Safe at Home (Warm Springs Trilogy Book 1) (11 page)

Sam’s legs were numb and refused to move. “Oh, Denise,” she sobbed. It was all her fault. She stared around the room, eyes wide, and started feeling as though his eyes were watching her from the hallway or from the window to her bedroom. It wasn’t possible, and yet, she couldn’t shake the terror taking root in her chest.

Her hands shook harder and her heart pounded. Panic set in and the corners of her vision began to blur. She had to get out. “Oh, God.” Sam fell to her knees and fought the urge to vomit as she crawled to get away.

Spencer lowered the table saw’s spinning blade through the wood. He focused on the line he’d drawn to ensure accurate measurements, but his mind was on Sam. She couldn’t fight him forever.

He’d thought he could quench his need to feel her lips on his with a simple kiss, but he’d been wrong. The kiss had only made him want more. He wanted to drink her in, explore all of her. Under her shy exterior, there was a woman dying to get out.

He raised the saw and studied his cut. Then his phone buzzed. Spencer paused and took off his work glove while he fished around in his pocket.

“Hello?” He swiped the sweat from his forehead onto his sleeve.

“Spencer? It’s Mary. I’m sorry to bother you, but I didn’t know who else to call. And, I didn’t want to worry Earl and Betsy.”

“What’s wrong, Mary?” A crease formed between his eyes as he tried to figure out a scenario in which she would call him regarding some kind of trouble, but he kept coming up blank. Mary rarely called him unless it was about hiring him for an odd job.

“It’s probably nothing. I feel silly now.”

“Just tell me what’s worrying you, Mary.”

“Well, it’s Sam.”

His adrenaline kicked in. “What about Sam?” he asked, all pleasantries vanished.

“She never came in this morning and I can’t reach her. She was supposed to be here at nine. I figured she probably overslept, but she’s never been late and it’s eleven-thirty now.”

Spencer was already pulling his shirt on as he walked towards his truck.

“I’ll check on her. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I hope it’s all right that I called you,” Mary said apologetically.

“It’s fine. You did the right thing. Thanks, Mary.” Spencer punched the gas after shouting at his brother that he had to make a run. He was sure it was nothing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling there was something wrong.

Spencer’s imagination was beginning to get the best of him. What if she’d fallen down the stairs? She was there alone, it could happen. What if…oh, he didn’t know…anything could’ve happened. Growing more anxious by the minute, Spencer ignored most of the traffic laws. When he pulled up in front of Sam’s house, he hit his brakes hard enough to cause a faint screech.

Spencer cleared the stairs in two steps and pounded on the front door. There was no answer, so he rounded the house to the back porch. When there was no answer again, he tried the knob, but it was locked. Fear getting the best of him, Spencer reared back and kicked the door. The frame gave way to the sudden blow allowing him access to the house.

“Sam,” he shouted.

He knew she was there. Her car was in the drive and there were remnants of breakfast sitting on the counter. He stopped suddenly, when he heard voices coming from upstairs. Racing up the steps and down the hall toward Sam’s room, he found the TV on, but no sign of her.

He turned to leave and froze at the faint sound of thumping, again and again in slow rhythm. It was coming from the closet. He approached slowly and gripped the doorknob. Unsure of what he’d find, he took a deep breath and threw the door open. That’s where he found her.

She was shivering and rocking, with her back steadily hitting the wall. Her hair was plastered to her forehead from sweat and her eyes were dilated and unblinking.

“Sam.” He knelt down beside her. “Can you hear me? Are you hurt?” He reached out and touched her arm. She screamed and her wild eyes darted to his face, but she didn’t seem to recognize him. Her feet slid as she tried to get away by pushing herself deeper into the closet. Fear gripped his heart in its claws as he watched her. He’d never seen someone so scared.

“Sam, it’s me, Spencer. I won’t hurt you, but you have to calm down and tell me what happened.”

She stopped screaming, but she turned her face as she looked straight ahead and began to rock once more. He reached for her again, slower this time and she didn’t put up a fight. Her skin was clammy to the touch, a hard contrast from the heat they’d shared at the dance. He lifted her, carried her to the bed, and held her against his chest while he tried to soothe her. Her tank top was soaked with cold sweat. How long had she been like this?

