A Soldier's Redemption (4 page)

Man, didn't she
know
that. Maybe that was part of the reason she'd kept so much to herself over the past year, not simply because she was afraid of saying the wrong thing. Maybe it was because she feared caring ever again.

“I can understand that,” she agreed, her lips feeling oddly numb. As if she were falling away again, from now into memory. But her memory had become a Pandora's box, and she struggled to cling to the moment. To now.

The phone rang again. She jumped and stared at it. Gage had already called. Work? Maybe. Maybe not.

Wade spoke. “Want me to answer it?”

A kind offer, but one that wouldn't help her deal with reality. She'd been protected almost into nonexistence, she
realized. Protected and frightened. At some point she had to start living again, not just existing.

So she reached for the phone, even as her heart hammered and her hand shook. “Hello?”

“Cory!” A familiar woman's voice filled her ear. “It's Marsha.” Marsha from work, a woman she occasionally spent a little time with because they had some similarities, some points of connection they could talk about. But they'd never really gotten to the point of random, friendly phone calls.

“Hi, Marsha. What's up?” Her heart slowed, her hand steadied.

“I got a phone call. I think Jack has found me!”

Cory drew a sharp breath. While she hadn't shared her story with Marsha, she'd learned a lot of Marsha's story over the past year. “What makes you think that?”

“The person said he knew where I was!”

“Oh. Marsha, I got one of those calls, too. Did you report it to the sheriff?”

“A phone call like that?” Marsha laughed, but there was an edge to it. “Why would he even listen to me?”

“Because I got one of those calls. And a few other women did, too.”

Marsha fell silent. Then hopefully, “Others got the same call?”

“Gage thinks it was a prank. I reported it and so did some others.”

In the silence on the line, Cory could hear Marsha start calming herself. She waited patiently until she could no longer hear Marsha's rapid breathing. Then she asked, “Do you want to come over?” She'd never asked that before, even though she'd gone to Marsha's a few times. Explaining expensive alarm systems could get…messy, and involve lying.

“No. No. I guess not. If Gage thinks it's a prank, and I'm not the only one to get a call, I must be okay.”

“So it would seem.”

“But I'm going to get a dog,” Marsha said with sudden determination. “Tomorrow, I'm getting a dog. A big one that barks.” Then she gave a tinny laugh.

“If it helps you to feel safer.”

“It'll help. And if I'm this nervous after all this time, I guess I need the help. Want to do coffee in the morning?”

That meant going out, and Gage had told her not to. But that had been before he decided the calls were a prank. Cory hesitated, then said, “Let me call you about that in the morning.”

“Okay. Maybe you can help me pick out a dog.”

As if she knew anything about dogs. “I'll call around nine, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Cory. I feel a lot better now.”

When Cory hung up, she found Wade sipping his coffee, quietly attentive. After a moment's hesitation, she decided to explain.

“My friend Marsha. She got one of those calls, too.”

“Why did it frighten her?”

“Her ex was abusive. Very abusive. She's afraid he might find her.”

He nodded slowly. “So she's hiding here, too?”

“Too?” She didn't want to think about what his use of that word meant, how much he must have figured out about her.

He said nothing, just took another sip of coffee. Then, at last, “What did the caller say?”

“Just ‘I know where you are.'”

Another nod. “That would be scary to someone who doesn't want to be found.”

And she'd just revealed a whole hell of a lot. She ought to panic, but somehow the panic wouldn't come. Maybe because having listened to Marsha, some steely chord in her had been plucked, one long forgotten. Prank call or not, at least two women were going to have trouble sleeping tonight, and that made her mad.

“Why would some idiot do this?” she demanded. “I don't care if it was kids. This isn't funny. Not at all.”

“I agree.”

His agreement, far from settling her, pushed her into a rare contrarian mood. She knew kids, after all, had taught them for years. “They don't think,” she said. “They probably got the idea from some movie and are having a grand old time laughing that they might have scared someone.”

“Maybe.”

“They wouldn't realize that some people might really have something to fear.”

“Maybe.”

She looked at him in frustration. “Can you manage more than a few syllables?”

At that he almost smiled. She could see the crack in his stone facade. “Occasionally,” he said. “How many syllables do you want?”

“Just tell me why you keep saying
maybe.
”

“I told you, I'm suspicious by nature. Tell me more about your friend Marsha.”

“Why? What? I told you her story, basically.”

He set his cup on the end table and leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. “Try this. Have you both always lived here or did you move here? Are you about the same age? Any similarities in appearance?”

Just as she started to think he had gone over some kind
of edge, something else struck her. For a few seconds she couldn't find breath to speak, and when she did it was a mere whisper. “You think someone could be trying to find one of us?”

