by Mary Burton
When she realized that Danni hadn’t sent the call her way, she reached in her knapsack and pulled out a stack of technical articles on winemaking that she’d need to read. She wasn’t sure how long she sat in the silence combing through the articles. Her aunt had always joked Greer filled every second of every day, and Greer had always countered that time was the ultimate resource. It wasn’t limitless. Once it was gone, game over.
When her phone rang, she pulled off her reading glasses, cleared her throat, and on the third ring picked up the phone. “Crisis Center, this is Greer.”
They had a script to follow and protocols to adhere to in all situations. She wasn’t a licensed counselor and if the caller sounded to be in real trouble, she signaled Danni to contact the doctor on call.
“Greer, is that you?” The woman’s voice was soft, insistent.
Her fingers tightened around the phone. Occasionally a caller would ask for her by name but not often and it always unhinged her a little. “Yes, this is Greer.”
“Good. Good. I was hoping you’d answer the phone tonight. You’ve not been at the call center for days.”
She sat straighter. She always kept a clear line between her personal life and the work she did here. “Who am I talking to?”
A hesitation. “You don’t recognize my voice?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
A heavy silence drifted through the line.
Greer shifted in her seat. “Who is this?”
“You should know.” Her voice had an eerily smooth quality.
She began to doodle squares on her pad. “I’m sorry. It’s late. Tell me.”
“I’m not going to tell you,” she teased. “You have to guess.”
She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I’m here to talk if you need help, but I’m not here to play games. Do you want to talk to me about something?”
“I want to talk about someone who takes their own life. Do you think suicide is a sin?”
For a moment the room stilled. She spoke carefully. “I think it’s sad. It’s a terrible shame when a person is so lost they see no way out.”
“But is it a sin?” The last word came out in a hiss. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and considered signaling Danni. “That’s not for me to say. I know other people more qualified than me to talk to about this.”
“I think you are qualified.”
“I’m not.”
“Didn’t you try and kill yourself? Didn’t you try to take the easy way out, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth. She gripped the phone. Her blood pressure plummeted and she grabbed ahold of the desk to steady herself. She’d changed her name from Elizabeth to Greer to get away from her past mistakes. No one in her current life knew about the past but when she’d held that party on Wednesday night she’d opened a portal to the past.
“Who is this?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is I know there was a time you wanted to die more than live.”
She shook her head trying to push back the terror rising in her chest.
A moment’s hesitation followed and then, “I think it’s okay to end the pain when it’s too much.”
Greer had had all kinds of calls. Desperate people. Angry people and yes, some creeps like this one. But this person had her radar standing on end. She rose and snapped her fingers to get Danni’s attention.
The girl saw Greer pointing to her phone and recognized it was a signal to call the police.
Danni nodded and turned to her phone to dial. Seconds later she was talking quietly to the police.
“Greer?” the caller said.
“Yes?”
“Did I lose you for a minute?”
“I’m sorry. I was thinking about what you said.”
“That suicide is a relief.”
“Right,” she lied.
“You agree?”
She kept her gaze on Danni as if it were a lifeline. “When suicide is an option in someone’s mind they’re in a desperate place. It makes me sad for them and I want to help them get past the pain.”
“Is that possible or are you making that person suffer needlessly?” Urgency lurked behind her words.
“The pain is not forever.”
“Has yours gone away?”
Anxiety banded around her chest. “I’m here to talk about you.”
“I’m fine. It’s you that I worry about.”
“Why do you worry about me?”
No answer.
Danni held up a handwritten sign: COPS TRACING THE CALL.
Greer held her thumb up. “Who is this?”
“You should know me.”
“I’m sorry. I should remember, but I don’t.”
Danni held up another sign: TWO MORE MINUTES AND THEY’LL HAVE IT.
“Are you in pain?” Greer didn’t want an opinion but wanted to keep the caller on the line. Most people liked to talk about themselves, especially when they thought they had a captive audience.
“No. I’m like you. I help those that are hurting,” she said. “Some people aren’t meant to live on this planet. It’s better they move on.”
“At least give me your first name.”
More silence and then, “Looks like our time is up.”
“What do you mean?” Greer said. Less than two minutes. Two lousy minutes. “You haven’t told me your name.”
“Think hard enough, and you’ll figure it out.” A pause. “You should have dug the razor deeper when you sliced your wrists. You didn’t try hard enough to die.”
“Tell me your name!”
She chuckled. “You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool me.” The line went dead, and for several seconds she sat there, her heart pumping in her chest.
“Hey, are you okay?” The sound of Danni’s voice behind her made her jump.
She slammed the phone into the cradle and moved away from the cubicle as if it were a pit of snakes. “That caller gave me the creeps.”
Danni frowned as she moved toward Greer. “Hung up too quickly. The cops couldn’t trace it.”
Greer shook her head, trying to ward off a bone-deep chill. “I think she knew we were tracing her.”
