by Terri Reed
She sensed it a millisecond before she felt it.
Something hard slammed into her. Her knees buckled. A tiny yelp escaped as icy dread swirled in her gut. A prayer floated to mind as automatically as her next breath filled her lungs.
Dear Lord, help me.
A hand clamped over her mouth, jamming her lips against her teeth. A firm arm steadied her, pressing her back against his torso. Heat radiated off his body. Panic and adrenaline surged through her veins. Pushing off the cement floor, she pressed against her attacker, but his rock-hard body forced the solid edge of the utility sink into her belly, making it impossible to move.
Every inch of her scalp prickled with a kind of fear she had never known. The fear humans must experience right before something very, very bad was about to happen.
“Don’t,” she mumbled against his hand.
He pulled her tighter to him. Something sharp on his jacket dug into her back.
“Please don’t…” she repeated, unable to see his face.
His warm, uneven breath rasped across her cheek. “Where’s the package?” he grunted before a sense of urgency exploded in her. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the paint roller and brought it up hard and fast. She slugged him in the head with the wet end of the roller.
He backed off with an oomph and folded over, his black hood concealing his features.
Ellie bolted toward the entrance to the shop. She tripped over his foot, but regained her balance by grabbing the doorjamb. She swung into the shop.
Muttered curses sounded behind her. Terror charged every possible nerve ending. She ran forward, knees weak, as if she was caught in one of those nightmares where the ground swallowed each foot.
Steps sounded fast behind her.
This was no nightmare. This was real.
Ellie lurched forward and slapped her hand against the panic button on the alarm control next to the front door, a feature her brother had insisted she install. A feature she had thought silly in sleepy little Williamstown, New York, where the biggest crime involved kids and graffiti and a hundred-year-old mill and angry parents who footed the bill for cleanup so junior wouldn’t have a police record.
An ear-piercing, strident alarm sounded in the small space. She yanked open the front door. The redundant bells whacked the glass. She tripped over the lip in the doorway. She held out her hands to protect her face from the advancing concrete when two strong hands grabbed her forearms, steadying her.
A scream ripped from her throat.
*
On the sidewalk in front of Gifts and More, Special Agent Johnny Rock grabbed Ellie Winters and steadied her. Holding her thin, trembling arms, he tilted his head to look into her eyes, but she was squirming, looking frantically behind her.
An ear-piercing alarm split his eardrums.
“Easy there. What’s going on? You okay?” He tore his eyes away from her delicate features and scanned the empty shop behind her, his senses heightened.
Her eyes darted around wildly. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She yanked away from him, fear rolling off her in tense waves.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured her. “What happened?”
Her eyes landed on his and narrowed, something flickering in their depths. She seemed to shake herself. “Someone was hiding in my back room. He attacked me.” She lifted her hand absentmindedly to the back of her head. “He…he was chasing me and I…”
“Tripped?” Johnny raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, I tripped over the door frame.” Her forehead furrowed as if the blaring alarm was scraping across her nerves. Orange paint splotched the right shoulder of her T-shirt and more was spattered on her face. She pointed toward the back of the shop. “Someone’s in there.”
“Stay here. I’ll check things out.” He gently took her forearms and placed her against the brick front between the gift shop’s door and the entrance to the bakery. “Don’t move.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing featherlight against the back of his hand. “No, I don’t think you should. Wait for the police.” She winced against the harsh sound. “The alarm is tied directly into the police station. They’ll be here soon. I hit the panic button.”
“I’ll be fine.” In the chaos, she probably didn’t recognize him and realize he was in law enforcement. Last time he had stepped foot in her childhood home more than ten years ago, he had been a friend of her brother’s. A friendship that had been doomed from the start because it had been built on false pretenses. Johnny hadn’t really been a seventeen-year-old transfer student. Johnny had been a twenty-two-year-old rookie cop undercover as a narcotics officer about to rock the tranquil town of Williamstown.
