Mistaken Twin. Jodie Bailey
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they went during the evening, working around the few tourists who’d come in to paint. The bluegrass festival was drawing crowds to the old courthouse, which the town had converted into the Fine Arts Center, so their typical Friday crowd had been thin. “Go ahead. I can handle it. I’m wound so tight it will do me good to get moving, get some cleaning done. Might make me tired enough to get some real sleep tonight.” A full night’s rest didn’t happen often. Since she’d fled El Paso, sleep had been more like an estranged relative than a trusted friend. It sure didn’t like to come around to visit her house.
Liza glanced at the door and eased closer to it. “If you’re sure...”
Her thinly disguised eagerness dragged a much-needed laugh from Jenna. “I’m sure. Go to the concert. It doesn’t start for another half an hour, and I’ll guarantee Tim is staring at the door waiting for you to walk through it.” Liza had been dating Tim Stewart since their senior year of high school, five years earlier. Sooner rather than later, the firefighter would ask the artist to marry him. Likely sooner.
“Don’t have to tell me twice... Well, three times.” Liza blushed and grabbed her thick coat off the rack by the door. “I’ll see you in the morning? If the weather forecast is right and it’s going to rain, we’re probably going to be slammed from the minute we open.”
Jenna waved her out the door, then followed to twist the dead bolt behind her. They followed the weather with the same intensity as the hikers up the slopes and the ski-resort owners farther to the west. Rain, snow and cold drove customers to them, searching for a warm place and an outlet for the creative energy they’d built visiting all of the craft stores and artisans’ shops in and around town.
Mountain Springs might not have the draw of places like Asheville or Boone, but it was doing very well on its own. On the sidewalk, tourists and townsfolk alike were bundled against the cold as they hurried toward the Fine Arts Center.
A Mountain Springs Police SUV glided past. Probably Wyatt Stephens. He typically started the night shift about now.
Things outside were going on exactly as they always did. Even with the increased foot traffic, nothing looked out of place.
The best thing she could do to settle herself was to get moving, then go home to hot coffee, a warm fireplace and whatever cheesy movie looked good on Netflix.
Better yet, she could call Christa Naylor and see if the older woman would let her come up to her little mountain retreat for the rest of the evening. Christa’s tiny pottery studio might be just the thing to soothe Jenna’s spirit. It had worked many times before, as had some long talks over Christa’s valley-famous tea.
That’s exactly what she’d do as soon as she finished prepping for the next day. With the weather turning, she’d stock the paint trays and refill the bottles tonight so she wouldn’t be rushed in the morning. It was likely a crowd would be waiting outside the door for her to open like the last time the rain and cold had blown in together. They’d had a rough day then. The shop had been behind from the time the door opened all the way until they locked the doors for the night. The chaos of a day of unpredictable, bad weather wasn’t something she wanted to repeat.
At the counter, Jenna tugged out large paint jugs and began to refill the smaller ones they kept on display. It didn’t take long for the work to chase away the creepy crawlies. There was something about the swirls of color, the order of the paints across the spectrum from dark to light in shelves along the side wall... Color filled her heart, reminding her of the rainbow God had sent to Noah.
As she reached for the next jug, her phone vibrated in her hip pocket. Erin Taylor. The closest thing she had to a best friend. Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, Jenna reached for a jug of blue. “Hey, girl.”
“Are you coming to the concert tonight? I’m just walking in the door. It’s filling up fast and I’ll need to save you a seat.”
Jenna unscrewed the cap on Mediterranean Seashore and grabbed a smaller bottle to refill. “Probably not. I’ve been off my game all afternoon, so I’m going home to get some rest.”
“You are zero fun.”
“Is Jason with you?” The answer was almost definitely a yes. An instructor at the army’s nearby Camp McGee, Erin’s fiancé was rarely far away from her side when he wasn’t on duty.
“Yes.”
“I’m definitely not crashing date night.”
Erin’s sigh was loud. “Give me a break. We’d love for you to hang out. Besides, one of the bands you said you like will be here.”
“I don’t know.” Jenna drummed her fingers on the counter. Crowds had never been her thing, even less so since she’d fled Logan’s wrath. Aside from the crowd, Erin didn’t need her there. She had Jason. “The weather tonight makes it a good night to find something on—”
A creak from the back of the building made Jenna jerk her hand and slosh blue paint into a streak across the metal counter beneath the bar. She stared at the entrance to the hallway running from the customer area to the rear of the building, where her small office, a bathroom and the alley door were.
She’d locked the back door, right?
“You okay?” Erin’s voice rose with concern. It had been only a few months since someone had stalked and tried to murder Erin. Her radar still pinged on high.
“I thought I heard something. Let me make sure I locked the door. It will only take me a second.” Before Erin could protest, Jenna laid the phone on the counter next to the paint.
She wiped her hands on her jeans, grabbed a pair of scissors from the jar by the sink and crept toward the hall, makeshift weapon at the ready. If anyone happened to peek into the front window, they’d probably call the police...or the mental ward at the hospital.
Surely she was safe. God was watching over her. Still, His presence didn’t mean she didn’t have to take care of herself.
Inching into the hallway, she looked straight through to the rear of the building. The alley door appeared to be firmly shut. The monitor above the door, which connected to a camera outside, revealed no one on the back stairs.
Lowering the scissors to her side, Jenna chuckled, even though paranoia wasn’t exactly funny. She glanced at the bathroom door. She’d check there, but only to prove to her brain that all was well and it could stop playing tricks on her.
The door was closed.
Her brow furrowed. Funny. She didn’t remember closing it, tried to keep it open so customers would know when it was free to use. Maybe the last customer had shut it, but...
Her hand drew away from the knob.
With a crash that seemed to rock the building, the door flew open, knocking Jenna’s arm away and driving her backward against the wall. The scissors flew from her hand and clattered to the floor. Air squeezed from her chest. She staggered, the world spinning, her pulse a solid, pounding thump in her ears.
A powerful arm caught her beneath the chin and dragged her upright, pinning her against the wall, her neck bent backward, pressure against her throat gagging her. Rational thought fled in the driving need for survival. Jenna struggled, twisted and scratched, to no avail.
A body, heavy and solid, leaned against hers, pinning her arms into uselessness. A mouth pressed to her ear. “Thought you could hide forever, huh?”
Jenna whimpered, pain and fear flashing hot and melting her joints. Tears stung her eyes. This was not Logan, but he’d found her. Somehow, he’d found her.
The man jerked her chin higher with his forearm. Something solid and horrifyingly familiar gouged into her ribs.
The barrel of a pistol.
His voice hissed hot against her ear. “I know someone who’s going to be very, very happy to see you, Ms. Brady.”
Her real name. Jenna’s eyes drifted shut, and she