A Box Full of Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

  God, she was beautiful, with honey-colored curls just lighter than her skin, and dark eyes that shone in the dim light of the pub. Bryn was also beautiful, but thinner and more angular. Even her voice had a sharper edge to it. In addition to running the bakery with Bryn, Tionna was a fabric artist and had the strong hands of someone who worked with them every day. She talked expressively, and they fluttered before his eyes as she talked and laughed about her peculiar wealthy clients back in New York. But mostly she let him talk about his job and his plans. Because she was an artist, and because she pressed him, he told her about the architectural designs that consumed much of his free time. It was the beer, he figured, that made him talk so much. Also the fact that this thirty-something, gorgeous woman was listening to him in a way that the girls he'd dated before never had.

  It was after ten when they left the pub. They lived in opposite directions, but he offered to walk her home. Smiling, she accepted. What he wasn't prepared for was her taking his hand a few minutes later and pulling him into the narrow alley between the bakery and the second-hand shop next door.

  Her lips were soft and wet, and she kissed him with a surprising assurance that made him hard in seconds, though he knew he hadn't been far from it anyway, just talking with her. It was dark in the walkway. Noah’s eyes were closed, and he couldn't get enough of her lips and her neck and, at last, her breasts that overflowed his hands and tasted lightly of salt and cinnamon. She moaned softly.

  In seconds she had his belt and jeans undone. He worried for a moment they would fall down, exposing his butt to the night, because his hips were slender and he had a hard enough time keeping them up. But in the next moment he forgot all about his jeans.

  Before he knew it she was telling him, with a smile in her voice, to button up and get the keys from her purse. Standing beside her as she unlocked the back door of the bakery, he couldn't help but notice how the security light above them made playful shadows on her breasts between the open placket of her linen shirt.

  After she washed up inside she made him some coffee and settled down across the table from him with a cup of tea. His embarrassment was overwhelming, and he had little to say. He'd never been the kind of guy to have one-night stands. Though what they'd done couldn't actually be called sex, could it? Plus, she was married. To a woman. Which made him even more anxious. He had nothing against Bryn at all.

  Noah was stone cold sober by the time he finished his coffee. Should he try to take her hand? Would she want to see him again? But he did nothing; and, when they were outside again, she simply kissed him on the cheek.

  "Thanks. That was fun." She yawned sleepily. "Sorry. It's the chamomile, and I have to get up in four hours. I can see myself the rest of the way home." He started to protest, but she gave him a gentle push toward the walkway and started up the outside stairs by the back door.

  Bryn and Tionna live above the bakery? Had Bryn seen them from a window? Heard them? Now he questioned Tionna's intentions. Maybe she had only used him to try to make Bryn jealous.

  It was the last time he ever exchanged so much as a word with Tionna. The next time he saw Bryn and Tionna together at the pub they were holding hands, looking very much in love. As he passed by their table, he nodded politely. But he was sure Tionna had winked at him. Somehow it made him feel less anxious, and he stopped wondering if they would be involved again.

  After Tionna's funeral, Bryn had pressured him to tell her what he knew about the work that had been done earlier on Tionna's car. He’d never worked on it himself and had nothing to tell her, though he felt badly enough that it had happened at the dealership where he worked.

  It was inconceivable to him that anyone at Walshes’ would've let Tionna drive off with unsafe brakes or if they believed there was any risk at all.

  He met Erin's gaze. Did she think he had something to do with Tionna's death or with the kidnapping? There was no way she could have known what had happened with him and Tionna. And, anyway, why would he jeopardize his own job taking revenge on Shelby Rae because of Tionna?

  "I guess you have to consider everybody," he finally said. "I wish I knew something that would help." What if you had something to do with it, Erin? Do you dislike her so much? Then he had a thought that truly surprised him. I don't even think I'd care if you did. He knew he was attracted to her in much the same way he'd been attracted to Tionna. But a relationship had been out of the question with Tionna because she obviously hadn't wanted one. Was it possible Erin might? As the daughter of the boss, Erin seemed off-limits to him. "You and your dad must really be freaked out."

