Defender for Hire. Shirlee McCoy
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you need to worry about.” She reached for the package, her fingers brushing the paper. Something skittered along the bottom of the box. Seth felt the movement through cardboard and paper. Tessa must have, too. She jerked her hand back.
He set the box down. “There’s something alive in here.”
Tessa made no move to lift it. “It seems that way.”
“You don’t know what it is?”
“No.” She tucked a loose strand of deep red hair behind her ear and sighed. “Look, Seth, I don’t want to be rude, but I have another patient waiting and—”
“Dana is in with her.” He lifted the box again, examining the envelope taped to its top. “There’s no return address. It’s not even postmarked. Someone hand delivered it.”
“You’re probably right.” Tessa didn’t seem impressed by his deductive reasoning, and she didn’t look happy that he hadn’t left. She didn’t reach for the box, though, and he thought that she’d be relieved if he took the initiative and looked inside.
“I spent a fair amount of time in the desert, and I’ve dealt with a lot of critters. Why don’t you let me see what’s in here? If it’s something you don’t want, I’ll dispose of it.”
“What if it’s a snake?” she asked, hovering close to Seth’s side. He could feel the heat of her arm through his coat sleeve, could smell a hint of vanilla in the air.
“The box isn’t big enough. Besides, snakes don’t skitter. They slide.”
“How...comforting.” She offered a brief smile, a dimple flashing in her left cheek.
“I don’t mind snakes,” he said, pulling the envelope from the box and handing it to Tessa. “It’s scorpions I despise.”
“I’ll take a scorpion over a cobra any day of the week.” She ripped the envelope open and pulled out a white note card.
“What’s it say?”
“Today’s date.” She turned it over so that he could see the numbers scrawled in thick, black marker.
“Maybe there’s a note in the box.” He pulled out his utility knife and eased the tip under the wrapping paper. “Better tell me now if you don’t want me to do this.”
She remained silent, and he slid the knife blade under the box lid.
“What if it jumps out at you?” Tessa moved closer, her shoulder pressed against his arm.
His muscles tensed in response. Dormant memories sprang to life of a hundred moments spent with the only woman he’d ever loved.
He forced them away and flipped the box lid up. Better to look in the box than to look at the past.
“What is—”
Tessa’s voice trailed off as two long, brown legs reached over the side of the box, the hairy exoskeleton as recognizable as it was surprising. Seth had seen his share of tarantulas. This one was bigger than most, its legs retreating as it scurried into a corner of its prison. A white envelope lay beneath it.
Seth reached to retrieve it, but Tessa grabbed his arm. “Just leave it.”
“Don’t you want to know who it’s from?”
“It was sent to me by mistake.”
“Your name was on the box.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of people in the world with my name.” She smiled, but her face had gone paper-white again, her eyes emerald against the pallor.
“You’re scared.”
“I don’t like spiders any more than I like snakes.”
“I don’t think that’s the reason.” He shut the box lid, leaned his hip against the desk. “I think you should call the police, and let them know that this was sent to you.”
“It’s not illegal to give someone a tarantula.” She rounded the desk, pulled masking tape from a drawer and taped down the box lid. “I’ll take this guy to the pet store this afternoon. Someone will want it, right?” Her hands and voice were steady, and her expression neutral, but the fear in her eyes gave her away.
He took the box from her.
“I’ll take care of it. See you next week, Tessa.” He walked into the hallway, feeling the giant spider moving around inside the box in his hand.
Tessa didn’t follow.
He wasn’t surprised.
And he wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up for his appointment next week and she wasn’t there.
He knew all about having secrets.
Tessa could keep hers, but he was just curious enough to take a look at whatever lay at the bottom of the box. Tessa might not have wanted to know who’d sent it, but Seth did. Just in case the spider wasn’t the last of the gifts.
Just in case there was trouble.
And generally, when it came to Seth’s life, there usually was.
TWO
Go. Don’t look back...
The words echoed through Tessa’s mind as she ran up the steep hill that overlooked her house. Sweat slipped down her neck and pooled in the hollow of her throat, her breath heaving as she crested the rise and headed down the path that led to the Spokane River. Her dog, Bentley, panted along beside her, his muscular body relaxed, his one good ear upright. At nearly a hundred pounds, the huge mutt was large enough to discourage unwanted attention. He was also smart and alert enough to warn her of danger.
She’d chosen him for that and for his sweet, goofy ugliness. Long black fur over a homely face, one blue eye and one brown, he’d been abused by a previous owner but had still had the exuberance of a puppy when she’d found him at a shelter two years ago.
And now it was the five-year anniversary of Daniel’s and Andrew’s murders.
Don’t look back.
But how could she not when everything she loved was in the past?
She picked up her pace, running until her muscles cramped and her body ached. Finally, she couldn’t run another step and she pressed her elbows to her knees, trying to catch her breath.
Darkness had fallen, purple-black and thick. No moon. No streetlights. Just the Spokane River lapping softly at its banks and the distant lights of the city hinting at civilization. Dear God, how she wished she could find a place she could stay for longer than a few months or a year.
She straightened, a half-formed prayer nudging at the back of her mind, a cry from the heart that she didn’t want to acknowledge. God hadn’t answered her prayers five years ago, and she didn’t expect Him to now. She didn’t even want to bring her hopes and dreams before Him because she’d been devastated when He hadn’t answered before, despondent when everything she’d ever cared about had been yanked away.
She couldn’t lay the responsibility for that in God’s hands, but she couldn’t take it out of His hands, either. He could have changed things, could have saved her husband and brother-in-law or taken her with them.
She still didn’t understand why He hadn’t.
“Come on, Bentley. Let’s go home,” she said, hoping that her voice would chase away the melancholy mood. Every year, she got the rose. Every year she felt this way.
This year had been different, though.
This year, she’d gotten the spider.
Despite what she’d told Seth, she didn’t think it had been sent by mistake. Someone knew that her brother-in-law had kept a pet tarantula when they were on mission to Kenya. Someone had wanted to remind her of that.