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When she looked again, the lights were gone.
A hallucination? No, it was too real. She knew what she’d seen. Without turning on the overhead light, she crept across the tile floor, leaned over the kitchen sink and peered into the yard. A flash of lightning illuminated the shrubs, the flowers and the peach tree. No headlights. No truck.
It must have been some kind of optical illusion—a trick of the light and rain.
She filled a plastic cup with water from the sink and took a sip.
A loud crash came from the hallway.
The cup fell from her hands and splashed water on the kitchen floor. The noise came from the direction of Benjy’s bedroom. She remembered his open window with the loose screen. Someone could have climbed inside through that window.
She grabbed a butcher knife from the drawer by the sink, dashed down the hallway and flung open the door to her son’s room. With no thought for her own safety, she charged inside. He wasn’t in the bed. Frantic, she turned on the light. He was gone. Oh, God, no.
“Benjy?” Her voice quavered. “Where are you?”
Her heart thumped hard and heavy. She ran to his window. It was closed, exactly the way she’d left it.
The door to his closet was slightly ajar. Holding the knife in her right hand, she grasped the door handle with the left and pulled the door open.
With a huge grin, Benjy greeted her. “Mommy.”
She placed the knife on his dresser and gathered him into her arms. She held him tightly against her breast— relieved that he was all right and terrified of the unknown danger that might still be in her house. Something had made that crash. She couldn’t let down her guard, couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened. “Why were you in the closet?”
“I don’t know.”
He didn’t seem frightened. Wide awake and alert, but not scared. “Were you hiding?”
“I couldn’t find my stegosaurus. I want him to sleep with me.”
“Benjy, this is important. Was anyone in your room?”
“Mommy, what’s wrong?”
She struggled to keep the tremor from her voice. “Everything’s fine. We’re going to be fine.”
The doorbell rang. It had to be Shane. Please let it be Shane.
Benjy wriggled free from her grasp. She tried to grab him, but he dashed from his room and down the hall. Directly into danger? What if it wasn’t Shane at the door?
She grabbed the knife and ran to the door behind her son. Loudly, she shouted, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Shane. I’m getting wet out here.”
“Shane’s here!” Benjy cried delightedly.
She flipped the lock and opened the door for the big, tall mountain man in his cowboy hat. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her entire life.
Chapter Two
After years as a deputy sheriff, Shane was accustomed to dealing with crises. He read terror in Angela’s eyes. Something had thrown her into a panic, and she wasn’t a woman who scared easily.
He ruffled Benjy’s hair and pulled Angela into a one-armed hug. “What’s the problem?”
Trembling, she whispered, “I think someone broke into the house.”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“Do you think he’s still here?”
Her voice cracked at the edge of a sob. “I don’t know.”
With a small child in the mix, this wasn’t the time for a showdown with an intruder. He separated from Angela. Was that a knife in her hand? What the hell was she thinking? He scooped her son off the floor and said, “Let’s go for a drive.”
“You’re wet,” Benjy said.
“Rain will do that.” He dug his cell from his jacket pocket and handed it to Angela. “Make the call to 911.”
She stared at the phone as though it might grow fangs and bite her. “I don’t want to contact the C-O-P-S. I might be imagining things. Could you just take a look around?”
He’d never been able to say no to Angela. From the first time Tom introduced her as his fiancée, she’d been able to twist Shane around her little finger. Not that she asked for much or tried to manipulate him. Angela didn’t have a devious bone in her body. She faced the world with a straightforward determination. A flame burned within her. Sometimes she was bright as a torch. Other times, like now, she was a flickering candle. He’d do anything to nurture her delicate fire.
“You said you might be imagining things,” he said. “Why?”
“I heard a crash. Down the hall.”
“Toward your bedroom?”
“Yes.” Her lips were tight. Beneath the sweep of her long brown hair, her forehead pinched. She was desperate, stressed to the breaking point.
“I’ll take care of this,” he said.
He was pretty sure they weren’t dealing with a drug-crazed psycho, mainly because they hadn’t been attacked while standing here talking. But he intended to take her supposed imagining seriously. Until he knew better, he would assume there was an intruder.
