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Mitch noted her tense grip on the coffee cup and looked at her quizzically. “Not that I know of.”
Her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “Then why…? I mean, there are a lot of people here who would probably like to talk with you, so…well, I guess when you took me aside I just assumed that there was a problem,” she finished, flustered.
Mitch looked at the woman across from him, a faint frown marring his own brow. Why had he sought her out? If he’d had any sense he would have left as soon as the group of parents around him had dispersed. He was beat, and the weekend ahead at his uncle’s farm would be taxing. In fact, he’d planned to make his exit as quickly as possible. So what was it about Tess Lockwood that had made him suddenly change his mind when he’d seen her in line for coffee?
For one thing, she’d been on his mind a lot since their meeting, he admitted. Though he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to explain—or dismiss—the odd effect she’d had on him that day. He’d gone to sleep more than once with her vivid but troubled green eyes as his last conscious image. It was oddly unsettling, considering that over the past few years he’d built up a pretty thick skin when it came to women. Yet somehow Tess had gotten under it. But he couldn’t very well say that, he realized, struggling to come up with a suitable response.
“I figured you wouldn’t know anyone here, and I wanted to make sure you felt welcome,” he replied at last, striving for a conversational tone.
“Oh. Well, I appreciate that. And thank you for telling me about the program. It was very good.”
“Chris does a terrific job,” he agreed, relieved to be back on safer ground.
Tess suddenly realized that this was as good a time as any to broach the subject of the interview, so she took a deep breath and plunged in.
“You both do. In fact, I understand that you’ve just won the governor’s award for excellence in education.”
He looked at her in surprise. “How did you know?”
“It came over the wire at the newspaper where I work.”
“Ah. No secrets from the press, I guess.”
“Actually, the write-up wasn’t very detailed.”
He shrugged. “It was enough for most people.”
“That’s not what my editor thinks.”
He eyed her speculatively. “What do you mean?”
“She’d like me to do a feature story on you.”
He took a moment to respond, and she was suddenly afraid that he was going to turn her down flat. Instead, his reply was noncommittal. “I usually stay away from publicity.”
“So we’ve heard,” she admitted. “But when I mentioned that we’d met, my boss was hoping you might agree to talk with me. She thought you might feel more comfortable with a familiar face.”
Mitch took a slow sip of his coffee as he considered the request. Frankly, he wasn’t all that comfortable—with the story or the woman. He was a private person, for good reason. Few people knew the painful details of his past. Few people needed to know. He’d have to sidestep a lot of questions if he agreed to this interview, and that could be uncomfortable. So would being one-on-one with Tess Lockwood. She had already touched his heart in places that were best left undisturbed, and he barely knew her. Further contact could only be more disruptive to his peace of mind.
At the same time, he suspected that she was working hard to build a new career and a new life in St. Louis. Having to go back to her editor and say that she’d failed to nab an interview couldn’t be good for her. It would just add more stress to what already appeared to be a stress-filled life. And he couldn’t bring himself to do that.
“All right, Ms. Lockwood. Let’s give it a try,” he agreed.
Tess smiled. There was relief—and something else he couldn’t quite identify—in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Call me tomorrow and we’ll set something up. I may live to regret this, but at least the school board will be happy,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“So will my editor.” She shifted her purse onto her shoulder, and Mitch reached over to relieve her of her plate and cup.
“I’ll take care of these.”
“Thanks. And thank you again for telling me about this meeting. And for agreeing to the interview.” She tilted her head and gave him a rueful smile. “I guess I’ll be in your debt big time.”
He smiled, and his gaze deepened and connected with hers in a way that left her a bit breathless. “I’ll remember that.”
For a moment she actually felt lost in his eyes, and the buzz of voices around her seemed to recede. It was only with great effort that she finally dragged her gaze away from his, mumbled goodbye and beat a hasty retreat.
As Tess made her way to her car, she tried to figure out what had just happened. Or, more accurately, she tried to figure out if anything had happened. She’d probably read far too much into a simple look, she told herself. After all, there was nothing about her to rate any special attention. She was just one more parent with a troubled teen. Bruce was Mitch’s main concern. And that was exactly as it should be.
Tess knew that. And accepted it. But it didn’t stop a sudden surge of bittersweet longing from echoing softly in her heart.
Chapter Three
“H ow about a cup of coffee to go with that pie?”
Mitch looked up at the older man and smiled. “You spoil me, Uncle Ray.”
