The Secrets of Rosa Lee. Jodi Thomas
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not fragile,” she whispered, closing her eyes once more.
Sloan grinned and leaned closer. “I’d never have guessed you were.”
Her breathing slowed as it brushed his cheek. There was something so intimate about the act, almost as if they were lovers who moved near in sleep and were unaware their breath mingled.
Sloan straightened, surprised at his own thoughts. He didn’t need to get personally involved with any of the committee. He’d come to check on her, nothing more. Maybe it was because she looked so vulnerable in sleep. Maybe it was because they were really talking. Hell, maybe this job was getting to him.
He should leave. But he hesitated. Not because he needed to know more or thought she might still be in danger.
He simply didn’t want to turn loose of her hand.
Eight
Lora Whitman pulled Billy Hatcher’s old car around to the back of the Altman house and shoved it into Park. “You sure you want to leave your Mustang here?”
Billy stretched. He’d been asleep most of the way back from Wichita Falls. “Sure,” he mumbled as he pushed hair from his eyes. “It’s as good a place as any. Safer than in front of my old man’s house.”
She didn’t comment on why he wanted to return to the old place. Maybe, like her, seeing the damage one more time made what had happened to them seem real.
“What time is it anyway?”
Lora rubbed the back of her neck. “About ten, I guess. Maybe a little later.”
“I could drive you home, if you like,” he said almost as an afterthought. “From the sound of that thunder we might get more rain.” He closed and unclosed his bandaged hand.
“I don’t mind if I get wet. After today, what could a little water hurt?” She unbuckled her safety belt. “How about walking me halfway? Maybe it will help me relax. I feel like lightning is dancing in me. I’ll never be able to sleep after all the excitement. Which doesn’t seem to be your problem.”
He grinned. “I can sleep anywhere and usually do.”
She wished they had talked on the drive back. Billy Hatcher wasn’t as frightening as she’d first thought. At dinner they’d shared an unusual conversation. Most folks felt a need to keep up small talk, follow one theme, let the discussion rock back and forth. No such rules bound Billy. He spoke his mind. In a way, it was the most honest dialogue she’d ever exchanged.
“Fair enough. We’ll walk.” He opened his door. “Thanks for the barbecue, and for driving.”
She was glad he didn’t add, “because my hand hurts.” She noticed him cradling it every chance he got. The cuts ran deep enough to be painful, but to her surprise, she noticed he refused painkillers.
“No problem.” She climbed out and caught up with him. “I wish half the new cars on our lot drove as smooth as this old Mustang.”
“Yeah. The sheriff sold it to me a few years ago when he bought his wife a new car. The engine was fine. All I had to do was work on the body.”
She took his arm to steady her steps as they rounded the back porch of Rosa Lee’s old house. Piles of tumble-weeds, broken branches and trash mounded at the corner of the porch. The blackness was almost complete at the side of the house except for faraway flashes of lightning above them.
Lora wasn’t afraid, but tightened her grip, fearing she might trip over something in the dark.
“Don’t worry,” Billy whispered. “There’s not that much to fall over back here except your panty hose.”
She laughed and relaxed a little. “I was just holding on to you in case you’re afraid of the ghost that hangs around this place.”
“I’ve never been afraid of ghosts. Never seen one wield a belt, or crash a car, or slug anyone. If you ask me it’s the living who walk this earth we need to worry about, not the dead.”
“You’re probably right.”
When they passed the side of the house where vines draped most of the windows, he slowed. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“I thought I saw a light flicker inside the house.”
“You’d better not be trying to frighten me.” She glanced over his shoulder at the window. A light blinked only a fraction of a second and was gone.
He stopped. His arm locked her hand against him, tugging her closer. “You see that?”
“Yes.” She reached in her purse for her cell. “I’m calling the sheriff.”
He pushed her into the vines as they watched the pinpoint of light moving slowly across the room.
It blinked again near the front door. Lora couldn’t breathe. The good news was that whoever haunted the house seemed to be leaving. The bad news was it was coming outside with them. Visions flashed in her imagination of a battle in blackness against a monster they couldn’t see. She would swing wildly, fighting for her life. So would Billy. In the morning, the sheriff would find them both dead. By accident, they’d murdered one another. They’d probably have to wait until a crime-scene photographer came in from Wichita Falls. By then, everyone in town would see her bloody body lying in the mud with vines twisted in her hair and her skirt up. Her mother would be horrified.
“Let’s follow them.” Billy pulled her forward.
Lora wanted to scream, “Are you kidding?” But yelling would only attract the trespassers. All she managed was a quick nod. She had no wish to trail anyone, but he wasn’t leaving her here alone in the vines with creatures already nibbling at her bare ankles.
Billy’s undamaged hand slid down to hers as they moved around the corner of the house.
She heard footsteps hurrying across the boards of the front porch. Then a squeal and laughter.
A car drove down Main toward them. Headlights swung across the yard as it swerved to a stop facing the house.
Footsteps scrambled off the far side of the porch and vanished into the night.
A car door opened, then slammed. “Who’s out there?” a man yelled. “This is Deputy Adams. You’d better step into the light right now.”
Billy tugged her hand backward, but she stood her ground. She’d never been afraid of the deputy. “It’s me!” she yelled. “Lora Whitman.”
The shadow continued forward, shining a light in Lora’s face. “What are you doing out here?”
Billy reluctantly moved into the light.
The deputy’s stance widened. “Who are you?”
“Hatcher,” he said.
Lora didn’t miss the lack of respect in Billy’s voice.
“What the hell are you doing here, Hatcher? Doesn’t your probation officer give you a curfew?”
Billy didn’t answer.
“He’s with me, Deputy,” Lora jumped in. “We’ve been over to Wichita Falls visiting Professor Dickerson, who was hurt this morning. I rode with him, and he brought me back here. My mother took my car home after she dropped me off at the meeting this morning.” Lora knew she was rambling, but she didn’t like being questioned. After all, they weren’t doing anything wrong, she was the one who called him in the first place. They had more of a right to be here than anyone. They were on the committee.
“Well, I guess it’s all right.” The deputy lowered the flashlight beam. “There’s a storm coming in, though. Radio says there might be hail. You both should be getting home.”
He turned the light on Billy’s