by Leger, Lori
Carrie smiled at Grant. “You got everything you need to hook up that DVD player?”
“Yep, it’s ready to go.”
“If you want, we’ll go rent a couple of movies after we eat,” Sam suggested.
They walked into the kitchen just as Amanda and Joe knocked at the front door. Lauren let them in for another round of introductions.
Amanda looked around the house in appreciation. “I can’t believe you just moved in yesterday.”
“We had a lot of help, including your dad and Nick.”
Grant and Nick unloaded several more items Dave had been willing to part with. Carrie placed them immediately, making her new home feel even more complete.
Carrie grabbed her keys. “Let’s go eat,” she announced, as the house emptied and she locked both doors behind her. They all piled into two vehicles, the two boys riding with Amanda and Joe and the twins riding with Carrie and Sam in her car.
“You got the window fixed,” Lauren said.
“Yeah, Sam and I went shopping in his truck this morning so I could leave my car at the glass place here in town.” She cast a smile in Sam’s direction. “By the time we got back, it was done.”
Gretchen spoke up. “That was cool of you, Mr. Sam.”
“Anything to help, girls.” He smiled at them.
“Mom, Daddy said to tell you he’s sorry about doing that. He said he was real upset with you at first, but he’s starting to get over it and he wants you to be happy. We told him it looks like you are, or you would be, if all of this other stuff wasn’t going on,” Gretchen added.
Lauren turned from the window. “He swears it wasn’t him that wrote that on your windshield, and Uncle Jay said he was with him last night, so I believe him.”
“I believe him too, Sweetie.” Carrie’s answer was tinged with trepidation. There it was again. She met Sam’s serious gaze, knowing they were both thinking the same thing. If it’s not Dave, then who the hell is it?
They walked into the restaurant, chattering excitedly. The group of eight drew as many stares from the onlookers as Carrie and Sam had on their previous outing to the steak house. The waitress seated them at a large table in the back dining room, and they discussed what to order. Carrie liked both Amanda and Joe immediately, and the young married couple made sure to include all four of the teens in their conversations. Carrie smiled as she watched her and Sam’s children interacting.
Sam reached for Carrie’s hand under the table and squeezed it tightly. She turned to him and met his gaze as their fingers interlocked.
“Look at them,” he said quietly. “That could be our new family, if we can make a go of this.”
She nodded, answered in a reverent whisper. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“I love you, Carrie,” he whispered in her ear.
“I know you do, Babe. Thank you.”
One hour and eight full bellies later, everyone ended up back at Carrie’s place. Amanda and Joe dropped the two boys off and went home to prepare for work the next morning. The four teens piled into Carrie’s car to find a movie to rent for the night. Sam told Nick to put a couple on his account until Carrie opened one for her family.
Sam walked up behind Carrie, who stood at the kitchen sink, and wrapped both arms around her waist. She turned to let him cradle her protectively and buried her face in his chest. “I could cry,” she said, the words muffled against his chest.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
She cupped his cheek for reassurance. “Happy tears, Sam. It’s a woman thing.”
He kissed the inside of her palm and placed it over his beating heart but remained silent.
“Did you see them?” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Am I reading too much into this, or did they seem amazing together?”
Sam gave her a satisfied smile. “I know what you mean. It’s like I could see them ten or twenty years from now, all married with children of their own—surrounding us with grandchildren.”
“It’s crazy to think this way when we’ve just started dating, but it feels inevitable somehow.” She laid her head on his chest again. “When I think of the paths we both took to find our way to each other, it’s astonishing. It’s almost like we were meant to be.” Sam rested his chin on the top of Carrie’s head. “Maybe God knows what he’s doing when he throws certain people together. Maybe I was meant to be your ‘somebody’ all along.”
He parked his truck a block down from Carrie’s and took his time walking the distance to her place. Her move to Kenton meant some extra effort on his part, but it was better for him in the long run. No one knew him here.