“No such thing. Your visits give me a good excuse to visit the bakeshop in town. Course, their pies aren’t as good as Emma’s. But they’re sure a sight better’n mine.”
“I do miss Aunt Emma’s pies,” Mitch agreed.
“Me, too. And a whole lot more,” Uncle Ray said, his eyes softening briefly before he turned away to fiddle with the coffeemaker.
Mitch glanced at his uncle, still spare and straight at seventy-six. Only a pronounced limp, the result of a bad fracture from a severe fall over two years before, had slowed him down. Mitch knew the older man found the limp burdensome, though he never complained. And he still tried to put in a full day in the fields. Mitch had been trying to convince him to slow down, but as Uncle Ray always reminded him, farming was his life. He liked working the land.
Besides, Mitch reflected, the land had been the one constant in a life that had known its share of loss and grief. So he couldn’t bring himself to force the issue. Instead, he’d found a job in St. Louis and spent his spare time helping out on the farm. It was the least he could do for the man who had been his lifeline six years before, who had shown him the way out of darkness step by painful step, who had helped him reconnect with his faith and find solace in the Lord. He owed his life—and his sanity—to Uncle Ray, and whenever the work began to overwhelm him, he only had to think back to that nightmare time to realize just how deeply in debt he was to this special man.
“So what’s on the schedule this weekend?” Mitch asked when the older man turned to place a cup of coffee in front of him.
“There are still a couple of fields that need to be turned over,” Uncle Ray said as he sat down across from Mitch. “I figured I’d get to them during the week, but I don’t move quite as fast as I used to.”
Mitch frowned. “I thought we agreed that we’d do the heavy work together, on weekends?”
Uncle Ray shrugged. “I have time to spare, Mitch. You don’t. What little free time you have shouldn’t be spent out here on an isolated farm with an old man.”
“We’ve been through this before, Uncle Ray. I told you, I like coming out here. It’s a nice change of pace from the city.”
“Can’t argue with that. It is a great place. Nothing beats the fresh air and open spaces. But you need some time to yourself, son. Companions your own age. You aren’t going to find those things out here.”
“I have everything I need,” Mitch assured him. “My life is full. I have no complaints.”
Uncle Ray looked at him steadily. “You know I don’t interfere, Mitch. I learned my lesson on that score the hard way years ago.” A flicker of sadness echoed in his eyes. “But I care about you, son. I don’t want you to be alone.”
Mitch reached over and laid his hand over his uncle’s slightly gnarled fingers. “I’m not alone.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Mitch sighed. “I know. But I had my chance once, Uncle Ray. And I threw it away.”
“You’re a different man now.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I can’t risk it.”
“Well, it’s your life, Mitch. I can’t tell you how to live it. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Uncle Ray.”
“Can I ask you one other thing?”
“Sure.” Mitch’s reply was swift and decisive. In a friendship forged in pain, there were few secrets and even fewer off-limit questions.
“In all these years, has there ever been anyone…special in your life?”
Mitch took a sip of his coffee and forced his lips into a smile. “I assume you mean a woman.”
“That’s what I had in mind.”
Mitch thought of all the women he’d met in the past six years who had made it clear that they were available if he was interested. But he hadn’t been. Not even remotely. Not after… His pretense of a smile faded and he shook his head.
“No.”
“Hmm.” Uncle Ray pondered that for a moment as he scooped up another bite of pie. “So no one’s ever caught your fancy, made you second-guess your decision to stay single?”
For some disconcerting reason the image of Tess Lockwood suddenly came to mind, and Mitch frowned. How odd. He barely knew the woman. They weren’t even on a first-name basis. True, she’d somehow managed to touch a place in his heart that he’d carefully protected all these years. But it had to be just some weird quirk. What else could it be when they were essentially strangers? Mitch looked over at his uncle to find the older man gazing at him quizzically.
“What’s wrong, son?”
Mitch shook his head. “For some strange reason the mother of one of my problem students just came to mind.”
“A friend of yours?”
“Hardly. We’ve only met twice. She’s a single mom who’s got her hands full with a troublesome teen and a new job. I’m not sure why I thought of her just now.”
“The mind works in mysterious ways,” Uncle Ray said noncommittally. “Well, I just don’t want to take up all of your free time. I can try to find one of the local boys to help me out.”
“We’ve been down that road before,” Mitch reminded him. “They’re either all working on their family’s farm or they don’t know one end of a plow from the other.”
“Good help is hard to find,” Uncle Ray conceded.