From where Shane stood, he could see that the small living room and the L-shaped dining area were clear. The kitchen was straight ahead and the lights were on. If someone was hiding in the house, he was down the hall to the left.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said as lowered the boy to the floor. “Benjy, I want you and your mom to stand here, right by the door. If I yell, you run outside as fast as you can. Understand?”
“Yes.” He held up his arms. “Can I hold your hat?”
“You can wear it.”
When he placed his hat on the boy’s head, Benjy giggled. “Look, Mommy. I’m a cowboy.”
“You sure are.” Protectively, she placed her hand on her son’s thin shoulder.
“Why do we run outside?”
“It’s a game,” she said.
Suitcase in hand, Shane went toward the hallway. As soon as he was out of Benjy’s sight, he unzipped his bag and took out his Sig Sauer. He almost hadn’t brought his weapon. Firearms generally weren’t needed at a wedding.
Moving fast, he entered the first bedroom, the guestroom that usually served as a home office for Angela. He looked into the closet and under the bed. Found nothing.
In the bathroom, he yanked aside the shower curtain. Nobody here.
As he approached Benjy’s bedroom, he could hear Angela reassuring her son, telling him that Shane would be right back and everything was okay. He hoped she was right.
Except for the messed-up covers on the bed, Benjy’s room was exceptionally neat. The closet was almost empty.
The last room to search was Angela’s—the bedroom she’d once shared with his cousin. In a glance, Shane scanned the cream-colored walls and dark wood furniture. After he checked the small adjoining bathroom and the closet, he lowered his gun and returned to her room. A lilac scent perfumed the air; it was Angela’s special fragrance. He never smelled lilacs without thinking of her.
Though he could tell that she’d been clearing out her things in preparation for the move to her new home, there were mementos scattered around the room. A tortoiseshell hairbrush set that belonged to her grandmother. A plate with Benjy’s baby handprints. A handmade quilt Shane had bought for her at a firemen’s bazaar in the mountains. Lots of photographs decorated the walls, including a formal wedding portrait of her and Tom. He wondered if she’d take that picture when she moved in with her new husband.
Finding no intruder, he closed the open window in her bedroom. He noticed that a framed watercolor of yellow roses had fallen from the wall, probably blown down by a gust through the window. The glass in the frame was cracked.
In the guestroom, he slipped his gun under the pillow, then returned to the front door, pushed the door closed and locked it. “No problem.”
A nervous smile touched her full lips. “Thanks, Shane.”
“I think I might have found what spooked you.” He held up the eight-by-ten watercolor. “This picture fell off the wall.”
“Ha! I knew I heard a crash.”
When Benjy tilted his head to look up, Shane’s hat fell to the floor. The boy scrambled to pick it up and returned it to his head. “Did you ride your horse?”
Shane crouched down to his level. “You know I’m not really a cowboy. I’m a deputy.”
Benjy gave him a stubborn scowl. “A depitty cowboy.”
“And you’re a kid who needs to go back to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
While Angela escorted her son back to his bedroom, Shane went into the kitchen. He’d visited this house often enough to know where everything was. Usually, the countertops were covered with fancy little appliances. Not tonight. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen sparkled. Except for a plastic cup on the floor and a water spill near the sink. Using paper towels, he mopped up.
All this cleanliness must be due to the Realtor’s “For Sale” sign in the front yard. The house had to be kept spiffy for showings.
He found a plate of macadamia nut cookies on the small kitchen table and poured himself a glass of milk. This was a nice little ranch-style house in a good neighborhood. It ought to sell fast, and Shane told himself that he was glad to see Angela moving on with her life. When Tom and Angela bought this place a couple of months before their wedding, he’d helped them paint and move in the few sticks of furniture they’d owned. He remembered their high hopes for the future. After Tom finished his time in the military, he’d planned to go to med school and become a doctor.
He munched his way through three cookies while he thought of the good times and the bad. Angela was about to take another big step forward, and so was he.