“How?”
She fussed with the bracelets on her wrist. “I don’t know, but she said our time was up.”
Danni cocked her head, studying Greer closely. “What else did she say?”
Some people aren’t meant to live on this planet. “She kept asking me if suicide was a sin.”
Danni planted her hands on her narrow hips. “Judging by the color of your face I’d say she said more than that.”
“It doesn’t matter. We both know strange calls come into this place often enough. We are a hotline, and she was jerking my chain.”
“You’re shaken.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.”
Some people aren’t meant to live on this planet.
Chapter Sixteen
Saturday, June 7, 10 P.M.
Bragg stepped inside his front door and immediately spotted Mitch asleep on the couch. And cradled in his arms was the ugliest damn puppy he’d ever seen. So ugly, he paused to stare. Mitch didn’t stir, but the pup opened his eyes, no, eye, and glared at him as if he were the intruder. The pup growled. Bragg smiled.
Before he could approach, his phone rang so he stepped outside to take the call. “Bragg.”
“Ranger Bragg this is Austin dispatch. We just received a nine-one-one call from the Crisis Center.”
Austin was a big small town and if you had connections word traveled fast. He quickly learned the crisis center had received a threatening call. Normally, he’d not have been alerted, but dispatch indicated the volunteer involved had been Greer Templeton. Days ago, he’d flagged her name, making it clear that if her name came up, he wanted to know about it.
“Thanks.”
He rang off and checked his watch. Ten minutes after ten. If he hustled, he’d catch Greer before she’d left for
the night.
When he pulled up in front of the center, Greer stood by the glass front door with a young girl who looked to be about twenty. Greer walked the girl to her car, wished her a good night, and then headed for her own truck.
“Greer,” he said.
She turned, her expression wide-eyed. He stepped out of the shadows.
He saw her clutching her fingers at her side and realized she held a can of Mace. Dread seeped from her body. She’d struck him as many things, but never jumpy. The caller had done this to her. A primal urge rose up in him, and if he could hunt the caller right now, he’d tear him from limb to limb.
When her gaze met his, the stress eased from her face. He wasn’t sure why that mattered, but it did.
The reverse lights on the dark-haired kid’s car lit up, and she backed up her car. She rolled down her window and glared at Bragg.
She was a slip of a girl, but her eyes burned with ferocity. She held up her phone. “Greer, who is this guy? I have the cops on speed dial.”
Greer shook her head, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Thanks, Danni, but he is the cops. His name is Ranger Bragg.”
“Ranger Bragg.” Danni eyeballed him a moment longer. “And you know him, Greer?”
“I do.”
Bragg held Danni’s gaze as Greer approached him. “We met a few days ago.”
Danni’s gaze didn’t flicker from his. “Name some of the Rangers that work in the Austin office.”
Greer clutched her backpack with her hand. “It’s okay, Danni.”
Danni didn’t budge.
Bragg arched a brow, not sure if he should be annoyed or impressed. “This is a quiz?”
“Yeah, asshole, it’s a quiz. Give up some names or tell it to the cops.”
“Danni,” Greer warned.
He rested his hand on his hip. He admired Danni’s spunk. “Santos, Winchester, Beck.”
“Beck.” The Ranger’s name eased most of the suspicion in her face. “I know him.”
“Were you at his wedding?” Bragg tossed in the detail knowing not many outside the Ranger circles would know about the marriage.
That mention deflated the last of her trepidation. “No. I had to go back East and visit my mother. I would rather have been at the wedding. Beck’s wife, Lara, is my favorite teacher.”
Bragg arched a brow. “Does that mean you’re convinced I’m not here to bother Greer?”
She didn’t answer right away. “Yeah.”
Aware Greer watched him closely, he kept the menace and growl from his voice. “Good. Now scram so I can talk to her.”
Danni’s eyes narrowed. “This about the call and the trace?”
“It is.”
“So, you’ll figure out who rattled her?”
“I will.” And he meant it. The urge to put hands on the guy remained strong.
“Fine. See you next week, Greer. Looking forward to working the harvest.”
“Thanks, Danni, for everything. You’re a rock.”
She grinned. “I know.”
Both watched the kid drive off.
When her taillights vanished around a corner, Greer eyed Bragg. “How did you know about the call?”
He met her gaze, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She worked hard, maybe too hard. Technically, her life outside his case was none of his business. But he’d never wasted much time on technicalities. “Word gets around.”
“Not that fast.”
“It does when I tell everyone with a pulse that I want to hear about it if your name comes up.”
She arched a brow as annoyance snapped. “Really?”
He didn’t mind the annoyance and preferred it to the fear that had flashed when he’d first called out her name. With no hint of apology, he nodded. “Until my case is solved and my nephew is off your property I’m keeping an eye on you.”
Her fingers clutched the strap of her backpack. “I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
Ignoring her statement, he said, “There’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks away. Let’s grab a cup.”
