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“Control your dog, ma’am, and please hand me the pistol.”
She blushed and he couldn’t help but notice that the pink in her cheeks matched the hearts on her pajamas.
“I’m so sorry. Bates is a little protective,” she said, but after a moment she straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye with a glint of determination. “No, I’m not sorry. My dog did his job tonight. He protected me.”
His second impression of the woman reminded him of a soft Southern belle with some feistiness thrown in. Interesting combination. Noah glanced between the woman and the animal. “I take it he’s trained. Give him the release command and he’ll back off.”
The petite woman faced her dog. “Time to be nice, Bates, baby. Sheriff Galloway is a friend.”
His incredulity at her choice of command must have shown on his face when she turned around. Hands propped on her tiny waist, she lifted her chin a notch. “What?”
He swallowed an appalled retort. “Nothing.” He would have used a more common “off” or “back” command, but that was her business.
He glanced at the front door. “We should go inside. Let me make sure the house is clear.”
She dutifully handed him her weapon. “I have a concealed-carry permit.” She sounded as if she was just waiting for him to ask to see it. When he stayed silent, she gave him a sweet, tentative smile, and his protective instincts flared to life.
“And there’s no need to check the house. Bates would alert me if even a mouse dared to invade his territory.”
“That may be true, but I still need to check the point of entry.”
The dog had disappeared, but met them when they stepped into the house and moved to the kitchen through which she claimed the assailant had fled. Based on the broken glass pane, it was obvious how the intruder had entered the premises. The ground outside was dry and there were only slight impressions of shoes on the grass. Not enough for a print.
“That windowpane will have to be replaced and you need a dead bolt on this door.”
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
The window would be repaired before he left, but for the moment, he nodded and she led the way to the living room. Outside, the house reflected a Victorian style, and this room was decorated in the same theme. Shelves filled with picture frames lined one wall. They contained photos of children of all ages. A beautiful black, antique-looking baby grand piano was showcased in the room.
As she sat down on a love seat, she smiled and stared, a fond look on her face, at the photographs. “Those are past and present students. I teach piano lessons in my spare time. I’m also the choir director at the local—the only—church in Blessing.”
He sat on the couch across from her and stifled his protective urges. He knew nothing about this woman. She had moved to Blessing eight months ago, but he hadn’t been to church since his wife died two years earlier.
“Ma’am, describe the break-in. Anything you can remember.” She looked so innocent sitting there, her feet tucked under her and her shoulder-length hair slightly mussed. But he knew looks could be deceiving. He’d learned that during his five-year tenure with the FBI before moving back to Blessing to run for sheriff.
“I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Abby Mayfield.”
Surprisingly, she was very detailed in her account of events. Almost as if she she’d done this before. Suspicious now, he asked the normal questions, but his gut screamed that there was much more to Abby Mayfield than met the eye.
“Do you keep valuables in the house? Anything that might tempt a burglar?” Statistics showed that most thieves broke into empty homes when people were out of town. Not when they were asleep in bed. The perpetrator had a bigger chance of getting caught if people were in the house.
Fiddling with a string on the bottom of her pajama top, she bit her lip, as if debating how much to tell. Noah leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. “Ms. Mayfield—Abby—I can’t help you if you don’t come clean with me.”
Her chin notched up and he was momentarily pulled into the deep pools of her dark brown eyes. He pulled back, refusing to go there. He had responsibilities now. A motherless, six-year-old son. Ms. Mayfield might appear as harmless as a newly unfurled flower, but he reminded himself again that looks could be deceiving.
The dog settled at her feet, placing himself solidly between the two of them. She leaned down and rubbed his head.
“I guess I have to trust someone and you look dependable enough.”
He kept his expression all business when she lifted her eyes, as if she was assessing his trustworthiness.
Releasing a sigh, she sat up straight. “I moved to Blessing, Texas, eight months ago because there were several incidents where I lived in North Carolina.” He didn’t miss the slight tremor in her voice. “There were two break-ins at my home, but praise the Lord, I had a high-quality alarm system. There was also—” she placed her hand on the dog’s head again, as if for reassurance “—a car that I’m pretty sure tried to run me down, but nothing that could be proven.”
Noah made notes on the pad he had pulled out of his shirt pocket. “Did you report the incidents to the local police?”
She nodded. “I sure did. They were very nice and did a thorough investigation. They questioned my coworkers at church, along with all my music students’ parents. They found nothing.” Her expression turned quizzical. “It’s the craziest thing ever. I don’t have one enemy that I know of, and it’s not as if I own anything valuable. I’m a choir director and piano teacher. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt me.”
