by Beverly Long
Wouldn’t likely be back for a long time. Maybe never. That was sad but not her biggest loss.
She felt the deep ache in her chest that had been there since she’d made her decision, since she’d scooped up Hannah and they’d ran. She was never going to be able to practice as a physical therapist again. To do that, she’d have to use her real name, her real license, and even if she was halfway across the country, the risk was too great.
It had taken her so many years to earn her degree, to find just the right job. And now that was over. She’d thought she was leaving it temporarily when she’d gotten the job at the daycare. Had never dreamed it would end this way.
But maybe, just maybe, even if she couldn’t use her license, she could still provide some private care, maybe for someone who’d been in an accident or had a stroke. For someone who might be more concerned about her ability to help them versus her credentials.
She would work it out. She had to.
She would find a place for them to live, a place where Hannah could go to school, and a place where she could earn a living to support the two of them.
There was no other choice.
It started to snow when she was still twenty minutes from the cabin. Big fluffy flakes. She almost called out to Hannah, to wake up and see the snow. But then realized that the little girl would have plenty of opportunity if Rico was right. It was going to snow for hours, maybe even a full day.
She couldn’t, quite frankly, imagine.
By the time she pulled into the driveway of the cabin, the ground was already covered. She was grateful that they had made the drive in the daylight. A couple times, her back end had slipped just a little on the roads and if that had happened at night, it would have scared her to death.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said. “Time to wake up.”
The little girl stretched in her seat, opened her eyes. And a big smile lit her face. “Laura, look at the snow,” she said. “Can I play in it?”
“Of course,” Laura said. Behind her, Rico was turning into the lane. He’d kept a safe distance behind her, not hurrying her but not allowing cars between them. She was confident that his SUV had handled better than the Mustang.
He beeped his horn at her and she looked in her rearview mirror. He motioned for her to pull into the detached garage that sat fifty yards away from the house. The big overhead door was already going up. She pulled in and he pulled in next to her.
“Hannah, I’m going to carry you inside so your shoes don’t get wet. Once we get your new snow stuff on, including your boots, you can go outside and play.” She’d learned a great deal about small children in the nine weeks that she’d been working at the daycare. After a nap and usually a small snack, they were raring to go again, and if you didn’t give them something to do, it didn’t usually go well. There’d be pushing and shoving and a few tears. Here, because there weren’t any other kids, there’d probably just be a meltdown.
And Rico might decide that he’d made one big mistake in offering up his home to them.
Speaking of Rico, he was waiting outside the garage, leaning on his crutches, watching her. He had snowflakes in his dark hair and with his mirrored sunglasses, jeans and boots, he looked rugged and very male. But she needed to stop ogling and start doing the heavy lifting.
“I’ll get the sacks,” she said. “That was our deal, that I’d do the things that you shouldn’t be doing. And be careful with your crutches in this snow. If you fall, it won’t be good.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll just wait for Lucky.” The dog was already out, draining his bladder on the roots of a tree in the middle of the yard.
“Let me put Hannah inside first,” she said. “Then I’ll be back for the sacks.”
They all got inside. Laura put Hannah on the couch. “I’m going outside to get the rest of the groceries. Just stay here, right here, where I can see you through the window. When I get back, we’ll put away the groceries and then get you dressed to play outside.”
“I’ll watch her,” Rico said.
She hesitated.
“Really,” Rico said. “I’ve got this.”
* * *
How hard could it be? he thought.
Relatively hard, because Laura was no more out the door before Hannah was off the couch. She grabbed her backpack and trotted back toward the bedroom.
He followed her, wincing slightly. His ankle was sore from the driving. Laura was probably right. He better use his crutches for a while.
By the time he got there, she had the backpack unzipped and was dumping it out onto the bed. There were some clothes, all in grays and dark blues, a few books, colored pencils and construction paper, and a big plastic sack full of trolls. There must have been six or seven of them.
“You like trolls?” he said.
“They’ve never seen snow.”
He heard the front door open, thought that Laura was likely to come charging down the hallway with a shovel in her hand. “I’ve got her,” he called out. “She’s showing me her trolls.”
“Okay,” she yelled back.
“You know what you can do in snow,” he said.
She shook her head.
“You can build a snowman. Or a snow lady. Or a snow kid.”
“A snow family,” she said, proving that she was tracking with the conversation.
“A snow dog,” he said.
She giggled. “A snow cat. With a big long tail. And mittens on his paws.” She clapped her hands together.
She really was a cute kid.
And when Laura came in five minutes later, after bringing everything in and putting away the groceries, he and Hannah were sitting on the floor, drawing said cat.
“It’s a snow cat,” Hannah explained.
“With a tail long enough to wrap around that apple tree?” Laura asked, examining the drawing.
He’d been responsible for the tree. “Longest tail in the world,” explained Rico.
