Jeannie Watt Read online

  Damn.

  Tara printed out the document and bookmarked the page. She was still fuming as she dressed in her red satin cowboy shirt and jeans. She opened her jewelry box and pulled out the one piece of good jewelry her mother had left her, a gold nugget on a long chain, and fastened it around her neck, comforted by the heavy chunk of metal between her breasts. She’d have to do some research, but something could be done.

  Becky happily relinquished the bar when Tara arrived, “Oh, did you hear about Ginny?”

  “No,” Tara replied absently, tying on an apron, her mind still working on the cheating bank manager.

  “Martin Somers hired her at the Inn. She’d had an application in for almost a year and had given up hope, but he got hold of her yesterday….”

  Tara caught her breath. Martin had hired away her day help. That bastard. It never stopped.

  “Insurance benefits and everything. It’s a lot better than what she was getting here.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Tara said evenly. “Well, that’s nice for her.” Her lips tightened into a grim smile as she left the office to start manning the bar.

  Ginny herself stopped by around eight o’clock, full of apologies. She had thought she’d be able to work around her schedule at the Inn and help Tara at the reunion as she had promised, but Martin wouldn’t let her have the days off she needed. Tara was about as far from surprised as a person could be, but she didn’t tell Ginny she was merely a pawn in a petty game. Instead Tara told her that she understood and that she was certain that she and Hailey could manage. Somehow.

  Ginny left after a few more minutes of sincere apologies, obviously still feeling guilty. She was a single mother. She needed a better paying job with benefits and now she had it. Tara wouldn’t begrudge her that.

  Then to top the evening off, Eddie Johnson came in just before the end of a long and busy shift. He pushed his way up to the bar, all but knocking a patron off his stool, and ordered a draft.

  Tara slapped down a glass still dripping foam. “How’re you doing, Eddie?” she asked, wondering if he’d gotten over the parking lot humiliation. She got her answer almost immediately.

  “Fine,” he announced. “That boyfriend of yours around?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Eddie sprayed a little beer as he made a disparaging snort. “Yeah. Well, when you see that guy who ain’t your boyfriend, you tell him that old Ed hasn’t forgotten.”

  Tell him yourself because I’m not going to. “Sure thing, Eddie.”

  “Cuz I haven’t.” He gave her what was supposed to be a dangerous look, grabbed the glass and tottered off the stool and into the restaurant. Tara watched him go with some relief. The last thing she needed on top of everything else was another incident with Eddie.

  All the lights in Tara’s house were off when she drove up later that evening. Even the porch light, which Matt always left burning, was dark. The observation had barely registered when her headlights flashed over the front porch and she saw that something was wrong. Very wrong.

  No reflection. Her headlights usually reflected off the wavy old glass, but tonight they shined into complete blackness.

  Someone had broken her two front windows. Tara immediately hit the automatic door locks and, thanking God for modern technology, reached for her cell phone. Rafe was on speed dial and he answered on the second ring.

  “Don’t leave your car. In fact, get out of there,” he said in clipped tones after she explained. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Tara didn’t leave. She sat in her locked car with the engine running until Rafe’s classic T-Bird and a sheriff’s vehicle pulled into the drive and parked on either side of her car. She rolled the window down.

  “I thought I told you…” Rafe stopped when he saw her face. “Stay put.”

  “I—”

  “Stay put. Where’s Connors?”

  “Home, I guess. He doesn’t spend every night here, Rafe.”

  Tara watched as the deputies went through the house. They made a thorough search, then came back to report that nothing seemed to be disturbed.

  “You aren’t going to stay here tonight, Tara.” It was both a statement and a question, and for once Tara acquiesced without argument.

  “I know.” Even though whoever had done this was probably long gone—Rafe had looked in the shop and the barn as well as the house—Tara would never be able to sleep with gaping holes in her front windows.

  “Stay with me,” Rafe said. “I’m going on shift in the morning. I’ll take the couch so you can get some sleep.”

