Maybe you panicked and forgot.”

  “No, I’m more than certain. Trust me, I wanted out of that room.” Her voice trembled and Caleb went stone cold as he thought of how slow he’d moved while she’d been in desperate need. The seconds he’d lost all because of his stupid hip.