“Of course,” she said. “Hannah, if you want to go outside and play, we probably need to get you dressed. It’s going to get dark in an hour or so and then you won’t be able to go outside.”
Hannah reached for the sack that held her new outside clothes. She yanked everything out and tossed them in Rico’s direction. “Get me dressed,” she said.
He glanced at Laura and could see the indecision cross her face. But then she nodded. Didn’t leave the room, but simply stayed by the doorway.
He held up the snow pants and Hannah stepped into them. Then it was the new coat, the mittens, the hat. He removed the tags as he went. Finally, he put her boots on. She immediately started stomping around the room. “Let’s go,” she said.
“I’ll take you, sweetheart,” Laura said. “Rico has a sore ankle.”
“Did you hurt it?” Hannah asked, her little forehead scrunched in concern.
“Yes,” he said. “You two go outside. I’ll start something for an early dinner.”
Hannah kept up the stomping while Laura got ready. It took her just minutes and then they were out the door. Rico went to the window, the same one he’d stood at just that morning when Laura had driven away. The same one he’d been standing at ten minutes later, when she reversed directions and he’d decided to follow her.
Sometimes things worked out well.
He’d been surprised that she’d agreed to come back to the cabin. He thought it had a great deal to do with the fact that she perceived him to be somewhat of an invalid. Good grief, he hadn’t even been allowed to carry in a sack of groceries. Made him feel a bit emasculated but if it gave her some comfort, then he wasn’t opposed to keeping up the pretense.
There was about an inch of snow on the ground. Not enough to build a good snowman, or even a snow cat, but plenty to lie in and make snow angels. They did a bunch of t
hat and then caught flakes with their tongues and ran around, laughing and giggling.
He pulled himself away from the window. He had a gas grill on the deck behind the cabin and he would use it tonight to grill some chicken and vegetables. That with the whole wheat pasta should work for dinner.
As he cut up zucchini, mushrooms and purple onion, he realized that he had not thought about Mora Rambeilla for the entire day. That was a first in months.
Most of the way to the cabin, he’d stewed about her and the rest of the Rambeilla family. He understood why. The work had consumed him for months and now, even though the assignment had ended, he was still grappling with loose ends that he couldn’t tie up.
The phone on the wall rang, surprising him. He got very few calls here.
“Rico Metez,” he answered.
“Mr. Metez, this is Hank from the security desk at 2400 Wisteria.”
“What can I do for you, Hank?” He had lived in his condo for almost four years and couldn’t remember ever receiving a call from the security desk.
“Well, I don’t want to bother you, sir, but I thought I should let you know about something that just happened.”
“Okay.”
“There were a couple of men here saying that they had a delivery for your condo. They were carrying a bookcase.”
Bookcase? “What company were they from?”
“Well, that’s the thing. They came in, said that you had ordered some furniture, and they were to deliver it to your place. They wanted me to unlock the door.”
He had not ordered a bookcase or any other furniture. Security personnel were only supposed to open a tenant’s door after obtaining the tenant’s written permission. “And what happened?”
“Well, Mr. Metez, I checked our logbook to see if you’d given us some direction to open the door for anybody and I didn’t see anything. I wanted to be helpful so I told the men that I could call you. I stepped away to do that and they left. I thought that was odd enough that I should tell you. I tried your cell and your office phone and when I couldn’t reach you, this was the other number we had on file.”
The hair on the back of his neck was standing up. “Can you describe the two men?”
“White. In their thirties, I’d guess. Brown hair. Nothing special about them, really.”
No names. No company name. A description that didn’t mean anything to him. Carrying a bookcase. It wasn’t much. “Hank, can you do me a favor? Can you see if the lobby security cameras picked up any video of these two men? If so, I’d like to see it.” He gave Hank his email address, knowing that he’d be able to see it on his phone. Not from the cabin, of course, but once he got in a better place for cell service he would have it.
“Hank, thanks for calling. I appreciate the heads-up.”
“Of course, Mr. Metez.”
Rico hung up the phone and stared off into the distance. Why would somebody pretend to be delivering a bookcase? If it was to gain access to his condo, it wasn’t a great plan. Even if the security officer had unlocked the door, he or she wouldn’t have simply let the delivery men have free run of his place. The delivery men couldn’t have walked away with his stuff.
It made no sense.
Kind of like the boat veering off course and almost hitting his boat hadn’t made any sense.
Somebody was screwing with him and he wasn’t happy about it.
But as the door flew open and Laura and Hannah tumbled in, still laughing, with red cheeks and bringing the smell of pine with them, he realized that he had other things, good things, to think about.
Chapter 6
He was cooking dinner. How wonderful was that?
“I can finish up,” she said. “So that you can get off your ankle.”
“It’s feeling okay,” he said. “Have a glass of wine.”
That sounded like a little bit of heaven. “Let me get Hannah settled first,” she said. She pulled off the child’s wet snow pants and coat and hung those on a hook by the front door. She put the mittens and hat on the brick hearth, in front of the fire Rico had lit.
