by Aimée Thurlo
Taking her jacket from the coat rack, she bundled up and tried to figure out how to cover the opening until the glass could be replaced. As the gusts whipped the curtains, and the room temperature plunged, the unfairness of it all filled her with outrage. She’d done nothing to deserve this. She crumpled the note and stuck it into her pocket. The town was set against her, just as it had been in another place, another time.
Marlee pushed back the sense of betrayal that nearly overwhelmed her. What she needed to concentrate on now was covering the gaping hole in her living-room window. Once that was done, she’d call Gabriel. He was the town’s sheriff and would need to be told. She considered trying to call Lucas, but he was riding across country, and probably having to concentrate on staying warm and not losing his direction. The last thing he needed was a call on his cellular phone.
A half hour later, she’d sealed the window using duct tape and a piece of plywood she’d found in the garage and cut to the right size with a hand saw. She’d called Gabriel but had learned he wouldn’t be back in the office until later. Figuring she’d have to go in and sign a statement, she decided to make sure the window patch was secure, then walk into town.
She was just adding more tape to hold the plywood in place when her phone began to ring. She picked up the receiver, and heard Alex on the other end. Her guard went up instantly. She didn’t trust the little creep. His newspaper editorials had been the main reason the town had turned against her.
“I wanted you to know that I’ve only just found out how badly people are treating you. I never expected that here in Four Winds.”
Marlee didn’t believe him for a second. “Without using my name, you practically came out and told people I’m the one responsible for all the bad things that are happening here. Yet you’re telling me now that you still expected everything to go on as usual?”
“I never slandered you. When you know folks here as well as I do, it’s easy to think you can second-guess them. I expected a lot of gossip, but nothing like the persecution that’s going on.”
“Someone just threw a rock through my window on the coldest day of the year. My living room is freezing, and it’ll get worse tonight. I should bill you for the expenses.”
Alex paused. “I’ll find someone to help you fix it, but this isn’t my fault. You made a big mistake bringing that peddler into your house. And that’s what’s haunting you now. Give me a chance to help. Talk to me on the record. Right now people in town are worried that since the attempt to poison the water was discovered, the criminal will find another way to injure them. They’ll be out gunning for you unless you do something to clear your name. Let me take a few photos of the vandalism and get your side of the story.”
“First get your facts straight. There’s still no definite proof the water was poisoned. And I don’t want you coming here.” The idea of having him at her home repulsed her. “If you want to see me, I’ll stop by shortly. But first I’ve got to go by the sheriff’s office,” she declared, then hung up.
Hearing the wind outside and watching the thin plywood strain where it was taped in place, she shivered. She’d hoped to stay home today buried in a good book. Cursing her luck, she changed clothes, picking out her warmest outfit, then began the walk toward Main Street.
It took her twice the usual time, because of the cold and snow. At least the wind seemed to be slowing down a bit. But if that happened, and the sky cleared up, the temperature would go down even further. By the time she arrived at Gabriel’s office, she was chilled to the bone. Gabriel saw her as she came in, and came to help her take off her coat. He still looked pale and a little shaky from the flu.
“I heard from my dispatcher that you were coming. I meant to tell you that I’d stop by and save you the walk, but I got sidetracked.” As he finished saying that, his phone began to ring. “It’s been like this ever since I stepped through the door this morning.”
As he spoke on the telephone, Sally Jenkins, the owner of the diner, stepped into the office. She glared at Marlee, then moved to the other side of the office.
Marlee was about to ask Sally what was wrong, when Gabriel hung up. “What can I do for you, Sally?”
“You won’t believe what’s happened,” she said, her voice breaking. “Someone poured powdered detergent into my flour bin.” Sally glared at Marlee just as someone else came into the office.
Marlee stared back at her in shock. “Oh, Sally, surely you of all people know I would never do that!”
“Well, you have been in my diner recently…” She met Marlee’s gaze then, after a second, sighed. “No, I don’t think you did it. I apologize. You would never do that. I’m just so angry, and it would make things easier if I could blame someone.” She glanced at Gabriel. “Now I’ll have to close the diner, won’t I? I can’t guarantee other things weren’t tainted.”
“You should close until you can throw out any food containers that might have been tampered with. It’s not worth taking a chance.”
Sally’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know how I’m going to weather this financially. No customers, then I lose inventory…”
Marlee put a hand on her shoulder. “This craziness can’t last much longer. Then you’ll be able to open the diner again.”
She nodded absently. “I guess.”
Hearing footsteps behind her, Marlee turned, remembering that someone else had come in while Sally was so up-set. It was Alex. Yet, from the spark in his eyes, she knew he’d heard enough about the incident at Sally’s to know there was a story there.
Alex remained until Sally had finished giving her statement and signing it, then left with her instead of staying to talk with Marlee or Gabriel.
Gabriel glared at the doorway long after Alex had left. “I’m torn between wanting to come down hard on him, and the instinct that warns me I’ll only be making things worse.”
“He’s asked me to talk to him on the record, but he must have not wanted to do that in front of you. In view of this latest incident, I think I will go by his office and do just that. At least I’ll get my side of the story out, if he doesn’t decide to edit the facts, that is.”
