Holly Grove Homecoming (3 page)

“Yes, thanks.” Carly was glad he maintained a comfortable distance between them as he walked her across the street and up the sidewalk to her front porch. She didn’t trust her body’s response to any hint of closeness. She wondered if he might feel the same because he waited only until she’d opened her door and stepped inside before he quickly murmured, “Have a good evening, Carly,” then turned and hurried away.

Carly paused just inside the front door of her wonderfully cool house and shivered, although she wasn’t quite sure why. Common sense would suggest that it was because of the contrast in temperature between outside and in.

But in truth, her shiver reminded her much more of an occasional spooky reaction to an unidentified fear. She and her high-school friends had always described the experience as “someone walking over my grave.”

C
arly had expected
to sleep better that night since the temperature in her bedroom was actually comfortable. She was more than a little irritated when she awoke at 3:00 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep.

Finally, at 4:00, she decided to get up and try to write for a while. Her current novel wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped, and while she was still well ahead of deadline, she couldn’t afford to procrastinate. After all, she was depending on the advances from her suspense novels to fund the months she planned to spend on her true crime book. Since she’d never mentioned that book to anyone, including her agent, there would be no advance to help pay the bills while she wrote it.

She pulled on a robe and slipped her feet into her scuffs, then made her way to her office, which was located at the front of the house and next door to her bedroom. Across the hall was the bathroom and finally, at the back of the house, was a guest bedroom where she housed the occasional friend or family member who decided to pay her a visit.

Stepping into her office, she switched on the overhead light, then sat down at the computer and hit the space bar to wake it. Her current chapter appeared on the screen. She had stopped halfway through a sentence, as was her usual method. Finishing the sentence would help her writer’s mind slip back into the storyline.

Ten minutes later, her fingers were flying over the keyboard as she got into the rhythm of the scene. Her protagonist’s best friend had just exclaimed, in a loud whisper, “Jill, darling, did you happen to notice that lady on my kitchen floor with the knife sticking out of her back?” when the phone on Carly’s desk rang.

She started and jumped, her fingers crashing against the keyboard. Adrenaline pumped into her system, and her heart rate picked up speed. In that split second, she realized that the old fears she thought she’d left behind had merely lain dormant over the past months, ready to resurface at a second’s notice.

Heart pounding, she grabbed the receiver, then silently cursed herself for not first looking at the caller ID. “Yes?” Her voice came out as a scratchy whisper.

“It’s Trooper. Are you all right?”

“Trooper?” Carly sighed as energy drained from her body along with the fear.

“Trooper Myers. Across the street. I saw your light and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh.” She considered telling him she’d been fine until he scared her half to death, but she clamped down on her temper. No need to antagonize him when he’d only intended to be neighborly. “Yes, Trooper, I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep so I decided to write. What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

Carly waited for him to expound on the statement but when he remained quiet, she stepped in to fill the silence. “So? Do you usually have trouble sleeping?”

“Not as a rule. I thought I heard a noise so I got up to investigate. I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.”

Carly felt a new shiver move down her spine. “You heard a noise? What kind of noise?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe just a tree limb bumping the side of the house when the wind blows.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Carly was not comforted. “Well, I didn’t hear anything and I’ve been awake for over an hour. Of course all of my windows are closed, so I wouldn’t be as likely as you to hear any unusual noises.”

“Sounds as though you’re up for the rest of the night.”

“I suspect I am. Are you going to try to go back to sleep?”

“Nah, no use. I think I’ll go for a run.”

“A run? It’s still dark.”

“It won’t be dark long. The sun will be coming up by the time I get dressed.”

“In that case…” Carly hesitated.

“What?”

“Would you mind glancing around in my yard? I mean, since you heard something, or thought you might have. I could turn on the outside lights and meet you on the porch with a flashlight.”

“Did I make you jumpy?”

“A little, I guess. Forget it. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Turn the front porch light on.” He hung up without waiting for her to agree.