He walked alone in the pitch black, relying on his keen night vision and letting his highly developed sense of navigation help him to avoid objects and ditches. He embraced the darkness. It was the perfect companion for his intentions. In Iraq and Afghanistan, he didn’t need the night vision goggles, preferring to use his other highly sharpened senses to find his enemies—always hiding, waiting like cowards, to end his life. He always got to them first.
He raised his face to the thick layer of clouds blocking out any light from the moon’s glow, thanking his luck. It sure as hell wasn’t God. He’d long ago abandoned that fairy tale.
The side window overlooking the kitchen sink was completely covered. He couldn’t see a thing, but heard them talking, Carrie and the old guy, Sam. That fool had no idea he was about to lose her. He smiled, hoping Sam would dare to interfere with his plans. He didn’t usually veer from the planned strategies, but if it was called for, he complied.
He walked around the back of the yard where it was darkest, thanks to the huge evergreen shade trees. There was no gate back here, no need for his lubricating spray to silence any squeaks. He placed one hand on a vertical post and leapt effortlessly into the yard. Covered in dark clothing from head to toe, he blended into the black, invisible to the naked eye. He made his way to the window with the best view, pulling up short before it. Dammit, she’d put up curtains there, too. Why’d you have to do that, Carrie? Again, it was an inconvenience, but of no serious consequence.
He didn’t need an unlocked door to get into that house, and he sure as hell didn’t need an open curtain to see her. All he needed to do was sit here and wait for Sam to leave, and for her to go to bed. He saw her car was missing. That meant her kids must be in it. Her boy, Grant, was a driver. He’d thought for sure they’d be at their asshole father’s tonight, another minor hurdle. It simply meant waiting until they were all asleep. The pitch black hid his smile. This would be worth the wait.
He closed his eyes and settled back, remembering the feeling of being inside her house the night before, among her things, as she and her children slept. What a turn on. Just thinking about it made him hard, made him want her more. Once he’d satisfied his need to watch her in her own bed, he’d checked out every lock on every door and window. All were easy to bypass for someone with his skills.
I need a smoke. Smoking, his one vice. He pulled a cig out of the protective hard case. No drinking, drugs, and absolutely no sex without a condom. He definitely wouldn’t leave that evidence behind. He exercised as if his life depended on it, got enough sleep, and ate all of the right kinds of foods.
Giving up cigs—that’s another story. He’d started the habit when he was thirteen, too young and stupid to know any better, and couldn’t kick it. In his opinion, the only thing better than a deep pull on a Marlboro Red was the fear in a woman’s eyes as she begged for her life. He closed his eyes, lifting one corner of his mouth in sadistic pleasure. That’s what did it for him, even though the sound of a woman begging disgusted him. He hated the whining and pleading—hated the sound of them choking on tears of pain and terror. The thought caused memories to wash over him—unwanted memories from his so-called childhood. If that’s what anyone would call the years of twisted abusiveness.
He’d never begged. Not once, in all the years that whore beat him within an inch of needing medical attention. His jaw tighte
ned as he heard her voice in his head, gravelly from alcohol and cigarettes.
“That’s the trick, sweetness. No marks on the face and limbs, and no trips to the hospital.” It had taken years for that bitch to get what she deserved. His only regret being that it hadn’t come from him. Some John deprived him of his revenge. He would have loved to hear her beg as he slowly tortured the life out of her. Her death should have been a welcomed relief; instead he’d fallen through the cracks of the system—from one foster home to another, then on to a juvenile detention center, where he’d experienced more neglect, more abuse from those he should have been able to trust. He’d grown angry, forged his determination, and strengthened his will to survive. He’d escaped as soon as he could manage and lived on his own until he was old enough to join the military. There he learned the skills he craved—the skills to survive and, more importantly, to kill with his bare hands.
The thought snapped him back to the present. On the rare occasion when he found a woman who wouldn’t beg for her life, he considered letting her live. There were always extenuating circumstances, reasons he couldn’t, or wouldn’t let it happen. Except for that last one he’d left alive, barely, believing she had no way to identify him.
