Hidden Witness. Beverly Long
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yelling for his sons to hurry up, that the trout were biting.
As if he’d conjured up old spirits, he heard a noise. Something soft. Outside. He eased off the couch, used a finger to pull back the heavy drapes and watched the yard.
Nothing moved in the darkness. He waited, continuing to watch. Five minutes later, a dark shape, low to the ground, crossed the gravel.
A groundhog. He let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d been spooked by an animal.
He lay back down, rubbed his sore thigh and closed his eyes. Upstairs, he heard a door open and close, then the sound of water running through the pipes as Raney turned on the shower. She’d had a hell of a day but had seemed to handle it well. She’d been shot at yesterday, hustled out of Florida this morning, pushed into a fake marriage and had ended up here, in a house of neglect.
He’d clean up the place tomorrow, at least get the top layer of dust off. Then he would pitch everything in the refrigerator and make a quick trip to town for food. If the dinner Raney had eaten tonight was any indication, she had a good appetite. Which was surprising considering she was pretty slim.
But the curves were there. He’d seen that firsthand in the wedding dress. That image had stayed with him the entire drive from St. Louis to Ravesville. That and the memory of the feel of her mouth.
He heard the water shut off. Let himself have the guilty pleasure of imaging Raney’s wet body stepping over the edge of the old tub. Of her drying off on the threadbare towel.
He heard the door open and the floor creak as she crossed the hall. He wondered if she’d brought pajamas or if she slept naked.
He let out a breath, happy to let that image rest on his brain.
* * *
WHEN HE WOKE UP, the sun was low in the sky. He checked the time. A little past seven. He sat up, stretched and went in search of coffee.
There was no coffeepot on the counter. He opened cupboards. Not even a jar of instant. It was another reason to despise Brick.
He walked up the stairs and muscle memory kicked in, making it easy for him to avoid the same squeaky boards that had been there thirteen years ago. Raney’s bedroom door was closed. He considered knocking but decided against it.
She probably needed her sleep.
He opened the door and stopped. The woman knew how to take up a bed. She slept on her stomach with her head at ten o’clock and her feet at four o’clock. She wasn’t naked but her sweet little body was plenty sexy in her lime green shorts and white-and-green-striped T-shirt. She was breathing deeply.
She’d tossed the clothes that she’d been wearing the night before into a pile. On top was her bra and panties, a silky pale yellow with lots of lace.
His face felt warm and when she stirred, he thought maybe he’d moaned.
Dawson was right. He needed to get more regular sex.
He took a step back, carefully closing the door. He could run into town, pick up some coffees and pastries from the bakery and be back before she ever woke up. Maybe that would make up for stashing her in this dump.
He left the house, making sure that he locked the door behind him. The drive to town took just minutes and when he walked into the bakery, the first thing he saw was the cakes in the display case.
It made him remember how the birthday/wedding cake had amused Raney. He debated buying another one just to see her reaction but instead got six doughnuts and a coffee cake along with two extralarge coffees.
He sipped his coffee on the way home. When he pulled into the yard, he did not notice anything amiss. Which was why, when he opened the door and looked down the hallway into the kitchen, he got caught short.
He saw the man. Catalogued his dirty blue jeans and dark sweatshirt and the greasy hair that hung to his shoulders.
Saw all that but what Chase focused on was the knife that the man held. It had a shiny six-inch blade and was raised and pointed.
At Raney.
Still in her pajamas, she had her back pressed up against the sink. Her face was pale and her eyes were big.
The man leaped toward her. Chase pulled his gun but knew that he was going to be too late.
Raney twisted, brought a knee up, connected with something and used every bit of strength in her arms to push the man backward.
It was enough to buy a few seconds and give Chase a chance to leap across the space that separated them. She saw the knife go flying and within moments, Chase had the man on the ground, his knee in his chest and his gun pointed at his head.
He turned to look at her. “Are you hurt?” he asked. His eyes were dark, flashing with anger.
She managed to shake her head.
Chase looked down at the man. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, his voice hard.
The man squinted his eyes. “Get off me,” he said. “You’re heavy.”
Raney took a closer look at the man. He’d surprised the heck out of her. She’d just gotten a drink of water when she’d heard a noise behind her. She’d turned, seen the man and the still-open back door, and realized that she was in a world of trouble.
Chase had walked in just in the nick of time.
Chase used the palm of one hand to knock the man’s head back against the dirty kitchen linoleum. “Start talking.”
“You need to get out of here,” the man said. “You need to get out of my house right now.”
Raney saw the change in Chase’s eyes and realized that he’d figured something out. Good, because she didn’t have a clue what was going on.
Chase let up on some of the pressure on the man’s chest but he didn’t let him get up. “Lloyd?” he asked.
“How do you know my name?” the man asked.
“I’m Chase. Chase Hollister.”
“I know you,” the man said. He smiled.
Chase looked up at Raney. “This is Lloyd Doogan. He’s my stepfather’s biological son.”
“So you’re sort of related?”
“I don’t generally think of it that way.” He looked back down at the man. “Lloyd, I’m going to let you get up. I’m not giving you back your knife. You need to sit, so that we can have a conversation.”
Chase was speaking deliberately and didn’t move until the man nodded his understanding.
Lloyd got up and sat. He looked at Raney. “Who are you?”
“Her name is Raney,” Chase said, jumping in. “My wife.”
Lloyd seemed to consider this. “I thought you were one of those teenagers from town. The ones who are always causing trouble.”
Teenager. Granted, she wasn’t dressed for success in her shorts and tank top, but she surely didn’t look sixteen. Chase turned his head but not before she caught a glimpse of a smile.
“Hey!” she challenged.
“I think it’s a compliment,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. He turned back to Lloyd. “This house never belonged to Brick. He was just living here after my mom died. This house doesn’t belong to you now. It belongs to my brothers and me.”
Lloyd didn’t answer. But he was frowning.
“Do you understand, Lloyd?” Chase pushed.
“He told me I could live here,” Lloyd said. “A couple years ago. Said