  Tara nodded. “Thanks.”

  TARA’S CAR was gone when Matt pulled into her drive early the next morning. He frowned, wondering if she had gotten home all right, then his heart stopped when he saw the front windows.

  Matt was not conscious of stopping his truck or getting out. He approached the house cautiously, then became aware of a vehicle on the gravel road behind him and turned. Rafe’s official SUV.

  “She’s fine,” Rafe said, getting out of the vehicle. “I stopped by your house to warn you this morning, but you’d left.”

  He’d gone to breakfast early, sitting and drinking bad coffee, but for once it wasn’t a nightmare keeping him awake—it was thoughts of going back to the job, facing the FFD exam. And Tara. The woman made him restless. A case of wanting and knowing he couldn’t pursue. A matter of integrity.

  “Where is she?”

  “My place.”

  Matt was immediately aware of a surging swell of emotions that swamped his initial anxiety. Relief, jealousy, anger. Relief.

  Jealousy.

  Matt swallowed. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. She came home and found the windows broken and called me.”

  Matt didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Were you on duty?”

  The deputy shook his head.

  Matt shoved his thumbs in his back pockets and turned to face the old house. It didn’t matter if Tara had spent the night at Rafe’s place. It didn’t even matter if they had slept together there. It was none of his business. So why did it feel like his business?

  “Any ideas?” he asked Rafe.

  “Could be random vandalism. Doesn’t look like anyone went inside.”

  Matt nodded.

  “I guess she had an ugly encounter with Stacia Logan yesterday.”

  “What about?”

  “Stacia accused her of harassing Ryan.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “I know.”

  Matt shook his head and started for the porch. Tara may not have called him last night, but at least he could repair her windows.

  “Luke’s coming out to replace the glass,” Rafe said, and when Matt turned to meet his gaze, he read something there that looked a lot like sympathy. Well, he didn’t need it.

  “Is Tara staying at your place again tonight?”

  “She refuses,” Rafe said mildly. “Not much I can do about it other than arrange a few drive-bys tonight. Jack is back, so she won’t have to work.”

  Matt didn’t know if that was good or bad. Rafe pursed his lips as his radio sounded and he took a few steps toward his rig. “I need to get going. Tara should be here soon.”

  When she arrived, Matt met her at her car door. “You could have called me.”

  “I called a deputy.”

  “Who didn’t happen to be on duty.”

  “Does that matter to you?”

  Matt pulled in a breath and then shook his head.

  Nope. Didn’t matter to him. Not one bit.

  TARA LEFT HAILEY putting primer on the third-floor walls while she went to the rescheduled prom-dress staging meeting. There was to be not one but two meetings that day—a dress fitting in the morning and a rehearsal walk in the evening. Definitely a full and rich day for Dottie.

  Tara arrived ten minutes late, walking into the convention center to find the place buzzing with teenaged girls, mothers and community members all
trying to decide which girl fit best into which formal. There were dresses spread over every available surface. Tara took an instinctive step backward at the sight of all the fluff and glitter, but Dottie saw her and waved her in.

  Two girls were arguing over who would get to wear Tara’s dress and no one, she noticed, was gravitating toward the unusual flamenco-styled dress she guessed was from the 1930s. Stacia was there, acting as referee to another pair of girls who were fighting over who had to wear a peasant dress from the ’70s.

  “You’re wearing the dress, Ashley,” Stacia said with a note of authority and was immediately rewarded with classic teenage rebellion.

  “I don’t want to. I want to wear my mother’s dress.”

  “You don’t fit your mother’s dress,” Stacia said bluntly and she had a point. Ashley was rather curvaceous and the peasant dress would look the best on her.

  “Then I’m not—”

  “Yes, you are, young lady.” Ashley’s mother cut into the argument at the same moment Stacia noticed Tara and reddened. Tara went to sort out the argument over her dress.

