If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (13 page)

It might be a rainy, dreary Monday, but it was Monday.

And on Mondays, she had a standing breakfast date.

“Anything weird happen last night?”

The concern in Law’s voice was a balm to her soul. Lena might not have accomplished anything with her visit to the sheriff, but Law believed her.

He was one of her closest friends and she knew she could count on him.

“No. Just a quiet night.”

Quiet, but plagued by restless dreams, sex dreams and nightmares.

They were on their way into town for breakfast at the Nook Café. For the past few years, they’d had breakfast there just about every single Monday. Although she was dead tired, she hadn’t canceled. She needed to get out of the house and relax, stop brooding.

“You want to go by the sheriff’s office again after breakfast?” he asked.

Lena blew out a disgusted sigh. “What would be the point?”

“Because you deserve to have some sort of answer?”

“They don’t have one.” She grimaced and tried to relax. Tension had her muscles tied into knots. “They didn’t see anybody, didn’t find anything. I don’t think there’s much more they can do.”

Her hands were damp, she realized. Cold and clammy. “Look, Law, I don’t really want to talk about this right now. I need a break from it. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since it happened.”

“Sure.” He reached over and caught her hand, squeezed it gently. Turning her palm up, she laced her fingers with his. He had strong hands, callused, gentle. Just being around him made her feel safer.

It took twenty minutes to get to town and by the time they got there, the café was already packed. “I’m going to let you and Puck out at the door. I’m going to have to park down the street. I see Roz’s car, so she’s probably already got us a table.”

The car stopped and Lena waited as Law hopped out. Behind him, somebody honked their horn. Rolling her eyes, Lena asked him as he opened her door, “Did you double-park?”

“No … I’m not parking. I’m unloading,” he said. She could hear the grin in his voice. The other door opened and then shut. Puck was at her side and she gripped his lead. “Forward, Puck.”

The rain was cold and the wind gusting down the street didn’t help. By the time she made it to the door of the café, her clothes were soaked and her hair was dripping. Puck shook himself and she scowled as he flung more water on her.

The bell over the door chimed as she opened it.

“Hey, Lena.”

It was Cassie, the granddaughter of the café’s owner. “Hi. Is Roz here?”

“Yep. Front corner, near the windows. I’ll walk you over. Nasty day, huh?”

Lena reached out her hand and caught Cassie just above the elbow. “Damn nasty,” she agreed as the young woman led her to Roz’s table.

“You look like you got a little damp.”

She snorted. A little damp. Yeah, that about described it. And now she smelled like wet dog. Shivering, she breathed out a sigh of relief as Roz called out her name and said, “I’ve already got coffee waiting for you, Lena.”

“Gimme.” She slid into a chair as Puck settled down under the table at her feet.

Halfway through the first cup, she started feeling almost human. “Nature is screwing with us,” she muttered. “Eighty-eight degrees one day and then sixty-two today and pouring down rain. I hate it. And I hate cold rains.”

“You and me both,” Law said, joining them. He took the chair at her right.

Lena reached for her coffee, but she did it a moment too late. Law had already helped himself. “Damn it, get your own coffee.”

“That’s the thanks I get for letting you out at the door so you don’t get soaked.”

Roz snorted. “Oh, that’s as much for your benefit as hers.”

Tapping her fingers on the tabletop, Lena said, “If you don’t give me my damn coffee, Law, I’m going to beat you bloody.”

“Violent woman.” He pushed the cup into her hands. She kept it close against her until he got a cup of his own.

“I hear you had a rough weekend.” Carter, Roz’s husband of four years, spoke up, his voice low and quiet.
He was a soft-spoken man and until he got to know somebody he kept to himself. That he was even asking her about her weekend was, she knew, a sign of his affection for her.

But she still didn’t want to talk about it.

“Rough enough,” she said, cradling her nearly empty coffee cup.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Carter asked.

“No.” She softened the curt response with a smile, shaking her head. “Not much anybody can do.”

Roz reached over, covering Lena’s hand with her own. “You know, you’re welcome to stay with us for a while. So you wouldn’t be alone. You know we’ve got the room.”

Just then, Puck shifted by her feet. With a smile, Lena shook her head. “I’m not alone. I’ve got Puck with me.”