She joined him. After getting Benjy back to sleep, she’d taken a moment to comb her wavy hair and pull it back in a ponytail. Though she was more composed than when she’d answered the door, he saw tension in the set of her jaw. Her cheeks were flushed. She’d lost weight.
“Thanks for checking out the house, looking for the bogeyman.” She sat opposite him at the small table. “I guess I’ve got a bad case of prewedding jitters.”
“I’m no expert,” he said, “but most brides tend to get fussy about bouquets and cakes and seating arrangements. They don’t go running around their house with a butcher knife.”
“After I heard that crash, I went to Benjy’s room. He wasn’t in the bed. I was terrified.”
“Where was he?”
“Hiding in the closet. I don’t know why.” She rested both elbows on the table and propped her chin on her fists. “I’ve been edgy, not sleeping well. You know how I can get. Not that I’m comparing a case of nerves to how I felt after Tom died.”
He remembered. She’d been overcome with grief, and he’d stayed with her nearly the whole time, except when he went back up to the mountains to follow up on the investigation into the hit-and-run accident that had killed his cousin. The detectives on the case had been competent, but they’d never apprehended the driver of the vehicle that ran him down.
He studied the woman sitting opposite him. A few days before getting married, she should have been excited and happy. “What’s making you feel this way?”
“The wedding has gotten out of hand. I didn’t think it would. Neil has a small family. Since both my parents are dead, I don’t really have anybody.”
“You’ve got me,” he said. “And I’m honored to be walking you down the aisle.”
“Tom would have wanted it that way. It’s symbolic that you’re giving me away.”
He didn’t like the way that sounded. He wanted to hold on to their friendship. “I’m not leaving your life. Or Benjy’s. Like it or not, I’m always going to be hanging around.”
“I like it.”
She had the warmest smile. When she relaxed, he saw that candle flame inside her grow steady and strong. He reached across the table and took her hand. “Your wedding shouldn’t be a burden.”
“I’ve missed you.” She gazed into his eyes. “It’s been over a month since I’ve seen you.”
“Anytime you need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He looked into her eyes. The color of her irises had always fascinated him—a greenish-gray that seemed to change with her mood and the clothes she wore. Right now, they were more green, matching the cardigan she’d thrown over her white V-neck shirt. “Tell me how your quiet little ceremony turned into a monster.”
“Everybody means well.” She gave his hand a squeeze, rose from the table and went to the sink to get a glass of water. “At first, I only wanted to invite my partner at the restaurant and the main chef. When the other employees heard, they wanted to come, and I couldn’t say no.”
Her south Denver restaurant—Waffles—was only open for breakfast and lunch. “Your staff isn’t too large.”
“Right, and I figured we’d have the reception at Waffles in the evening so catering wouldn’t be a problem. Just a casual dinner. Then Neil’s friends and coworkers wanted invitations. Doctors and nurses from the hospital. And professors from the university. Important people.” She took a sip of her water. “Not that the woman who’s working on a cure for malaria is more important than one of my busboys, but I want to put my best foot forward.”
“I understand.”
“Before I knew what was happening, I was arranging for tons of flowers and a DJ and imported champagne and a fancy cake.” Her eyes flashed. “That reminds me. I hope you’re not dating anybody special right now because I’ve got someone I want you to meet. She’s French.”
“Ooh-la-la.” He hated being fixed up but didn’t want to burst her bubble.
“On top of everything else,” she said, “I’m selling the house, and it has to look great.”
“Is that why you’re still living here instead of at Neil’s house? For showings?”
“For convenience,” she said. “My house is five minutes away from the restaurant and from Benjy’s babysitter. It’s easier to stay here while I handle the wedding preparations. Neil lives on the outskirts of Boulder. It’s a forty-five-minute drive, longer if I run into traffic.”
It seemed to him that a couple in love would want to be together no matter how problematic. If he’d been getting married to Angela, he would have turned his life upside down to be with her.
“I’m here now,” Shane said. “Tell me what you need, and you can consider it done.”
She gave him a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re here. When I heard that crash in the bedroom, I was imagining the worst.”
“And it was nothing serious,” he said. “The wind must have knocked the painting off the wall.”