“Good luck.”
Five minutes later, after giving a complete account of the broken window to Gabriel, Marlee stepped into the newspaper office.
Alex came out of another room to greet her. “Looks like my theory was right. The culprit couldn’t hurt anyone with the water now, so he picked on something else—Sally.”
“I wish someone had good news for a change,” Marlee said.
“I can help you there. Mrs. Burnham’s Muzzy is going to be fine. The vet said it was a stomach upset, but he couldn’t determine the cause.” Alex offered her a chair. “But that doesn’t let you off the hook. Unless you come clean publicly about the peddler’s visit, people simply will not trust you.”
“What more is there for me to say? He came, but he didn’t even spend the night. There was a storm that evening, and he wanted shelter. Driving that old van of his can’t be a picnic in high winds.”
“What about the gift he gave you?”
“What gift?” Marlee asked, fighting to keep her expression neutral.
Alex rolled his eyes. “Give me a break, okay? He always gives the person he targets a gift, or lets them buy something. Remember old man Simmons and the shovel? The medicine bowl Lanie got? And Nydia’s blanket? Telling about whatever it was he left you will go a long ways in getting people’s trust back. Right now, they know, just like I do, that you’re covering something.”
“I’ve had my home vandalized, I’ve been the target of accusations that give new meaning to the word unfair, and now you’re asking me to add fodder to the rumors. Nydia and Lanie both suffered at the hands of this town once word got out they’d had contact with the peddler, so your argument about trust just doesn’t ring true. For the last time and for the record, I am not stupid enough to risk accepting any of that peddler’s sale items, nor would I purchase anything from him.”<
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“If you believe he’s harmless, why not?”
“Because people like you use him to create a problem for others.” She stood up. “Instead of looking at the peddler so intently, people in this town should start taking a good look at themselves. That’s where the real problem is. Think about how people behaved after each of his visits. Maybe the peddler does serve a purpose, when you look at it from that perspective—he shows all of us just how shallow and nasty ordinary people can become.”
“I will quote you, but I still say you’re holding back—and it’s going to cost you.”
Marlee left the office, and without turning back strode down the street. The weather was as bad as ever. The wind had eased, but the temperature had dropped. That made the walk just as miserable, but it was better than driving on the icy roads. She tucked her chin down into her coat, and continued at a brisk pace.
Snow was piled in thick drifts on the walkways, and in her heart, she felt as cold as the cobblestones that the wind had cleared of everything except the ice. No matter how hard she tried, nothing was working out for her. As she passed the feed store’s loading dock, a big manila envelope lying on a clear sheet of ice caught her eye. It was between the delivery truck and the concrete platform. She drew near, and saw her name had been scrawled on it.
Marlee looked around suspiciously, but no one was in sight. She thought about the slippery surface, which sloped downhill toward the dock, then curiosity overcame her and she inched out onto the ice. As she bent over carefully and picked up the envelope, she heard a creak and the slam of a car door. She was aware of the sound of running footsteps, but her eyes and her attention were on the truck, which was suddenly rolling toward her.
It was silent, since the engine was off, but it was certainly going to crush her against the four-foot-high concrete barrier unless she got out of there fast. Marlee tried to dive out of the way, but her feet slipped out from under her and she fell facedown on the ice instead. By the time she got back up to her feet, it was too late to dodge or try to climb onto the dock. Someone had released the brake, allowing the dock area’s incline to do the rest.
Marlee reached over and grabbed a heavy metal mop bucket from atop the dock, and held it beside her, lodging it against the dock wall and giving herself some clearance. The truck crunched against the bucket, but the container held, and the truck stopped. A second later, the bucket began to groan in protest.
With only the bucket maintaining a gap between the truck and the concrete dock, Marlee was trapped, almost compressed, in a space about a foot wide.
Marlee sucked her stomach in, and yelled for help at the top of her lungs. Surely someone inside the feed store would hear her.
Then she heard a familiar voice shouting her name and footsteps rushing from the street
“Marlee, where are you?” Lucas shouted.
“I’m here, behind the truck, but I can’t get out. A bucket’s all that’s keeping me from getting crushed, and it’s not going to last much longer!”
She heard the sound of the truck door opening, then a loud curse from Lucas. It didn’t sound promising. Then his face appeared in the narrow opening between the truck and the dock. “Hang on. I’m coming in there with you.”
“Wedge something else in here, not your own body! We’ll both be crushed.” Marlee tried to push him back out with her arm, but she couldn’t move him.
“If you work with me, we’ll both get out of this in one piece,” he said, scooting in closer beside her. “I’ve got a plan.”
Chapter Fifteen
Despite the freezing cold, Marlee’s sweater was clammy with perspiration. Her legs were weak from fear. She turned her head, no longer willing to face the truck that could crush them both to death in another moment.
Lucas suddenly grunted, and she saw him straining against the truck.
“I can move it back a little,” he said. “Help me push. The brake lines were cut, so it’ll roll the other way if we put some muscle into it. We just have to get the rear wheels past that little slope at this end. Put your feet against the dock, and don’t slip on the ice.”
