by Barbara Gee
“How long were you in the Army?”
“Four years active duty, and then another four in the Reserves. Most of that last four years was spent in school, but I had a couple of short deployments thrown in.”
“What was your job? Or your MOS, I guess is the correct term.” Libby felt his sudden stillness and she looked over at him curiously.
He didn’t answer right away, just kept tapping his iPad screen, presumably looking up something about the quilts. When his dark eyes finally met hers, they were carefully expressionless.
“I was a sniper,” he said matter-of-factly. His voice was as expressionless as his eyes, and yet Libby felt the tension radiating off him.
“You don’t like to talk about it?” she asked softly.
“Correct.”
“But you could talk about it to Clara?”
“Yep.”
She smiled and rubbed her hand up and down his back a few times. “I’m glad you have her. Now tell me more about the quilts.”
He smiled and Libby knew he was relieved that she was letting it go. “Not just quilts,” he said, “heirloom quality quilts.” He held his iPad out in front of them. “This is Iris’ website. They only do a couple of quilts a year, and last six months they didn’t do any, because Clara has been fighting cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She’s doing well now, all done with her treatments.”
Libby pointed to the screen. “Is that seriously how much they charge for a quilt? You can buy a small car for that.”
“They’re legends in the world of quilting. Owning a quilt by “Clara & Iris” puts you in elite circles,” Ryan said, pointing to those exact quotes on the home page.
“And you want to get one of these coveted quilts for your friends?”
“Yeah. I talked to Clara about it before I left, and she said they’ll put me at the top of the list, but I need to give them plenty of notice. The problem is, I have no idea what makes for a good quilt. Iris emailed me some designs, but I’m clueless.”
“Show me,” Libby said. “And tell me about your friends.”
They spent the next half hour going through all the pictures of quilts that Iris had sent. Each pattern had a name, like ‘Touching Stars,’ ‘Double Wedding Ring,’ and ‘Log Cabin.’ They were all beautiful, and Libby was touched by Ryan’s desire to make his friends’ quilt as special and appropriate as possible. In the end they decided on one of the log cabin variations.
“It’s going to be beautiful, Ryan,” Libby said with a satisfied sigh. “It really is a thoughtful gift. I would have never guessed you would take a wedding gift so seriously.”
He shrugged and set the iPad aside. “If it were anyone else, I’d buy a blender, but Olivia has been there for me, especially this past month when I needed her the most. I want to give her something special.”
“Friends like that are hard to find.”
“Thanks for your help with this. I appreciate it.”
“Make sure you send me a picture of the finished product.”
“I’ll do that.” Ryan stood and stretched. Libby tried not to notice the muscles that rippled beneath his tee shirt, but she found it impossible to look away.
She cleared her throat and got up, careful to keep her distance. “Um, do you have the mailbox key?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ryan went to his backpack and dug a key out of one of the pockets.
Libby held out her hand and he dropped it into her palm. She got the feeling he was trying to avoid contact as much as she was.
“Is there anything else you need me to pick up? I know this cabin is pretty bare bones, so if there’s anything you can think of to make it a little more homey, I’d be happy to take care of it.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll probably pick up some more clothes and stuff tomorrow when Tuck and I are in Grand Forks. Otherwise I’m good.”
“Okay then. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Seven o’clock,” he confirmed.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Libby.”
***
She left and Ryan stood there, staring at the door once again. Keeping his distance from Libby wasn’t easy, but so far, so good. He just had to take it a day at a time and keep doing what he was doing, even though, as he got to know her better, he became more convinced of one thing.
If he had a type, Libby Simon was definitely it.
CHAPTER 10
Although they said they ran “together” every morning, it was actually Maddy and Libby who stuck together, while Tuck took off on his own. They started at the same time, but while the women ran three to four miles at a steady pace before returning home to start breakfast, Tuck usually ran twice that and was out of sight within a mile. As Libby grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and went outside, she wondered whether Ryan would be able to keep up with her brother.
Libby was the first one to get to their regular meeting place under a tall ash tree which stood halfway between the ranch house and the guest house where Tuck and Maddy were living. The guest house had actually been the original ranch house close to seventy-five years ago, and while small, it had been updated and held all the amenities they needed. It would do until they were ready to build their own house.
Libby went through a series of stretches while she waited for the others. When she heard voices she straightened and turned to see the other three coming toward her. Her breath caught at the sight of Ryan in a tight white tee shirt and athletic shorts that showed just a hint of well-developed quads. Libby didn’t think she’d ever in her life seen a man look so perfect in simple running attire, but she carefully kept her appreciation from showing. Or she tried to at least.
“You wanna take it easy and hang with the girls, or try to keep up with me?” Tuck asked, grinning at Ryan.
“Pretty sure I won’t slow you down,” Ryan said, rising to the challenge.
“It’s always a competition with men,” Maddy declared. “Come on, Lib. Let’s do our thing and leave them to it.”