A slam sounded from deep in the shop.
“Stay here,” Johnny repeated. “I can’t let him get away.” If he hasn’t already. This might be the break in the case he’d been patiently waiting for.
“I really don’t think—”
Johnny held up his hand. “Stay here.” She flinched at his command. He hadn’t meant to snap at her.
He stepped into the shop. Ellie had done a lot of unpacking since the last time he had casually strolled by to check on his target.
With a muscle ticking in his jaw, Johnny pulled his gun from its holster under his jacket. From the doorway to the storage room, he had a clear view of the back exit. Cautiously, he stepped into the storage room. He strained to listen above the blaring alarm. He checked behind the desk, around some boxes and in a small closet. All clear. A paint roller and orange paint sat in a puddle on the floor as if someone had thrown the roller across the room.
Whoever had been here was long gone. He twisted the handle on the back door and found it unlocked. He peered into the alleyway. Other than a large Dumpster and some trash cans, it was empty. He strode over and checked the Dumpster. The pungent smell of garbage clogged his nose, but there was no sign of any stowaway.
The shop’s alarm went silent. He returned to the back entrance of the storage room to find Ellie standing in the doorway leading to the shop. She was using the top of her shirtsleeve to wipe at the paint dots on her face. “I turned off the alarm. Police should be here soon.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s gone?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, thanks for coming to the rescue. The police should be here. You can go.” She crossed her arms and studied the gun in his hand. A mix of caution and concern pinched the corners of her mouth.
“I’d rather wait for the police to arrive if it’s all right with you.”
Ellie rubbed her forearms and narrowed her gaze at him, and seemed to look at him for the first time. Really look at him. A shadow of emotion crossed behind her eyes. An emotion he couldn’t quite read.
Johnny scratched his forehead and decided he better identify himself. “I met you a long time ago. I was a friend of your brother’s.” Was being the operative word.
“Johnny…Johnny Rock. Yeah, I recognized you as soon as my nerves calmed down and I realized my life wasn’t in imminent danger.” Her eyes grew dark. “What are you doing here? I thought you moved to Buffalo.” The brutal sting of accusation was evident in her tone, suggesting she wished he had stayed in Buffalo.
Johnny tucked his gun back in its holster. “I’m an FBI agent assigned to the Buffalo office.”
Ellie made a soft sound at the back of her throat but didn’t say anything.
“I’m back in Williamstown to help my grandfather move.” It was the truth, but not the entire truth.
Her perfectly groomed eyebrows shot up. “He’s selling the house on Treehaven Road?” A faraway look descended into her blue eyes and a smile curved her pink lips. “I always liked that house. I tried to paint it a time or two.”
“Paint it?” Johnny’s gaze dropped to the upturned paint tray on the floor.
She laughed.
He liked the sound of it.
Ellie shook her head. “I paint walls out of necessity. I prefer to paint landscapes.
On canvas. It’s my true calling.”
Johnny nodded. “What happened here tonight?”
“I had the door propped open.” She shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Stupid.” She took in a deep breath, then wrinkled her nose. “I can’t stand the fumes. I get migraines. Never thought someone would sneak in and attack me.”
He thought he noticed her shiver.
“Are you hurt?” He took a step forward and stopped when she flinched.
“I’m fine.”
“Have you had any problems at your shop before?”
She shook her head, her auburn hair with red highlights dropping over one eye. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I haven’t even opened the shop yet.” A look—an apology, maybe—crossed her delicate features. A faint splash of freckles dotted her porcelain skin.
“The person who attacked me said something about a package.” The color drained from her face.
“Do you know what he was talking about?” Johnny studied her closely.
“No, I have no idea.”
“If someone was in here, they exited through the back.” He hated to be Captain Obvious, but he didn’t know what else to tell her. He pulled open the door and checked the alley again. He had a clear view east to Eagle Street and west to Spring Street. “Whoever was here is long gone.” He closed the door and locked it.