He held her for what felt like hours, and slowly her shaking began to subside. Warmth returned to her body and the knot in his chest loosened slightly.

“Sam, what happened? I need you to tell me what happened.” He said it in such a hushed tone, he wasn’t sure if she’d heard him or not, but then she started crying.

“She’s dead,” she whispered.

“Who’s dead, Sam?”

“Denise. He killed her.” Tears streaked her face, but she didn’t start shaking again.

“Okay, just lay down now. I’m going to get you some water.” He laid her down gently, pulled a blanket over her and stepped into the bathroom to find a cup. He’d never actually seen someone in shock before, but he knew the signs.

Christ, he needed a minute to digest what was happening. Grasping both sides of the sink, Spencer stared at his own reflection. Someone was dead. Someone named Denise. He was confused, but he knew he couldn’t ask her anymore. Not right now anyway. She was distraught, but it was more than that, she was scared. The way she screamed when he’d touched her made his blood run cold.

Pulling his thoughts together, he stepped back into the room, cup in hand and saw she was asleep. Her breaths were coming out in shuttering waves, but her color was coming back. He needed a drink. He hadn’t been this anxious in…hell, ever. He set the glass on the nightstand beside her and headed downstairs to call Mary.

“No, she’s fine, just not feeling well. She told me to tell you she’s sorry she didn’t call earlier. She didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I understand, dear. Cold medicine does that to me, too. Can’t take the darn stuff, or I end up sleeping standing up. Tell her not to worry and to give me a call tomorrow.”

Spencer went back upstairs and sat in the chair by the window. His thoughts were all mixed up. He just kept seeing her face when he’d reached for her and she’d panicked. He never wanted to see her that way again and he would do whatever it took to make sure he didn’t.

In the sinking light behind him, the sun painted the sky in beautiful shades of orange and purple, bringing on what promised to be a long night.

She stirred. As soon as her eyes blinked open, it all came rushing back. The news and the fear. She hadn’t felt that terror in a long time and she ached all over. Forcing herself to sit up, she rubbed her head against a major headache. She leaned against the headboard and felt tenderness in her back. What had she done? That’s when she saw Spencer.

He was propped up in a chair with his head rolled to one side while he dozed peacefully. Oh, God, he saw her like that. The realization hit her like a cold wave and shocked her awake. What did she say? What would she say? She could feel the embarrassment creeping into her cheeks with a wave of heat.

He moved, almost as if he’d sensed her looking at him, and sat up with a start when their eyes met. He made his way to her side and sat gently on the edge of the bed. He was acting as though she might break. She fought a fresh wave of tears. The new life she craved was gone.

“Are you all right?” He brushed hair from her cheek with gentle fingers.

“Yes, just achy. Look, I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you.” Her voice sounded scratchy and worn.

“No trouble here. You got me out of working with Jake, I should be thanking you.” They smiled at each other, neither one knowing what to say.

“How about this? I’ll run down and make us some coffee and you can join me downstairs when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Spencer.” He slid off the bed and she slowly made her way to the bathroom. She felt as though she’d been hit with a baseball bat and based on her appearance in the mirror, she looked like it, too. Then she thought of Denise.

She couldn’t get the reporter’s words out of her head: mutilated, burned. She shuddered. Even leaving hadn’t protected her friend. She knew what Denise’s murder meant. He was making good on his promise.

Chapter 14

Sam didn’t have any idea what she was going to say to Spencer. How was she supposed to explain the worst two years of her life? The shower had helped, at least. She let the water wash over her as hot as she could stand it. Her muscles weren’t quite as stiff and she supposed she didn’t feel quite as mortified. With her hair dripping down her back, she slipped on a pair of worn jeans and a T-shirt and headed for the stairs.

He was sitting on the couch waiting for her while two cups of steaming coffee sat on the table. She longed to curl up in her reading chair, but she didn’t want to be rude, so she made her way to the couch and sat with her legs folded up under her. He handed her one of the cups of coffee and leaned back into the cushions. She sipped it, barely noticing the bitter taste, while she gathered her courage. He looked at her over the rim of his cup, but didn’t press her for answers. The last thing she wanted was a trip down memory lane, but Spencer deserved the truth.

