Pennyroyal Christmas (A Ruthorford Holiday Story Book 1) (7 page)

“What’s going on?” Samuel eyed the broken window.

“I was bringing Kat a Christmas tree and found her passed out. Had to break in.” At that, the fire captain left them, went to his truck, then entered the house.

The fire captain came back out of the house and approached Rowe. “I’ve got carbon monoxide readings. Where’s the furnace?”

Rowe shook his head. “Not sure. Basement, maybe.” He led them around to the back of the house where he’d seen cellar doors.

The firefighters entered, came back and called both Samuel and Rowe to follow. The fire captain pointed to the furnace door, laying on the ground. He knelt. “Looks like someone wants Miss Chance dead.”

“Don’t touch anything,” Samuel said. “I’m calling in a forensics team.”

“Abbott House?” Rowe asked.

“Damn straight.” Samuel said as they walked back to the front. “Why don’t you go on to the clinic?” He looked at Rowe. “I’ll send someone over there now. Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt her?”

Rowe explained what had happened in Virginia at Kat’s parents’ house and told them John was looking into it at that end.

“I’ll give him a call,” Samuel said.

****

Rowe dropped Tramp off at the ranch and headed on to the clinic. Clinic wasn’t really an accurate description. It was a small, fully equipped hospital built for the townsfolk of Ruthorford and the surrounding farms, thanks to the Abbott House, a private foundation that served Ruthorford.

He called John on the way to the clinic and filled him in on what had happened. John informed Rowe that he was still waiting on some information, but so far, they hadn’t found any prints other than those of the owners in the house. And Kat’s, of course.

“I’m following my gut on this one, little brother. I don’t have anything yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I do. But Rowe…,” he paused, “keep an eye on Kat.” Not that Rowe needed the encouragement.

Rowe parked and jogged to the entrance of the clinic. It smelled of antiseptic and disinfectant smells Rowe associated with the days they’d spent there with his brother, watching their father fight the pneumonia that took his life. He knew the building well and headed to the emergency room, where he was shown to a room directly across from the nurses’ station.

He stepped in and stopped. He felt a band tighten around his heart as he looked at Kat, so still on the bed, her amber eyes closed, an oxygen mask snug on her face. She looked so pale, so lifeless.

The nurse moved beside him and spoke softly. “She’s lucky you found her. Much longer and she wouldn’t have made it.” At his intake of breath, she turned, “Rowe, you okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about how I debated whether to take her a tree.” He turned to the nurse. “How have you been, Mary?” She had been there for Rowe and John when their father was struggling.

She smiled at him and patted her very round stomach. “Ready to drop this basketball,” she laughed softly and ran her hand over her tummy.

He looked down, placed his large hand over hers and smiled. “May it be an easy birth and a lively offspring.”

“Thank you.” She tilted her head and studied him. “Why don’t you go get some coffee? I’m here. She’ll be out for a little while yet.”

“I think I will. Do you want anything?”

“I’m good. Unless you see some Rocky Road ice cream in the cafeteria.”

Rowe stepped into the cafeteria and, as if on remote, grabbed a tray and moved front of the meal station. “What will it be?” the woman asked, none to gently.

He glanced around. It wasn’t as if her were holding up a line. He was the only one standing there. But honestly, he couldn’t say how long he’d been there. His mind was on Kat. He studied the offering and just couldn’t bring himself to want any of it. “Sorry,” he mumbled and moved on to the coffee station. The scent of hot, fresh coffee did more than the food did and the picked it up and paid, adding extra sugar to boost his energy.

Finding a table near the window, Rowe eased his large frame onto the plastic chair and sat back, taking a sip of the sweet brew. The sight of her—limp, lips blue, barely breathing replayed in his mind. His gut tightened and he could barely swallow the coffee. He was more frightened than he’d been in a long time. Samuel suggested it could be intentional.
Now, who in the hell would want to hurt her? Who even knew she was here? And what did this have to do with the break-in in Virginia?
He was sure there was a connection, but he’d be damned if he could figure it out.

He was still mulling over everything he knew about Kat and her family when his phone vibrated. He didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.”

“Rowe, it’s Mary. We still had your cell number from before.” The last was said quietly, referring to his Dad’s passing. “I just wanted to let you know Ms. Chance is awake.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right up.” He scraped back the chair and threw his coffee in the trash as he rushed out.

She was still pale but she’d graduated to a nose feed for the oxygen. Her lips were no longer blue. That was good.

The corners of her lips lifted in an attempt to smile.

Rowe walked over and kissed her forehead. “How’re you doing?” he asked and took her hand.

“Ok.” Her voice was hoarse. “I hear I owe you my life. Thank you.”

Rowe tried to smile but furrows of worry still creased his brow. “What happened? Do you remember anything?”

“Hold that thought til I get my recorder going,” Samuel said from the doorway and reached into his pocket to take out a small recorder and notepad. He placed the recorder on the tray table and moved it closer to her.

“Kat, this is Samuel Davis, Sheriff in these here parts,” Rowe tried to make it light. Seeing the question in her eyes, he added, “and my cousin.”

Samuel edged closer to her. “Not that we admit it,” he gave a quick laugh, then sobered. “You are one lucky lady, Ms. Chance.”

“Kat,” she corrected.

Samuel nodded. “I’d like to ask you some questions. See if we can get to the bottom of this. Tell me what you remember.”