“I don't know.” The words came out bluntly. “A sample of two hardly proves anything. But I'm still curious. Will you tell me?”

She hesitated, then finally nodded. “Marsha and I are sort of friends because we…share a few things. We both moved here within a couple of weeks of each other, almost a year ago. We work together at the grocery.”

“Your ages? And your appearance?”

“We don't look like twins.”

“I didn't think you did. But otherwise?”

“I think we're as different as night and day.” Indeed they were. Marsha had short red hair, a square chin, green eyes and a bust a lot of women would have paid a fortune for. Cory, on the other hand, now had chin-length auburn hair—which she hated because she had to keep it colored herself to hide her natural dark blond—and brown eyes that had looked good when she was blonde but now seemed to vanish compared to her hair. The Marshals had given her a slight nose job, though, replacing her button nose with something a little longer and straighter. They hadn't messed with her bust, though. That was still average.

“Are those differences that could be easily manipulated?”

She didn't like where he was going with this, didn't like it at all. “You
are
suspicious.” But then, so was she. All of a sudden Gage's phone call seemed a lot less reassuring. “Marsha and I don't look at all alike.” But how sure was she of that?

“Then I'm overly suspicious.” He leaned back, picking up his coffee again. “Way too much so.”

“Why?”

“Because I've lived my life in the shadows. Suspicion is part of my creed. I never take anything at face value.” He shrugged. “Best to ignore me, I suppose.”

It might have been except for her past. Had she an ordinary life behind her, it would have been easy to dismiss him as a nut. But she couldn't quite do that.

“Why,” she asked finally, “would he call so many? If someone was after either of us, a whole bunch of phone calls wouldn't make sense, would it?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, just ignore me.”

Easier said than done, especially when he seemed to have been following some train of thought of his own. But he said nothing more, and she really couldn't imagine any reason he should be suspicious.

But of one thing she was reasonably certain: the man who would want her dead wouldn't need to call a bunch of women to scare them. In fact, it would be the last thing he would do. Because calling her would warn her, and if she got scared enough to call the Marshals, they'd move her.

Even though moving her would take time, it would certainly make killing her more difficult while she was under constant surveillance once again, as she had been in the three months between the shooting and her eventual relocation.

So it had to be a prank. Surely. She clung to that like a straw in a hurricane.

Because it was all she could do.

I
n the morning, Cory decided to go for coffee with Marsha after all. She had a little money to spare because of Wade, and a cup of coffee at Maude's didn't cost that much, especially if she avoided the fancier drinks that Maude had begun to introduce, taking her cue from the major coffee chains. So far Cory didn't think there was a huge market for “mocha decaf lattes” here, even though she loved lattes herself, but they were now available if anyone wanted them.

Marsha expressed huge gratitude for the call. In her voice, Cory heard a stress that matched her own. She hadn't slept well at all last night, tossing and turning, one nightmare following another.

When she finally gave up trying to sleep, it was only five-thirty in the morning. She'd grabbed a book from the table beside her bed and had attempted to read for a couple of hours. In the end, though, the words might as well have
been random letters, none of the story penetrated, and she thought she might have dozed a bit.

Wade must still be asleep, she thought when at last she reset the house alarm and slipped out the door. She'd been the only one to change the alarm settings since she awoke—she'd have heard the tone if anyone had—and she hadn't heard him moving around.

Nothing strange in that, she supposed, except she had somehow expected him to be an early riser. Why? Because he'd been in the navy? Not everyone in the navy worked days and slept nights. She knew that much. Maybe he'd had some kind of night duty. Which got her to wondering what kind of work he'd done, and how he'd gotten enough medals to paper a wall, according to Gage.

Well, she could always try asking him, but she doubted he would answer. And how could she complain about that when she kept her own secrets?

It was a lovely summer morning, and she could have walked to Maude's but uneasiness made her take the Suburban anyway. Besides, she told herself, trying to pretend she wasn't acting only out of over-heightened fear, if Marsha really did want to get a big dog, the Suburban might be the best way to get it home.

Marsha was already there at a table with coffee in front of her. Hardly had Cory slid into a seat facing her when Maude stomped by, slamming a mug down and filling it. A little bowl of creamer cups already sat in the middle of the table.

Cory actually felt a smile twitch at the corners of her mouth. In a year she'd never bought anything here except coffee, and Maude had apparently given up on talking her into anything else. Once in a blue moon, a piece of pie would be slapped down in front of her but never show
up on the bill. Interesting woman, Maude. Cory was quite sure she had
never
met anyone like her.

Marsha smiled at her, but the expression didn't reach her eyes. She looked exhausted, and Cory suspected they had both spent nights filled with nightmares and restlessness.