She combed long fingers through her hair. Bracelets rattled. “I have an early call at the vineyard.”
He wasn’t going to let her go that easily. “Me, too. But a half hour won’t make a difference either way. I’ll follow you.” Saying please didn’t come easily to him. He wanted to find out about the caller and to spend time with her. “Please.”
Finally, she nodded. “See you there in a few.”
In his SUV, he followed her the two blocks and when she climbed out of her truck, he was there. Inside he ordered a house coffee, black, and she ordered a latte. With soy. He reached for his wallet.
“I got this,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, I do.”
“I can pay.”
“Not while I’m breathing.” He tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and a scrawny teen with spiked hair scooped it up.
When they were settled in a booth he gave her a moment to sip her coffee and savor. In the café’s brighter light those circles under her eyes looked darker and her hair a little messier as if she’d run her hands through it. She wore the silver bracelets like always. Even at the fancy party the other night she’d worn the bracelets.
“Tell me about the call.”
She stiffened. “Creepy. We tape all our calls.”
“I’ll be sure to listen to it. But I want to hear it from you.”
She shook her head as she traced the rim of her coffee cup with her fingertip. “I’ve heard it all. Sad people. Angry people. Despondent. Desperate. But this gal. She said my name as if we’d met.”
“A woman?”
“Yeah. She had a strange voice. Almost childlike.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“No.”
“Did you use your name when you answered the phone?”
“Yes. I always do. It makes it more personal.”
“Greer is an unusual name.”
“Kind of why I used it. It was different from Elizabeth.”
“Is it a family name?”
“No.” She sipped her coffee. “My mom loved old movies. Greer Garson was one of her favorites. Jeffrey’s middle name was Robert for Robert Taylor.”
He sipped his coffee. Right before dispatch had called tonight he’d been fighting fatigue. Now he was wide awake. Not because of the coffee but because of Greer. She injected energy into him. “So what did the caller say?”
“She talked about sin.”
As she gave him the rundown anger and fear banded in his body. He really did want to take this person apart. “What did she mean by ‘you and the others?’”
“I don’t know. But she must know about me and my past.”
“Your past is not hard to dig up. A Google search tossed out a good bit of it when I searched.”
She frowned as if the idea unsettled. “At first I thought it was someone’s idea of a sick joke.” She ran her finger under the bracelets. He caught the faintest glimpse of those thin white scars. “But she was serious. She believes everything she said.”
“Did she mention Rory or Sara?”
“No.”
“Anyone else from Shady Grove?”
“No.”
Her hands and the silver bracelets encircling her wrists drew his gaze. The urge to lay his hand over hers intensified as the seconds ticked by. “What do the bracelets mean? You never take them off.”
The question caught her off guard. She glanced at them and realized she’d been touching them. Straightening, she shrugged. “They’re just bracelets.”
“You always wear them. Always. And when you’re tense you touch them. They’re important to you. There are three of them.”
She stared at them, her gaze pensive. “You are a Ranger, what do you think?”
He sat back in his booth and stared at the challenge in her gaze. “In the accident three people died. Your brother, his girlfriend, and Elizabeth.”
She n
odded slowly. “Bingo.”
“But you didn’t die.”
“The person I was did perish. I could never have slipped back into Elizabeth’s life after the accident.”
“It’s been twelve years.”
“And time changes nothing. Jeff and Sydney are still dead. I never want to forget what happened.”
“No sane person forgets that kind of an accident, Greer. No one. You don’t need bracelets to remember.”
“I’m afraid I will.” She whispered the words as if it were a dark secret. “I’m afraid one day I won’t think about Jeff or Sydney and it will be as if they never lived. I can’t let that happen.”
“When did you start wearing the bracelets?”
“My aunt Lydia gave them to me when I told her I was afraid of forgetting. She pulled the three bracelets out of her jewelry box and clasped them around my wrist.”
“Did you wear a bracelet at Shady Grove?”
Her brow furrowed. “Yeah. Red rope bracelets. I made them for everyone. I called us the red team. I left mine behind.”
Both his victims had worn red rope bracelets. His gut knotted.
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” He managed a smile. For now, he’d keep the detail close. “Do you always wear those bracelets?”
She hesitated as if the words bore too heavily. “On the anniversary of the accident, I go to church and have them blessed by the priest. I pray for the dead. I want them to know I still care. Still remember.”
So much life bubbled inside of Greer. He saw it every time he looked at her. She had much to offer, but the past hung around her neck like an anchor. “Anybody go with you?”
“No.”
“Your mother?”
She sighed. “Mom tries. She does. But losing Jeff just about killed her. He was all she could ever have dreamed of in a son. No mother should have to bury a child.”
“I’ve read the accident reports, Greer. You were fifteen and no one should have let you drive home that night. No one.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“You were a kid. It wasn’t your call.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint Jeffrey.”