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  Marla’s explanation held the ring of truth.

  “That’s when we were having trouble paying Mom’s bills. I didn’t know he’d considered selling.” Throughout her mother’s cancer treatment Emma had talked frequently with her grandfather. In the end, the insurance company had come through and Trudy’s bills had been paid, but Walt must have been making provisions in case they became necessary.

  “Walt even signed some papers but at the last minute backed out. I think if he hadn’t gotten sick himself he would have gone through with it. He realized these little cabins would be an anchor around your neck.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Brad climbed a step to stand beside Emma. “I think Walt wanted to pass this place on to Emmaline. He knew she loved it here.” She did love it here. She and her grandfather used to talk about Emma coming to visit once Trudy was better. Then he’d gotten sick, Trudy’s condition had worsened, and within a few short months they were both gone. “Regardless,” Emma said, “my grandfather didn’t sell, and I’m here to stay.”

  ***

  Using a putty knife, Emma pried at the linoleum covering the check-in counter. Maybe whoever had hacked at it had done her a favor. A dirty gold color, it looked dated, and replacing it, especially with a lighter color, would freshen the room. That’s looking at the bright side. Anything to tamp down the anger, and the fear, brought by the attack.

  She looked out her screen door open to the balmy afternoon. A police cruiser traveled slowly up her driveway. Emma stepped out onto the porch to wave. Jack Morgan raised his hand in response, then circled the parking area and headed back to the highway. Where a few short weeks ago police anywhere near her would have kicked in her fight-or-flight reflex, now they made her feel safe.

  Maybe she was finally dealing with her issues.

  She pulled off the last of the linoleum to reveal the base of plywood. While it had dents from the hatchet, when it was re-covered it would be fine. Hauling the trash out onto the porch, she heard another vehicle approach. She recognized the car and straightened, body rigid, as the driver stepped out of his car.

  “You can get back in that car and leave or I call the police.”

  Frank Singleton hesitated, the folksy, good-ol’-boy mannerisms of their previous meeting absent when he spoke. “Ms. Kincaid, I’d like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind. Now get off my property.”

  He gazed at her intently, face flushed. “I’d like to say my piece, and then I’ll leave.”

  In a wrinkled sport coat, and today favoring more casual shoes instead of wingtips, he approached. She raised a hand, palm up. “You can say your piece from where you’re standing. Don’t come any closer.”

  He gave a jerky nod. “Well, the thing is, I’ve already seen the police once today. Chief Gallagher came by my motel room this morning. Said he wanted to have a little talk.” He shot her an uneasy glance. “He’s one tough hombre, if you know what I mean. You think he’s all calm, but I wouldn’t want to see him when he lets loose.”

  “Your point, Mr. Singleton?” Emma asked sharply.

  “My point is that I didn’t do it. I don’t mind being aggressive when I want a property. That’s part of my job. But no way would I mess up somebody’s place. Or burn it.” He pulled out his handkerchief to mop his forehead before stuffing it back in his pocket.

  When Emma didn’t respond, he shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted you to know it wasn’t me. That’s not how I operate.”

  He looked shaken, but Emma couldn’t drum up much sympathy. He’d been so obnoxious the first time he’d approached her, but his current demeanor made her hesitate. When he stepped back toward his car, Emma stopped him. “If it wasn’t you, then who? Your company has been insistent about acquiring my property.”

  “We would like to buy it, no doubt about that. But we’ll go after it legally.” Something about him struck her as sincere, and while Emma wouldn’t trust him to guard a pile of dirt, for the first time she doubted her conviction that he was behind the vandalism, and perhaps the arson, on her property. “You know it’s not only the developer who stands to make money if this plan goes through. There are a lot of folks in this little town who stay quiet, but they sit on chunks of property that would skyrocket in value if the development gets approved.” He gave her a shrewd look. “Think about it. Sorry for your trouble, Ms. Kincaid.”

