Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 (19 page)

“Yeah. Do you know what that means?” Her heart beat wildly as the soles of their shoes crunched the gravel on the edge of the road. A distant sound of footsteps echoed in her ears. Was someone following them?

Ellie glanced over her shoulder. A long row of arborvitaes straddling two properties rustled in the wind. A chill crawled down her spine.

Johnny hesitated as if he didn't know what he wanted to say. “The FBI has been tracking a shipment of drugs to your gift shop.”

Ellie pressed a hand to her throat. Cold fear washed over her. “My gift shop? I don't understand.”

“The FBI was tracking a shipment of drugs to your Main Street address when it went missing.” He rubbed a hand over his face and signaled with his head, indicating that they should pick up their pace. His urgency unnerved her.

“You think I'm dealing drugs?” She blinked rapidly. A soft breeze sent leaves skittering across the sidewalk then up into the air, like a minicyclone, much like her thoughts.

“I never said that. The FBI has been tracking a package that's gone missing. We didn't know if the dealer got to it before we did or if it got misplaced. But after tonight, I think whoever shipped it is still looking for it.”

Pinpricks of realization washed over her scalp and shoulders. “You're not in town to help your grandfather. You're here to investigate a drug deal.”

“Yes.” The single word came out clipped.

“And you didn't tell me because you think I'm involved.” Ellie hated the squeaky quality of her voice. “I'm not,” she added out of desperation.

Johnny studied her a minute. “I believe you.” His cool tone made her wonder if she believed
him.

She cocked her head and was about to say as much but something stopped her. “What does this mean?”

Johnny huffed in frustration. “I'd feel better if we had this discussion someplace less out in the open.”

“Tell me what it means.” Ellie crossed her arms and stood there like a stubborn preteen determined to get her way.

“It means I'm investigating drug trafficking in Williamstown. There's some nasty stuff out there.”

“So you slinked into town just like you did ten years ago, only this time you're an FBI agent and not a rookie cop.”

He jerked his head back as if her words had hit their mark.

“One thing remains the same,” she said, as the pounding of her heart filled her ears, “you're lying to people to
supposedly
solve a case.”

Johnny hiked his chin, a determined look in his eyes. “I'm here because of the recent drug overdose. I couldn't come blazing into town with a sign on my back. I've been honest with you tonight and I trust you'll keep the reason I'm in town in confidence.”

Ellie shook her head, not knowing what to think.

“Listen, Ellie, someone thinks you have their drugs and they're willing to break into your store and attack you to get them.” Johnny pinned her with his dark gaze.

“I don't have the package.” She lifted a shaky hand and hugged the strap of her purse closer to her body.

“They don't know that.”

The wind whipped up and rattled the branches of the trees, sending shadows dancing on the sidewalk under the street lamp. Ellie sniffed the air.
Rain.
She looked up at the starless sky. She pulled on the sleeves of her sweater and tucked her hands inside. As warm as it was during the day, the evenings tended to cool down quickly. That's how it was in early autumn in Western New York.

“Are you cold?” Johnny asked.

“Yes, and more than a little freaked.”

Ellie quickened her pace, suddenly in agreement with Johnny's need to get her home. “Maybe the attack was just some kid fooling around. They've had trouble with kids and graffiti at the old mill. I read something about it in the paper,” she added after he gave her a quizzical look. “Maybe he wanted to grab some of my paint and I got in the way.”

“I don't think that's the case.” Johnny's matter-of-fact tone made her inexplicably angry.

Truth be told, neither did she. The intruder had asked about a package.

They turned up her driveway and Ellie slowed, her headache worsening. “You're not helping your grandfather get the house on Treehaven ready to sell?”

“I hope to convince my grandfather it's time to downsize. The house is too big for him. But he's reluctant. Mostly, it's a cover to allow me to conduct the investigation without drawing suspicion.”

Ellie felt the right thing to do would be to thank him for his honesty, but after their history, she couldn't muster the words.

“I live in the apartment over the garage,” Ellie said instead, scanning her surroundings. Neat homes set back from the street with lots of shrubbery. Shrubbery an attacker could hide behind.

A band of fear tightened around her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Thin lines of stress accented Johnny's eyes. “Lock the doors. I'll give Officer Bailey a call. Couldn't hurt to have extra patrols in your neighborhood.”

Ellie made an awkward sound; a cross between disbelief and fear.

