“Ellie?”
“What happened, Grant?” she asked.
“She fell in the driveway, and her ankle is pretty swollen. Wrist, too.” Concern deepened his voice.
“I’ll be home in twenty minutes.” Ellie opened her bottom drawer and pulled out her purse.
“I’m going to take her to the ER,” Grant said. “Why don’t you meet us there?”
If he didn’t want Nan to wait twenty minutes, then her injuries must be more serious than a twisted ankle.
“All right.” Ellie ended the call. Purse in hand, she knocked on Roger’s door.
“Yes,” he called.
She opened the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Actually she’d totally forgotten he was in a meeting with the accountant.
Roger’s expression went from annoyed to worried as he met her gaze. “What’s wrong?”
“My grandmother fell.” Ellie’s voice shook as she said the words out loud. “I don’t know how badly she’s hurt, but she’s on her way to the emergency room. I have to leave.”
“Of course. Are you all right to drive?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Ellie gripped the doorknob.
“Go. Take the rest of the day. Let me know how she is.”
“Thank you.” Ellie found her car and drove to the hospital. The fifteen-minute drive felt like hours. Dread filled her belly. Was this a warning? A taste of what could happen if she didn’t do as she was told?
She parked her car in the hospital emergency room parking lot. The shakes spread through her entire body by the time she locked her car and hurried across the asphalt. Her shoes slipped on a patch of slush. Her feet went out from under her, and she went down with a splash. Pain radiated down her leg. She rubbed at her hip. She’d forgotten to change into her boots. Heels were not made for walking on snow and ice.
Nan is fine. Ellie had talked to her grandmother. So why was she freaking out? Because it could have been much, much worse. She got to her feet and brushed ice crystals off her wool coat. The hem of her skirt was soaked through and streaked with brown old-snow filth.
The ER doors slid open. She wiped her feet on a thick black floor mat. Skirting a yellow Caution Wet Floor sign, she stopped to scan the waiting room. A dozen people huddled on chairs, filling out forms on clipboards. She spotted Grant on the other side of the room.
He stood as she walked over. His face was grim. “They just took her back.”
“What’s wrong? It’s more serious than she said, right?” She tugged off her gloves. Fear pooled in her belly. Nan was fit for her age. She’d stayed active in the church and community since retiring, but there was no denying that she was getting older.
“Take a deep breath and calm down. She’s tough.” Grant’s tone was firm.
“She’s seventy-five, but she refuses to act it.” Ellie unbuttoned her coat. “She said she was staying home today.”
“She was just bringing in a package,” Grant said. “Some snowmelt dripped off the roof and froze on the porch. Your gutters probably need to be cleaned.”
Ellie spun toward the check-in counter. “She should have stayed in the house.”
He caught her by the arm. “Sit down and relax for a minute.” His tone sharpened into a command.
The order irritated Ellie’s already-frayed nerves. Her gaze dropped to his hand. “Excuse me?”
Grant loosened his grip. Sighing, he moved in front of her, blocking her path, and took her other arm, this time gently. “If she sees you like this, it’ll upset her.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ellie’s eyes filled with tears. She pressed her palms to her closed lids and took a deep breath. “She could have really been hurt.”
“But she’s not.” His gaze zeroed in on her grime-streaked skirt. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She hated the weak tremor in her voice.
Grant guided her into a chair. “Take a minute and pull yourself together. Initially, I was worried about hypothermia. She’d been out in the cold for a while. But she seemed to warm up on the way over here.”
Ellie lowered her hands and opened her eyes. He was crouched in front of her. Concern deepened the blue of his gaze as he studied her.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffed.
“No apologies necessary.”
“Yes, there is. You found Nan and brought her to the hospital. I should be thanking you for taking care of her, not giving you a hard time.” Ellie exhaled, letting some of the tension inside of her out with her breath. He was still focused on her. God, he was perfect. He took a screaming baby in stride. Her acting like a crazy woman didn’t even scare him off. “If you hadn’t been there—” Anxiety stoked fresh. She put her hand to her brow.
He caught her hand and held it. His warm fingers wrapped around her freezing digits. “Stop. I was there.”
Just for a minute, Ellie stopped fighting her feelings. She let him hold her hand and accepted the strength he offered. This man had it to spare. The heat flowing from his body to hers felt good—too good, and Ellie reminded herself that Grant was only here for another three weeks. Then he was off to Afghanistan for several months. And he was stationed in Texas when he was stateside. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t allow herself to rely on him. Someone was watching her, someone who might still be around long after Grant was gone. For this moment, having him to lean on was a relief, but it had to end here.
“Thank you.” She tugged her hand free. “I’m all right now.”
Grant stood and stepped back, giving her room. “Would you like me to stay?”
“No. We’ve taken enough of your day. This will likely take a while.” She climbed to her feet.
His gaze searched hers. “If you’re sure.” He pulled out his cell. “What’s your number?”
Ellie rattled off the digits, and he entered them into his phone. A second later, her own phone vibrated in her pocket.
“Now you have my cell phone number. Call me if you need anything. I mean that. I’ll be around.”
