Chance of a Lifetime (30 page)

She didn’t answer, but the warmth of her breath brushed his cheek lulling him to sleep.

Even in sleep, he reached for her, needing to know she was close. Just before dawn, he woke as he always did. First light was just beginning to spread across the eastern horizon. His bedroom had blackout curtains, which he could pull to preserve their darkness, but he had to face the day.

For a while, he watched the town shift from night to day. He loved the way the first beams always seemed to catch the clock tower and the church steeples. At seven, all the streetlights stopped blinking yellow and began to work in earnest. Slowly, like a rumble of far away thunder nearing, cars and trucks moved below.

“Emily,” he whispered, brushing his hand along her back, “wake up.”

She raised her head and looked at him. As before, her hair had gone completely wild while she slept and he thought it adorable.

“You’re beautiful in the morning,” he said.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my bed?”

“It’s my bed and I’m the same guy you slept with last week.”

She let out a sigh. “I have to quit doing this. Now, who are you again?”

She acted like she couldn’t place him, so he tried again. “I’m the man who plans to feed you breakfast if you can get dressed in fifteen minutes.”

She rolled away from him and froze when she saw the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Are you sure the whole town can’t see us?”

“I’m sure,” he said as she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. “But,” he added to no one, “I wouldn’t give a damn if they could.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was standing at the door ready to go. “I’m starving. I hope you meant that about buying me breakfast.”

“I did. What time do you have to be at the library?”

“I open at nine, but I like to get there by a quarter till.”

“Then we’ve got plenty of time.” He took her hand and pulled her into the elevator. As the doors closed, he whispered, “Thanks for staying over.” He bent and brushed her lips with his. “I love sleeping with you.”

She smiled. “I feel the same. When I’m with you, I’m always safe and warm, but you know, Tannon, people don’t just go around sleeping together. We can’t do this again.”

“They don’t?” He acted surprised. “We can’t?”

“No. You know what I mean.”

The elevator door opened and they rushed out. They were at the outside door before he stopped to ask, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“I don’t care. The diner is closed for remodeling. Every other place in town will be packed this time of morning.”

“People will see us together,” she whispered.

“Does it matter? People saw us out the other night together.”

“I know, but eating breakfast seems somehow different.” The shy Emily had returned.

He wanted to scream that he didn’t care what people thought, but he forced himself to smile. “Where can I get coffee? I can’t think without coffee.”

“My house,” she offered with a smile. “I’ll cook you breakfast.” She jumped in her car. “Last one there has to do dishes.”

Tannon let her pull onto the street first and followed her to her place. When she disappeared into the underground parking, he circled the block and parked on the street. By the time he made it up to her place, she’d already pulled off her coat and had the coffee on.

They cooked breakfast together and ate at the little table by the windows. The space was so small his knees bumped hers as they ate, but he didn’t complain.

As soon as she took her last bite, she stood. “I have to get to work.”

She was halfway to the door, pulling on her coat as she ran when he caught up with her. “No,” he said as he stopped her. “Kiss me good-bye before you go.”

Laughing, she put her hands on the sides of his whiskery face and kissed him quickly on the mouth. “Good-bye and don’t forget to do the dishes.”

She was gone before he thought to react. If he had, he could have held her tightly and kissed her until she kissed him back. Really kissed him. He stood in her cluttered
little apartment for a long time, letting one fact settle into his logical mind.

Tannon Parker was in love with Emily. He always had been and he always would be. There was not one thing he could do about it. The only problem was getting her to love him, not as a friend, but as a lover.

But would she allow herself to love him once she found out what he’d never told her or anyone else about the night she’d been hurt?

What if she turned away?

Could he let her go? Would he?

T
HURSDAY

R
ICK
M
ATHESON WALKED OUT ON THE PORCH OF
W
INTER’S
Inn. The morning was gray, with huge boiling clouds hanging so low he felt like he could throw a rock and hit one.

For the first time since he’d fallen through the steps almost three weeks ago, he felt whole. The wounds were healing, but it was more than that. Maybe because of the threat on his life, he’d known fear for the first time. Real fear. Not just for himself but for someone else as well. He and Trace could have been killed when the car blazed into the diner. She’d been laughing and for once not watching every movement. He’d seen the car coming and reacted, not with his brain but with his gut. Somehow that one second he’d lived through had made him stronger. He’d discovered something inside himself. A warrior, maybe. Or maybe a bit of the pioneer blood that made his great-great-grandparents leave settled lives and come to Texas where they had to fight to survive.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the open,” Trace said from just behind him.

“I was thinking about how every time I think this guy has given up on stalking me, something happens. I’ve checked my files and gone through every memory since birth and I still can’t come up with one reason why someone wants to kill me.”

“Me neither.” He heard the frustration in her tone. “You’re a nice guy, Matheson.”

“That’s the first compliment you’ve ever given me. I’m touched.”

“Don’t be. Things would be so much simpler if you’d cheated a man or ruined his life or stole his girlfriend. Then, at least, we’d have a suspect.”

Rick leaned against the railing like he always did. He liked being half in the shadow of the porch and half in the day. “If we had a suspect, you could go back home or ride off on your bike and forget about this town.”

“I’ll never forget this place. There’s an odd kind of peace here. I can see why people live in small towns.”

“What about me, Marshal? Will you remember me?”

“You saved my life. That’s the second time lately that I’ve come a breath away from death. I’m starting to think my number’s up.”

“Oh, great. You think the Grim Reaper’s trailing you, so you come hang out with the Matheson most likely to die in this town.”

“Sounded logical at the time, but now I see your point.”