All the while, she cautioned herself not to let her guard down, not to get too comfortable. Yes, he’d been a nice guy up to this point. Yes, she didn’t have any reason to believe that he intended to harm either her or Hannah. But this was temporary. A few weeks at best.
She got the little girl settled on the couch, with her movie on the computer. Then crossed the room, to where Rico was putting water into a pan. “What’s that for?” she asked.
“Pasta. I’ve got the chicken and the vegetables on the grill.”
“It sounds really delicious.”
He held up a bottle of white wine.
“Where did you get that?” she asked. They had not purchased any wine today, and she didn’t recall seeing it on the counter last night, with his other things.
“From the basement. I always keep a couple cases on hand.”
“I didn’t realize there was a basement.”
“Yeah. Entrance is outside, by the back deck.”
“I missed that. But the view off that deck is pretty spectacular.” She’d seen that the first afternoon, when her freshly dyed hair was still wet, and Hannah had been sleeping. She’d walked outside to look around. It had felt as if she could see for miles, and the fall colors had been spectacular.
Now they would all be covered by snow. She got up and looked out the window. “Still snowing.”
“I think you’re going to be saying that for a while,” he said, “if the weather forecasters are right.”
“Are they ever?” she teased.
“Well, there’s probably not much difference between twelve and eighteen inches—it all amounts to a hell of a lot of snow. Especially if there is wind.”
“If it gets too windy or cold, I’ll need to keep Hannah inside. I’m going to have to figure out another way to keep her entertained.” She should have bought more paper and crayons today.
“You can take a look at the games and toys that I have.”
“Where?”
“In the basement. They’re in a tote so they stay in good shape. Sometimes the people staying here have kids, so I try to keep stuff handy for them.”
“I’ll check it out after dinner,” she said. “Is it a scary basement? What else is down there?”
“Not too scary. Water heater. Furnace. Backup generator. That’s the big stuff. Then I keep totes of extra drinking water, nonperishable food, candles, matches and sleeping bags.”
“Survival stuff?” she asked. “You buy into the end is near theory?”
He shook his head. “I buy into the Colorado can be unforgiving theory,” he said. “Royce, one of my partners, refers to it as having a plan, a backup plan and an it’s going to hell plan.”
She should have had that. If so, she might have had more than twelve hours to coordinate how to get a child halfway across the country. Would have had some options, versus taking what Melissa had so kindly offered. But she would use this time to formulate a good plan. A great one.
“I saw on the website that you have three partners and that you’re headquartered out of Vegas.”
“Yeah. Royce Morgan, Trey Riker and Seth Pike. The four of us met in basic training for the air force.”
“Were you all pilots?”
“Royce did security. That’s why Wingman Security was a natural fit for him. The rest of us had to work a little to catch up. Trey was a mechanic, but he’s really a MacGyver—can always make something out of nothing. Seth flew the planes. And me, strictly groundwork. I was a Tactical Air Control Party, or TACP, specialist.”
“What is that?”
“It’s frontline work. I had the responsibility for calling in air support.”
“So you were deployed?”
“Tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Yo
u need to be right in the mix, be able to communicate clearly and stay calm.”
“Sounds high stress.”
“Could be,” he said easily.
She suspected it was a bigger deal than he was making it out to be. “And now you do security work.”
“All four of us take individual assignments. I also am responsible for contracting new clients. Let me tell you, that can have its own stresses. My partners say I’m suited for it because I could put stripes on a horse and convince everybody it was a zebra.”
She laughed. But she also understood how difficult it could be. People looking for security services were likely feeling pretty vulnerable. Not all that different than her work. People were not at their best when they weren’t feeling well. And while physical therapy wasn’t meant to be a bad experience, it could be difficult. There were some who didn’t respond well.
They yelled, they cried, they pouted.
And in the end, they hugged you and thanked you for helping them get their mobility or functionality back.
“I imagine you’re very good at reassuring people that they’ve come to the right place, that Wingman Security is going to be able to provide what they need.”
“Flattery will get you your choice of either baked apples or baked pears for dessert.”
Either sounded great. “No chocolate pie?” she teased.
He shook his head.
“Have you always been a health nut?”
“That’s the second time you’ve called me that. I’m not a health nut. I prefer fruits and vegetables and try to work out regularly. That doesn’t make me a nut. But I will admit, with this ankle injury, I have displayed a bit of irrational behavior—mostly moaning and groaning that life isn’t fair.”
“Hannah does that sometimes. When naptime interrupts her playtime.”
“I bet I could give her a run for her money. But I try to control it.”
She pointed at her elbow. “I can relate. But your ankle will get stronger. And as it does in the coming weeks, you can help it out. One easy thing you can do is stand on your tiptoes for a few seconds. Do a few repetitions multiple times during the day. That will strengthen your calf muscle, which is the muscle that propels you forward when you walk.”