The exasperation in her voice almost made him smile. She was a cute wisp of air.
“During the investigation, did they delve into your family background?”
If anything, she became even more vexed. “There’s only me and my grandmother. My parents died in a car accident when I was six. They were both only children. Grammy is the only family I have left. She’s still in North Carolina. I’m trying to encourage her to move here, but I’m not sure what to do now. Whoever did those terrible things in North Carolina has apparently followed me to Texas.”
She shuddered and Noah had the sudden urge to take this petite woman home with him where he could protect her and keep her safe. Ignoring his thoughts, he scribbled in his notebook.
“Have you received any threatening letters or phone calls?”
“No, nothing.”
“Is that why you moved to Blessing? Because of the danger?”
“Yes, and because I didn’t want my grandmother to get hurt. She lived three houses down from me. The police didn’t even have a lead, and now this mess has followed me here.”
“How did you come to pick Blessing?”
For the first time, a full smile bloomed on her face and his heart lurched. He still missed his wife, but it had been two years since ovarian cancer had claimed her life.
“Grammy got really worried after the second break-in. The police were cruising the neighborhood every once in a while, but it didn’t stop the intruders. She hoped whoever was after me was local and would leave me alone if I moved across the country. We studied a map of Texas and she decided that Blessing, with a population of 967, would be a good place to move. It would be hard for the person after me to hide in such a small town.”
She leaned forward and grinned. “Did you know Blessing was founded in 1903? The leaders of the town changed the original name from Thank God to Blessing after the United States Postal Service rejected the first name and refused to deliver the mail. Isn’t that a hoot?”
Noah noted that Abby had a sweet, bubbly personality.
“Interesting piece of information. I grew up here and never heard that story. I’ll have to share it with my son. Is this the first incident that’s happened since you arrived in Blessing?”
Her smile slipped away, and he missed the warmth of it, but they had an intruder to catch and catch them he would. He was a tenacious investigator, if the media was to be believed. He may have left the FBI to run for sheriff in his hometown, but his instincts ran true. And if he admitted the truth, he was ready to sink his teeth into something more than lost dogs and domestic disputes.
He would do everything in his power to keep Abby Mayfield safe.
TWO (#u9cbcf4e5-90fb-5b30-9d97-80317814011d)
Abby studied Sheriff Galloway. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. The break-in had done a number on her. She’d really believed she’d left whoever was trying to harm her behind in North Carolina. She could still hardly believe anyone hated her enough to try to run her down with a car or break into her house.
But what could a small-town Texas sheriff do that the authorities in North Carolina hadn’t been able to accomplish? Remnants of a newspaper article floated through her mind, and then it hit her. “You’re that famous FBI guy from New York.” Her heart beat faster. “You rooted out those mafia guys trying to kill the mayor and saved his life. It was all over the news.”
Sheriff Galloway surely stood over six feet and sported short, dark hair. He was a handsome man, in a rugged sort of way, but when those electric-blue eyes focused intently on her, memories of the newscasts filtered through her mind.
“I’m sorry about your wife.” It had been reported that his wife passed away, but at least he still had his son. She had lost her precious unborn baby boy after receiving news of her husband’s death several years earlier.
He glanced down at his notebook. “Thank you.”
For the first time since the whole mess started, Abby felt a stirring of hope. “Do you think you can find out who’s doing this to me?”
He raised his head. A steely glint filled his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”
Abby sensed a fierce determination. Once he’d picked up the trail of an enemy, he would never stop. He seemed trustworthy, but she wouldn’t care to be on the bad side of this particular lawman. His hunting instincts shone bright from his eyes. She privately pegged him as a good predator hunting very dangerous parasites.
“One more question.”
“Yes?”
“Are there any irate husbands or boyfriends in the picture I need to know about?”
Sadness engulfed her as she thought of John, her dear sweet husband, gone on to be with the Lord. “No. My husband died three years ago and I haven’t dated since.”
“Any problems with the in-laws?”
“No. They’re nice people, but I’m sad to say we kind of drifted apart after John’s death.”
“Ma’am—”
“Please, call me Abby.”
“Abby. Is there anyone you can call to come stay with you for what’s left of the night?”
She shook her head. “There are people at the church I attend who would be more than willing to come, but I’ll never be able to go back to sleep, and I have Bates. He’ll alert me if anyone comes back.” She pointed at her Glock where he’d laid it on a side table. “I know how to use that, and I won’t hesitate if someone comes after me.”
The right side of his mouth kicked up in a slight grin.
“I don’t doubt that at all.”