Sam took a deep breath and held onto the cup to keep her hands from trembling.

“Look, Spencer, I really appreciate you coming over here today. I can’t imagine what you must be thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything. I’m just here to listen if you want to talk.” He smiled at her, giving her the courage to keep talking.

“Would it be all right with you if we just sat here for a while?”

“Whatever you want. I don’t have anywhere else to be.” He leaned forward and set his coffee back on the table before turning to face her with a guilty expression. “I think I should mention that I need to fix your back door, though. I sort of kicked it in.”

“How do you ‘sort of’ kick in a door?”

“I saw your car and you didn’t answer, so I took the initiative. Oh, and by the way, I called Mary and told her you were sick. She understands of course, just wants you to call her in the morning.”

A new wave of guilt washed over her. “Thanks for calling her. I completely forgot about work.”

They fell back into silence for a while just sipping their coffee and thinking their own individual thoughts with the sounds of the night echoing through the windows.

“Hey, Sam, do you want me to stay?” When her eyes widened, he hurried on. “I don’t think you should be alone tonight. Especially since I broke your door. I could fix it for you first thing in the morning.”

“Um, I guess that would be all right. Are you sure you want to stay here?” Sam asked, but deep down she was relieved at the thought of not being alone.

“It’s no problem. I’ll sleep in one of those extra rooms upstairs, or down here on the couch.”

She uncurled her legs and set her mug beside his. “I know there are things to say, but it’s too soon.” She kept her eyes focused on the little dark spot near the rim of her cup. “Even though I slept most of the day, I still feel wiped out. Can we talk in the morning?”

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“It’s okay. I know the guy I’m working for this week pretty well.” He smiled. “I think Jake’ll let me off without too much trouble.”

With the sleeping arrangements made and the awkward goodnights behind them, Sam closed her eyes and prayed for sleep. It had been a long, emotional day. When the darkness finally swept over her, Sam fought with ghosts of her past.

When she cried out, she wasn’t alone. Spencer stood in her doorway, motionless, as he watched her sleep. He wanted to take her in his arms again and protect her from her nightmares, but he knew he couldn’t. After she stilled, he went back to the couch and tucked his arm behind his head.

Shadows danced across the ceiling, creating disoriented patterns. They reflected the twist of emotions in his chest with an acute likeness. He didn’t know how to help Sam and it was tearing him up inside. One thing was for sure though, he never wanted to see her again the way he had when he found her in the closet. And, he knew he would do whatever he could to keep her from feeling that kind of terror again.

Sam woke up feeling far from rested, but she couldn’t stand the dreams any longer. She stretched and then caught the faintest hint of bacon. Her mouth began to water. She hadn’t eaten anything since the morning before.

When she wandered into the kitchen, she found Spencer manning the stove wearing only jeans with his hair tousled. She felt a little guilty for noticing his body with all that had happened, but if there was one person in the world that would give her the go ahead it would be Denise.

“Did I wake you?” Spencer glanced at her and then turned back to the bacon sizzling in the pan.

She shook her head to clear away the thoughts of what a nice back he had and how good he looked half-dressed cooking for her. “No, but that bacon smells good. I’m starved.”

“Good, me too. I think I’ve cooked everything in the kitchen.” He wasn’t kidding. There was already toast, eggs and orange juice on the counter next to him. “I was thinking we could sit outside on the back porch and eat. Might be good to get some fresh air.”

“That sounds good. Can I help?”

“No, I’m good here. Go ahead and go out. I’m right behind you.”

She stepped onto the back porch and drank in the sight of her garden and the crisp air. Life went on. It wasn’t fair Denise had been gone for so long and she hadn’t known. She couldn’t even go to the funeral for her best friend. And, it was all because of her that Denise had died in the first place. How many more of her loved ones would be touched by his evil hands?

“Breakfast is served,” Spencer announced.

Sam jumped. “It smells wonderful.”