“I'm glad that you told me a bunch of women got the same call,” Marsha said.

“I don't know how many, but Gage indicated there were a few of us. That's why he thinks it's a prank.”

“Makes sense.” Marsha opened another little cup of half-and-half and lightened her coffee even more. “And I guess if a few reported the calls, there were probably more like me who never called him at all.”

“Probably,” Cory agreed. “You look like you slept about as well as I did.”

Marsha's laugh was short and hollow. “Yeah, we look like a pair of zombies, don't we? I just couldn't stop thinking about Jack all night, about all the things he threatened to do to me. But it's been almost a year, so he probably never wanted to come after me. He just wanted to scare me.”

And Marsha had plenty of reason to be scared, considering the things her ex had done to her. Cory wanted to say something reassuring, but couldn't. How could she reassure anyone when she was living with a similar terror herself? Her pursuers might have more reason to try to track her, since she could help identify one of them as a murderer, but did that mean Marsha's ex was necessarily less determined?

“Are you still going to get a dog?”

Marsha nodded. “I called the vet before I came here. He says he has a couple of dogs I might like and that they're naturally protective breeds.”

“That sounds good.”

“I told him I wanted a big dog, but he recommended against it.”

“Really?”

Marsha gave a small, tired laugh. “He asked me how much I wanted to walk it, and did I want to be able to hold it in my lap…” Her voice broke, then steadied. “Sorry. I'm just tired. But anyway, the idea of a dog that would curl up on my lap sounded good, and with the hours we work, I couldn't walk a dog at the same time of day every day…” She trailed off, sighed and looked down into her coffee.

All of a sudden, Cory felt something she hadn't felt in far too long: a desire to protect someone besides herself. The urge rose fiercely, and burned away some of the fear.

Those men had stolen her life, but for the last year she'd let them steal
her,
too. She'd let them turn her into a quivering, frightened recluse whose only concern was surviving each day.

How much more twisted could she get? How could she let them keep doing this to her? She wasn't the only person on this planet with fears and needs. Look at Marsha. What had she ever done except marry the wrong man? Yet, she, too, had been driven into a hole in the ground.

Angry, Cory couldn't sit still another moment. She slapped some bills on the table, to cover both their coffees, and stood. “Let's go get your dog. You need a reason to smile.”

Marsha appeared startled, but then began to grin. “Yeah,” she said. “Let's go get that dog.”

“Cute and cuddly,” Cory said. “The cutest, cuddliest one we can find.”

Because there still had to be something good in life, and a dog was as good a start as anything else.

 

Conard County wasn't a heavily populated place, so it had a limited tax base and had to cut some corners. Hence the vet and animal control shared property and kennels, and the vet, Dr. Mike Windwalker, was on retainer to care for the impounded animals. Like most small-town vets, he handled everything from horses to the occasional reptile.

A handsome man in his mid-thirties, he'd replaced the former vet five years ago and seemed to enjoy his broad-spectrum practice. He had one assistant, though he could probably have used more.

“You picked a good day to do this,” he remarked as he led Marsha and Cory back through his office toward the kennels. “I'm not very busy so I'll have time to help you make a good match.”

As they approached the wire gate beyond which lay the sheltered kennels, the sounds of dogs barking started to build.

“They know we're coming,” the vet said with a smile. “But before we go in…” He turned to Marsha. “I want to know a bit more about why you want a dog. Just for protection? Or would you like a companion? And can you afford much dog food?”

Marsha bit her lip, then admitted, “I'm tired of being alone so much. Yes, I want a dog that can alert me when someone comes, but I think I'd like to have one to love, too. And play with. I'd love to play with a dog. As for food—” she wrinkled her nose “—I probably shouldn't have a dog with a huge appetite.”

At that Mike Windwalker smiled. “Then I have a couple of good ones for you. Love and protection can come in small sizes as well as large.”

Cory stayed back a bit, watching as Mike introduced Marsha to various small dogs. She didn't want to get too
interested in the process because when Wade left, unless she got a better job or more hours at her current one, she simply wouldn't be able to take care of a pet. Nor, when she thought about it, could she have one running around at night with the motion detectors on.

But it was so hard to resist all the puppy-dog eyes. It would have been entirely too easy to choose one for herself, and she had to remind herself again and again that she couldn't afford it.

But she felt a definite stab of envy when Marsha eventually settled on a Pomeranian. “Definitely loyal,” the vet said approvingly. “She'll let you know any time anyone approaches the house and these dogs can be relied on to fight for their owners if necessary.” He shook his head. “People often underestimate the protectiveness of the small breeds. There are ways to get around a dog, any dog, but these small guys have hearts like lions.”