Johnny touched her hand. “Whoever attacked you tonight was pretty clumsy. They also made a rookie mistake using a national shipping company to transport illegal drugs. Every indication points to a low-level drug dealer who's stumbling around.”

“So, you don't think he'll come and kill me in my bed?” She forced a smile and a strangled laugh sounded on her lips.

The dark shadow on his face made his expression difficult to read, but she sensed a smile. “I'll make sure that doesn't happen.”

Warmth crept up her neck. She didn't want to ask him how he intended to do that.

“Instead of staying in the garage apartment, maybe you could stay in the main house?” Johnny spoke in the way a person does when they're constantly assessing the situation, trying to figure out what's best.

“Ha! And tell my mother, who already thinks the gift shop is not a fiscally sound idea, that I was attacked in the back room the night before I even opened?” And moving back into her old room would send her plans of independence back to step zero. Living above the garage was bad enough.

“I'll take that as a no.”

“You said it was some rookie stumbling around...” She knew she was grasping at any assurances he threw her way.

“Rookie criminals get desperate, too. Especially if they think you have something that's theirs.”

“I don't.” Ellie's shoulders slumped in frustration.

“They don't know that. I'm afraid you won't be safe as long as they think you do.”

TWO

“W
ell...” Ellie sighed heavily “...today didn't go as I'd planned.” She dragged a hand down the length of her ponytail and rested her elbow on the railing of the stairs leading to her apartment above the garage. She wasn't quite ready to call it a night. She'd never be able to sleep now. But she couldn't very well invite him in for coffee. Johnny wasn't exactly her friend, even if he had come to her rescue tonight.

Inwardly she bristled at the notion. She was not going to continue her trend of letting men rescue her. She could stand on her own two feet.

Johnny cleared his throat. “How are your parents?”

A small part of Ellie was relieved that Johnny wasn't ready to call it a night, either.

“Dad's been gone three years.” The back of her nose prickled. “Good thing, too, because if he saw you standing in his driveway, he'd come out here and knock you into next week.” She laughed at the memory of her high-spirited father cursing Johnny Rock up and down for tricking his son into this “whole drug business” as he'd called it.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.” There was something about his deep voice, his offer of sympathy in the cover of darkness, that felt more personal than it was. She didn't know Johnny. Not really.

How could someone make a living pretending he was something he wasn't and in the process mess up an innocent boy's future? Johnny should have been more careful with his accusations.

“I'm sure he would be proud of you,” Johnny added.

Ellie shifted her stance. “I like to think so, but sometimes I don't know. I used to say I wanted to go to college to study art. He'd tell me to be an art teacher. He was always practical. Not sure he'd like the idea of a gift shop.”

“Did you study art in college?”

Ellie's stomach dropped at the mention of college.

A fat raindrop landed on her cheek and she wiped it away. “After my parents paid for my brother's high-priced lawyer, there was no money left for college. For either of us.”

“I'm sorry things worked out that way.”

A few more drops plopped onto her head and shoulders and sounded loudly on the metal trash cans near the garage.

“But you're not sorry for having my brother arrested?”

“We could go round and round about this until we're both soaking wet.” Johnny squinted up at the sky.

She shook her head. “I better get inside.” Another drop fell, then another and another.

Oh, just great.

Ellie grabbed Johnny's arm and pulled him toward her mother's front porch. She wasn't about to invite him into her apartment. “Wait out the storm. You'll get soaked.”

The porch light flipped on and her mother appeared in the doorway.

Even greater.

Inwardly, Ellie rolled her eyes. Her mother was going to blow a gasket when she saw Johnny Rock standing on her porch with her daughter.

Nancy Winters squinted and tented a hand over her eyes to shield them from the bare bulb on the overhang of the front porch. “Hello, Ellie. Who do you have there?” A hint of accusation laced her mother's tone. The screen door creaked as her mother pushed it open with an outstretched arm.

Before she had a chance to answer, Johnny smiled and extended his hand. “Hello, Mrs. Winters. It's Johnny...Johnny Rock. It's nice to see you.”

An expression Ellie had seen a million times settled on her mother's features. The I'm-angry-but-it-will-have-to-wait look. The look her mother whipped out in the presence of company. “Hello, Johnny.” Her brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

“Johnny ran into me on Main Street. He offered to walk me home.” The words tumbled out of Ellie's mouth.

