The Sharpest Edge. Stephanie Rowe
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care enough to explode. This wasn’t her life anymore. After a moment, she opened her eyes. “I think you should leave now.” She strengthened her trembling voice by giving Sean a hard stare.
“I agree.” He shoved back his chair and stood. “Lock your doors.” His jaw flexed and a tendon bulged in his neck. “I’ll make sure there’s a drive-by every hour, but I doubt he’ll come back tonight.”
“Fine.” She followed him to the door. “Assign someone else to this case.”
“Believe me, I’m going to try.”
“Good.” That was what she wanted: Sean not in her house or her life or her dreams. Sean, with his cold, judging eyes. Sean, who was her history, not her present. “See you around.”
He shut the door behind him with extra force and she snapped the locks shut on her past.
KIM AWOKE WITH a start when she heard someone holler her name. Her heart leaping, she lurched to her feet and cracked her head against the bathroom sink. Oy, that hurt.
She pressed her hand to her throbbing skull. The bathroom had been the safest place in the house, with no windows and a good lock on the door, so that’s where she’d slept after Sean had left. Along with all the fireplace implements. Wrought iron, heavy and sharp, she’d lined them up next to her, ready for Jimmy.
Who had never come.
Someone shouted her name again and she glanced at her watch. Almost nine in the morning.
Daylight was good.
She stretched, feeling increasingly foolish as she recalled last night’s fiasco. How stupid had she been last night? As if Jimmy had made it all the way across the country to find her. If he really was after her, he’d spend time lurking around her work and her apartment in L.A. trying to locate her. It would take him a while to figure out that she wasn’t there. By that time, she’d have heard from Alan that Jimmy was stalking her and the restraining order would land Jimmy back in prison. Then she could return and all would be good.
Darkness always made the nightmares worse. You’d think she’d learn to control them. But no, she hadn’t and, thanks to her overactive imagination, she’d ended up dragging Sean to her house. All because Jimmy had managed to mess up her brain at the same time that he’d shoved that knife into her thigh. Throw in the guilt from avoiding the hospital when Cheryl was waiting for an update on their dad and it had made Kim even more of an emotional disaster, freaking out at the slightest sound.
Screw Jimmy. She was never going to be his victim again—not physically, not emotionally.
This morning, she was going to call the police station and tell Sean that the whole thing was a false alarm and to forget it. Because Jimmy wasn’t in Maine. At worst, he was still in L.A., stalking her empty apartment.
She would not live in terror anymore, and the first step was to admit that her fears were irrational.
The doorbell rang, and she almost smiled at the sound. How weird to hear that familiar tune after ten years. Last night, she’d been so obsessed with being murdered she hadn’t even noticed it, but today it struck her.
She kicked the fireplace implements aside and stepped into the hall. No one jumped out at her, but she still peered through the window before opening the front door, just to make sure Jimmy hadn’t marched up to the house. An elderly man with gray hair, leathery wrinkles and a faded Red Sox cap grinned at her.
Relief and happiness cascaded through her and she tugged the door open. “Eddie!”
He held out wiry, ancient arms and she accepted, hugging the man who’d been in charge of the boats at the Loon’s Nest for forty-three years.
The Loon’s Nest was the official name for the rustic vacation resort-slash-camp that had been in her dad’s family for over a hundred years. The ninety-two cabins lining the shores of Birch Tree Lake were rented out every summer. With no kitchens or any sort of utility room, all the families ate at a central dining hall three times a day, and there were plenty of programs to keep the guests entertained: picnics on the islands, hikes in the mountains, softball games and more. Kim’s childhood home was on the outskirts of the camp, giving the family some privacy from the guests.
Her dad had moved out when he remarried, but he’d kept this house while he and Helen set up their cozy love nest a few miles away. The old home had sat fully furnished and empty, sustained by Max’s hopes that one of his wayward daughters would someday return to run the place.
And here she was. Back in the house. But it wasn’t on Max’s terms, and she wasn’t here to stay.
“Kimmy!” Eddie kissed her cheek. “I can’t believe you’re back.”
“It’s so good to see you.” She gave him a big hug, the scent of his pipe tobacco cascading back to her, a memory long forgotten. It made her want to curl up in his lap and listen to stories about the old days.
As a kid, she’d spent thousands of hours following Eddie around, sucking up all his knowledge about the lake and boats and nature. She adored him. God, it was good to see him.
Okay, so there was one good thing about being back in town.
“Come in.” She held the door open. “I want to hear all about everything.” As Eddie stepped inside, she stuck her head out and peered around. The woods were quiet, the underbrush jiggling from chipmunks. Birds were chirping, and a squirrel was running around with a pinecone in his mouth. No Jimmy.
Still, she bolted the door behind them. Yeah, he was probably hanging around her apartment in L.A., but it didn’t hurt to be careful.
“How did you know I was back?” She steered Eddie toward the kitchen table he’d sat at many times, then pulled a pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge.
“I’ve been watching the house. Figured you might come back when your dad got in the accident.”
Oh, crap. “Does everyone know I’m back?”
He shook his head. “This house is too far away from the rest of the camp. No one comes out here. I’ve been driving by on the lake, keeping an eye on the place.”
Phew. She wasn’t up to facing people yet.
“Thanks for stopping by.” And she meant it. Eddie was dear to her, the only vestige of her past that wasn’t tainted.
“We’re real sorry about your dad.”
She managed a civil nod. “Thanks.”
“That boat was okay. It wasn’t my fault.”
Surprised at his response, she touched his hand. “Of course it wasn’t your fault, Eddie. It was an accident.” Wasn’t it? Hadn’t Cheryl told her it was an accident? Cheryl had been Kim’s conduit for all the town news since they’d left.
Not that she cared about the details of what had happened to her dad. But Cheryl cared, so she had to ask. “What exactly happened? No one has told me.”
Eddie frowned. “Some kids were camping on Big Moon Island about a week ago. They heard a boat motor roaring and then a crash just before midnight, so they went down there and checked it out. The moon was out, so they were able to see your dad unconscious under the water, the boat cracked up on the rocks. Smashed his head on a rock, apparently. Kids hauled him out and gave him CPR while their buddies got help from the marina. Kept him alive, but he never woke up.” Eddie blinked several times. “Best friend a man could have. Should never have happened.”
No kidding. Her dad was the guru of boating safety and could navigate the lake blindfolded, even at night. He’d never, ever run aground, let alone smashed a boat full speed into one of the islands. The darkness wouldn’t have made a difference to him. He didn’t need daylight to navigate the lake. No one who had lived on it for fifty years did. The moon and stars were more than enough.
“The gearshift was locked down, so people figure that it got stuck,” Eddie said.