Carly didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or relieved, but it didn’t matter. In either case, she had to hurry to get dressed if she was going to meet Trooper on her front porch in ten minutes.

Nine and a half minutes later, she flipped on the porch light and glanced out the door’s sidelight. Trooper was coming up her walk.

She turned the deadbolt and opened the door, then stepped out. “You’re right on time.”

He smiled. “I’m usually prompt. Especially when something’s important. I brought my own flashlight. Do you have one?”

“Just a second.” Carly ducked back inside to grab her flashlight and flip on the floodlights located at each corner of the house. “I’m ready,” she said as she stepped back outside.

Trooper merely nodded and waited for her to join him before he started down the porch steps. “Stay close. Not that I think anything’s out here.”

Carly fell into step beside him. “I hope you’re right.”

They circled the house slowly. The floodlights lit up large patches of the lawn but they also created deep shadows around the shrubbery. Twice when Trooper or Carly aimed their light into those shadows, a pair of bright eyes stared back for a split second before disappearing. Obviously those eyes belonged to small nocturnal animals, which was only to be expected, but for the third time that evening, Carly felt a shiver move down her spine.

Less than ten minutes after they started, they were back on her front porch. “Well, at least I know there’s nothing lurking around my house,” Carly said. “Thanks for your help. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

“I’d love to, but I was going for a run, remember?” He glanced down at his tee shirt and running shorts as though to remind her. “How about if I run by the doughnut shop in town, pick us up a couple of Danish, and stop back by here for coffee?”

“Sure.” Carly didn’t really want a Danish, but she didn’t want to appear churlish either. “I’ll have the coffee brewed by then. Is regular okay or do you prefer decaf?”

“Regular’s fine by me.”

“So be it.” Carly smiled. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Do you have a preference between cream cheese Danish and fruit Danish?”

“Surprise me.”

“Will do.” Trooper paused by one of the porch columns to begin his stretching exercises. Carly hadn’t intended to watch but discovered it was just too appealing to turn away. Both his biceps and the muscles in his legs were well defined but he was clearly favoring his left shoulder. Trooper glanced at her, saw her watching, and shot her a mischievous grin. Although he didn’t say the words, she could guess what he was thinking—“Do you like what you see?”

Blushing, Carly turned and grabbed the screen door handle. “I’ll have the coffee ready,” she said, and hurried inside. As she made her way to the kitchen, she reminded herself that she really must give some thought to what she was doing. After all, she’d moved to Holly Grove to write a book about the death of Trooper’s parents, never dreaming she’d actually meet Trooper himself.

To avoid potential problems, she’d better work it into the conversation that she knew he’d been in the news recently. On the other hand, she’d have to be careful not to express any knowledge of his distant past, and she sure couldn’t afford to share her identity with him.

* * *

T
rooper grinned
to himself as he finished his stretching exercises. He was beginning to like Carly Morrison, but he still had the notion that he’d seen her somewhere before.

He knew better than to wrack his brain trying to figure it out. If he did, he’d drive himself crazy and it would take him even longer to place her. Best to just let his subconscious stew until his memory cells finished whatever process they used to dredge up long-buried memories.

By the time he finished stretching, the sky had lightened enough that he could see to begin his morning run. He was pleased to discover that most of the sidewalks had been maintained well enough that he could run on them rather than in the street.

He jogged to the corner and hung a right on Dahlia Way, headed toward downtown and the local doughnut shop. Of course, as he’d discovered yesterday, nowadays the shop would more accurately be termed a bakery. Mrs. Watson, the original owner, had passed away, leaving the business in the hands of her daughter, Patricia.

Patty Watson had been in school with Trooper and the two had even dated a couple of times before he left town. When he’d dropped by the shop yesterday, Patty had been friendly and welcoming. She’d even abstained from asking about his plans, although she’d inquired about his injury. Fortunately, she hadn’t pressed when Trooper had given his usual short answer that he was “fine.”