  ***

  Several days later, Emma and Dory sat in the office debating color schemes. Emma had decided new linoleum deserved new paint and blinds. While Dory favored golds and tans, Emma liked the clean, bright feel of white contrasted with a warmer tone. They were comparing color palettes on her laptop when Emma’s cell phone rang.

  She glanced at the caller ID, and her stomach clenched as a flood of memories washed through her. In an instant she was pulled from her sunny cabin back into the blackest time in her life. Images from the past flashed through her head and had her swallowing against rising nausea. A patrol car, unlit warehouse buildings at night, a hoarse voice and groping hands. She’d left behind the darkness, and the despair, but once again she felt them snapping at her heels. She stepped out onto the porch and gripped the phone tight to her ear. “Yeah, I hear you. I’m fine.” She listened for several minutes, then tensed. “When?” After a pause, she said, “I’ll be there. Thanks, Rob,” and disconnected.

  She swung blindly toward the door and almost ran into Dory. “I’ve got to go.” She swallowed convulsively. “I have to go away for a couple of days.”

  Dory didn’t move. “Whoa, calm down, Emma. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t. I have to go.”

  When Dory didn’t budge, Emma growled in frustration. “Listen, I can’t tell you what it’s about but I have to leave. You should go stay with your parents. Tell Brad for me, would you?”

  “Oh no. That’s not going to happen.” Disapproval laced her tone. “You can’t disappear and expect me to tell Brad. You tell him yourself. He deserves that much from you.”

  Pushing past her, Emma stormed into her bedroom, grabbed a duffel, and began pulling clothes out of her closet. Off the hangar came one of the few professional business-type outfits she’d kept. She’d worn it while working at the insurance company and it would do for this. She folded the skirt and blazer and placed them in the bottom of the bag, then moved to the small dresser and took out nylons and underwear. Shoes from her closet went in next, then she hurried past Dory standing in the hall, arms folded across her chest, to grab toiletries from the bathroom.

  “Wait.” When Emma continued to ignore her, Dory marched to stand square in front of her and took her by the shoulders. “Emma, I said wait. Tell me what this is about. Are you in danger?”

  “I’m not in danger, but I can’t tell you. Not now.” Emma took a deep breath. It felt like the first she’d taken since the phone call.

  “Yes, you can. Who is Rob?”

  Emma shook her head, backing away. Dory hissed in frustration, then turned and stalked out of the cabin.

  When Emma finished packing, she zipped the bag and hauled it onto the porch. Seeing Dory leaning against the rail, Emma finally stopped, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry, Dory. I should be back by tomorrow evening, or the day after at the latest.”

  “You know there’s not one thing you can’t tell me, Emma. I’m worried about you. Any of your friends here would help you if you need it.”

  Emma saw the hurt behind the troubled eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, but I can’t right now. I have to go.”

  She lugged the bag to her car and stowed it in the back before getting in. She pulled out onto the gravel drive, then skidded to a halt when the big police SUV roared up and angled to block the road. With a sinking sensation she realized Dory must have called Brad while Emma had been packing.

  He got out, slamming his door. He wore jeans with a black t-shirt and a forbidding expression. The badge and gun on his belt only added to Emma’s sense that he was dangerous
. She’d always figured if the situation warranted, the calm he habitually exuded would be tested. Now emotions normally kept tightly strapped down were breaking free of their restraints. He stalked to where she’d stopped her car and pulled open the door. Having only a moment to wish she’d thought to lock it, he reached in and pulled her keys out of the ignition and set the parking brake with a sharp tug. Emma felt her nerves jitter. He appeared on the edge of control, as if the smallest spark would set off a volatile explosion.

  When he reached down and unbuckled her seat belt, then pulled her out of the car, her heart rate spiked. She jerked her arm free of his grip. “Let go of me. You can’t do this. Police have to have a reason to yank someone out of their car.”