Roz chuckled. “Yes, and if a stranger shows up, your pooch will be more than happy to show him where to find all the silver.”

“He would not.” Lena pursed her lips. “He’s only nice to you because you sneak him treats.”

Desperate to get them talking about something—anything—else, she shifted the focus to Carter. “How is work going for you?”

She hadn’t been joking when she said she didn’t want to talk about it. If she had her way, she’d tuck the night away and forget it ever happened.

Not that she’d have much luck with that.

Brooding, she listened with half an ear while Carter talked about his pottery. Occasionally Law would ask a question, which sent the discussion spiraling in a whole new direction. Lena kept up as much as she could, but she couldn’t concentrate on much of anything.

In the back of her mind, she kept hearing that poor woman’s voice.

Put it away
, she told herself.

But that was so much easier said than done.

“I’d better be going,” Carter said. “These projects are nice to talk about and all, but they won’t get done if all I do is talk. Lena, you be sure to call us if you need anything.”

She forced a smile. “I will. But don’t worry. I’m fine.”

As Carter left, the three friends fell silent. “You’re not fine,” Roz said quietly. “You’re worried sick. I can see it.”

“There’s not much I can do about it, though, is there?” Lena asked. Weary, she slid the tips of her fingers under her glasses and rubbed at her eyes.

She had another headache, a bad one. All she’d done was nibble at her food. The French toast she’d ordered—one of her favorites—lay mostly untouched, cold syrup congealing around it.

“The police didn’t see anything to worry them. Nothing happened last night, and nobody else reported anything weird, no reports of anybody getting hurt.”

She shrugged and lifted her hands. “I just can’t really do anything else. Although it would have helped if the damn cops had listened to me.”

“They didn’t?”

“Shit.” Curling her lip, she leaned against the padded bench. “Jennings, the guy who came out that night when I called nine-one-one, he at least listened to what I had to say. But when I went in to see if there was anything else they could try to do, that moron Prather was more interested in convincing me I’d been imagining things.”

Lowering her voice, she said mockingly, “It’s got to be unnerving for a woman like me to live out in a house all by my lonesome.”

“He said that?” Roz demanded.

Lena smiled at the disgusted rage she heard in her friend’s voice. It helped, having her friends pissed off for her. “Yeah.”

“The sheriff’s office was a waste of time.” Law’s voice was calmer, steadier, but she still heard the undercurrent of irritation there.

It soothed the ragged edges. A lot. Enough that she was able to give them a real smile. “Nah. Not a total waste. I mean, at least I wasn’t sitting at home and wondering if maybe I should go in and see if there was anything new. Now I know the answer. That’s better than not knowing, right?”

Just then the bell over the door rang. Roz shifted on the seat across from her and in a low voice, she muttered, “Wow.”

Faced with nothing but week-old pizza in his refrigerator, Ezra had to face the unavoidable.

He needed to go into town and buy some damned groceries. He couldn’t have picked a worse day to run out of just about everything, either. Sheets of water all but obscured the roadway, and when he hit the main strip, traffic was moving at a crawl.

It was about as much of a traffic jam as the small town of Ash probably ever saw, he figured. A neon sign caught his eye and he glanced over, saw the little café. His stomach growled at him, reminded him he’d decided against the pizza. He could either stop to get a bite to eat before hitting the store or he could wait another couple of hours to eat.

His stomach wasn’t very impressed with the latter idea.

When a van started to back up just in front of him, he took it as a sign. After he parked, he made a dash through the rain. He was soaked to the bone by the time he hit the door. The scents of bread, bacon, and coffee mingled in the air and he was all but drooling as he stood there, dripping water onto the floor.

Shoving his wet hair back, he glanced around absently. A familiar, dark red head of hair caught his eye.
Every time I turn around
, he thought … Hell. Maybe this was some sort of sign. He started toward her table, but halfway there, he realized she wasn’t alone.

No, she was sitting at a table with two other people. A woman, about her age, Ezra figured. She was a looker, too, blond, blue-eyed and tanned. Her blond hair was worn short and sleek. Her eyes rested on his for a few seconds in female appraisal.

