BIG SKY SECRETS 01: Final Exposure (8 page)

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Authors: Roxanne Rustand

Tags: #Christian romantic suspense

BOOK: BIG SKY SECRETS 01: Final Exposure
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Just that fast, Jack felt his hopes plummet. “Then there’s no way she’d have a place for Max—especially since he’d just be there occasionally.”

“That’s the key, though. I called her this morning, thinking you might need some extra help now and then. One of her part-time kids has moved away, and she’ll let you take that spot if you want it. When you leave, she’ll fill it with a more permanent arrangement.”

“That’s unbelievable. Max will have a chance to
play with other kids, and he won’t have to be so bored while I’m working. Thanks!”

“No problem. I think it helps everyone, really. She’s got a boy just about his age who would love to have a playmate.”

Jack wanted to do more than say thanks. He wanted to give her a hug, and then kiss her for good measure. But this was a business relationship, nothing more.

Landlord.

Boarder.

And if he let that line blur, he knew he’d regret it when it came time to leave town. Her life was here, and his was almost fifteen hundred miles away. And how did you move on and leave someone like her behind?

When some customers walked into the store, Erin went over to the cash register. Jack glanced at his watch and winced.

“Hey, buddy, time to go home,” he murmured. He lifted the sleepy child into his arms, dropped a ten on the table and took him to the house next door.

With luck the boy would go back to sleep and give Jack some much needed time on the computer.

But as soon as they stepped in the door, Max came fully awake. “Can we go see the pony again?” he asked, wriggling out of Jack’s arms to the floor.

Jack laughed. “Another time, sport. I think she’s pretty tired. Anyway, it’ll be suppertime before long.”

 

“What about Charlie? Can I go play with him?”

“I think he’s taking a nap. And Erin looks pretty busy right now.”

“What about Go Fish?”

It was a game the child loved, but it could go on and on and on. “Maybe a little later if you find all the cards and put them on the table.”

There would now be an occasional reprieve, but the weight of parenting still settled heavily on Jack’s shoulders. He’d teased Janie, asking how one small child could so fully occupy her days. And now he knew.

Max was a full-time job if a guy did it right. If he made sure the child was clean and fed and entertained and read to and bathed, and properly put to bed at night. No wonder Janie hadn’t gone back into real estate full-time after Max was born. So how did single mothers manage year after year?

The thought exhausted him.

And it made him wish for one last day with his sister, so he could tell her how proud he was of her…and how he’d do his best to raise her son.

 

After four rounds of Go Fish, a long bath and the usual nightly snack of an apple and string cheese, Max finally went to sleep. The next three or four hours stretching out before Jack were filled with possibilities—all of which had to involve staying at home. With a sigh he walked into the spare bedroom
and fired up his laptop, then got to work. But instead of focusing on the stock market and client portfolios, he found his thoughts kept turning back to Erin.

And the kiss he hadn’t taken.

 

The following week brought cold and rain, dark, threatening skies that turned the brilliant, emerging fall colors into a monochrome panorama in shades of gray.

The weather did give Erin lots of time to clean and organize and polish the little general store until it sparkled.

The downside was that there’d been so much time to do just that—because business was so slow.

She’d even seen less of Jack and Max, because Isabelle had agreed to watch Max several days this week while Jack caught up on his office work.

Her one steady customer proved to be the least likely of all: Ollie, who had developed a fondness for her sweet rolls and who turned up at eight o’clock every morning on his own, his crumpled cowboy hat in his hands and his wide face wreathed in a beatific smile.

Each day he pulled a double handful of pennies, nickels and dimes from his bulging jacket pockets and dumped them on the counter, then laboriously pushed them into tipsy stacks until he had enough for two rolls and a coffee.

Watching him touched her more deeply each day. He could’ve asked for a handout, and she would’ve
given him one. She’d even
offered
one day, but he’d proudly shaken his head while continuing to count those piles of coins.

By Friday his pockets were nearly empty, and on Saturday he looked forlornly through the front window without stepping inside. And that nearly broke her heart.