  Wrong thing to say. Brad’s eyes looked like green lasers that could burn right through her. “This has nothing to do with me being a cop. It has everything to do with you and me, Emmaline. I want to know why my girlfriend would pack up and take off without so much as a good-bye, without thinking she owes me, or the other people who care about her, an explanation.”

  “I don’t owe anyone anything. And I’m not your girlfriend.”

  His gaze narrowed and he grabbed her by the upper arms, bringing her to her toes so they were eye to eye. “The hell you’re not. You know damn well we’re together. So cut the crap and tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t. It’s none of your business.”

  He looked like he’d been sucker punched in the face. He dropped her to her feet, and, hands fisted, stepped back as if he couldn’t trust himself to remain in control and be near her. “Can’t or won’t, Emma? You’re in some kind of trouble but you don’t have to face it alone.”

  She looked at him and knew she was jeopardizing the best thing in her life. Feeling the despair of reality, she said quietly, “I am alone, Brad. I’ve always been alone. The phone call was only a reminder. I was wrong to let you care when I can’t return those feelings.”

  His expression went blank.

  She held out her hand. “I want my keys. I have a long drive.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two long days later Emma returned, hollowed out but composed. For another three years she could put that part of her life away. She could feel safe and try to build her new life away from any reminders of where she had once been.

  Unlocking her front door, she wondered if Dory had stayed or gone to her parents’ house. The late-afternoon sun slanted golden light through the trees. Emma had missed her new home. She’d missed the smell of the pines and the light of the sun reflecting off the lake. She also missed the friends she’d made. But now she would have to face those friends, the friends she had left without trusting them with a reason. Brad would be the hardest to face. But she’d explain everything to him and when he knew, he would see they had no future together.

  Exhausted, she left her duffel next to the closet and collapsed onto her bed. She’d lie here for a few minutes, get the wheels to stop spinning around in her brain. She closed her eyes, letting her mind drift as she listened to a breeze picking up outside.

  Heavy pounding awakened her. Groggy and disoriented, she looked at the clock. She’d been asleep nearly an hour.

  “Emmaline. Open the door!” The front doorknob rattled, and she sat up when heavy footsteps sounded from the office.

  Brad stopped at the bedroom doorway while Emma’s heart thudded. Most of all, she’d missed him. His intensity, his compassion; being with him.

  She thought he might haul her up out of bed but he held himself in check, gripping the doorframe. He wore a dark green chambray shirt with the sleeves turned up to the elbows, and his dark hair windblown like he’d had the car window down. Even when he was mad at her, he had her heart tripping into overtime.

  “Are you okay?” The words were terse.

  Emma nodded. She needed a minute to prepare before she did what she had to do. Driving all those miles, she’d had nothing but time to think and had made her decision. It stared her in the face, repulsive and vile, but now was the time.

  “Would you put on some water for tea? I need a few minutes.” He gave her a measured stare, then a curt nod before turning away. Emma took a quick shower and pulled on some old jeans and a knit top. Brad was pouring steaming water into ceramic mugs when she entered the kitchen. He gave her a searching look. “Have a seat.” He set the mugs on the table. “Do you want anything to eat?”

  Since she had missed lunch she could do with something in her stomach to combat the queasiness brought by nerves. She got up to retrieve a bag of cookies from the cabinet.

  “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

  For the first time, Emma noticed his eyes were shadowed with fatigue, the alert vitality that always seemed such an intrinsic part of him subdued.

  She bit into a Nutter Butter. “I went to the state prison at Vacaville.”

  “Why?”

  “To testify at the parole hearing for the cop who tried to rape me when I was thirteen.” She refused to look away from the grim expression on his face. “We were successful. His parole was denied, and he won’t be eligible for another three years.”

  He raised his hands like he wanted to reach out to her but held back. She sat immobile, not letting the spark of compassion in his eyes melt the reserve she’d steadily rebuilt around herself on her trip.

  Looking into the face of the man who had attacked her, who had ended her childhood so violently, had been the reminder she had needed. While she had left that behind her to build a new life, she still bore the scars that were constant reminders of what she was and where she’d come from.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Emma nudged the cookies toward him but he ignored them, his tea untouched, his attention focused solely on her.

