Cold Case at Camden Crossing. Rita Herron
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have to stock up on her allergy medication.
Carrying that bag out the back door, her gaze scanned the woods beyond. Was the person who’d left her those vile messages hiding out now, watching her? Hoping she’d flee the town as she had seven years ago?
“I don’t want to be in Camden Crossing any more than you want me here,” she muttered.
“Who are you talking to?”
Tawny-Lynn startled and spun around. Chaz stood in the kitchen doorway, his hand covering the gun at his waist. “Did you see someone out here?”
She shook her head, silently berating herself. “No, I was talking to myself.”
His eyes darkened as he studied her. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”
“I’m just exhausted,” she admitted. “But I’m not going to bed until this kitchen is clean, so you can go home if you’re finished.”
“Actually I came down for a bucket and bleach.”
She frowned. “What for?”
“To clean the blood off your wall and mirror.”
“That’s not necessary, Chaz. You’ve done enough already.” In fact, it felt too good to have him here. Made her feel safe. Secure. Needy.
She couldn’t lean on him or anyone else.
“I’ll do it once I finish with the kitchen.”
“No way,” he said gruffly. “I don’t intend to leave you here with that disgusting threat in your room, especially after you were in an accident.”
God, his voice sounded almost protective. Odd, when years ago he’d hated her just like everyone else.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He rummaged through the boxes of supplies, grabbed a bucket, a container of bleach and a sponge and strode back toward the stairs.
Tawny-Lynn sighed shakily and rushed back inside, but the wind whistling through the trees unnerved her and she slammed the door. Maybe it was better if Chaz was here, acting as the sheriff, of course, just in case the intruder had stuck around.
Her adrenaline kicked in, and she finished scraping off the counters, chairs, table and floors of junk, carefully stowing any unpaid bills she located, and there were dozens, into a basket on the counter. Next, she tackled the refrigerator, not surprised to find it virtually empty except for condiments that had expired, something moldy growing in a jar, a jug of sour milk and a carton of outdated eggs.
Next she tossed a rusted can opener, a toaster that was so crusted with grime that she doubted she could ever clean it, then dish towels that were mildewed.
When she finished with that, she pulled out the bleach and industrial cleaner and scoured the sink, counter and the inside and outside of the refrigerator. The counters were worn, but after several layers of crud had been removed they were passable. Other things might need to be replaced.
That is, unless she just decided to sell the ranch as it was. Maybe that was best. She didn’t have money to invest in the house. The property held the real value. Whoever bought the ranch could tear down the house and build a new one or remodel this one the way they chose.
By the time she finished and mopped the floor, her body was aching for sleep. Footsteps sounded, and Chaz appeared, his big body filling the doorway.
She was filthy, sweaty and covered in dirt, while he looked so handsome and strong that he stole the breath from her.
“You look like you’re about to fall over,” he said.
Tawny-Lynn leaned against the counter. At least it smelled better in this room. “It’s been a long day. A good night’s sleep will work wonders.” Although truthfully, she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in nearly a decade.
The nightmares dogged her every time she closed her eyes.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN SWAYED, and Chaz caught her by the arm. “Exhausted? You’re dizzy.”
“It’s just the cleaning fumes,” she said, her voice strained. “I have allergies.”
He nodded, unconvinced. “I’m going to send Jimmy James out here tomorrow to install new locks on the house. Dead bolts, too.”
“I can take care of it,” Tawny-Lynn said.
“Don’t argue.” Chaz gestured toward the mess in the living room. “You have your hands full already.”
She rubbed her forehead, then looked up at him warily. “Why are you helping me, Chaz? I thought you hated me just like your folks and the rest of the town.”
Chaz’s chest tightened at her directness. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t hate her, that he regretted the way he’d treated her after Ruth had disappeared, that he’d shouldered his own share of guilt and had been desperate for answers to satisfy his father.
But there was no way he could get personal with her. Revealing the truth would make him vulnerable. And he had to focus.
One day he would find his sister. That was all that mattered.
So he kept the conversation on a professional level. “I’m the sheriff, I’m just doing my job.”
Something akin to disappointment flared in her big green eyes. “Of course. Well, thanks for the ride home and for cleaning the walls.”
He nodded. “I’ll let you know if I find a hit on any of the prints or the blood samples.”
Tawny-Lynn led him to the front door, but he hung there, hesitant to leave. She looked so small and fragile. Vulnerable.
She’d been here less than twenty-four hours and already had an accident, which could have been intentional, and an intruder in her house who’d left vile threats against her.
Tawny-Lynn held the door edge, and offered him a brave smile. “Well, even if you are just doing your job, I appreciate it, Chaz. I know how the locals feel about me. I...just wish I could give them what they want.”
He narrowed his eyes, pained at the sorrow in her tone. “You suffered, too. You lost your sister. People should have been more sensitive to that.”
She shrugged, but the effort didn’t meet her eyes.
He had the sudden impulse to reach up and pull her against him. To hold her and assure her that everything would be all right. That she’d done all she could, just as he had.
But touching her would be wrong. Would make it more difficult to keep his distance and do his job.
And his job was to keep her safe and to find the person who’d threatened her.
So he handed her his business card, told her to call him if she needed anything, then headed to his car, determined to ignore the pull of attraction between them.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN WATCHED Chaz leave with mixed feelings. As long as he’d been in the house, she could chase away the monsters.
But when she was left alone in the house, the ghosts seeped from the walls to haunt her.
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. The familiar panic attacks she’d suffered after the bus accident threatened. Willing herself to be strong, she closed her eyes and took slow, even breaths.
It had been seven years. She was alive. She was safe.
Or was she?
Judging from the bloody message on her mirror and walls, someone didn’t want her here.
A shudder coursed up her body and she locked the door, then shoved a chair in front of it. The chair wouldn’t keep an intruder out, but at least if it fell over, it might wake her.
If she ever managed to fall asleep.
Dusty