Why weren’t people helping him more?

Yet, she was just as guilty. How many times had she dropped money in a collection plate for some cause without ever taking action herself?

“So what do you think, Charlie?” Erin mused aloud. “Do we need some help around here? Can we even afford it?”

Curled up on his bed behind the cash register, Charlie looked up at her, his eyebrows wiggling up and down and his tail thumping against the wall.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She went to the front door and opened it to a gust of damp wind. An eddy of dry leaves blew in and skittered across the floor. “Aren’t you coming inside?” she called out. “It’s kind of chilly out here.”

Ollie’s shoulders drooped and he started to shuffle away.

“Wait, come back. I need to ask you something.”

He stopped and turned back with a hunted expression in his eyes. “Got no money.”

“I need some help, and I thought you might like
the job. It’s just some sweeping, but you could earn money to take home.”

“Enough for rolls?”

“More than that. Say, ten dollars an hour and just a couple hours a day? But when the snow comes, you could earn more by shoveling.”

He beamed. “I watch out for you, too.”

“No, just some sweeping, and maybe some odd jobs here and there.”

“Take care of you, too.”

An image of the hulking man-child as her constant bodyguard in this small town made her smile. “Just the sweeping, really.”

“No.” He lifted his chin to a stubborn angle. “I watch out for you ’cause of the bad man.”

A chill snaked across her skin. “What bad man? Who?”

“The one who comes and watches you sleep.”

EIGHT

E
rin didn’t recognize the deputy who arrived an hour later in an unmarked car, straight from manning a speed trap he’d set up on County Road 33.

Apparently he’d been successful and wanted more of the action, because he’d been fidgeting and checking his watch since climbing from behind the wheel.

He glanced down at his clipboard, then tramped around the exterior of the cottage once again. “I don’t see anything obvious. No unusual litter, no places worn down in the grass where someone has been taking a regular position outside your windows. So you say this guy comes at night and watches you through the windows?”

“That’s what Ollie said. I haven’t seen anything myself.”

“Ollie. Where is he again?”

“He took off as soon as he saw your uniform. He’s a little shy.”

 

“So you’ve got a window peeper you haven’t seen and a witness who has disappeared.” The deputy cleared his throat. “You do realize that Ollie Mattson probably isn’t a very dependable source of information.”

“I know he has some mental challenges, but he sure seemed convinced about what he’d seen.”

“We’ve also got a report from about ten days ago, when you thought there was an intruder in your store.”

Erin sighed. “And I didn’t see that guy, either. I heard him, but he slipped away. I know this all sounds crazy.”

“Do you know of anyone who would want to harass you? An angry ex-boyfriend or husband, maybe?”

“I haven’t had a relationship with anyone who might be volatile. Just some nice guys I dated one at a time. No one who would be jealous or possessive. In fact, all three of them are now happily married and live in Denver.”

“What about business rivals or difficult customers? Any altercations over the last few months? Testy neighbors or relatives?”

“Nope.” She bit her lower lip. “There was the Laura Warner murder years back. She was my cousin. But five years ago the guy who killed her turned up dead himself, according to the sheriff.”

“Ahh.” The deputy eyed her with compassion.
“You took over this store for your grandfather, didn’t you? Not long ago?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s got to be tough, coming back with all those memories. I’ve heard about the Warner case, but it was before my time.” The radio in his patrol car crackled, and he canted his head to decipher a static-filled message. “I need to go, but I’ll file this report so there’s a record of your call in case anything else happens.”

She nodded.

“Be sure to lock your windows and doors, and leave a light on when you leave the place at night. You might want to look into installing more security lights on the property, too. The one in front of the store doesn’t cover the back door, but a new one in back would also cover the cottage pretty well.”

“I’ll make some calls today. I also intend to get a security system. I just haven’t had a chance to look into it yet.”

“What about caller ID?”

