Forever After (3 page)

She backed up another step, her gaze flicking around the yard as if she were searching for a bolt hole. She was as frightened as her kid was, whether of him or his dog, he wasn’t sure. What with all the recent television coverage of police brutality and corruption, lots of people didn’t trust lawmen these days.

He gave her another once-over, taking in details with a well-trained eye. Mid to late twenties, extremely skittish. The way she watched him was starting to make him feel too big for his skin. At six feet five in his stocking feet and two inches taller in riding boots, he probably seemed gigantic to a little gal like her.

“What we have here is a major misunderstanding,” he tried.

“A misunderstanding? You get him
out
of here. Do I make myself clear?
Now!
Or I’m going to call the—” She broke off, her gaze flicking from the badge on his shirt to the holstered semiautomatic riding his hip. “I’ll call the state police. I’m sure there’s a leash law here, and you’re breaking it by letting that maniacal animal run loose!”

Heath couldn’t let that pass without a rebuttal. “This
maniacal
animal is the same canine deputy you read about in the newspaper several months ago. The one that went into the burning apartment building to rescue the little girl?” Her lack of reaction told Heath she hadn’t read the story.
Fantastic
. “Look, lady. During the course of his career, Goliath received seventeen citations, all for rescuing children. He’d
never
harm your daughter. Die for her, maybe, because that’s his nature.”

She whirled and headed for her back door. “If you’re not gone when I get inside, I’ll call the state police. And if that dog
ever
comes here again, I’ll file a complaint.”

For a fast July minute Heath was amused at the idea of his neighbor reporting him, of all people, to the police. But then as fast as it had come, his amusement faded. If she involved the state cops, this situation could turn really nasty. He tightened his hold on Goliath’s collar and pulled the dog from her yard as quickly as he could.

Once they reached the road, Heath relaxed his hold on the animal. “Great work, partner. You really know how to make points with the ladies.”

The instant the Rottweiler was free, he tried to make a U-turn. Heath’s heart leaped, a sick dread gnawing at his middle. He grabbed the dog’s collar again.

“Don’t even
think
about it, you blockhead. That little girl is off limits. Understand? What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Goliath only whined and gazed miserably at the old farmhouse, for all the world as if he’d left his heart behind. Gently but firmly, Heath seized the dog by his ears, then
leaned down for a little nose-to-nose communication.

“Goliath, listen up. You listening?”

Sad brown eyes looked into Heath’s.

“That lady doesn’t like you. I know that’s a real hard thing for a charming fellow like you to understand. But sometimes there’s just no figuring females. Show your mangy hide around there again, and she’ll file a complaint with animal control, sure as the world. She’ll tell them you’re vicious and out of control. You know what happens then, buddy? The gas chamber.”

Meredith Kenyon jerked open the back screen door, only to have the blasted thing pull away from the frame at the bottom. Understandable, since the door had only one good hinge to begin with—the top one. Arms locked around her daughter, she didn’t bother to lift up on the handle as the contraption slammed closed behind her. If the remaining hinge screws pulled free from the rotten wood, so be it.

Three steps into the utility room, she halted. Sammy clung to her frantically, her small body shivering so badly her teeth chattered. Swaying from side to side, Meredith rubbed the child’s narrow back, aware in some distant part of her mind that the floor gave perilously with every shift of her weight. Horrible old house, anyway. She wished she’d never rented it. Not that there’d been much choice. Now they were stuck here.

If it hadn’t been so awful, Meredith would have laughed hysterically. Talk about neighbors who were her worst nightmare. A county sheriff and a berserk Rottweiler? She couldn’t decide which was worse. Heath Masters had seemed as tall as a tree to her, with shoulders so broad it would take a yardstick to measure them, every inch of him roped with muscle. Those penetrating slate blue eyes had been unnerving as well, their contrast to his burnished, chiseled features and sable hair almost startling. Maybe it was because she’d lived in the city for several years and been around professional men who never turned their hands to physical work, but Masters had seemed to emanate strength.

Willing her heart to stop pounding, Meredith tried to gather her wits. She didn’t like the way Sammy was trembling or the fact that she hadn’t said anything.

“Hey, punkin,” Meredith whispered. “You okay?”