Libby laughed and she and Maddy took off down the lane. The brace Maddy wore on her right knee was the only reminder of the injuries she’d suffered at the hands of Jimmy Callahan a year earlier, and thankfully it didn’t slow her down or cause her any discomfort.
Maddy gave a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure the guys weren’t close, then looked over at Libby, her brows raised. “Oh my gosh, did you see—”
“Shhh, don’t say it,” Libby interrupted quickly. She knew good and well what Maddy had been going to say, and she didn’t need to hear how incredible Ryan looked. She had eyes, she had seen it for herself.
“But, Libby, he’s—”
“I’m well aware, and trying not to think about it. Now shut up.”
After a moment Maddy let out a giggle, and that made Libby start, and by the time they heard the footsteps of the men coming up behind them they were both laughing hard, and very thankful the guys didn’t ask them about it as they ran past.
***
After running three and a half miles, Maddy and Libby started breakfast, fixing waffles, Tuck’s favorite, along with sausage links and fresh melon. The guys joined them after running eight miles and promptly dug into the food.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two hadn’t eaten in a week,” Libby said.
“I feel like I haven’t,” Tuck said. “And you know how I feel about waffles.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had real, homemade waffles,” Ryan said. “I bought a box of frozen ones not too long ago, though.”
“And how do these measure up?” Maddy asked.
Ryan shook his head, reaching for the maple syrup. “I’ll never be able to settle for those frozen ones again.”
A few bites later, his phone rang. He looked at the screen, then at Libby. “Excuse me a minute. I left a message for Clara earlier, about the quilt. This is her calling back.”
“What quilt?”
Maddy asked.
Libby told her about the wedding gift Ryan was going to order for his friends, and Maddy was as touched by his thoughtfulness as she herself had been.
“It’s so sweet that he’s friends with his little old lady neighbor,” she said.
Ryan soon returned to the table, his expression tense.
“Did you get it ordered?” Libby asked, wondering why Clara’s call had taken away the light heartedness he’d exhibited just a few minutes earlier.
“Oh, uh, no. We didn’t even talk about the quilt.”
Tuck looked and frowned. “What’s up?” he asked, his FBI honed senses immediately picking up on Ryan’s tension.
“I’m not sure,” Ryan said tersely. “Clara is the neighbor who saw the guy going through my mail all the time. She said she’s been wanting to call me, but she had to replace her cell phone and she lost her contacts, so she didn’t have my number.”
“Why did she need to call?” Libby asked warily, hoping Ryan hadn’t gotten any more bad news.
“She said a couple days after I left, the nurse who comes and checks on her every day saw the mailman stop at my box and put some mail in it before going on to Clara’s.
“He delivered mail to a mailbox at a burned out house?” Maddy asked.
“It’s not all that surprising,” Tuck said. “Forwarding addresses aren’t an exact art when it comes to the U.S. Postal Service.”
“That’s true,” Libby said. “I got a huge pile of mail three months after I moved out here. A lot of letters had missed the forwarding process and had been piling up in my apartment mailbox.”
“Did Clara say what was in your box? Anything that might be what we’re looking for?”
Ryan nodded slowly. “It’s possible. There are a few pieces of junk mail, and also a letter with my name and address handwritten in block letters, with no return address.”
“Think you should have her open it?” Tuck asked.
“I called my cop friend Olivia and she’s going to pick it up after her shift today. She’ll be able to open it without compromising any evidence that might be on it.”
“Sounds promising,” Tuck declared. “Hand addressed letters aren’t all that common anymore.”
“Do you still want me to go to the UPS Store to check the box there?” Libby asked.
Ryan pondered that for a moment. “I guess I still need to get whatever is there. If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Not at all. That was my plan for the afternoon anyway, so I’ll stick with it.”
“Thanks.” He turned to Tuck. “What time do you want to head to Grand Forks?”
“As soon as we can get showered and dressed. Twenty minutes?”
“That works. I’ll meet you at your place.”
Libby watched Ryan leave, her heart heavy. The dark, brooding Ryan was back, and it made her feel worried and tense. Whatever was coming his way in the mail, whether it was in the letter at Clara’s or not, was so important someone was willing to set fire to his house and kill him to stop him from getting it. That knowledge made Libby shiver, and she was beyond thankful he had gotten out of North Carolina. He was safe here, especially with Tuck helping to watch his back.
Tuck gave his wife a quick kiss. “I’ll see you gals later, I’m guessing we’ll be back late afternoon sometime.”
Maddy hugged him. “Try to keep Ryan busy so he doesn’t dwell on that letter all day.”
“I’ll do my best. I just hope it turns out to be the break we need.”
“I’ll call you if there’s anything interesting in the other mailbox,” Libby said.
***
Libby spent a few hours working in the morning, then picked up the farmers’ market list Kay had written out, got in her car, and headed west. She arrived at the UPS Store after a forty minute drive and easily located the mailbox number as listed on the key. There were only six pieces of mail. Four were obviously junk, and two were bills. Nothing of interest.