He should have known better. Blind as a newborn pup, she’d still managed to link him to those women in Chicago and Minnesota. By his accent, she’d said. What accent? He worked for months clearing his speech of any residual dialects. Again, all part of the plan. Now he had to come up with some reason to disappear that wouldn’t bring up any suspicion. My screw up, but it won’t happen again.
Would Carrie beg for mercy and, ultimately, her life? Nah, not her. He’d bet his own life on it. He’d familiarized himself with her background. When people talked, he paid attention, and in small towns they talked plenty.
He walked around to the other side of the house, back by the porch that was closed off on the north side. He finally pulled the lighter out of his pocket, tamped the cigarette on the back of his hand, and flicked his lighter. The cigarette tip glowed as he pulled on it, took the first welcome drag—deep into his sinus cavity and lungs. He put his head back before expelling the smoke slowly through his nostrils. He took another deep tug on the cigarette—and froze.
One low growl was the only warning. It preceded a sequence of hysterical barking, loud enough to wake the dead, then a lunge for the screened door, accompanied by scratching and growling until the damn thing flew open.
He ran through the dark backyard with that ball of fur hot on his ass. With less effort than previously, he jumped the fence, leaving the snarling, scruffy white mutt behind. He hit the back alley at full speed, not stopping until safely in his truck. He cranked it up, threw the truck into gear and peeled out, nearly hitting a car when he ran the stop sign at the intersection. It took a moment to realize it was Carrie’s car. Luckily, her boy slammed on the breaks to avoid a collision.
He laughed maniacally, calling himself lucky. Again. Until he realized how dangerously careless he’d been. Shit! Civilian life had dulled his edge.
Toto’s barking began suddenly, with a frantic snapping and snarling.
Sam ran to the back door, Carrie close on his heels. “It’s got to be him. Stay here!” He threw open the door and took the steps at a flying jump.
Carrie followed, of course, just in time to hear more than see someone hit the fence at a full-out run. She knew the intruder had cleared the fence when Toto ran to the corner of the yard, barking until whoever he was disappeared from Toto’s domain.
“Here, boy!” Carrie called to her pet, waited until the dog came to her. She showered him with praise, and straightened as Toto ran over to examine something on the ground. She walked over to the still glowing cigarette and held it up for Sam to see. “Looks like he’d just lit up when Toto surprised him.” She leaned over to scratch the dog’s ears again. “Good boy,” she crooned.
Sam’s shoulders stiffened angrily as he shook his head. “That son of a bitch! Tomorrow I’m installing a security light in this yard. Maybe even two of them,” he growled. “This really chaps my ass.”
She stared into the darkness and nodded. “He’s got some balls, doesn’t he?” She attempted to hide her concern at this guy’s brazenness—doubted seriously Sam bought the act.
He took one look at her and swore again. “I need to tell Doug about this, Carrie.”
Grant pulled into the driveway and the twins stumbled out of the car at a run. Lauren reached Carrie first. “Mom, we almost got hit!”
“But it wouldn’t have been Grant’s fault,” Gretchen finished for her. “Some dude in a big truck.”
“He ran the stop sign on the corner over there.” Lauren pointed just west of their street.
Sam turned to his son, his face wreathed in concern. “Which street, Nick?”
“It was Second Avenue and Tenth Street, Dad. That guy almost plowed into us. It would have been bad if Grant hadn’t slammed on his brakes when he did.”
“Did anybody recognize the truck or driver?”
Grant spoke first. “I’ve seen that truck somewhere, Mom. It has to be from the Gardiner or Lake Erin area. What happened?”
Carrie held up the cigarette. “He was here again. This time Toto surprised him and chased him off. That guy jumped the back fence to get away from Vicious here.” She turned to Sam. “You think it’s the same guy?”
Sam nodded slowly. “Could be. That’s just one block over. If he’s in decent shape, he could easily have run that distance in the time we’ve been out here.”
“And Toto chased him off.” Lauren bent down to hug the dog.