Marsha definitely looked as if she'd fallen in love. And while she naturally had a cheerful nature, it was often eclipsed behind spurts of worry. Right now, she looked as if she didn't have a worry in the world.

“Just one caveat,” the vet said. “I offer obedience classes for free, and with this one you'd be wise to take them.”

“I will.”

“I'm starting a new class Saturday morning at nine.”

Marsha beamed at him. “I'll be there.”

When she drove back home a short while later, Cory felt she'd managed to accomplish at least one good deed, small as it was. And it
had
been small. She hadn't been able to give Marsha the dog, or even help her decide which one was best, but she suspected Martha might not have acted so quickly on her own, simply because living in fear had a way of paralyzing you. Even small decisions sometimes seemed too big to make.

And that had to stop, she told herself sternly. It had to stop now. For too long now she'd been little more than a wasted lump of human flesh.

Wade must have heard her pull up, because he was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. Apparently he'd been sleeping because his hair had that tousled look, and his blue sport shirt hung open over his jeans.

Cory couldn't help herself. She stopped dead and stared. That was some chest, smoothly muscled, bronzed and just begging for a touch. Oh, man, as if she needed this now.

With effort she dragged her gaze upward and then wished she hadn't, because she saw in his obsidian eyes that he hadn't missed her look. He revealed nothing about his reaction to it, though, nor did he make any attempt to button his shirt.

“Did Marsha get her dog?” he asked before the silence got long enough that she wouldn't be able to pretend he hadn't noticed what she'd been noticing.

“Yes. A Pomeranian.”

“I had a buddy who had one. He called it his pocket piranha.”

The remark was utterly unexpected, and it bypassed every short circuit the past year had put in Cory's brain. She giggled. Actually giggled.

A faint smile leavened Wade's face. “He liked to bite my ankles.”

That seemed even funnier. “Such a stupid dog,” she giggled again.

“Stupid?”

“Taking on someone your size? That's stupid.”

Wade's smile widened just a hair more. “He knew I wouldn't hurt him. Dogs have good instincts.”

She laughed again, still amused by the image. Then it
struck her that he seemed to have been waiting for her. “Is there something you need?”

“Well, actually…” He hesitated. “I know the deal was I would eat out. But I was wondering, would you mind if I bought groceries and cooked for myself? I'll leave things squared away so you won't even notice I was in there.”

For some reason she liked the idea that he wouldn't be leaving her alone three times a day to hunt up a meal. Amazing how far she had come in less than a day. What had initially seemed like a threat now seemed like a bulwark. Nor was this a matter she wanted to take issue over.

“I don't mind.” Although she was a little surprised that he'd felt it necessary to say she wouldn't even know he'd been in the kitchen. Most people wouldn't have bothered to mention it, unless asked.

She drew a sharp breath, and all of a sudden her heart tugged. She'd heard promises like that before, unsolicited ones.
You'll never notice I was in there.

A few faces floated before her eyes, youngsters all, former students all. And she knew what phrases like that really meant. Could this big, powerful man with all his medals still carry scars like that? After all this time?

But she couldn't ask.

“Is something wrong?”

His question shook her back to the moment. “No. Really. My mind just wanders sometimes. I think I spend too much time alone.” Her laugh this time carried no mirth, but was more of an apology.

“I'll just go get some groceries then.”

She shook her head. “It may go against your grain to look for help, but you shouldn't try to carry groceries home when I can drive you. Just let me get a glass of water, and then I'll take you.”

For an instant she thought he would argue. Something about him said that he didn't relinquish autonomy easily, or accept help easily, at least not from virtual strangers. But then he nodded. “Take your time. Obviously I'm in no rush.”

Wow, she thought as she headed toward the kitchen, at this rate they might even start to converse in whole paragraphs. She took her time drinking her water because she heard him climb the stairs again, probably to brush his hair, button his shirt and pull on some shoes.

Sure enough, five minutes later she heard him descend again. She finished her water and went out to the foyer. “Ready?” she asked, though it was clear that he was. His boots had given way to some comfortable and battered deck shoes, and he'd buttoned and brushed.

“If you are,” he replied.

She grabbed her purse and keys, saying, “Let's go then.”

“You're sure you don't mind?”

There it was again, a niggle. A hint. She looked at him, wishing she could just come right out and ask. But that might be a mistake, because he'd probably just get angry at her prying, and rightfully so. He hadn't poked into her life, so she should give him the same respect.

“I don't mind at all,” she assured him, and summoned a smile. Aware now of what might lurk in his past, she felt old lessons rising up to guide her. And the thought that she might, through her training, help this man feel a bit more comfortable made her feel better than she had in a long time. She might not be able to teach anymore, but it would be so good to
help.