Johnny opened his mouth to say something when he noticed a green-and-white police cruiser pull up alongside the curb out front. “The police are here.”
Ellie and Johnny walked through the shop and out onto Main Street. The window on the police cruiser slid down. Johnny recognized Officer Mickey Bailey, now a decade older and a few pounds heavier than when they’d first met, but easily identified as the right fielder on the only Williamstown High School baseball team that might have made it to the state championship.
Until the scandal.
Mickey didn’t bother to get out of the cruiser, preoccupied as he was with the laptop open on his console. “Alarm go off here?”
“Yes. I shut it off before you arrived,” Ellie said, her voice more confident now than when she’d first run out of the shop.
“Hey, Mickey.” Johnny approached the cruiser.
Mickey’s eye twitched and he looked up from the computer screen. Recognition swept over his ruddy features. His lips tightened as if to say, “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re here?” Mickey collected himself and hid his apparent disdain behind a smug smile. There was no love lost between the two men.
Mickey tapped the door with his open palm, then pushed it open. “Hey there, Johnny. What brings you to town?” The officer stepped onto the sidewalk and pulled on the waistband of his pants.
Johnny wondered briefly if the officer was taunting him. Mickey knew exactly why Johnny was in town. He was here to track the source of illegal drugs. The police department had agreed to keep his presence quiet.
Easier to catch the bad guys that way.
Ellie spoke up before Johnny had a chance. “He’s helping his grandfather move.”
Johnny detected a bite to her tone.
Mickey jutted his lower lip out and gave her a curt nod. “Is that so?” No doubt, several of the officers resented the FBI working what they considered their case. Rumor had it that a few of the officers had had their backsides handed to them in a sling for not tracking down the source of drugs before the nasty stuff claimed the life of a promising high school student.
Johnny jerked his thumb toward the shop. “Ellie was attacked in the back of the shop.”
The officer’s eyes showed the first sign of interest. “Did you see the guy? Can you give me a description?”
Ellie’s cheeks grew flushed and she shook her head, as if she somehow was to blame. “He was wearing a black hoodie, which now has orange paint on it. He was muttering something about a package.” She plucked at her own orange-stained T-shirt. “I whacked him with my paint roller.”
“Good for you.” The officer gave her a once-over that made Johnny suddenly feel possessive; a feeling he didn’t have a right to. “You hurt? Need an ambulance?”
Johnny lifted his hand to touch Ellie’s back, then thought better of it. His mind flashed to the skinny little girl who used to hang around in the kitchen when her older brother had his friends over. She wasn’t the same skinny little girl anymore.
“I’m fine. Just shaken up.” Ellie crossed her arms over her midsection and shivered.
“I checked out the shop and the storage area. Whoever was there is gone.” Johnny watched Ellie’s face turn pink.
The officer strolled toward the door. “I’ll check things out.” He unfastened the cell phone from his utility belt. “Let me call it in. Maybe someone’s seen something.” He disappeared into the shop at a slow saunter. The words big fish, small pond floated to Johnny’s mind.
Ellie turned to follow the officer into the shop. “I need to close up.” She went inside and turned the key in the drawer of the register.
“No sign of anyone.” Mickey emerged from the back room and tapped his palm on the counter. “You got a mess on the floor with that paint.” Leaning heavily on the counter, he lifted a foot, then the other to check the soles of his shoes. “I’ll write this up and we’ll keep a lookout for this guy. Anything stolen?”
“Not that I can tell,” Ellie said as she bent over and slid her purse and sweater out from under the counter.
Mickey pointed at her. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see she gets home,” Johnny said.
“I walked. I’ll be fine. I’ll clean up the mess in the morning.” She glanced around uneasily. “I don’t live far.”
Johnny took a step closer, refusing to take no for an answer. “Then it won’t take me long to walk you home.”