Marlee used every last bit of her strength, pushing with Lucas, coordinating her efforts with his. She yelled once more at the top of her lungs, hoping someone inside the store would finally come out.
She felt the truck inch back, and realized that they were making headway. Before she could catch her breath to yell again, she heard help arriving on the loading dock. Darren Wilson and one of his clerks grabbed a two-wheel dolly, and Darren wedged it between the truck and the dock to keep the truck from rolling back toward them. Then the two men began to help Lucas and Marlee push the truck away.
In a few seconds, the truck had been pushed well away from the dock and past the patch of ice. Darren placed a wooden block behind each rear tire to keep the truck from rolling again.
Darren rushed toward them, shaking his head in confusion. “What the heck happened? That’s my truck, but I’ve been inside the store with customers. We only came out when we heard you yelling. How did you get yourselves in that fix and how did that sheet of ice get there?”
“I don’t know,” Marlee said, recapping the events as Gabriel came up.
“Did you see anyone?” Gabriel pressed.
“No,” Marlee admitted, “but I heard someone. And if Lucas is right, those brake lines didn’t cut themselves.”
Lucas glanced at his brother. “Just take a look for yourself. The brake line was severed with something like a pair of tin snips, I bet.”
Mrs. Burnham stood on the dock, Muzzy in her arms. “Trouble does follow you doesn’t it, dear?” she asked.
Her tone was far from sympathetic. Marlee stared at her in stunned disbelief, then glanced at the others who’d arrived from the store. How would she ever be able to live here and treat these people as friends again, even after the truth came out? They’d turned on her as if she’d been a stranger or a criminal.
She tried to speak, but was shaking too much for words. Too close to tears, she remained silent.
Lucas’s eyes were as cold as a frozen blade as he stared at the people gathered around them. “I’ve known most of you for years now. You’ve always seemed like decent people. But the way you’re acting now is enough to make me ashamed that I’ve ever called any of you my friends. Consider this…will you be able to look at yourselves in the mirror when you finally find out that you’ve been victimizing an innocent person?”
A murmur went around the crowd, and as they dispersed, Marlee grieved for lost friendships.
Rather than yield to despair, Marlee chose to focus on action. She wasn’t helpless as long as she could still act on her own behalf. It wasn’t an assurance of victory, but it was a way to fight, and sometimes that was all that was left to a person.
“Let’s talk with the people inside, and then walk up and down the street and see if anyone saw who was in the truck. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”
“Good idea,” Gabriel conceded. “You mentioned an envelope, Marlee. Do you have it?”
Marlee pulled it from her pocket. “It’s empty,” she said, handing it to him.
“I’m not surprised,” Gabriel said.
Thirty minutes later, they still had no answers. Lucas walked with Marlee back to his truck. His presence calmed the fears she was trying so hard to keep locked tightly away inside herself. Though Lucas couldn’t always be around, he did seem ready to stand up for her, to equalize the odds whenever they were together. He had the heart and courage of a lion.
Marlee glanced up at him, feeling the quiver of desire replacing the fear she’d experienced just an hour before. He’d touched her in a way no one ever had. She wanted to trust him, to give herself the freedom to experience the love that burned in his eyes whenever he gazed at her. He’d made her forget the scar that had not only marred her face, but cut her soul. For brief moments in time, Lucas had reminded her what it felt like to be whole and be admired.
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�Looks like Alex printed a special evening edition,” Lucas said, bringing her out of her musings. He gestured at the newsletter-sized papers stacked in the box near the bank.
Marlee placed a coin in the slot. “By the way, how’s Bill Riley doing?”
“Miserable for now, but I think it’s just a case of bronchitis. He should be okay soon.”
Marlee picked up a copy of the newspaper. “Oh, yuck, they’re all wet.” She opened it carefully. “I hate to buy this rag, but I better see what he wrote about me. We had a rather—” she cleared her throat “—shall we say, substantial difference of opinion?”
She skimmed the lead story, not at all surprised by its contents.
“Do you realize what he’s doing? He’s blaming everything, including what happened at the diner, on the peddler’s influence,” Lucas said. “Then, after he documents his theory with half truths, he quotes you as insisting that you didn’t receive anything from the peddler despite the fact that everyone knows otherwise. He makes it sound like you’re pursuing your own agenda at everyone’s expense.”
“Alex has made a serious vocational error. He should be working for the tabloids.”
“When Ralph comes back, I have a feeling Alex is going back to delivering papers and running the press, not writing,” Lucas said. “I’d bet on it.”
When his cellular phone rang, Lucas answered, spoke briefly, then closed the unit up. “I’ve got another patient I need to see. I won’t be able to give you a ride back home. Will you be okay?”
“Sure. It takes more than a little thing like attempted murder to keep me down.” She managed a reassuring smile.
His eyes were luminous and filled with purpose as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his own. His kiss was urgent, demanding and rough. Sparks travelled down her, bone by bone, leaving her shuddering helplessly. Her lips parted under his, and as she tasted him, the blinding power of emotions she’d tried to ignore took away her will to resist. She pressed herself into his kiss, longing for more of the white-hot pleasure she found there.