As she put the envelopes in her bag, she looked out the front window beside her and saw a dark green Honda Accord parked across the street. It caught her attention because she’d had one just like it when she was in high school, minus the rust that this one sported. A man in a ball cap was sitting inside, and when Libby looked out his head turned quickly. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she suddenly had a strong feeling that he’d been watching her.
She walked to the back of the store and took out her phone, pretending to text in case the store attendant wondered why she was standing there. In reality she was trying to figure out whether she was imagining things, or if the man outside posed a danger.
After a few moments of thinking it through, Libby walked up to the counter where the clerk was taping up a box. She might be paranoid, but better safe than sorry.
“Excuse me, I just picked up my boyfriend’s mail from box 114, and he was expecting a very important letter that isn’t here. Can you tell me whether anyone else would have been able to get his mail?”
“Anyone with a key for that box can get it,” the young man said with a shrug.
“Well the reason I ask is because my boyfriend is expecting a pretty big check, and his ex knows it’s coming and she’s trying to get her hands on it. She’s picked up his mail here before, and I thought maybe she told you or another employee that she forgot her key, and since she looked familiar, maybe someone gave it to her even without the key.”
“That’s against the rules. We’d get in big trouble for that.”
“So no one has been asking about mail for Ryan Anderson?”
The guy suddenly lost his look of disinterest. “Ryan Anderson? Actually he was in here himself at the beginning of the week. He had a key, but it was all roughed up and the number wasn’t readable. He said he’d dropped it in the driveway and it was run over a few times before he found it.”
“Was it a key for box 114?”
“Well, he said he couldn’t remember his box number, because he hadn’t had it long, and he wondered if I’d look it up. There’s no harm in that, so he gave me his name and I looked up the number. It came up showing box 114, but when he tried the key, it didn’t work.”
“Did you give him the mail anyway?”
“No way. If the key doesn’t work, you don’t get the mail. And he didn’t have his ID with him to prove who he was, so I told him to come back when he had it and I’d process it.”
“But he never came back?”
“Nope. Not when I was working at least.”
Libby tossed her head and put a hand on her hip, getting into character as the new girlfriend. “Can you tell me what he looked like? Was he kinda short with dark hair? Because the ex has a new boyfriend and he could be helping her.”
The now helpful fellow thought hard about that. “From what I remember, he was about my height. I don’t really know what color of hair he had, ’cause he was wearing a cap. That’s about all I can tell you.” He gave a sheepish grin. “If it was a girl I could describe her better. I don’t pay that much attention to how guys look, ya know?”
“You’ve been very helpful, and I want to thank you for not giving out the mail. That check is my boyfriend’s, a hundred percent, and she has no right to it.”
“I hope it comes soon. I’ll make a note for the people on the other shifts and make sure they’re aware that someone might be after what comes in for box 114.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you so much.” Libby gave him a dazzling smile, then walked outside to her car.
The Honda was still parked at the same place, but she avoided looking at it. If her suspicions were correct, the man in the Honda had gone into the store pretending to be Ryan, not because he expected to get the mail, but to find out which mailbox belonged to him. Then he could sit outside the store, beside the big window, and watch to see who opened that box. He probably switched off cars so as not to be noticed, and it just so happened that today he’d chosen one that caught Libby’s attention.
She fastened
her seatbelt and pulled away from the curb, driving slowly down Main Street and then making several turns on her way to the farmers’ market. Her heart was pounding as she checked her rear view mirror, hoping against hope that a dark green Honda didn’t appear. Just when she thought she was home free and had panicked for nothing, she saw it turn onto the street a few blocks behind her.
Libby took her phone from her purse and connected it to her hands-free speaker. “Call Tuck,” she said urgently.
***
“What’s up, Lib?” her brother said when he picked up. “You get the mail yet?”
“Yeah, it’s just bills and junk mail. But I think I might have a problem. Can you put me on speaker so I can talk to you both?”
“Done. What’s wrong?”
Libby drove slowly toward the market as she told Tuck and Ryan that she had suspected she was being watched, and how she had learned from the store clerk that someone pretending to be Ryan had come in earlier in the week to find out the mailbox number.
“I think he was parked where he could see that box and know immediately if anyone checked it. Now I’m afraid he’s going to try to get the mail from me.”
Ryan’s voice came across the line, smooth and deep. “I doubt he’s after the mail.”
“What are you thinking?” Tuck asked.
“They want to finish what they started. The house fire didn’t get me, so they’re going to plan B. He’s hoping Libby will lead him to me.”
Libby let out a shaky breath. “I hope you’re wrong, Ryan.”
“If I’m not, there’s at least small consolation in knowing he’s not after you personally. Or the mail.”
“What should I do?” she asked. “I’m almost at the farmers’ market.”
“I need to talk to this guy,” Ryan said grimly. “We’re going to head your way. If you can, Libby, I’d like you to go ahead and go to the farmer’s market and take up some time. Get what you need, and don’t rush. He’ll follow you there and I would expect him to stay in his car, waiting for you to leave. If he does get out and approach you, make sure you stay in a crowd of people and try to find a security guard. And then call us.”