Kat closed her eyes briefly, trying to remember the day. “I woke up with a headache. I noticed Tramp was sleeping in. Had to make him go out, in fact. Didn’t eat his breakfast. I got him outside, made some coffee, took something for the headache, and decided to go through some of my mother’s stuff.” She stopped when the nurse handed her some juice and told her to sip it, get some sugar in her.

“I was feeling a bit nauseous. I remember reading something. Weird. I don’t remember what now. Hmmm.” Her brow drew together as she concentrated. “I really don’t remember.” She looked from Rowe to Samuel. “The next thing I knew, I was heaving at Rowe’s feet. Then I was here.” She shrugged.

“Do you remember turning on the heat?”

“A couple of days ago. It got cold at night. Merc’s delivered gas a couple days before I left for Virginia.”

“Did you mess with the furnace?”

She looked at Samuel. “No. Where is it?” Her face tinged pink. “I don’t even know where it is, come to think of it.”

Samuel looked at Rowe.

Rowe took Kat’s hand in his. “Kat, do you remember hearing anything? Any sounds, like they could have been coming from under the house?”

She shook her head. “No. Tramp sometimes’ll whimper at night. I really don’t like to let him out late…” she let the thought die.

“Kat, do you know of anyone that might want to harm you?” Samuel was studying her face.

“I’m not sure.” She hesitated, remembering why she’d come to Ruthorford in the first place. “I told Rowe about how Tramp and I came to be together.” At the Sheriff’s expression, she smiled. “Tramp’s my dog.

“Oh, you mean that wolf-like creature we met at your cabin?” Samuel grinned.

“That would be Tramp. He came to my rescue about a year ago when someone tried to break in. Then, about six months ago, I started getting hang-up calls. Then someone vandalized my truck. So bad, in fact, I had to get a new vehicle. I figured it was some crazy fan. My art has really taken off in the last year or so.”

Samuel took notes and nodded for her to continue.

“I started getting nervous and figured I needed to get away. That’s when I remembered the cabin. Change of scenery; loss of fanatic.” She tried to make light of it.

“Who handles your pieces? Schedules showings?” Rowe interjected.

“I have this small studio in northern Virginia that does that. I’ve been with them for years. I’m sure they would let me know…,”

Samuel handed her the pad. “Would you mind writing down a name and phone number of someone I can contact there?”

“Sure.”

As Kat wrote, Samuel turned to Rowe. “I don’t want her alone.”

“She’s coming home with me.” Rowe’s voice was emphatic. Kat looked up, handed back the pad, but didn’t protest.

“Good. I’ll get back to you,” the Sheriff said, picked up the recorder, and turned to leave. “If you remember anything….”

She smiled. “I know. Call you immediately. I promise.”

****

They finally released Kat by late afternoon when the ABG test came back indicating her blood oxygen leaves were stable. She felt like a pincushion after all the blood work and IV’s. But she couldn’t complain. She was alive, even if she did feel like shit.

When they wheeled her out of the clinic, she laughed at the site of Rowe’s truck with a tree strapped to the top of it.

It took a bit of convincing to talk him in to letting her go by the cabin for her purse and some clothes on the way to his house.

He did, however, call Samuel to make sure her cabin was safe to enter before he let her take one step inside. Someone had boarded up the window and swept up the glass from the inside, but the papers and mementos from the open box lay scattered about the floor.

Kat packed an overnight bag, grabbed Tramps treats—she knew Rowe had food for him—and picked up her purse and phone charger. It was then that she stopped, turned and studied the floor in front of the couch.

“What is it?” he asked as he watched her move papers around.

“I know it was there,” she said half to herself and set her purse down to look through it. Brow furrowed, she looked at Rowe. “Did you move anything? Do you think the police did?”

“I don’t know. What’s missing?”

“A tiny raccoon figure I made for my mom. This man in Adams Grove, Chaz Huckaby, gave it to me when I went to get boxes. He said Mom gave it to him for letting her use the phone. I stuck it in my purse and found it this morning, when I was looking for my pen. I set it next to me on the floor when I opened the box.”

Rowe knelt down and rifled through the box. Nothing but papers shifted around. He lifted papers on the floor, knelt and peered under the couch and let his eyes travel over the floor, knowing it was sometimes easier to spot something from this angle. There was no tiny figurine. He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Samuel. Maybe one of them picked it up.”

Kat stuffed everything back into the box while Rowe talked on the phone. The conversation was brief. “No. It was the forensics guys that boarded up the window,” he relayed to Kat. “No one messed with anything on the floor. They dusted the doors and the basement for prints, took some rags near the furnace, but nothing in here.”

Kat rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

“Let’s get you out of here. It’s cold with the heat off.”

“Oh,” he added. “Grab a heavy coat. We’ll lock up tight.” He checked the back door, although there was a table half blocking it, grabbed the box, and locked the front door behind them.

He helped her into the truck, stuck the box in the back, got in and started the heat. The temperature was falling rapidly. “Let’s get you home,” he smiled. “I know one puppy that’s gonna wanna see his momma.”

At the ranch, after letting Tramp fuss over her when they opened the door, he showed Kat to a guestroom with its own bath. He tried to get her to go to bed, but she refused. He grabbed some pillows and a blanket, conceding, as long as she agreed to curling up on the couch. He had her snug with a cup of hot tea before he dragged the tree in and set it up in the corner.

“I’ll get the lights and ornaments out of the attic tomorrow.” He plopped down on the end of the couch with a beer. He took a long draw on the bottle before turning to her. “You in the mood for anything special for dinner?”