On Deadly Ground. Lauren Nichols

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СКАЧАТЬ she said, slightly alarmed. “Is something wrong?”

      “No. Not wrong, exactly. But I was having an early lunch at the diner with some friends, and Perris came in.” He glanced around. The hall had gotten busy with visitors and nurses aides wheeling residents to other venues. “Can we talk somewhere else? I know you’re busy. I won’t keep you long.”

      “Of course. Let me talk to Gail—she’s the activities director—then I’ll see you outside.”

      A few minutes later, he watched her breeze through the home’s double doors. Sunlight glanced off the small gold cross she wore with tiny gold earrings, a white knit top and deep purple chinos. Trying to ignore the uninvited change in his pulse, Jake joined her on the sidewalk and reminded himself he was only here to make a pitch for protection. Nothing more. No matter how beautiful she looked.

      They fell into step together, strolling past bright yellow goldfinches pecking seeds from multilevel feeders “So what’s up?” Rachel asked. “What did Perris tell you?”

      Jake glanced down at her. “He said your visitor had to have made a second trip back to your place last night.”

      “I know. He mentioned that to me before he left. He said the light ‘chinking’ sounds I heard earlier weren’t consistent with someone banging a screwdriver into a fuel tank.” She glanced up at him. “Did he tell you that whoever damaged Tim’s dozer got the hammer and screwdriver from Decker’s own toolbox?”

      “Yeah, he did.”

      She sighed. “I’m not sure I like someone coming and going at will on my property.”

      “I’m not wild about it, either,” Jake said gravely. “Which brings me to the reason I’m here. When Perris said the guy came back, your living alone in the woods really started to bother me. I think you should get a dog.”

       “A dog?”

      He had to smile. He liked the way her sable bangs just missed colliding with her dark eyelashes, liked her sea-green eyes. “Yeah, a dog. They look a lot like Maggie—four legs and a lot of fur. Good ones bark up a storm when their owners are threatened.”

      The little lift he felt when she grinned took a sudden nosedive.

      “David loved dogs—big, slurpy breeds. And we did consider getting one for a time. But we worried that a big dog and our guests might not be a good mix.”

      Jake looked away for an instant—told himself that Rachel’s mentioning David wasn’t any big deal. “Then you get a smaller, even-tempered dog with a big bark.”

      “Maybe someday,” she said. “But I don’t see the need right now. The man I saw last night was angry at Tim, not me.” She glanced toward the home’s entrance, then brought her pretty gaze back to him. “Was there … something else?”

      Annoyed with himself, he shook his head. Now she probably thought he’d made a special trip to talk to her, when he could have phoned or stopped at the campground later. “No, that’s it. I just thought I’d drop in because I had to pass the nursing home anyway.”

      “Oh. Well, thank you.” She consulted her wrist-watch, and the sun glanced off the gold wedding band on her finger. “I’d better get back inside now, though. It’s almost lunchtime, and some of my friends need help with their food.”

      With the workload waiting for her at the campground, she still took time to help others. He liked that about her. But today he wouldn’t tell her she was fabulous—or whatever idiotic word he’d used last night that made them both uncomfortable. “I have to go, too. But think about what I said.”

      “I’ll do that. Thanks again.”

      Brushing off her thanks, he headed for his vehicle. “No problem. Friends are supposed to look out for each other.”

      Friends, he thought, getting his head straight as he started the green game-commission truck and pulled back onto the road. That’s what they were, and what he was comfortable with. He could do a lot worse.

      At two o’clock, Rachel drove down into her wooded campground to see Nate Carter’s yellow company truck parked beside her white-sided camp store. Sunlight flashed off two long silver canisters in the truck’s bed, both secured by steel framing. She swung in beside him as Nate got out of his vehicle.

      Nate was a compact man about her height with light brown hair, dated steel-rimmed aviator glasses and a nice smile. A denim jacket stitched with his company name—Carter Propane Sales—topped his jeans and chambray shirt, but on Sundays, he was a suit-and-tie man all the way.

      “Afternoon,” he called, walking around the truck to meet her.

      “Afternoon,” she called back. “Have you been here long?”

      “Just a few minutes. I was making deliveries in the area and stopped to see if you needed to have your tanks filled.” He wiggled an empty foam cup before dropping it in the nearby trash receptacle. “I was also hoping for a cup of coffee and some scintillating conversation.”

      Laughing and choosing a key from her ring, Rachel ascended the wide wooden stoop, opened the white screen door and inserted her key in the lock. “If you’re looking for ‘scintillating,’ you’ve come to the wrong place, but coffee’s doable.” She stepped inside, and he followed. “As for my tanks, I haven’t checked the gauges yet, but I’m probably low.”

      “You are,” he admitted sheepishly. “I had some time to kill before you got here.” He stepped around three waist-high stacks of cartons on the floor. “You’re under twenty percent at your house. Camp store’s just a little better than that.”

      Rachel dropped her keys on the blue counter separating her galley from the store, then slipped behind the bar to start her small coffeemaker. The large dispenser would be pressed into service when her guests began piling in.

      “Well, then, let’s fill them.” She put a filter pack of coffee in the basket, added a dash of salt and turned on the unit. “How’s tomorrow for you?”

      “Tomorrow’s good. Morning or afternoon?”

      Rachel carried two white mugs to the counter where Nate had commandeered a stool. “Come anytime. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be here all day.”

      “Great. I’ll stop by in the morning. Jillian has a hair appointment around three, so if my afternoon’s free, I can tag along. Maybe take her out afterward for an early dinner.”

      “Can’t imagine her saying no to that,” Rachel returned, smiling.

      “Yeah, she’ll like that.” He paused for a moment as the rich aroma of coffee brewing spiced the air, and steaming, spitting coffee dripped into the carafe. A sly twinkle rose in his eyes when Rachel took the stool beside him. “So,” he said far too innocently, “anything new going on in your neck of the woods?”

      She had to laugh. So that’s why he’d waited for her. He’d heard. Some days she swore the number of police scanners in Charity outnumbered the population. “Let me guess, you have a scanner.”

      “No, I ran into Emma Lucille at the Quick Mart early this morning. She’d just turned over the dispatcher’s desk to Sarah. You know Charity. СКАЧАТЬ