Defender for Hire. Shirlee McCoy

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      She left a message on Amy’s voicemail and walked down the hall to the attic door. The old-fashioned glass doorknob gleamed in the overhead light, the skeleton key that was usually in the small nook on the wall beside the door already in the keyhole.

      Had she left the key there the last time she’d gone in the attic? When had that been? A week ago? More?

      Wouldn’t she have already noticed the key in keyhole if it had been there since the last time she used it?

      Of course she would have. She’d spent the past five years noticing everything, constantly on the alert, tracking changes in her environment and looking for any sign that danger was closing in.

      She hadn’t left the key in the hole. Someone else had.

      Her heart jumped, her throat dry with fear. Someone could be in the house. Her attacker could be waiting in the attic for her to settle down and go to sleep.

      She backed away from the door, her pulse pounding frantically.

      The doorbell rang and she screamed, whirling away from the attic, then turning back, afraid if she wasn’t watching the doorknob, it would start to turn.

      The doorbell rang again and the front door opened, cold air gusting in.

      “Tessa?” Seth called from the foyer.

      “Upstairs,” she responded, her voice gritty with fear. Footsteps pounded on the stairs and Seth appeared on the landing, his hair mussed from the wind, his eyes glowing deep blue.

      “I thought you’d left,” she said, more relieved than she wanted to be that he hadn’t.

      “I gave Randal the picture and I thought I’d check in with you one more time before I went home,” he responded. “What’s wrong?”

      She gestured to the doorknob and key. “Someone has been in the attic.”

      “You’re sure?” He moved past her, the comforting scent of pine needles and winter air filling the wide hall.

      Was she? With Seth there, she suddenly wasn’t sure that she was in danger. Did she really know that she hadn’t left the key in the lock?

      “Tessa?” he prodded in a gentle voice that didn’t match his sharp gaze.

      “I usually leave the key in that little nook beside the door. I don’t remember leaving it in the keyhole.”

      “Okay.” He nodded, took her arm and led her to the stairs. “Randal is on the porch. I want you to open the door and tell him what’s going on. Don’t go outside, though, okay?”

      She hesitated. As much as she wanted Seth to take care of the problem, she knew that she shouldn’t let him. Relying on other people usually led to heartache. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. “What are you going to do?”

      “Check the attic, but I don’t want you anywhere nearby when I do it.”

      “That’s not necessary. I can just—”

      “Do what I asked, okay, Tessa? It’s the safest thing for both of us.” He turned away, pulling gloves from his coat pocket and sliding them on.

      “What if there is someone up there?”

      “I can handle him. But not if you’re in my way. Go tell Randal. It’ll be good to have him around if I find someone.”

      “Okay. Fine,” she mumbled, feeling like a coward as she fled down the stairs. She heard the key turn in the lock and Seth’s footsteps on the attic stairs.

      “Where is Seth?” Logan asked as soon as she opened the door.

      “The attic.” She explained what she’d found, and Logan frowned.

      “So, Seth went to check things out?”

      “Yes.”

      “Great. Just what I need. A loose cannon,” Logan responded with a sigh. “Go in the kitchen. Stay there until I give you the all-clear.”

      Logan was up the stairs before Tessa could move from her spot near the door.

      A faint creak. The soft groan of old wood giving beneath heavy feet. She knew the sounds of the attic floorboards, could picture Seth and Logan moving through the cavernous room. All the boxes left behind by the people who’d come before her would make easy hiding places for anyone who might be lurking up there.

      She shuddered, backing into the kitchen, her gaze on the ceiling, her muscles tense with fear and anticipation.

      If they found someone, it would all be over. Bad guy caught and brought to jail—danger gone. Maybe the roses would stop, too. Maybe the past would finally fade into distant memories. She wanted that more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time. To let go. To breathe without the heaviness of secrets and fear pressing on her chest.

      She wanted that, and sometimes she thought she could have it if she’d just allow God to give it to her. If she could just forgive Him for offering her everything and then taking it all away.

      Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She hadn’t cried since Daniel’s funeral, and she wouldn’t cry now. She’d trusted God, and He’d failed her. Not just with Daniel, with her parents, too. Twice, she’d lost everything. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

      Boots pounded on the stairs. The men were returning.

      They walked into the kitchen, Logan slightly ahead of Seth, his eyes deeply shadowed, his smile kind. He looked like a guy who’d been through a lot, but who’d come out on top. The kind of person who could be counted on.

      She didn’t look at Seth. She knew what she’d see—confidence, strength, conviction. He could be counted on, too. He’d already proven that more than once, but she didn’t want to count on him. Doing so could become a habit. One that she might find very difficult to break. “We didn’t find anything, Tessa, but I’m going to dust the doorknob for fingerprints,” Logan said.

      “It could be that I forgot to put the key back the last time I went in the attic. My fingerprints might be the only ones you find.” Now that they’d checked the attic and found it empty, she felt a little foolish. She wasn’t one to overreact, and despite what she’d lived through in Kenya, she didn’t jump at shadows.

      “If they are, no problem, but I’d rather err on the side of caution than miss something. I’m going to get my fingerprint kit.” Logan turned and walked out of the kitchen. Which left Tessa alone with Seth.

      She couldn’t avoid looking at him forever, so she met his eyes, was surprised by the sudden jolt of awareness that shot through her.

      She’d been a widow for five years. In that time, she’d never even been tempted to go on a date. Friends had tried to hook her up with brothers or cousins or coworkers, and she’d always refused, because she hadn’t wanted to feel the kind of longing that made a person vulnerable.

      “I have to head out,” he said, his gaze steady, his eyes deep blue. “You still СКАЧАТЬ