Heat warmed her face. “When I was younger, my grandmother taught me to shoot. She was of the opinion that any self-respecting Southern lady should know how to handle a gun. I practice every once in a while to keep my aim good.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but I can’t leave you alone until the broken windowpane is fixed and the house is secure.”
He was going to stay here? Abby needed time to assimilate everything that had happened and calm down. She needed some time to herself.
“That’s not necessary, I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll wait outside in the squad car until the hardware store opens. I’ll make sure someone comes out first thing to fix the glass.”
Abby felt bad, thinking of him sitting outside alone in his car, but not enough to ask him to stay inside with her until the sun came up.
She accompanied him to the front door and turned the dead bolt after he left. Rushing to the living room window, which fronted the house, she watched as he conferred with his deputy, who’d been waiting by his car. After a few minutes, the deputy drove away and the sheriff settled inside his car, hunkered down for what was left of the night.
The house quieted and loneliness shrouded her. After a few minutes, she turned toward the kitchen. A strong cup of coffee would lift her spirits.
Crossing the threshold of the warm, homey room, she glanced out the window over the kitchen sink, stared at the cruiser and thought about Sheriff Galloway staying there to protect her. She got a warm, fuzzy feeling until she glanced up and to the left, and spotted something that shouldn’t be there. Her smile disappeared and fear sank its vicious teeth into her belly, worked its way to her throat—almost strangling her with its intensity.
* * *
Even with the town’s limited resources, Noah refused to leave Ms. Mayfield with no protection. He’d handle it off the clock. He lowered the car window and called Peggy Sue. After checking that everything was safe on the home front and confirming his dispatcher could stay the rest of the night with Dylan, Noah stiffened when he spotted Ms. Mayfield running out the front door, waving both hands in his direction.
He left the car door open as he burst out of the vehicle, his Smith & Wesson M&P9 9 mm pistol in hand. The gun felt comfortable, an extension of his arm. He met her at the end of the sidewalk.
“What’s wrong?”
The blood had drained from her face, but she took a deep breath and composed herself. He was impressed. She had a lot of courage packed into her small frame.
“There’s something inside that shouldn’t be there.”
Before addressing her concern, he followed procedure. “Are you sure no one is in the house?”
She began to speak, but stopped, her expression uncertain.
Noah glanced at the dog. He was glued to Abby’s side. “Let me clear the house and then you can show me what you found.”
She gave a brisk nod.
It didn’t take long to check the house and Noah went back outside. “Let’s go in.”
She followed him into the kitchen, took a deep breath and pointed at a cabinet built into the wall above the counter. “That’s a picture of my mom and dad, but I’ve never seen it before.”
Noah grabbed a paper towel, opened the glass-fronted cabinet door and removed the picture, placing it on the kitchen island in the center of the room. He studied the photograph. Her parents were standing on a beach with nothing but ocean behind them, no identifying landmarks to be found. He focused on the couple. Abby’s father was a handsome man, her mother pretty and petite, same as her daughter. A smiling child was held in the father’s arms. All wore big smiles. Life looked perfect.
“Are you sure you’ve never seen this before?”
She rubbed her arms. “I’m positive. I’ve never seen the photograph or the frame. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of my parents, but none of them were taken on a beach.”
The phone on the wall awoke with a high shrill and Abby jumped. Noah held his hand up when she took a step forward. “Let me answer it.”
She nodded.
“Sheriff Galloway.”
A moment of silence filled the phone line before a strong voice almost shattered his eardrum. “What’s a sheriff doing at my granddaughter’s house at five thirty in the morning?” The woman didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I woke up a little while ago and felt the urge to start praying. You listen, and you listen good. I want to speak to Abby this minute.”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Noah would have grinned at the older woman’s audacity. Abby crossed the room and Noah was glad to see her eyes shining with laughter instead of concern.
“Sorry about that. It’s my grandmother. I heard her clear across the room.”
Noah handed Abby the phone and she started talking. “Grammy? No, ma’am, everything is fine. There’s been a break-in, but Sheriff Galloway is here. I’ll explain everything in the morning...Yes, Baby Bates did his job well and I have my pistol. I keep it on the nightstand right beside the bed.” She sighed. “Yes, I do believe it’s connected to what happened in North Carolina. I’ll call you tomorrow after we know more, but, Grammy, please be careful.”
Noah’s ears pricked when Abby turned away from him and lowered her voice. “Grammy! That’s not important. Fine, yes, he’s good-looking. Now, go back to bed and stop worrying. Everything is fine.”
Noah cleared his throat, buried his grin and busied himself by looking at the photo again as she hung up the phone. She swung around and her face had turned that sweet shade of pink he was coming to adore.
“That was my grandmother.”