The town was almost deserted, this being early on a Sunday morning, and Trooper worried that the bakery would be closed and he’d have to renege on his offer to bring Carly a Danish. He huffed out a sigh of relief when he neared and saw lights on in the store and a figure behind the counter.

This morning the shop was empty except for the sleepy teenager behind the counter. Trooper ordered four Danish to go—two cream cheese, a strawberry, and a blueberry. Carly had said to surprise her, but he’d learned from experience that most people who said to surprise them really hoped you would return with exactly what they had wanted all along.

So he’d give Carly a choice and hope that he’d hit on a pastry flavor she liked.

Bag in hand, Trooper continued his run, circling the courthouse and heading back down Dahlia Way to Sugar Maple Drive. Half an hour after he’d started, he was back in front of Carly’s house.

He set the pastry bag on the porch while he cooled off, then picked it up on his way to the front door. He pushed the doorbell button and listened as chimes sounded from somewhere inside. A few seconds later, Carly answered the door.

She had changed from the short shorts she’d worn earlier into a pair of jeans and a loose cotton shirt that hid any hint of curves. She’d also bathed and washed her hair. He could tell because her hair was still damp and curling around her face, a far different look from the sleek style she’d worn last night. The dark curls jogged a couple of memory cells, which in turn tried to send a full-blown signal to his brain, but the signal faded before he could grasp it.

“Hi,” she said, pulling the door open. “The coffee’s almost ready. I forgot to ask if you want cream or sweetener.”

“I take mine black.”

“Good, because I don’t have any cream, just skim milk, and most people don’t like skim milk in their coffee.”

“Well, that’s strange,” Trooper said with a straight face. “Fancy not wanting pale white water added to your coffee.”

Carly just grinned at him. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Not one I’ll be trying to acquire. Now beer’s an acquired taste too, but that one was worth the trouble.”

Carly shuddered. “I tried to acquire a taste for beer when I was in college, but once I entered the outside world where I was allowed to have opinions separate from those of my peers, I immediately switched to wine.”

“That’s one we agree on.”

She grinned. “So I noticed last night.”

He purposely raised his brows as high as possible. “Did I forget to return your wine bottle?”

“I don’t know whether you forgot or not, but in either case, you didn’t return it.”

“Sorry. I’ll fish it out of the trash and bring it over later.”

Carly’s laugh was long and sincere, and he found himself joining her. He wasn’t sure but he thought this was the first time he’d really laughed out loud since the day Hank died.

“Let’s adjourn to the breakfast nook,” she said, still smiling as she nodded toward the back of the house. “I’ll pour our coffee and you can handle the Danish.”

Trooper wasn’t quite sure what she meant by “handling” the Danish so he just set the bag on the table. “Is there some place I can wash my hands?”

“Sure.” Carly pointed to a door leading out into a hallway. “Through there, turn left, then second door on the left.”

As Trooper had hoped, by the time he returned to the kitchen, Carly had removed the Danish from the bag and arranged them on a plate. Two placemats at the table, centered by smaller plates, clued him in as to where they’d sit.

“Here’s your coffee.” Carly placed his cup to the right of one of the placemats.

“Anything I can do?” He figured there wasn’t but also figured he should ask.

“No thanks. Have a seat and help yourself to a Danish.”

“Ladies first.” Trooper didn’t want to mess up his earlier planning by taking whichever Danish Carly might prefer.

She smiled as though pleased by his sentiment and seated herself, then reached for the strawberry pastry. He sat and chose a cream cheese.

Carly took a bite and chewed a minute, then asked, “How was your run?”

Trooper sipped his coffee. It was good and strong, just the way he liked it. “A little shorter than I usually prefer, but the heat was already building and I was ready for some breakfast. You probably were too, considering how long you’ve been up.”

“I was beginning to get hungry,” Carly admitted. “This Danish is good. Thanks for getting them.”