“Good boy!” Gretchen lavished praise onto the ecstatic animal.
“What kind of truck was it? Can any of you describe it?” Sam directed his question mainly toward the boys.
“Chevy Z-seventy-one. Newer model with lots of chrome,” Nick said.
“Big tires and V-eight engine, by the size and sound of it. Like Nick said, lots of accessories,” Grant added. “The truck was either Navy blue or black, but our lights reflected off of all that chrome.”
“I didn’t see any kind of custom paint job, did you, Grant?” Nick threw in, as Grant shook his head.
“Did it have a tool box or anything else in the back of it?” Sam asked.
The two young men looked at each other and shook their heads. “Nope,” they answered in unison.
“The inside of the truck was dark. Maybe the windows were tinted,” Lauren pitched in.
“Grant, remember how you accidently turned the dash lights off of dad’s truck and we couldn’t figure out how to turn them back on?” Gretchen asked her brother. “You remember how it was so dark inside the truck it was scary?” She turned to Sam. “Well, that’s how dark it was, so maybe he’d turned them off.”
They went inside to jot down the various descriptions of the truck. When they didn’t have anything else to add, Sam walked over to Doug’s with the list and the cigarette butt in a plastic bag, while Carrie and all four kids stayed at her place. Occasionally, she walked to the back door to make sure Toto was still playing the role of sentinel and guard dog to the family. He’d look up at her with his big brown eyes and thump his tail exuberantly but remained at his post just outside the back door. Good dog.
Sam returned from Doug’s about fifteen minutes later. “Doug called in the incident as well as the description. He said since it’s so quiet around here because of the holidays, he thinks it’s likely the truck driver is our man. Grant, I told him what you said about recognizing that truck from either Gardiner or Lake Erin. It’s just too bad there were no identifying decals or custom paint job to make the truck stand out. That’s a popular truck, and navy blue and black are common colors. They’ll beef up the patrol in this area and swing by with their spotlights. He said they’ll let the Gardiner and Lake Erin PD’s know about it, and that’s about all they can do for now.”
Carrie lifted her chin and smiled at the group. “I bet he stops, now
that he knows we’re not such easy targets.”
“I still don’t like it, Mom. Let me hide in a corner with a baseball bat,” Grant remarked.
“Or a tire tool. We could take care of this guy for you,” Nick added.
“Oh, yeah, sure y’all could,” Gretchen teased as Lauren snorted with laughter.
“No one’s hiding anywhere with anything.” Carrie turned to Sam, who wore a troubled expression.
Once the kids had all entered the house, he pulled her aside. “I’m leaning toward Grant’s suggestion. I’ve always had a hell of a swing.”
“Calm down, slugger. It’ll be fine.” She patted his arm reassuringly and pulled him into the house. “Let’s go see which movies they chose.”
The five of them sat down to watch movies chosen by the four teenagers. Carrie kicked off her shoes and curled her feet up on the comfy couch, snuggling closely to Sam. When the first movie ended, Sam and Nick got up to leave. The kids all said their “good nights,” and Nick walked on home. Carrie stood out on the porch with Sam.
“Smell anything?” he asked, as he watched her lift her nose to the air.
“Nope. He’s gone, thanks to Toto.”
Sam pulled her into his arms. “Look, I don’t want to scare you, but just because Toto chased him away tonight doesn’t mean he won’t come back and try something later.”
“Seriously, I doubt he’ll think I’m worth that much trouble.”
“He’d be wrong.” He pulled her close to kiss her.
She allowed one kiss and nearly lost herself in it. Somehow, she found the strength to push gently away from him. “Sam, my kids.”
“They already know I’m crazy about you.”
“I can’t stand out here on the porch making out with a guy they saw for the first time yesterday. I need to set a better example than that.” She patted his chest as he nodded patiently, his jaws tightly clenched. “How about you come for breakfast tomorrow before I leave for work?”
“I’ll be here, but keep that radio on,” he said, pulling her toward him for another kiss.