  "I think whoever it was took Shelby Rae out of the cabana and up the back path through the woods to the road. That's the direction Jocko came from."

  Noah relaxed a little bit. At least she wasn't going to push him about Bryn.

  "Did you find anything else up there besides the shirt? Let's go look again."

  They gathered his gear and headed up to the back path, which was the way he'd come to the dock. Jocko and Trouble ran ahead, as though they knew where they were going.

  Erin's shoulder occasionally bumped against his arm as they climbed the path, but neither of them reacted—visibly, anyway. Noah's head was full of the scent of her. He imagined the edge of her finely curved ear between his lips, his teeth, holding her tight against him...Damn, again. He stumbled on the path, almost falling into her.

  "You okay?"

  "Yep. Totally okay." That went well.

  They were nearly to the end of the path, which opened close to the road. He could see his motorcycle on the rectangle of gravel a few dozen feet away.

  Trouble stopped at a bush and bit at a curving branch.

  "Hey, don't eat that, cat!" Erin reached out for the branch and started to push it away.

  "Wait," Noah said. "There's something on the ground by his paw." While the sky was now clear outside the woods, where they stood was a gloomy and shadowy green. He turned on his phone flashlight and bent to pick up a small piece of jewelry. Putting it in one palm, he held it out to Erin. As she bent to look at the thing, he resisted the urge to touch her hair. Don't be that guy.

  "That's Shelby Rae's earring. The back is missing." She picked it up and looked around. "But it doesn't help us now. She must've really been fighting."

  Noah nodded. He felt bad for Erin. From what she'd told him about her argument with Shelby Rae, he guessed they didn't get along all that well. Still, she looked unhappy.

  "Hey, let me give you my number. I can help you look some more.” His voice trailed off, but then he continued. "Maybe she'll even be home when you get back. But text me or something. I'll help if I can."

  Erin gave him a weak smile. Her eyes were clear and green.

  "Yeah. That's a good idea. Thanks."

  Chapter Five

  Bolting awake, Erin was confused about what she heard first—the pounding on the front door, not far from her open bedroom window, or the dog barking and Trouble yowling. Whatever the order, it was chaos in her bedroom, with Jocko barking and scratching at her closed bedroom door. He jumped in circles like some mad circus dog whose tricks had gone haywire. After letting him out, she ran to the window.

  "Let me in! Let me in!" Shelby Rae was hysterical, alternating between calling and pounding. If they'd lived in a neighborhood, an entire street would be awake, but her cries were lonesome as they floated over the countryside. Lonesome and terrifying.

  But they finally penetrated Erin's confusion. Shelby Rae was downstairs!

  * * *

  Shelby Rae reclined on one of the sofas in the family room, pillows banked behind her. Erin handed the towel-wrapped ice pack to her father who sat on the edge of the sofa. Shelby Rae's hand gripped one of his fiercely, unwilling to let go.

  She looked shaken and had a blue and yellow bruise on one side of her face. The eye makeup she'd been wearing at the party was smeared dully across her cheeks, and her hair—Erin tried to make sense of her hair. Someone had chopped off hunks of it o
n one side without regard to shape or style, so that it resembled a Barbie doll of MacKenzie's that her little brother had vandalized when they were kids. As soon as her father had helped Shelby Rae inside and led her to the couch, Erin had hurried in with a soft blanket to wrap her in. Her bathing suit was dirty, and one strap hung, broken, down her back. She had scratches, too, on her arms, and bruises on her legs.

  Bruce held her gently to him as she spoke through her tears. "I thought they were going to kill me. I thought I would never see you again."

  "Baby, I would have done anything to get you back. You know that. No one is going to take you away from me again."

  At that moment, Jocko, who’d been standing on the carpet, trembling with excitement, could contain himself no more, and jumped up on the couch to try to wriggle between them.