Her mother glanced at the overhang as the rain poured down. “Come in out of the weather. The rain will still get you if the wind starts up.”

Johnny raised his hand, about to protest. Ellie shook her head slightly. “You might as well come in. My mom won't take no for an answer.”

He shrugged and smiled. He had grown more handsome in the ten years since she had seen him. His brown hair was cut close on the sides and a little longer on top. Hair a girl could run her fingers through.

Where did that come from?

A smile curved his mouth and heat warmed her cheeks. Good thing he couldn't read minds.

“I suppose I'll come in,” he said, “until the rain lets up.”

Ellie held the door and Johnny brushed past her. His clean scent tickled her nose and a fondness coiled around her heart. Oh, she didn't need this complication in her life.

Johnny glanced down at her and she smiled tightly at him, dismissing her feelings as remnants of a silly schoolgirl crush.

“Have a seat,” Ellie said, holding her hand out toward the small kitchen table in front of the windows. Johnny did as she said. Ellie took the chair across from him, fully aware of his masculine presence in the small space.

Why couldn't the rain have held off for five more minutes?

“So, what brings you here, Johnny?” Her mother busied herself filling the teakettle at the kitchen sink.

Ellie shot Johnny a don't-mention-the-intruder look.

“My grandfather is selling the house on Treehaven Road. I'm giving him a hand organizing and packing. That sort of thing.”

Nancy set the kettle on the stove with a deliberate clunk. She turned the back burner to high and set about the business of getting out three teacups and the tea bags before bothering to ask if they wanted any tea. A rainy evening called for tea, whether they agreed or not.

“And you're able to get away from your job?” Her mother crossed her arms and glared at him; a searing look that would have had the teenage Ellie confessing to sins she hadn't committed.

“I'll be following up on some work-related things while I'm here. I work for the FBI.” Johnny hooked his arm around the back of the chair, oblivious to the tension hovering in the air. Ellie imagined FBI agents didn't spook easily.

“You're with the FBI now, huh?” Her mother seemed to be considering something as she tore the paper away from the tea bag.

“Yes, ma'am. In Buffalo.”

Nancy's features softened as if she had come to some conclusion. “Johnny, did you hear Greg has a good job working for the town? He's in maintenance. Makes good money working overtime. Good benefits.”

“Good to hear.”

“And Ellie is opening a shop in town—but you probably know that, too.” Her mother stood tall, like a proud mama bear ready to swipe at anyone who dared hurt her cubs.

“Mom...” Ellie hated how her tone made her sound juvenile. Far younger than her twenty-four years.

Ellie swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She wondered why God would send rain when she was seconds away from getting rid of Johnny and her mother being none the wiser.

“How did you run into Ellie tonight?”

Ellie shot Johnny a sideways glance that didn't go unnoticed by her mother.

“What? What are you hiding from me?”

If Ellie could have melted into the floor like that wicked witch, she would have poured her hot tea over her head. No one lied to Nancy Winters. No one. The FBI had nothing on her mother's well-honed lie detector.

Ellie inhaled a deep breath and then let it spill. “Tonight when I was painting in the shop, I left the alley door propped open.” A ticking started in her head. “Someone snuck in—”

“Snuck in!” Her mother's hand flew to her chest. “Did something happen to you? Are you hurt?” She rushed to Ellie's side and cupped her daughter's cheeks with her cool hands.

Suddenly feeling very conspicuous, Ellie pushed back in her chair and smiled awkwardly up at her mother. “I'm fine. Just a little paint in my hair and on my T-shirt.” She swallowed around her fear. “You know how those teens have been doing graffiti on the stone walls at the park? Kids were probably looking to steal my paint and I surprised them.”

She hoped God would forgive her this little white lie to spare her mother a sleepless night.

Nancy's worried eyes moved to Johnny. “Is that what happened?”

His gaze flicked to Ellie, then back to her mother.

“Officer Bailey is looking into it. I'll follow up with him if it'd make you feel better.”

“Oh...I...I'm sure our local police are more than capable.” Ellie's mother must have remembered she didn't want to ask the likes of Johnny for help.

Or perhaps her mother feared her daughter would get swept off her feet again. Make another stupid mistake. And with the man who had ruined her brother's life.

But what her mother had yet to realize: Ellie refused to get involved with anyone. She was done looking for approval through a man's eyes.

