She shivered and her teeth chattered. Were the tremors the result of the dousing she’d gotten outside? Or did the adrenaline from her natural fight-or-flight response, to first the mugging and now the theft, get the better of her? Or was her sharp awareness of her companion’s striking presence to blame? She took a deep breath then gestured toward her glass-topped iron bistro table and the two chairs with their heart shaped backs—all she could fit in the small space. “Have a seat. Can I get you a glass of water? Iced tea?”
“Iced tea sounds great.” He pointed to the deposit bag. “And I’ll get started with that list of customers while you change into dry clothes, so I can get out of your hair as soon as possible.”
Steph handed over the blue simulated-leather pouch, poured the sheriff a tall glass of tea and then ran to change. She couldn’t stand another second in her clammy clothes. Five minutes later, she was back, dressed in dry khakis and a cream-colored sweater.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “How many names did you come up with?”
“Here.” The sheriff turned his notebook so she could read it. “It’s not a particularly enlightening list.”
Steph scanned the names. “I see what you mean. I can’t picture any of these people vandalizing anything, much less beating me up.”
Her thready voice must have betrayed her exhaustion because he gave her an appraising stare. “Are you sure you don’t want to go stay with your parents? Will you be okay here by yourself?”
“I’m fine—tired, and sore from last night’s mugging, but that’s what ibuprofen is for, and I hear Scott’s Pharmacy has a good supply.” She smiled. “I’ve got an in there, so I don’t need to worry Mom and Dad. I’m okay.”
An awkward silence descended on the room. Steph studied the list of her customers’ names, the most convenient place to keep her gaze. She’d never had a man in her home before. This felt very strange, especially since she didn’t really know Hal Benson very well, and even though he’d come in his official capacity.
True, she remembered him from back in school; they’d graduated the same year. He’d been the class brain, while she’d been the one who stared out the window when the slightest thing distracted her, the one who made teachers despair. Then, after high school, she’d gone to UNC at Chapel Hill, where a kind and wise learning disabilities counselor worked with her, while Hal had headed for Princeton. How and why he became a sheriff after all that, she didn’t know.
“Umm…I guess I’d better get going.” He pushed away from the table, making his chair’s metal feet screech against the ceramic tile underfoot. He winced. “Sorry about your floor. I’m outta here. You do need to rest.”
She waved away his concern. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Tile is pretty tough stuff. But you’re right. I do need to rest.”
He stood in place, looking around the room, his cheeks reddening, clearly disoriented.
Steph chuckled. “Follow me. You don’t have to go out my back door. This is a funky little place, but it suits me just right.” She headed to the front. “Don’t try to tell my parents that, though. They’re convinced I should still be living at home.”
His laugh warmed her almost as much as her dry clothes had. “Family around these parts has long strings, doesn’t it? My parents stopped guilt-tripping me only when they decided to buy one of the cottages out at The Pines. I’m too young to live over there.”
At the front door, Steph turned and met the sheriff’s gaze. “Thanks again.”
He dipped his head. “It’s all in a day’s work.”
It struck Steph how shy Hal Benson really was. That explained a lot, like how they’d managed to go through school together and she still knew practically nothing about the man.
The earlier awkwardness returned. A hunted look crossed the sheriff’s craggy features. Steph’s natural response was to reach out, to say something to put him at ease, but she realized this wasn’t the right time.
Next time she saw the appealing sheriff, she’d make sure to reach out and make an extra effort at friendship. He seemed to be one of the truly good guys.
“Well,” he said when the tension grew tighter than the wire the Farmer’s Supply sold. “I’ll be in touch. As soon as we know something…”
“I look forward to hearing from you. I’m sure you’ll catch the mugger. And figure out this box-slashing thing, too.”
And she was. Hal Benson struck her as a man who wouldn’t give up until he’d met his goal. With his natural intelligence, she doubted much ever got the best of him.
“Thank you for your trust, Miss Steph—”
“Now, really.” She cut in with a smile. “You’ve known me since I wore that sloppy braid that never stayed tight back in school. I think you can drop the miss. I’m just Steph.”
His eyes twinkled. “Good night, just Steph. I’ll see you soon.”
“Good night, Hal. I’m sure you will.”
Steph locked the door behind the sheriff. After the echo of his footsteps melted into the rumble of the rain against her roof, the overwhelming silence shrouded her.
Funny how she’d never noticed the profound quiet of the area around her home. She loved the small home with its angled rooflines and nooks and crannies, but tonight, since the home did sit on the edge of town, she really felt alone. If someone tried to break in, no one would hear her screams.
Her only means of contact would be her cell phone.
She hurried back to the kitchen, leaving the living-room light on, the thud of her footsteps louder than she’d ever heard them before. The thought of eating nearly made her sick. Supper was not in her immediate future.
A quick rummage through her purse produced her phone. Clutching the device to her chest, Steph turned on even the small-wattage light over the kitchen sink, before hurrying to her room. She flicked on the overhead light, turned on the bedside lamp then headed to the bathroom, where she did the same with the last unlit fixture in her home.
She made a face at her reflection in the mirror. “This is so stupid.”
If anyone was planning to break in, they already knew she was home alone. Lights wouldn’t deter a dogged intruder. Still, they made her feel marginally better, and she wasn’t about to turn a single one off.
Sleep? Maybe. Maybe not.
In a handful of minutes, she’d washed her face, brushed her teeth, debated whether to don pj’s or stay fully clothed and shoed in case someone did try to break in, opted for the pj’s and crawled into bed. Her fluffy down blanket felt as light as the feathers that filled it but would offer the warmth she’d craved since she’d stepped out of her store.
A second crawled by. Another…three dozen more.
What was going on? Why would someone ruin СКАЧАТЬ