  By the time the fitting was over, two other girls and Dottie were in tears and, Tara had to admit, Stacia handled the upset well. She’d explained that anyone who was unhappy with the dress she was modeling could easily be replaced, and she told Dottie that yes, the girl modeling her dress would remove her eyebrow and nose rings.

  The girls left after making hair appointments with Lydie, who would give each model a hairdo to match the period of dress they were wearing. Surprisingly, after all of the ruckus, most of the girls were happy to be participating and more or less resigned to what they would be wearing. They all agreed to meet again at eight o’clock that evening to practice walking with the slides and music.

  “That’s nice of you to do their hair without a charge,” Stacia said to Lydie as she started hanging dresses. She seemed oddly subdued and Tara had noticed that the woman had taken great pains not to look at her during the fittings and modeling practice.

  “It’s nothing,” Lydie said with a wave of her hand. “Come on, Dot. Dry those tears and let’s get the rest of these dresses hung so we can get a cup of coffee.”

  “You two go ahead,” Tara said. “Stacia and I will finish this.”

  Stacia’s startled gaze swung toward her, but Tara pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the dress she was arranging on a hanger.

  “Thank you,” Lydie said hesitantly. When Stacia made no protest, she said, “Come on, Dottie. It’s past noon and I don’t know about you, but I could use a piece of pie with my coffee.”

  The outer door swung shut behind them, and Tara carefully hung a 1950s confection of pale yellow satin and chiffon in the coatroom. When she came back, Stacia was arranging the hated peasant dress, pinning it so that the wide shoulders would stay on the hanger.

  The two women worked in silence, quickly smoothing and hanging the dresses, and then Stacia locked the closet while Tara found her shoulder bag.

  Now or never. “I was wondering if you’d do me a favor and listen to me for a few minutes. It’s about Ryan.”

  “All right.” Stacia replied in an I’ll-humor-you-so-you’ll-go-away voice. “I knew you had something on your mind.” She reached under the table for her designer bag. “I have another appointment in a few minutes, so if you could be brief.”

  “I’m not making phone calls to Ryan.”

  “So you say.”

  “So I say.” Tara wanted to stop there, but she knew her conscience would eat at her if she didn’t do this. “I know you’ll have a hard time believing it, but I’m not trying to cause trouble between you and Ryan by telling you this. I just think you should know before you marry this guy.”

  “Know what?” Stacia asked coolly.

  “Ryan hurt me.” Tara held the other woman’s gaze. “And I don’t mean emotionally.”

  “Hurt you?” Stacia said incredulously.

  “Physically.”

  “What has he done to you that you haven’t driven him to?”

  Tara swallowed a retort because what she was about to say next was difficult and she wanted Stacia to take it seriously. “The first time was pretty much date rape.”

  Stacia simply stared at Tara for a long moment, but with the exception of her rising color, she was unreadable.

  “What else?”

  “Dammit, Stacia, does there have to be anything else? Okay, let’s see. He stopped by my place to threaten me. He grabbed me at the convention center hard enough to leave bruises on my shoulder. And, yes, I can see you think I drove him to that, too. Well, guess again.”

  “Tara, I really don’t—”

  “Whether you believe me or not, Stacia, this is the bottom line. Ryan is a man who hurts women who cross him. You have the information. You can do what you want with it.”

  Tara started for the door. She paused with her hand on the handle. “You might want to think about who’s making those phone calls, Stacia, because I promise you, it isn’t me.”

  MATT HAD PUT IN a pretty good day’s work on the top floor of the house and he was pleased with the results. He only had two more days before he left Night Sky for good, returning to Reno and his own world, and it looked as if he would indeed have Tara’s house done just as promised. Tara had only seen part of what he’d accomplished that day since she’d taken off for yet another prom-dress committee meeting, grumbling under her breath as she trudged down the stairs. But his Scout’s Honor promise the house would absolutely, positively be done by Sunday had lightened her mood. A lot.

  Matt smiled. She said she hated going, it took time away from the house, but she went anyway because it was her duty. He was beginning to suspect she secretly liked it.