“Thank you again.” Watching him walk away, she tamped down the regret in her heart and went in search of her grandmother. A nurse directed her to a small exam room cubicle. Nan reclined on a narrow gurney. Pillows elevated her left foot and hand. Dual ice packs were poised over her injuries, and blankets were tucked around the rest of her body. Pain tightened the skin of her face, but otherwise, she looked all right.
Relief flooded Ellie. Her head felt too light, the muscles of her legs weak. She covered her reaction by setting her purse on a folding chair by the bed and removing her coat.
She leaned over to kiss Nan’s cheek. “How does it feel?”
“Pff. It’s not that bad. I told Grant I could wait until you got home from work, but he insisted.”
Thank goodness. “Well, I’m glad.”
“I hope you didn’t get in trouble at work. I hated to bother you.”
“I have paid time off that I rarely use,” Ellie said.
Nan shifted her position and winced. “You should start your own business anyway. You design the best bathrooms and kitchens.”
“Maybe someday,” Ellie said, because she knew better than to say no outright. Nan loved a good debate, especially one that involved what Ellie should and shouldn’t do with the rest of her life. “First I have to get Julia through college.”
Time dragged on as they waited for the doctor and Nan pointed out more reasons that Ellie should go back to school. Eventually, the doctor proclaimed her wrist merely sprained, but her ankle was broken. She encased it in a metal-and-neoprene boot and released Nan with a prescription for pain medication and instructions not to put weight on her foot for a week. An hour later, Ellie drove her grandmother home.
“Oh, there’s Grant,” Nan pointed out the windshield. “He cleared and salted the porch.”
Parkin
g in the driveway, Ellie looked next door. Grant leaned on a shovel. Carson was on his back in the snow, flailing his arms and legs snow-angel style. If she’d thought Lee’s brother was handsome before, that gazillion-watt smile he flashed his nephew took him to a whole new level of sexy.
How was she going to resist him for the next three weeks? Even more important, how could she resist asking him for help? But how could she ask? She scanned the street. Just because she didn’t see anyone watching didn’t mean they weren’t there.
He rested the shovel against the house and started toward the car. AnnaBelle raced to him and spat a tennis ball at his feet. Grant scooped it off the ground and tossed it far into the backyard without missing a stride. The dog whirled and shot off in pursuit.
Grant opened Nan’s door for her. “Let me help you.”
Nan, who usually protested anyone’s help with anything, took his hand without complaint. She turned and eased her feet out of the vehicle. Grant half lifted her out of the car.
Ellie got the crutches out of the backseat and brought them around. “She’s not supposed to put any weight on that foot.”
Grant frowned at the crutches. “Those are going to be tough with a sprained wrist. How about I just pick you up again?”
Again?
“Oh, all right,” Nan said. Oh. My. God. She was simpering.
“Carson, come on over here for a minute.” Grant gently scooped Nan off her feet. “This is easier.”
Nan wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Yes, it is.” She looked back at Ellie and winked.
With a mental groan, Ellie carried the crutches into the house behind them. Grant set Nan on the sofa in the family room. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, this is wonderful. Thank you so much.” Nan beamed at him.
“I have to go.” He smiled back. “Call me if you need anything. You have my number, right?”
“I do.” Nan nodded.
Yeah, and Ellie had Nan’s number, too.
“I have to run out, but Hannah is at the house.” Grant turned toward the hall.
Ellie walked him to the door. “Thank you again. For everything.”
Carson waited on the porch, his nose smashed against the glass pane.
“Call me if you need me. I’ll only be gone an hour or so.” Grant leaned closer and lowered his voice. His eyes went serious. “When you get a chance, we need to talk.”
Ellie nodded. “All right. I’ll come over after Julia gets home from school.”
Grant went outside, picking up his nephew and flinging him over one shoulder.
Ellie closed the door to the sound of Carson giggling.
“That is quite a man.” Nan took off her coat and handed it to Ellie.
“Mm.” Ellie made a noncommittal sound. “Let me get you an ice pack.”
“So when are you going to talk to him?”
“What, do you have supersonic hearing or something?” Ellie filled a ziplock baggie with ice and set it on her grandmother’s foot.
“Honey, when a man that handsome talks, I listen.” Nan adjusted a pillow behind her back.
“And let him carry you around?”
“Damned straight.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Ellie’s quick laugh died off. Normally, Nan’s infatuation with the handsome neighbor would be amusing, but the reality of Ellie’s situation wouldn’t fade.
Nan sucked in a sharp breath. “I hate to send you out again, but would you please get my prescription filled? This is really starting to hurt.”
“Of course. I should have dropped it off on the way home. Do you want something to eat?” Ellie checked the time. Two thirty. “We missed lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“OK. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
Nan held up her cell phone. “I’ll be fine. Julia will be home soon anyway.”
What did Grant need to discuss? Maybe he’d found Lee’s files.