*
A soft breeze blew in over the lake as Johnny and Ellie headed for Eagle Street. Ellie unthreaded her gray sweater from around her purse strap and slipped one arm into it, hoping the paint on her T-shirt had dried. She reached for the other sleeve and Johnny helped her, his knuckles brushing the back of her neck, flooding her with memories. She had had such a crush on Johnny Rock. Who wouldn’t? He had been the new kid in town. A senior. The all-American high school student. An athlete. She had been the not-so-popular artsy middle school kid.
When they turned onto her street, she slowed. “I can make it the rest of the way from here.”
“I’d feel better if I escorted you all the way home.”
Inside, her fourteen-year-old self was squealing with delight. Johnny Rock is walking me home! Johnny and her brother, four years her senior, had been friends. The best of friends until it was revealed that Johnny was a narc. Her stomach knotted at the harsh reality of that painful time in her family’s lives.
“My mom won’t be pleased to see you.” Anxiety nipped at her fingertips as she sensed the futility of trying to shake him.
“Even after all these years.” Johnny’s even tone was hard to read.
“Even after all these years,” she repeated. Unlike Johnny, Ellie couldn’t hide the emotion from her voice. “You ruined my brother’s life. You accused him of selling drugs.” Her heart pounded in her ears. “You think ten years is long enough to forget that?”
The sound of Johnny’s even steps on the gravel made her frustration grow. She was ready to spill over like a Coca-Cola can after it had been shaken.
“Greg didn’t go to prison,” Johnny finally said, his voice ice and steel.
Ellie grabbed his arm to get his full attention. Johnny stopped walking and looked at her coolly. “My parents spent every last dime on the very best lawyer to prove his innocence.”
“Not guilty.” Johnny had the nerve to correct her. “There’s a difference.”
“What are you saying?” She took a deep breath, focusing on controlling her anger, fearing that if she didn’t, her loud voice would attract unwanted attention from the neighbors. Her family had been the source of gossip once and she did
n’t want to go there again. “Still a sore loser after all these years?” Only Roger Petersen, the other teen arrested, had served any jail time. From what Ellie had heard, Roger had maintained his innocence for the duration of his five-year sentence and the five years since his release.
Johnny seemed to catch himself. “The only losers are the kids who get caught up with drugs who then become adults tied up with drugs. There are no winners there. I’m not happy about any of this.”
The reality of what Johnny said diffused some of Ellie’s anger. “I know. Drugs are a horrible thing. There was a senior who overdosed a few weeks ago. It’s tragic.” She ran her hand down her ponytail as her eyes tracked a car traveling down the lonely street. “Maybe they should put another narcotics officer in the high school.”
“I’m a little too old to go undercover in the high school again.” A corner of Johnny’s mouth curved into a grin.
“Of course. I’m not suggesting you go undercover.” The memory of seeing Johnny—the boy who had befriended her brother, the boy she’d had a crush on, the boy she’d thought was a high school senior—standing on the town hall steps dressed smartly in a police uniform announcing the arrests of the key players on the Williamstown High School baseball team still sent icy dread pulsing through her veins.
Her brother’s life had been ruined that day by Johnny’s careless accusations. Ellie had never allowed herself to ponder the fact that Roger had actually gone to jail. Had her brother gotten off because of a high-profile lawyer—one whose price had come at the cost of both her and her brother’s college educations? She quickly shook away the thought. No, Greg had been innocent. She didn’t know one way or another about Roger. But her brother had been.
“So, you’re an FBI agent now?”
Johnny nodded. “Seemed like a good career move.”
“Hmm…” Ellie couldn’t help but wonder if his career advancement from a small-town cop to an FBI agent came at the expense of others.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Ellie detected amusement in Johnny’s tone.
“No,” she said, quickening her pace, unwilling to let him crawl under her skin. She had spent a lot of emotion over the years blaming Johnny for the sudden turn her life had taken after her brother’s arrest.