Satin Sheets and Strawberries (20 page)

She drove down Main Street and marveled again at her feelings. It felt like home. Last month, when she had visited her childhood friend Kelli Sinclair, she’d walked this street until she knew it by heart. Everything was on Main Street. The bank, grocery store, pharmacy, and town hall. The town square, which boasted a gazebo and a war memorial, separated the flow of traffic. On one of her walks she had found the office of the town’s local weekly newspaper,
The Union Station Review
. She’d stared at the help-wanted sign until she had gathered up her courage and opened the aged oak door. By that afternoon she was gainfully employed and talking to the one and only real estate agent in town.

After looking at five houses that were within her budget, the disgruntled agent had told her there was only one house left—the old Peterson place.

“The old Peterson place” turned out to be a decaying house with sagging porches and an overgrown yard. Laura wasn’t positive of its style. In the shadow of three gigantic oaks, with it’s dark gray paint peeling and mansard roof, it reminded her of something Norman Bates would live in. The real estate agent reluctantly explained that the neighborhood children believed the house was haunted. Laura laughed and inspected the interior. Two hours later they had old man Peterson’s only living relative on the phone, negotiating a lower price.

Laura turned the corner of Sixth Street and headed up the small hill toward home. The final papers had been sent the week before. She was now the proud owner of a haunted house. She chuckled as she pulled up into her drive. The ghost story had been worth several thousand dollars off the price of the house.

The Jeep shuddered to a halt at the back of the drive. With a flourish she threw open the driver’s door and jumped out. Unlocking the kitchen door, she stepped over the threshold.

It was just as she remembered. Glass-front oak cabinets hung on walls covered in 1950-style wallpaper of coffee grinders, frying pans, and percolators. A chipped white porcelain sink contained an assortment of stains, and cobwebs hung from every corner of the ceiling.

She left the door open for fresh air and went exploring. Besides cobwebs, dust, and the occasional hanging light, the remaining downstairs rooms were empty. Using all her strength, she yanked open the front door, then peered through the screen. The yard had been cut, or, to be more accurate, scalped. Patches of dirt dotted the weed-choked grass. Someone had even run the lawn mower through the overgrown flower gardens. She glanced at the massive oak trees and wondered what they would look like cut back to a more manageable size.

Turning from the view, she tried the light switch. Lights! At least the electric company had turned on the electricity on schedule. Carrying candles around a presumably haunted house wasn’t her idea of fun.

She hurried up the stairs, making a mental list of the chores to be done immediately. When the third step creaked under her weight, she stifled a scream. Laughing at her own foolishness, she continued up the steps. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start to believe those childish stories. If there was one thing Laura Bryant didn’t believe in, it was ghosts. Guardian spirits yes, but ghosts never.

#

“Go home, Kelli. Don’t you have a business to run?”

“Gee, Laura, I only came to help.”

Laura stared pointedly at Kelli’s enlarged stomach. “The last I heard, Fairyland still needed a hostess.” She smiled at her childhood friend and blessed the day, last year, when Logan Sinclair had called and demanded to know if she was the Laura Bryant who’d been in the same foster home as Kelli SantaFe nineteen years earlier. That early-morning call had renewed a friendship and earned the phone company a substantial profit. “It’s ninety degrees outside,” Laura added. “You look like you’re smuggling watermelons, and your ankles are swollen. Go home and take a nap, or whatever else fat ladies do.”

“I’m not fat,” Kelli said with a huff. “I’m pregnant.”

Laura chuckled. “I hadn’t noticed.” When a hurt look crossed her best friend’s face, she said quickly, “I’m sorry, Kelli. Of course I noticed. It’s the most wonderfully perfect belly I’ve ever seen.”

“Logan thinks so too.”

“Well, he should. He’s the one who caused it. Now that you have checked up on me, go home. I’m fine, the refrigerator is working and full, and the water’s not brown any longer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, so don’t go eyeing those cleaning supplies piled in the corner. I’ve been on my own for ten years. I think I can handle knocking down cobwebs.”