  He parked his truck in front of the Anderson house and was halfway to his gate when a Hulk-sized figure suddenly lurched out from behind the thick trunk of an elm tree, blocking the sidewalk.

  Matt stopped in his tracks, cursing. His mind on Tara, he had blithely walked into…Eddie?

  Matt rolled his eyes heavenward. Yes, it was Eddie, with his cap twisted around backward in fighting mode and his beady bloodshot eyes trying to focus on Matt’s.

  “Eddie, I’m not in the mood—”

  Eddie tilted his head back belligerently and Matt changed his mind. Enough was enough. He wasn’t back on the job yet. He still had a little leeway here. “All right, Eddie,” he challenged, taking a stand. “You want a piece of me?”

  To Matt’s surprise, Eddie held his ground

  “Are you a cop?” Eddie demanded in his nasally voice. “I heard you were a cop. That true?”

  Matt dropped his hands a few inches. He thought everyone in town knew he was a cop. “Yes, I’m a cop.”

  Eddie screwed up his face and cursed. “Then I can’t have a piece of you, can I?”

  Matt shrugged, waiting to see where Eddie was going with this.

  “And I’ll bet you feel pretty safe cuz of that,” the big man taunted.

  Matt nodded. “You’re right, Eddie. I do.” As safe as a guy could feel with a drunk roughly the size of a rhinoceros looking to take him out. In spite of the size difference he could take Eddie; but, if he didn’t have to waste the time or energy, he didn’t want to.

  “I can’t assault no cop and you know it.”

  Matt nodded, suddenly feeling more positive about the outcome of the encounter. He may just get out of this, and with no superfluous blood on him.

  “Well, shit.” Eddie leaned hard to the right before he gave up the battle with gravity and sank to the curb. He picked up a pebble and tossed it across the street. “I did all that talking ’round town and now I can’t do anything about it.” He looked up at Matt with watery eyes. “And you knew it all along.”

  “How’d you find out I’m a cop?”

  “Rafe warned me. Said I didn’t want to mess with you, since I just got off probation. Said it wouldn’t be advisable.” Another pebble flew across the street.

  “Nice
of Rafe.”

  “Yeah.”

  Matt didn’t trust Eddie enough to sit next to him, but he moved a few steps closer. “You break any windows lately, Eddie?”

  Eddie’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace. “Do I look like I’m eleven years old to you?”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Damn right it’s a no.” Eddie let out a snort. “I haven’t broken any windows since the early nineties.”

  Matt smiled. “Hey, Ed…” Again the beady eyes turned his way. “You know, as long as you stay away from Tara, I’ve got no problems with you. How about a truce?”

  “I haven’t got a lot of choice here, do I?” Eddie asked grudgingly before muttering another curse. “I’ll have to tell the guys we hashed things out.” He sounded utterly disgusted at the prospect. “I’d ’preciate it if you backed me.”

  “You know, there was nothing personal that night,” Matt pointed out. “You took the first swing.”

  “Did I? I don’t remember.”

  “Do you remember waiting for Tara?”

  “Hell. I was just having some fun.”

  “Yeah. No more of that. Understand?” Matt’s tone was deadly serious and he could see that even in his stupor, the big man understood.

  “You know Tara can take care of herself, don’t ya?” Eddie said, his eyes squinting as he cocked his head. “I used to pick on her just because I liked watching her fight back. It wasn’t ever serious, you know.”

  “I was new in town,” Matt said dryly. “I didn’t know. But all the same, I’d appreciate if you didn’t do it anymore.”

  Eddie shrugged a big shoulder. “You don’t need to worry. Being a cop and all.”

  “Good to hear it.”

  “Yeah. Hey. I hear you’re leaving. When you coming back?”

  “Soon,” Matt said, thinking it would be best for Eddie to think he could appear at any moment. In the deep recesses of his mind, he rather wistfully wished it were true. He did like this town. The people.