Ezra looked at the guy, recognizing him from the other day. He’d been with Lena at the sheriff’s office. Judging by the look in his eye, the man had more than just a casual interest in her.

He glanced at Ezra and then leaned forward, murmured to Lena. Ezra didn’t catch a word, but Lena straightened and turned in his direction as he drew even with the table.

“Morning, Lena.”

“Ezra.”

A slow smile curled that pretty mouth. She cocked her head. She shifted in her seat, crossed one slender, jeans-clad leg over the other. “We’re about done, but you’re welcome to join us. We’re just talking and drinking coffee. Avoiding the rain.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the look in her friend’s eye.

“There’s plenty of rain to avoid. Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asked.

“Of course not. After all, isn’t that what friends do?” she asked.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought her smile was just a tad bit mocking.

He managed not to wince. Friends—shit, that was the last thing he wanted … well, no. Not really. He did want to be friends with her. He just wanted more than that. A lot more.

Wanted, but couldn’t. Needed, even. Hell, he couldn’t quit thinking about her and he had to.

“I guess so,” he murmured, well aware of the daggers the other guy was drilling into him with his eyes. Ignoring him, Ezra settled into one of the empty seats—it hadn’t been empty long, though. The remains of somebody else’s meal still sat there.

“I’d love to join you for some coffee. Might get a bite to eat, too.”

“By all means.” She made the introductions easily, either unaware of the undercurrent of tension or just un-fazed. Ezra decided she probably wasn’t aware of it.

The guy’s name was Law Reilly. Law—what the hell kind of name was that?

Ezra wondered how long he’d been mooning over Lena.

He didn’t wear his infatuation very well, either, Ezra decided as Law pushed back from the table in under two minutes flat. “Lena, I’ve got to run down to the post office. I’ll be back in about twenty or so.”

“It’s pouring down rain.”

“Just water.” Law shrugged as he dug some money out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. “I’ll come back inside to get you when I’m done. Maybe it will stop raining by then.”

He lingered only long enough to drop a kiss on Roz’s cheek and then he was out the door.

“Friendly guy,” Ezra said, keeping his voice neutral.

Roz gave him a knowing smile. Lena might not realize her buddy had a thing for her, but this woman did.

“Law only behaves in public when he sees the point,” Lena said, shrugging it off. “Small talk isn’t something he sees much point in, especially if he doesn’t know you. He wasn’t trying to be rude.”

Ezra wasn’t so sure of that, but he didn’t much care.

The waitress showed up to clear the area in front of him, take his order, and pour coffee. After she left, Ezra slumped in his seat and stretched his stiff right leg out as much as he could. Absently, he massaged it. Damn rain.

“So you’re June King’s grandson?”

Ezra looked up, met the woman’s curious, vivid blue eyes. Roz. Lena had said her name was Roz—Roslyn Jennings and she owned the bed-and-breakfast close to his place. “Yes.”

A warm smile curled her lips. “I knew your grandmother. She used to come out to the gardens a few times a year, back when I was still trying to get things going with the Inn.”

“You own the Inn?”

“Yes, I do. Miss June gave me some advice about the gardens and she used to fuss at me about my roses.”

“That sounds like her.”

“Were you close?”

Ezra looked down at his coffee, staring into the dark brew as though it held the answers to life itself. “We were. Especially when I was a kid. But then I graduated from high school, went to college. Got busy.” He sighed. Distracted, he shoved a hand through his wet hair and leaned back in his seat, staring off into the distance. “Time slipped away and before I realized it, it had been a year before I’d seen her. I’d come out and see her at Christmas, stay for a few days, and I’d try to come see her in the summer when I could. I didn’t do as good a job of it as I could have.”

“You did a lot better than some do, though,” Roz said. “I think I saw you at the funeral, with your folks. I didn’t stay very long. I don’t much care for funerals.”

“Who does?” Shifting his gaze to Lena, he asked, “You have any trouble last night?”

“Nice, subtle change of topic there, Ezra,” she said, her voice dry.

“Yeah, I’m a smooth operator, all right. And you didn’t answer me.”

“No. I didn’t.” She took a sip of her coffee. “And no. There wasn’t. Can we talk about something else?”