No answer. Just an awful silence. Meredith’s heart caught, and for an agonizing moment, she couldn’t breathe.
Not again, God. Please, not again
. Sammy had been doing so well these last few weeks. Only occasional nightmares, hardly any incidents.

“Knock, knock,” Meredith said, anxiety making her voice twang. “Is there a little girl named Sammy hiding in there someplace?”

The child squirmed slightly, making Meredith wonder if she was hugging her too tightly. Digging deep for some self-control, she forced herself to relax her arms.

“Sammy, love?”

“What?” the child finally replied in a thin, quavery voice.

Relief washed over Meredith in drowning waves that made her feel slightly disoriented and giddy. “You okay, sweetie?”

Sammy pressed closer, the brittle tension in her body conveying how frightened she still was. “You promised, Mommy,” she whispered fiercely. “You promised.”

An ache of regret filled Meredith. It wasn’t necessary for Sammy to say more. She knew exactly which promise the child referred to, namely that once they reached Oregon, Sammy would never have to feel afraid again. Blast that man for letting such a horrible dog run loose!

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

Sammy shuddered. “I want to go ’way from here, Mommy. Far, far ’way.”

Leaving right now was impossible. She’d been required to pay the last month’s rent and a sizable deposit to lease this house, and her crotchety landlord would refuse to return the money if she failed to stay for the agreed upon six months. In addition to that, her rattletrap car needed a valve job that was going to cost a small fortune. If she meant to
keep food on the table for her daughter, she couldn’t afford to move until she’d drawn a few more paychecks. Besides, she had no guarantee of landing another job, especially not one that would allow her to work at home and take care of her child.

Pressing her face against Sammy’s hair, Meredith struggled for calm. Instead, a helpless anger rushed through her. She and Sammy had gone through so much and come so far to get here. Now everything seemed to be going wrong.

“That big mean dog’s gonna come back, Mommy. I just know it!”

“Oh, Sammy. As long as I draw breath, nothing’s going to hurt you, sweetie. Not that dog or anything else. You mustn’t feel afraid.”

Empty words. Sammy had counted on Meredith so many times and been let down.

As she stood there rocking her daughter, Meredith realized the back of her throat was burning. She stiffened and lifted her head to sniff. Smoke trailed under the freshly painted, utility room door.

“Oh, no, the hamburger!”

The smell of burning meat seared her nostrils as she burst into the kitchen. Still clutching Sammy in one arm, she raced across the badly worn linoleum. Smoke billowed up from the antiquated white stove, stinging her eyes. After turning off the gas burner, she grabbed a potholder to move the redhot cast iron skillet off the heat.

At just that moment, the smoke detector went off, its blast so shrill that Meredith nearly parted company with her shoes. Sammy gave a start as well, then pressed a grimy little hand to her mouth, her eyes bright with tears.

“Enough, you stupid thing! We hear you,” Meredith shouted at the plastic fire alarm affixed to the ceiling between the kitchen and living room. At present tally, it was the one fixture in the house that still worked properly, and given the lack of kitchen ventilation, it did so with nerve-jangling regularity.

Stepping over to the sink, she struggled to open the dou
ble-hung window. Until recently, it had been stuck shut with countless layers of enamel, and it still didn’t slide smoothly. She’d meant to give the runners a few squirts of nonstick cooking spray, but what with everything else that needed attention around here, she’d forgotten.

“There,” she said, dredging up a stiff smile for Sammy when she finally got the sash raised. As the smoke dissipated, the detector finally stopped blaring, giving way to shrill bleeps instead. “Thank goodness for that much. That darned thing is going to make me go deaf.”

With a choked hiccough and sniffle, Sammy shifted on Meredith’s hip to look at the charred remains of their evening meal. “Uh-oh,” she said faintly.

Gazing down at the patties, which now resembled misshapen chunks of coal, Meredith waved a hand in front of their faces. At $2.19 a pound, the meat was no small loss. But, even so, she was glad for the distraction. At least it gave both of them something to think about besides that horrible dog.

“‘Uh-oh’ is right. There’s nothing to do but put it down the garbage disposal.”

“We don’t gots one,” Sammy reminded her in a shaky voice.