She went out onto the front porch, rock salt crunching under her shoes. A shipping box sat on the cement. That must have been what Nan had been retrieving when she fell. Ellie brought the package inside and set it on the hall table. She slit the packing tape with scissors. An odd, raw smell rose from the opening. Ellie lifted the cardboard flaps. Inside, in a plastic bag half filled with ice, sat a red and bloody heart. A knife pierced the organ. Pinned to a board beneath the gruesome package was the enlarged, grainy photo of Julia, Taylor, and Grant that Hoodie Man had sent her earlier. Her daughter’s face was smeared with blood. Bold text printed on computer paper read: JUST SO YOU KNOW I’M SERIOUS.
Chapter Seventeen
Grant parked the minivan in front of the ice rink between another van and an SUV. He dropped the keys and fished under the driver’s seat. Ugh. He pulled out an empty juice box, a granola bar wrapper, and enough crumbs to feed a flock of pigeons before finding the keys. He crossed the parking lot, his boots scraping on the salt-dusted asphalt.
The interior was rough, the decor leaning heavily on concrete. The main office was on the left. A middle-aged woman sat at a desk behind the waist-high counter that separated the waiting area from her workspace.
Grant placed both palms on the laminate countertop. “I’m Major Grant Barrett. I’m here to collect Kate Barrett’s things.”
Tucking her reading glasses into the V neck of her sweater, she approached the partition. “I’m so sorry, Major.”
Grant nodded. People meant to be respectful, but their constant expressions of condolences slammed his loss home dozens of times a day.
“Could I see some identification, please?” she asked.
Grant produced his military ID. She squinted at it for a minute and then handed it back.
“Coach Victor should be next to the rink.” She pointed to an open door.
“Thank you.” Grant exited the office. He followed a hall and emerged in a cavernous open space. A waist-high dented red wall, topped by a Plexiglas shield, surrounded the rink. Parents huddled on bleachers. Some bent over phones. Others focused with painful intent on the oval rink beyond, where figures twirled on skates. Blades scraped on ice.
Two men stood at the opening to the rink, pointing and murmuring at the skaters. A group of teenage boys in pads and black skates burst out of another door labeled Locker Rooms. Hockey sticks clacked as the boys jostled each other.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole,” one yelled.
“Fuck you.”
Two boys dropped their sticks, tugged off their mitts, and lunged at each other. One kid tackled the other. They went down hard, nearly knocking into a little girl in a miniature skating outfit and tiny white skates.
One of the men sprang forward, caught the child under the arms, and lifted her out of the way. Grant grabbed the teen on top by the back of the collar and lifted him off his combatant. “Knock it off!”
Fighter number two scrambled to his feet. The boy started forward, but the man grabbed his arm. The boy’s face was heated, his hair mussed, his eyes glowing with resentment. He broke the man’s hold and swung at his combatant. Still holding the first kid, Grant stepped between them and caught the sloppy fist in one hand.
He leaned in close and glared down at the angry teen. Their faces were barely an inch apart. “You do not want to do that.”
The boy opened his mouth and closed it as Grant stared him down. The kid swallowed as he registered the seriousness in Grant’s eyes. The teen backed off, but the hatred burning in his eyes didn’t dim a watt.
“Thank you.” An athletic man dressed in a black parka and jeans pointed at the two boys. “Save the aggression for the game. Both of you, go wait for your ice time in the penalty box. Coach Zack will be along in a few minutes.”
One protested, “But—”
“I said go.” The coach’s voice dropped an octave a
s he herded the boys off. Sulking, the two fighters picked up their pads and sticks and dragged ass toward a bench box surrounded by head-high Plexiglas.
One of the men offered a hand. “I’m Corey Swann, and this is Josh Winslow.” He gestured to his companion.
Grant shook it. “Major Grant Barrett. Thanks for the help.”
Josh lowered his voice. “The arena has a hockey program for delinquent teens. It’s an effort to keep them out of jail and channel their energy in a positive direction. But if you ask me, it’s a big mistake. Some of these kids are just plain trouble.”
Grant glanced over at the boys sitting in the glass-walled box. Mac had been like that, all anger and confusion. He’d been in juvie too, arrested for possession after falling into a gang. Grant was gone. Mom was sick. Dad was a mess. Looking back, Grant wondered if dementia was beginning to take hold back then and no one recognized the symptoms. Lee had been the one who’d coped with Mac’s drug and delinquency problems, and Mom’s deathbed talk had snapped her youngest out of it. A program like this might have helped his brother. “Who knows what those boys have had to deal with in their lives.”
Corey’s eyes turned somber. “We’re all sorry about Kate.”
Reminded of Kate’s death, Grant’s chest deflated.
“And thanks for the help,” Corey said. “These boys can be a handful.”
“Is your son on the team?”
“No.” Corey nodded toward the rink. A pretty blond teenager executed a spinning jump on the ice. Corey beamed. “That’s my daughter, Regan. She’s on the junior figure skating team with Josh’s daughter, the one in black. The hockey team has the next slot of ice time.”
“The girls look very talented.” Even with an ex-skater for a sister-in-law, Grant knew next to nothing about figure skating. He should have paid attention. He should have known Kate better.
Josh stood taller. “They are. The team went to the sectional championships last fall. Next year, they’ll make nationals, right, Victor?”
Josh gestured toward the coach in the black parka, who had deposited the offenders in the penalty box and was walking back to them. “Victor coaches our daughters.”
Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls) Page 14