  Bruce chuckled as he dodged the dog's frantic forays into Shelby Rae's blanket. "Well, this guy I don't know about. He's been missing you."

  Standing a few feet away, Erin felt like she was watching something so intimate that she didn't belong there. She was an outsider in her own home. Her father, Shelby Rae, and Jocko had formed an entirely new family unit since she'd gone off to college. Shelby Rae had stopped a long time ago trying to make sure Erin didn't feel left out. Her father looked so vulnerable, and Shelby Rae, hurt and afraid. At least she was letting her husband get close enough to comfort her.

  Erin knew it was a selfish thought to have at that moment, but any fantasy she had about her father divorcing Shelby Rae was gone in that moment. He was obviously deeply in love with the woman who’d replaced her mother. She'd been fighting that reality for a long, long time. But maybe he, also, had needed this near-tragedy to know what was in his own heart. Shelby Rae had complained often that Erin's father didn't spend any time with her, that she felt like he took her for granted.

  "I'm so thirsty. They only gave me a little water. I don't even know where I was. And I was blindfolded the whole time. It was like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. They wouldn't even talk to me. I don't know why they let me go."

  "I'll get you some water." Erin left the room, grateful to have an escape. Trouble followed her, but Jocko stayed happily on the couch.

  Erin hadn't yet told MacKenzie about the kidnapping, though God knew Julie Berry had probably already spread the word that Bruce Walsh's young wife had left him. She expected MacKenzie would probably text her before they talked, except it was now only six in the morning. And yet, she’d told Noah Daly all about the kidnapping. It had all just spilled out. Why in the world had she trusted him with that information? Technically, he should be the last person she should trust. His father had been sentenced to a six-year jail term partly because the deputy who shot her mother was aiming for him, as he fled the scene of the bank robbery.

  But somehow she found herself trusting him. His brown eyes had been so sincere, like a little kid's. And he had that funny indent in his chin like someone had pressed their pinky into it when he was a baby, and it stuck. Most guys would try to hide it with a beard. Erin thought beards on young guys looked pretentious and silly. She knew she wouldn't be the first woman to trust a guy just because he was good-looking.

  Did she dare text him? Something told her she should. She wanted to tell somebody Shelby Rae was back. He would see her message when he woke up.

  Just wanted to tell you Shelby Rae came home a while ago. She's a little banged up but okay. She doesn't know who took her. Anyway now you know too.

  She stared at the screen, and a "delivered" line told her it had shown up on his phone. Her heart beat a little faster. Maybe he at least had the phone silenced. She busied herself getting water for Shelby Rae, trying not to look at the screen again. She would feel like a total ass if it woke him up.

  Her father called from the family room.

  "Coming!"

  Her phone vibrated.

  Good news --Is your dad calling cops now?

  Putting the water down, she quickly replied.

  Don't know. She just got here.

  Let me know what I can do. When everything calms down you want to get some coffee or something later?

  What should I answer? She already felt like kind of a jerk, texting while her injured stepmother was probably dying of thirst. Tucking the phone in her pocket, she hurried back to the family room with the water. "Sorry it took me so long."

  Her father looked at her with a hint of curiosity, but he was really too concerned about Shelby Rae to pursue it.

  "I'll run you a bath. Unless you want to wait for the police so they can, um, take evidence and stuff," Erin said.

  Shelby Rae sat bolt upright nearly dislodging Jocko, who had finally settled down, happy. "No police. Bruce, they said no police. They said they'd kill me if we tell the police!" Her eyes pleaded with her husband. She didn't look at Erin.

  "I know that's what they said on the note, sugarcakes. Didn't you say they didn't talk to you?"