Glancing at the rust-stained porcelain sink, Meredith clenched her teeth to keep from adding that a garbage disposal wasn’t the only luxury they no longer had, a kitchen fan at the top of the list, central air-conditioning a close second. The warm day had left the inadequately insulated house miserably stuffy.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to fix something else for supper. What sounds good?”

“More hugs,” Sammy murmured, burrowing close.

Meredith was happy to comply. She had been as horrified to see that dog in their yard as Sammy had been. Even now, she still couldn’t make her heart stop skittering, and when she walked, her legs felt as limp as overcooked spinach.

She kept seeing her little girl, pressed against the shed
like a sinner on a cross. Meredith didn’t know what she would have done if the dog had attacked her child. She’d had no weapon handy, not even a stick to use as a club.

“Mommy, your face is all funny.”

“It’s just the smoke, punkin,” Meredith said, shifting Sammy to the other arm. As she tightened her hold, she felt residual shudders course through the child’s body.

Meredith began to pace, the toes of her sneakers catching on the occasional ragged edge of the speckled green linoleum, the floorboards creaking and groaning. At every sound, Sammy jerked to look over her shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Meredith whispered. “It’s all right. Don’t be scared, sweetie.”

Still trembling, Sammy hugged Meredith’s neck again, her thin arms so tense they felt like brittle twigs. Meredith rubbed the child’s taut shoulders, then worked at the knotted muscles along her spine.

“Mommy?”

“What, sweetie?”

“What if that big, mean dog comes back?”

Meredith was tempted to make rash promises, anything to ease the child’s mind. “I’ll think of something, sweetkins. You’ll be safe. I’ll see to it.”

Only how? Just as Sammy had pointed out, the dog might come back. What was she going to do if it did? Maybe she should buy a baseball bat and keep it by the back door. Or, better yet, build a section of fence to keep that black monster out of Sammy’s play area. Getting a gun might not be a bad idea, either.

Meredith reeled to a stop. Dear heaven, what was she thinking? The last time she’d handled a firearm was shortly before she left home to attend college, and since her marriage to Dan, she could barely stand to look at a weapon.

Enough of this
. She could obsess later about ways to keep her daughter safe. Right now, she needed to act calm and help Sammy put the incident behind her.

“You never did answer me,” Meredith said. “What sounds good for supper?”

Sammy kept her face pressed against Meredith’s neck. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t? Wow! Does that mean I can fix”—she searched her mind for the food Sammy detested most—“
beets
?”

The child shuddered. “Yuck! Not beets, Mommy. I hate ’em.”

“Well, you did say you didn’t care. I’ve got it! How about okra?”

“Nasty. It tastes like snot.”

“And how would you know?” Meredith felt the child’s mouth curve against her neck in a halfhearted smile. “Sammy Kenyon! For shame.”

“I di’n’t never!” Sammy protested, rearing back to scowl indignantly.

Moving toward the wobbly dinette set she’d picked up for a song at a thrift shop, Meredith tweaked the child’s button nose. “I’m only teasing you.” The chair rocked as she set Sammy on the yellow plastic cushion and hunkered beside her. “Smiles?”

The child tried, her forced grin displaying tiny, unevenly spaced front teeth.

“Bigger,” Meredith ordered with mock sternness. When Sammy grinned more broadly, Meredith tousled the child’s hair. “Now I’ve got my pretty little girl back. How about sandwiches and soup for supper?”

“The kind with letters?”

“Soup with letters, coming up.” Meredith pushed herself erect. “Do you think you’ll be able to spell Samantha this time with no mistakes?”

“Maybe,” Sammy replied solemnly.

As Meredith rummaged through the cupboard, she heard Sammy nervously swinging her feet, the heel of one small tennis shoe thumping the chair leg. If only her life were as easy to organize as canned goods, Meredith thought wistfully. Soups in one row, vegetables sorted as to type. Aside from a few mouse droppings that had appeared since she’d scrubbed the shelves, there were no surprises here.

If only she could say the same for Heath Masters. He was everything the newspapers and television proclaimed him to be—big, hard-edged, and intimidating. No wonder a group of parents were circulating a petition to get him recalled. Even less surprising was the fact that his law enforcement tactics had drawn national attention.