Kelli walked outside and smiled at Laura. “I’m going, see.” She climbed into a minivan and rolled down the window. “Logan will be here by six to carry in what little furniture you’ve packed in that sorry excuse for a horse trailer.”

“I’ll accept his help this time, but remember, you both have a daughter at home, another child on the way, and his aunt and uncle to take care of. I also know how you love to mother anyone around. I don’t need mothering, friend, you do. Now, go home and put those feet up.”

“Gosh, I never realized you were so grouchy. Throwing defenseless pregnant ladies out of your home. You really should be ashamed of yourself.”

“If you don’t put this van into gear and get home, I’ll tell Logan you tried to carry in the groceries.”

“Don’t you dare! You have no idea what he’d do. He already has a cleaning woman coming in four days a week, two teenage boys handling the ground work at Fairyland, and I get to point to what I want done.”

“I’m counting. One . . . two . . . ” Laura laughed as the van backed out of the driveway and headed down the street.

#

“I’m telling you, Logan, we can manage.”

“I’m sure we can, but you look half dead already.” Logan flashed Laura a boyish smile. “Besides, Josh will be here any minute.”

Laura glared at Kelli’s handsome husband. The previous year he had spent a bundle locating a lost childhood friend for his wife’s Christmas present. Within two weeks he had flown his entire family out to New Mexico for the reunion. He had lovingly watched their daughter while Kelli and Laura had spent days catching up. When they boarded the plane for their return flight, he had passed out tissues and the order that Laura would be visiting Pennsylvania come springtime. Even if he had to fly back to New Mexico to get her. Laura thought Kelli had found a terrific husband, but she was almost too used to doing everything for herself.

“How Kelli puts up with your high-handed attitude is beyond me,” she muttered. “You didn’t have to get your friend to help.”

Logan walked around the back of the horse trailer, shaking his head. “How this thing made it across the country is beyond me. Frowning he kicked a bald tire on the trailer. “You have to meet Josh anyway. Mrs. Billington told Kelli your first assignment for the paper will be joining the scavenger hunt and reporting on it from a participant’s point of view. Kelli already lined up Josh to be your partner. “

“My partner?”

“You have to have a partner to enter.”

Laura opened the passenger door on the Jeep and handed Logan a potted cactus. “Why did Mrs. Billington tell Kelli what my first assignment was?”

“One thing you’ll learn about this town, there are no secrets. Everybody knows everybody else’s business. Besides, Mrs. Billington asked Kelli about finding you a partner for the hunt.”

Laura handed him another cactus and picked up two more. Preceding him into the house, she placed the plants on the floor near the living room windows. “When is this scavenger hunt?”

“This weekend.”

Laura listened to the sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway. “Sounds like your friend has arrived. Do you think I should warn him that I’m a sore loser?”

“No need. With Josh as your partner, you’re bound to win.”

“Has he won it before?”

“Nope. This is the first time he’s entered.”

“Oh, great, an amateur! What I need is someone with experience. I haven’t been in a scavenger hunt since I was in Girl Scouts.”

Logan chuckled as he headed out the kitchen door to greet his friend.

Josh parked the police cruiser behind Logan’s van and stared at the sinister-looking house. Laura Bryant needed therapy, he decided. With a cautious glance at the sagging roof and rotted floorboards on the front porch, he changed his opinion. Laura Bryant needed to be put into a padded cell. Anyone who would spend hard-earned cash for this place was either hiding from the law or crazy.

He heard the slamming of the back screen door and walked around the side of the house. Why did he have to be in Philadelphia last month when Kelli’s friend Laura came to visit? He should have called New Mexico and run a check on her. Union Station was his responsibility; everyone expected him to keep them safe. Now there was a psychotic living among them. He glanced down at the revolver hanging at his hip and wondered if now, after four years of being on the force, he would have to put bullets in it.

Josh rounded the back of the house and froze. Parked on the grass, close to the back door, was the dusty Jeep and horse trailer from the gas station. His gaze jerked from Logan, who was walking toward him, to the woman stepping off the back stoop. Those legs had a name, he thought, and it was Laura.