“I just bought one and hooked it up. And I took another step—a big guard dog.” She gave the deputy a rueful smile and tipped her head toward Charlie, who had flopped at her side to rest his head on her shoe. The dog hadn’t stopped wagging its tail since the deputy appeared. “But as you can see, he hasn’t
grown into his consistent protective mode quite yet. He does let me know about interlopers—as long as they’re chipmunks and squirrels.”

The deputy looked at Charlie and chuckled. “I was just going to suggest that you keep your dog in your bedroom at night, but I’m not sure he’d be much help.”

“Charlie’s working on it. He’s still a baby.”

She watched the deputy drive away, feeling only frustration, instead of relief.

He’d been polite. He’d taken time to look for possible clues. But he was right. Maybe Ollie
hadn’t
really seen someone from a distance. And maybe everything else had just been her imagination, born of her fears over a long ago tragedy.

From inside the store came the ring of the telephone.

Grow up,
she admonished herself as she turned to go back inside.
And have faith.

But no one responded when she picked up the phone. All she heard was the sound of rapid breathing.

“Hello?” she said again, glancing at the caller ID.
Not available.
“Who is this?”

“The cop didn’t find anything, did he,” a man said flatly. “I suppose that makes you wonder if you’re just imagining things. And now,” he added with harsh laugh, “the cops won’t be so quick to respond to someone who keeps crying wolf. Too bad…for you.”

 

He hung up with a soft, deliberate click that sent a chill through her veins.

The caller
knew
the deputy had stopped by.

Someone with a police scanner could’ve heard that a patrol car had been dispatched to her address, but to hear the call they’d need to be within range of this 911 district. Which meant the caller had to be close.

Or maybe he was even closer—and standing in the shadows. Maybe he’d
seen
the deputy shake his head and drive away.

Was he watching the store through his binoculars even now? And
why?

She certainly didn’t have much to steal—and certainly nothing worth the risk of capture and incarceration. She had an old digital camera and an even older laptop. She didn’t own a fancy computer or giant, flat-screen TV or have jewels stashed in her bureau. There wasn’t a high-end sound system in her cottage. Her car was nine years old and didn’t even have GPS; she didn’t own original artwork or anything else of much interest.

And heaven knew there wasn’t much in the store’s cash register or in her bank account.

She stared out the windows of the cozy little store that had offered such warmth and fascination when she was a child. It had always been a place of laughter and her grandparents’ loving devotion.

But now, she only felt the chill and desolation of
the approaching early snow that had been predicted for tonight.

And it was a long time before she remembered to put the phone receiver down.

 

Saturday dawned bright and sunny, turning the light dusting of snow into a landscape of sparkling sequins and lifting Erin’s spirits. The heavier, predicted snowfall had missed them, and by afternoon, the thermometer had hit forty degrees.

She eyed a poster pinned to the bulletin board at the front of the store. “I wonder if it’s too late to sign up,” she mused under her breath.

At her shoulder an old man who’d come in to buy bread squinted at the sign. “That’s the church potluck and bazaar. Don’t need no signing up. Just go tonight. Me and the missus always do. She brings her famous peach pie every year.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“And you, young lady, could bring those good rolls of yours. They’d be a hit.” He rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Might even help spread the word and bring in a lot more customers to your store.”

She grinned. “An even better reason to attend.”

He touched the brim of his old-fashioned fedora. “It was slow during the winters for Pete, too. Don’t worry none about that. Tell that renter of yours to come along. People come from all over the county
and have a great time. Kids, too. They have games and such for the little ones.”

After the man left, Erin turned to the phone by the cash register and dialed Jack’s number. “Hey, have I got some exciting plans for you!”

 

“Exciting plans, huh?” Jack teased, eyeing the crowd of people in the parking lot of Lost Falls Community Church. “I don’t think we’re going to make it into the church until Tuesday.”

“Take a look at Max.”

Eyes wide, the child was staring at the group of kids playing tag on the perimeter of the crowd waiting to enter a side door leading into the church basement. At just five he wasn’t quite brave enough to join them, but she could see the longing in his eyes.

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