  "Of course they threatened me." Her voice was tearful. "I meant we didn't have conversations. Not after they got me to where they kept me. But they warned me before they threw me out of the van—at least I think it was a van." Her fingers strayed to the broad scrape on one forearm. Between the bruise on her face and the scrapes on her arms and knees and hands, they had treated her cruelly. What if her father hadn't paid the ransom? Erin was coming around to his conviction that they would have killed Shelby Rae if he hadn't paid. They would be equally serious, then, about not getting the police involved. All three of them could still be in danger.

  "Was it two men?" Erin asked. "Did you recognize their voices?"

  Shelby Rae shook her head. "Someone grabbed me from behind in the cabana and they put a scarf or something around my face so I couldn't see. All I know is that the guy was really strong." She looked at Bruce. "At first I thought he was going to strangle me. It hurt so much."

  Bruce kissed her on the forehead. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to stop them."

  "You said the guy.” Erin’s curiosity was piqued. “You mean it wasn’t necessarily two men who kidnapped you?”

  Shelby Rae's brow furrowed. She looked younger and more vulnerable to Erin than she had in a long time. "I'm not sure, but one might have been a woman. The hands were strong, but I don't know, softer, maybe. Why are you asking me all this? I just want it to be over."

  "Maybe now isn't the time." Her father gave Erin a warning look that told her they were done talking for now. Anything else she wanted to ask—and there was a lot she wanted to ask Shelby Rae—would have to wait.

  Shelby Rae had said she thought there was a woman involved. As far as Erin was concerned it pointed to one person more than any other—Bryn Owens.

  * * *

  In Wetumpka, I am my human's constant companion. Tammy Lynn and I go everywhere together, with the exception of some food establishments and the doctor's office. Two locations that could, indeed, benefit from the presence of felines. One sees these therapy dogs entering medical facilities, and no one bats an eye when they see them in the aisles of the grocery store. What, one wonders, is therapeutic about a bouncing, slobbering, untidy chunk of unbathed fur? I shudder at the thought. Felines are unquestionably far more calming influences.

  I fear Erin may be rather less confident of my crime solving abilities than Tammy Lynn. The dreaded Jocko didn't help matters by snatching that bloody garment away from me and dropping it at her feet moments after I discovered it. She wants to find out who kidnapped her stepmother, and I confess I can't bear to see such a tantalizing mystery unsolved. I must convince her to let me stick closer to her so I can help her, but also keep her out of danger. It seems that no one but Erin and myself—and perhaps Noah—is interested in bringing the kidnappers to justice. While Erin slept this morning, I settled myself on a sunny table outside the gaudy master suite (think Versailles as reimagined by that Beiber fellow—I believe it's the only room Shelby Rae decorated herself) to listen to Bruce and his wife talking. She begged him once aga
in not to call the police. I find that curious, considering the kidnappers could return at any time and strike again.

  After my late morning nap and grooming duties, I do reconnaissance inside the house to see what I can find. The cadaverous housekeeper, who seems to set her own schedule, is in the kitchen, mopping. She's a tetchy sort, and complains frequently about her teeth not fitting correctly, leading me to wonder what she looks like without them. Grisly, I expect, because she's about ten feet tall, and has a face like a week-old kidney pie. But I leap from counter to counter so she doesn't accidentally swat me with her broom when I venture into the kitchen for a drink of water.

  I take an equally indirect way out. Thank goodness Jocko is no longer my shadow, entrenched as he surely is on his mistress's bed. The housekeeper likes Jocko as little as she likes me. It puts me in a mind of the ancient proverb, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” If only I could let her know my feelings about Jocko, she might be a little kinder to me.

  Bruce is ensconced in his office doing paperwork, and doesn't even glance at me as I leap nimbly onto his desk. I pretend to ignore him as well. He looks completely knackered, but had managed a shower and shave so that he smells of gentleman's cologne and strong soap.

  I spy what I'm looking for. The ransom note is half-tucked beneath a file, but I can see enough.

  You're thinking that cats can't read human writing. While you would technically be correct, I don't need to be able to read it because I remember exactly what it said when Bruce read from it, right down to the mention of Shelby Rae being pretty.