  Emma braced herself. Once she said the words he would understand why they couldn’t be together. It was better to tell him now before his feelings for her grew stronger. Emma understood Brad enough to know that once he loved a woman she would become the center of his universe. He would need the unity of marriage, the love of family. Yearnings she hadn’t even known she possessed rose, and she fought them back. He deserved those things with someone wholesome and undamaged.

  She took a sip of tea, then, keeping her gaze steady, she spoke. “My mom was lousy at picking out men. But one thing she tried to do was make sure none of them ever messed with me. And mostly they didn’t, at least until Sonny.” Emma fought down the return of the greasy knot that had yet to disappear completely since the moment she’d stepped into the parole hearing.

  “Tell me about Sonny.”

  “Sonny was a huge, big bastard with tattoos across his shoulders and down his arms. He wore those shirts called wifebeaters so people could see his tats. It was apt because he liked to beat up on my mom.”

  “That’s why you let Dory stay. Gave her a job. Because you saw your mother in her.”

  “No, my mom chose that life. In Dory I saw someone strong enough to fight against the hopelessness and misery. That’s why I hired Dory and gave her a place to stay.”

  He nodded. “Did he hit you, Emmaline?”

  She sucked in a deep breath and continued. “One night, Mom and Sonny came in our room. We were staying at this motel in the Valley. They’d been partying with some people down the hall. I was supposed to stay with a friend that night, but I wasn’t feeling well. They were both flying pretty high. They came in, laughing, talking loud, and woke me up. Sonny was mad because I was there and, looking back, I think he’d been planning on getting lucky. Mom told him he’d have to leave and he started to scream at her, said the only thing she cared about was her stupid kid. He hit her, split her lip.”

  “What did you do?”

  She stared at their joined hands, not sure how that had happened. “I grabbed something to hit him with. He backhanded me, gave me a black eye.”

  “Emmaline.”

  She refused to acknowledge the steady compassion in his gaze.

  “I
wish I’d hit him harder. Mom started screaming at him and pretty soon the cops were there. The upshot was Sonny got arrested for assault and Mom for child endangerment. Both of them got nabbed for being under the influence.” Emma felt like she was telling someone else’s story. “And since I wasn’t cooperating, and actually went a little nuts when they arrested my mom, I was handed off to this other cop who cuffed me.”

  “Some cops are idiots.”

  “Maybe. He cuffed me, then put me in his patrol car.” She paused, breathing deep to unravel the tightness in her chest and get through the next part. “The cop’s name was Spelling. He was supposed to take me to the station, where I would be processed and assigned to a foster family. But he didn’t.”

  Brad’s thumb rubbed against her knuckles. When she hesitated, he said, “Get it out, Emmaline.”

  “He pulled into a deserted warehouse area. We sat in that patrol car and I saw how he was looking at me and I got really scared. He said how he could make things easier for me if I was nice to him. If I let him do things to me.” Taking another steadying breath, she continued. “He took me into the alley, ripped open my shirt. I think I went crazy. I tried to bite him. I was still cuffed and when he bent down to pull down my pants, I kneed him in the face.”

  Calmed by Brad’s steady gaze, the rest of the story came out in a rush. “He hit me and I went down. The look in his eyes terrified me. He kept hitting me and then he was unbuckling his belt. He was going to rape me. I knew that much. Then another patrol car pulled up and this other cop, his name was Rob Hernandez, got out.” Nausea rolled in her stomach and she wished she hadn’t eaten the cookie.

  “Spelling saw Rob and he got scared; he started sweating. I remember that. It was a hot July night, he was breathing heavy and his nose was bleeding from where I’d kneed him. I don’t think he noticed. He leaned close to whisper he’d kill me if I said a word. And then Rob was there. Spelling tried to tell him how I’d tried to run. Of course my shirt was torn so it was pretty unbelievable.”