“So let’s just go on as we have been,” Mitch concluded, savoring the last mouthful of pie. “It works for both of us. You get a farmhand, I get three square meals and fresh air, and we both get great conversation.” He wiped his mouth and grinned as he laid his napkin on the table. “And if you ask me, that’s a pretty good deal all the way around.”
The building was hot. And still. And ominous. A prickle of apprehension skittered across the back of his neck, and he tightened his hold on the gun. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He could sense it. And he’d been a cop long enough to respect his senses. Especially in abandoned warehouses.
At least he wasn’t alone. Jacobsmeyer was circling in the other direction, only a shout away. And his partner was good. The best. Mitch drew a deep breath. Whatever was wrong, they’d find it. And fix it.
He stopped at a closed storage door, listening intently. Nothing. He tried the knob. Unlocked. Carefully he eased it open. Darkness. An even stronger feeling of foreboding. He swept the beam of his flashlight over the floor. Trash. Empty cans. A sport shoe protruding from a pile of boxes. A beat-up shopping cart. Some… He suddenly went still, then slowly swung his light back to the shoe, his stomach clenching. God, let me be wrong! he prayed. But his eyes hadn’t lied. The shoe was attached to a leg.
He sucked in his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d been here before, and it was never pretty. But it was his job. Steeling himself, he picked his way over the trash to the boxes. Hesitated. Took another breath. Slowly let the arc of light travel up the body. Hesitated again. Finally moved it up to the face. Felt his world tilt. Crash. Shatter into a thousand pieces. And then he screamed. And screamed again. And again. And…
Mitch jerked bolt upright in bed, shaking violently. Dear God, the nightmare was back. Just when he’d begun to believe that it had released its hold on him. But now it had returned, stronger than ever.
“Mitch? You okay?”
Uncle Ray’s concerned voice came from the other side of the door, and Mitch sucked in a ragged breath. “Yeah. I’m…fine,” he called hoarsely, his voice as tattered as his nerves.
“You need anything?” Though his uncle’s voice was calm, it was laced with worry.
Mitch took another deep breath, forcing air into lungs that didn’t want to expand. “No. I’m okay, Uncle Ray. Sorry I woke you.”
“I wasn’t really sleeping anyway. Try to go back to sleep.”
“Yeah, I will. Thanks.”
Slowly Mitch eased himself back down, damp with sweat. He’d put his uncle through this drill more times than he could count. But the older man never seemed to mind. He’d been through his own hell. He understood.
Mitch wanted to let go of the nightmare. Wanted to find a way to put it behind him and move on, as Uncle Ray had. He’d always hoped that in time the memory would fade. But he was less and less convinced that it would. Because while both men shared a legacy of regret, only Mitch’s included an unspeakable horror.
And no matter what he had done in the intervening years to make amends, no matter how often he’d prayed for release from the guilt and the pain, deep in his heart he knew that he didn’t deserve a reprieve from the traumatic memory of that night.
At the sound of a knock, Mitch looked up. “Come in.”
Karen opened the office door. “Ms. Lockwood is here.”
Mitch glanced at his watch, then at his piled-high desk. As usual, the day had flown by and he’d finished only half of what he’d set out to accomplish. “There aren’t enough hours in the day, Karen,” he lamented with a sigh.
“That’s because you take on too much.”
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “True,” he conceded agreeably. “But what do you suggest I eliminate from my schedule? Tony Watson, who’s picked me for the father figure he so desperately needs? The live teen chat room I host twice a week? The meetings with parents of problem kids? The budget?” He paused and tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, I could do without the budget, but I don’t think the school board would approve.”
Karen made a face. “I see your point.”
He smiled and leaned forward again. “I thought you would. Okay, show Ms. Lockwood in. I might as well get this over with.”
She hesitated and looked at him quizzically. “In the interest of curiosity, how in the world did she get you to agree to this? You hate publicity.”
He shrugged. “I guess she caught me at a weak moment.”
Karen planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t have weak moments.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an opinionated woman?” he teased.
She tilted her head thoughtfully and counted off on her fingers. “Let’s see. My mother. My husband. My kids. The guy at the car repair shop. The director of the—”
“Enough!” Mitch interrupted with a laugh. “Just show Ms. Lockwood in.”
Karen grinned. “You got it, boss.”
Mitch smiled and shook his head as he repositioned the stacks of papers on his desk. He’d inherited Karen when he’d taken on this job, and she’d been a godsend, serving as secretary, administrative assistant, sounding board, reality check and mother hen all rolled into one. Not to mention comic relief. He couldn’t have gotten along without her.