* * *

The next morning Johnny wandered down the back stairway into his grandfather's kitchen. Through the exterior French doors, he was surprised to see the eighty-year-old man raking leaves in the backyard, his golden retriever keeping him company. His grandfather was ten years older than when Johnny had moved in with him for his undercover narcotics position at the high school, and his face was thinner, but he still kept active. This old house was a lot to maintain.

However, a neighbor had caught Johnny in the driveway yesterday and expressed some concerns about his grandfather's physical ability. Johnny hadn't been around long enough to determine if this was a valid concern or simply the grumblings of a neighbor who didn't like that his grandfather's once stately Victorian had fallen into disrepair.

Johnny opened the doors to the outside and the crisp morning air hit him. He stepped down onto the stone patio. Dandelions pushed through the cracks between the pavers. Maybe he'd fix a few things while he was here. Every improvement would help his grandfather sell the place sooner—if only he could convince him now was the perfect time to sell.

To date Johnny hadn't been able to convince his grandfather of anything.

“You're up early,” Johnny called to his grandfather.

His grandfather, or “Buddy” as most people called him, stopped raking and rested his elbow on the handle. “The older I get, the less I sleep.”

Johnny imagined his grandfather had a lot of regrets that kept him awake at night.

“Any break in the case?”

Johnny bent and yanked a dandelion out by the roots. “Not yet.” He had told his grandfather he was in town working on a case, but he hadn't given him many details. It wasn't that he didn't trust his grandfather; he just didn't want to put the elderly gentleman in the position of accidentally compromising an active investigation.

“Your investigation... Does it have anything to do with that intruder over at the new gift shop?”

Johnny angled his head and studied his grandfather. “How did you know about that?”

Duke, the golden retriever, ran over to Johnny and was rewarded with a pat on the head. Johnny pulled a dry leaf from the patch of gray in the dog's fur.

“Heard about it when I ran up to the convenience store for the morning paper.”

“Nothing goes unnoticed in a small town.”

“You should know that by now.” Buddy arched his gray brow. “Whatever you're working on, be careful. People have long memories and still blame you for ruining those boys' lives.”

“You mean the boys I arrested for dealing drugs at the high school?” Johnny bit back the sarcasm.

“One of them wasn't convicted.”

“Doesn't mean he wasn't guilty.”

“That's not how people think. You know that. People don't forget.” His grandfather jabbed at a pile of leaves with the rake. “Sometimes I think more people were upset you ruined the chances of the baseball team going to the state championship than about the arrests themselves.”

Johnny shook his head. “There's more at stake now. A young boy died of a drug overdose. I need to get these drugs off the street. They are nasty stuff. Deadlier than most.”

His grandfather walked toward him and stumbled on a root. Johnny lunged forward to catch him, but the older man righted himself with the support of the rake before Johnny reached him. “Stupid roots.” Buddy shook his head. “I know how important this investigation is. Even though there's plenty of crime in Buffalo, you keep ending up back here in Williamstown.”

“The chief of police requested the FBI's help.”

“Maybe after you reached out to them after seeing news of the boy's death on TV?” The sudden surge of deaths due to drugs throughout the area had made the death of a Williamstown honor student news, even forty minutes away in Buffalo.

Johnny didn't say anything.

His grandfather balanced the rake against a small patio table and lowered himself slowly onto a wrought-iron chair that could have used a fresh coat of paint. He rubbed Duke's head playfully and made a few affectionate noises. After a minute he said, “Your being here has nothing to do with Mary Claire getting hooked on drugs when she was a student at Williamstown?”

Buddy's hands shook as he spoke of his only daughter. Johnny's mother.

Johnny swallowed around a lump in his throat, not trusting his voice.

“You never did get over losing your mother.”

How did one get over losing a mother due to a drug overdose when he was twelve, which had then landed him in foster care? No, that pretty much stuck in a kid's mind. Forever.

Johnny was lucky—if he could call it that—that he had just come off a pretty rough case and his direct supervisor at the FBI had thought he needed some downtime. They had agreed on a compromise: Johnny could take a pseudo leave of absence and help his grandfather get the old Victorian house ready for sale, all while serving in an official FBI capacity to help the Williamstown police department get the drugs off the street.

The wind whispered through the trees, sending more leaves floating to the ground. “You've got a big job out here,” Johnny said, referring to the leaves.