Laura’s warm smile of greeting slipped as she noted the stunned expression of the police officer standing in her yard. His crystal-blue eyes sparked with recognition and astonishment. The light blue of his uniform shirt nearly matched his eyes, while his short coal-black hair looked soft and inviting. His face was tanned and classically handsome, but in a rough way. It spoke of strength and masculinity, and his sensual lower lip hinted at a more passionate side.

Her gaze drifted downward as Logan made the introductions. Broad shoulders, well-developed arms, and a chest with a silver badge pinned to it were caressed by the standard policeman’s shirt. Navy pants hugged lean hips where a black leather holster held a service revolver. Colombo never looked like this!

Laura walked the few remaining steps toward him and held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Josh. I’m sorry if Logan inconvenienced you tonight. We could manage on our own if you have some other plans.” The man had to have plans, she thought. His little black book probably rivaled the phone directory.

Josh came to his senses with a thud. Her voice held a musical quality that seemed to slip down his spine and touch his soul. Her large deep-brown eyes widened as he briefly shook her outstretched hand. “The only plans I had were to help Logan help you.” His questioning glance shot to the horse trailer. “I had envisioned a moving truck, though.”

“I sold everything that could be easily replaced,” she said. “There wasn’t much left when I was done.”

Josh raised an eyebrow toward Logan, who just shrugged. Wanting to put some distance between Laura and himself, Josh walked to the back of the trailer. As he lifted the bolt and opened the double doors, he heard Laura’s warning shout. Two cardboard boxes tumbled out, aiming for his head. He quickly raised his arms to hold them back and grunted in pain as something bounced off his foot. He vaguely heard Logan’s chuckle as he closed his eyes against the stars dancing before them.

Feeling Logan reach for one of the boxes he was still holding back, Josh hesitantly opened his eyes. Every inch of the trailer was crammed solid. Laura couldn’t have fit even a toothbrush in.

“Are you all right, Josh?” she asked.

He looked down and watched as she picked up a dented toaster. “Sure, us cops are tough.” He moved aside for Logan and took the remaining box down from its perch. “You just stand back and tell us what goes where, and we’ll have you moved in faster that you can say Monongahela River.” He saw a K on the heavy box cradled in his arm and headed for the kitchen.

Laura glanced at the retreating backs of the men and tapped her foot. An idiot could figure out which box went where, she thought. They were all marked. She clutched the toaster, walked to the Jeep, and picked up another cactus.

#

Josh frowned as Laura swept past him carrying a kitchen chair. He quickly realized she wasn’t the type of woman who sat back and let other people do the work. She jumped right in and started grabbing boxes. The trailer was one third empty as he carefully pulled an Indian rug off two oak bureaus. He passed the rug to Logan, then removed the top drawer from the larger bureau.

He started across the yard, but his feet faltered as he looked down into the drawer. Silky undies were neatly stacked next to lacy bras. An enticing aroma of roses and sunshine rose from a decorative sachet nestled in between satiny slips. It wasn’t the intimate apparel that caused him to stumble, it was what was lying on top of them. The garments cushioned a silver hand mirror, brush, and comb with turquoise stones embedded in their handles. Beside the brush was a five-by-seven silver picture frame with a photo of a young man, woman, and small child.

The woman could have been Laura, except he estimated the photo was over twenty years old. That meant the little girl in the black and white photo was Laura. She appeared to be around four. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and a feathering of bangs were cut high on her small forehead. She was dressed in a flower-print dress, white anklets, and sandals. Her smile held the sweet, innocent joy only a child who was well loved and cared for could exhibit. What had happened in her young life that had changed it so drastically he wondered.

Josh climbed the stairs, heading for the bedroom Laura had indicated was hers. He knew she had grown up in foster homes, the same as Kelli, until she graduated from high school. He set the drawer down on the floor and studied the photo once more. What had happened to the smiling couple? Had they deserted Laura, or had they been taken before their time, leaving a small, frightened daughter behind?

He excused the questions as professional curiosity as he hurried past Laura in the kitchen. One fact remained in his head as he pulled another drawer out of the chest. That was one very valuable brush set for a mere newspaper reporter to own.