Broken Trust. Sharon Dunn
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heifers had bedded down for the night with their calves. Those who were standing weren’t fazed as he passed by them.
As he neared the farmhouse, he felt a tightening in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
“Mommy, I saw lights.” Five-year-old Eva stood in the doorway of the old kitchen.
Christine looked up from the stack of bills she’d been shuffling through. Jake, their border collie, stirred at her feet. “Honey, you’re supposed to be in bed.” Every time she looked at Eva, she saw Dustin in her light brown curly hair and round eyes.
“But I saw lights in the sky, Mama.” She clutched the worn stuffed animal a little tighter. “Do you think it was angels coming to tell us about Daddy?” The little girl’s expression was hopeful and bright.
The only one having a harder time with losing Dustin than Christine was Eva. Her daughter hadn’t slept through the night since her father died in a hay-baler accident over a year ago. Christine’s heart squeezed tight, but she managed a smile. “I don’t know if angels need lights to see by. Come get one more hug, sweetie, and then it’s off to bed for you.”
Eva slipped easily into her mother’s arms. Christine held her, burying her face in the soft hair and inhaling the sweet little-girl smell.
“Everything all right?” Grandma Maggie, Dustin’s mother, stood in the doorway. Her gray hair was braided into a single rope that fell over her shoulder. Time spent in her garden had made Maggie’s skin a rich brown.
“We’re doing just fine.” Christine squeezed Eva a little tighter, enjoying the warmth of the hug. “Eva thought she saw some lights in the sky.”
“I saw them, too,” said Maggie.
Christine sat up a little straighter. “Really.” She’d been willing to dismiss the lights as Eva’s imagination; everything and anything, real and imagined, seemed to wake that poor child up, but if Maggie had seen the lights, too …
“When I got up to get a glass of water during the commercial for my program, I saw them through the bathroom window to the north,” said Maggie.
Christine stood up and set Eva on the worn linoleum. “Why don’t you have Grandma Maggie put you to bed?”
Maggie held out her arms. “How about Grandma tells you a story to help you sleep?”
Eva clapped her hands together and ran to her grandma. Christine listened while their voices faded down the hallway before returning to her bills. Through the open window in the kitchen, the cows in the corral mooed and bustled. Jake lifted his head and then rose to his feet, emitting one quick, sharp bark as he faced the north door.
Something was stirring things up out there. “I suppose we ought to go check it out, huh?”
The dog’s light blue eyes seemed to hold some under standing of what she was saying. He twisted his head to one side as though agreeing with her. With Jake trailing behind her, Christine made her way into the living room where Grandma Maggie had been watching a home-improvement show. As she grabbed the shotgun off the fireplace mantel, she could hear the soft murmur of the older woman’s voice and Eva’s laughter down the hallway.
Three females living alone with the nearest neighbor five miles down the road had the potential to make Christine feel vulnerable, but she could take care of herself. Her training at the FBI academy, endless firearms instruction and years spent hunting with Dustin had given her that confidence.
She pushed the door open, closing it softly behind her and stepping into the night. Heavy cloud cover meant no moonlight or stars. She stepped away from the circle of illumination the porch light created. As she neared the barn, the aroma of hay and livestock greeted her. Dustin had loved it out here, and she had grown to love it. Dustin’s old horse still seemed restless as it clopped around the corral. The pigs in the barn were snorting louder than usual for this hour. A raccoon or a coyote might have gotten in there. The last thing she needed was to have half her chickens be some varmint’s dinner. The ranch barely broke even. She couldn’t afford the loss.
Jake brushed against Christine’s leg. The dog stopped suddenly. The hair on his back bristled, and he emitted a low growl.
“Easy, boy.” Her heartbeat revved up a notch. Her nerves tingled in anticipation of an encounter. Inside the chicken house, it didn’t sound like an all-out massacre was taking place. The fox or coyote or whatever it was must be close, though, because the clucking and flapping of wings indicated some alarm had gone off for the birds.
She soothed the dog as they drew closer to the barn. Jake’s yipping became repetitive and higher pitched the closer they got to the side of the barn. She held the rifle at her side but was prepared to lift it and look through the site at a second’s notice. Holding her breath, she placed one foot in front of the other.
She startled when a shadow stepped out from behind the barn, a man. His hands went up in a surrender gesture.
She gripped the rifle a little tighter, but didn’t aim it. Most likely it was a farmer who had broken down on the road. “What are you doing here? Can I help you?”
The man uttered a single word. “Christine.”
Christine nearly fell backward as memories hit her like a tidal wave. She knew that voice. “Wyatt?”
He stepped closer to her, which caused Jake to rapid-fire bark and bounce from side to side.
“Jake, give it a rest.” Christine narrowed her eyes at the dog. The dog came to a sitting position beside her. His tail still twitched—an indication that he was ready to mount another assault of barking and bouncing.
Christine stared at the man in front of her, barely visible in the minimal light. What do you say to a man you thought you loved once upon a time? They had worked together and dated for almost two years. He was the one who had convinced her to apply to the FBI. And she had waited and hoped for a marriage proposal, waited and hoped for him to say he loved her, too. By the time she got her first field assignment ten miles from here in Roosevelt, she’d broken up with him knowing that he would never take the next step in their relationship … and then God had brought Dustin into her life. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s work related. I need your help,” he said.
“Work related?” Without knowing why, she found herself digging her heels in, feeling reluctant to invite him into her house. She’d have to explain who he was to Grandma Maggie and Eva if they were still up. “Why didn’t you just contact me at my office? You do know I’m the sheriff for Mohler County?”
“We’re trying to do this mission with as little disruption to the community as possible because of what happened ten years ago.” He took a step toward her. “It’s awful dark out here, don’t you think? Can we go inside and talk?”
When she’d met Dustin, she had left Wyatt and her past behind. She’d grown up in a Christian home, but Wyatt’s charm had caught her up in a whirlwind. Maybe she just didn’t want to revisit that part of her life again—maybe that was what the reluctance was about.
Wyatt rubbed his forearm and winced.
Even in the dim light, she could see that he was in pain. A rush of sympathy caused her to step toward him. “Did you hurt yourself?”
He shrugged. “Just landed funny, is all.”
The way he tried to hide the pain tugged at her heart. He always had to be a tough guy. “I suppose you can come inside and at least get a cold compress on that.” She led him to the back door and into the kitchen. The television was still on in the next room, but she didn’t know if Maggie had gone back to her program or not.
Still not feeling at ease, she turned toward the stove and twisted one of the knobs. The gas flame shot out, and she placed the kettle on it. “Have a chair. Can I get you a cup of hot tea or something?” After a quick intake of breath, she angled her head to look at him.
Wyatt waved the