He studied her while she watched the world beyond the porch, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she ever relaxed. “If I make it through this and come up to Chicago sometime, is there a chance you might go out with me, like on a date?”

Trace shook her head. “Don’t complicate this, Matheson. You’re not my type. Nice guys never have been.”

Her gaze met his for the first time. He saw it in her eyes. She was lying. For a second, he thought she might move toward him, but she stiffened. Maybe what he’d gone
through the past few weeks made him reckless, but he spoke his mind. “When this is over, Trace, I’m climbing the stairs. We can climb on the roof or in bed, but for a few hours we’re going to be together, just me and you.”

She shook her head. “When this is over, I’ll be gone. I don’t do roots or relationships. Never have. In my line of work, it doesn’t pay.”

Before he could answer, his cell rang. “What’s up, Alex?”

After listening for a minute, he turned off the phone and said, “The sheriff wants to meet us at the library. Says she’s got something interesting to show us. It better be important if we’re missing one of Mrs. Biggs’s breakfast.”

Trace reached inside for her coat. “I’ll tell Mrs. Biggs to keep it warm and maybe we can eat it tonight.“

“There won’t be anything to keep warm. Border and Beau will have finished it off.”

Ten minutes later they were all in the children’s section of the Harmony County Library looking at a children’s book.

“It appears,” Alex said as she pointed, “all the words were cut from this one book. Whoever did it shoved the book to the back of the shelf and must have thought that no one would find it. But one of the volunteers was checking it out yesterday and noticed one of the pages sticking out. Emily thought it was just a prank until she heard about the note you got. She called me.”

“Anyone could have done it.” Emily looked over the desk at the book. Tears were in her eyes. “Not anyone,” she corrected herself. “A monster. Who else would cut up a children’s book? This wasn’t a page a child accidentally tore. This was done on purpose.”

“Do you keep a record of who comes in here? I don’t think we’d have to go back more than a few weeks.” Alex waited.

Emily shook her head. “We do a count, but we don’t take names.”

Trace’s voice was cold and matter-of-fact as she said, “Did Beau Yates come in here within the past few weeks?”

“Yes,” Emily answered as if she were on the stand and being forced to testify.

“Why Beau?” Alex snapped, trying to follow some invisible thread Trace had tossed out.

“Because when we found the note on the car yesterday morning, Beau Yates and Border Biggs were with us. Both saw Rick open the note. When I commented that I didn’t know where to look for the next clue, he suggested looking for a cut-up children’s book.”

No one wanted to believe Beau could be involved. Rick told himself it had to be just a coincidence, but Beau had been in the bar the night he’d been stabbed with the darts and he could have easily slipped through the dried-up creek bed behind the office. It was almost a direct path from his duplex. Of course, the creek bed was the most direct path to half the old homes in the original part of town.

Sam had stopped sweeping the aisle a few feet away. He took advantage of their silence to add his two cents. “That Yates boy’s got long hair. That’s always a sign folks should be concerned. I’ve seen him circling by the library the past few days as if he’s looking for something, or maybe he’s just afraid someone would find that book. He don’t work all day. There’s no telling what kind of trouble he’s getting into. No wonder everyone thought he kidnapped Ronny Logan. His type is always the kind who do strange things.”

Emily opened her mouth to correct Sam, but Alex got words out first. “No one thinks Beau kidnapped Ronny. If you have facts, I’d love to hear them, Sam. If not, please keep your opinions to yourself.”

Sam huffed and moved on. Rick had the feeling that women sheriffs ranked right down there next to long-haired men.

Alex asked Emily to make a list of every person who walked into the library that she could remember. She also wanted to check every name who checked out a book. Whoever did this had to have time to cut the letters out, then put the book back on the shelf. With someone always at the front desk, it wouldn’t have been an easy chore. Even Darla,
the children’s librarian, would need to be questioned again just in case she saw something, anything that might help.

She doubted the stalker had checked out the book or even hung around the children’s section. More than likely, he walked by and picked up the book, then moved to another part of the library. There were corners and boxed windows where anyone could disappear for a while.

Rick walked up the stairs and stood in the little alcove where the writers met. The realization that he could have been in the library at the same time as the person trying to kill him bothered him. It had taken him a long time but Rick was finally mad. No, not mad, furious.

In a few days, Martha Q would be back and his job of watching over Winter’s Inn would be over. Trace would probably leave. After all, she’d reminded him this morning that she wasn’t attracted to nice guys. But she was attracted to him, he thought—he’d seen it in her eyes, and the one time he’d kissed her, she’d taken her time pulling away.

Rick heard the janitor rattling his way up the stairs before he saw Sam appear in the doorway. He looked bothered to find Rick taking up space, but he set his broom down and asked, “Heard any word of Martha Q Patterson coming back to town?” He cleared his throat and added, “Some of the writers’ group asked about her.”

“She’s due in tomorrow, I think.”

Sam nodded like he didn’t care one way or the other. “You gonna move out when she gets back?”

This was one of the times Rick wished he lived in a bigger town. Everyone, even the library janitor apparently, kept up with him.

“Yeah,” he answered, wondering just where he would go.

Thanks to Martha Q’s hundred dollars a day and the Peterses’ long visit, he now had enough money to rent a decent apartment. His mother told him he could come home, but Rick knew that if he did she’d make it hard to leave. He knew her—she’d nail the way out shut, one good deed after another. She’d do his laundry, cook his favorite meals, change his sheets. Before long, he’d be forty and still living
with his mother. By then, she’d be so old people would look at him as thoughtless and ungrateful if he moved out.