Harlequin Heartwarming May 2016 Box Set (39 page)

“Whichever, it'll be the largest piece Angela has ever done.”

“She could bring in a friend to help.”

He gave her a warning glance. “Not Kiki. I'd like to see her with kids who are less problematic. I need life to be simple.”

“I completely understand.” She hesitated a second, then said, “Maybe if we could find Kiki's grandmother, someone who cares about the girl, it would put her on a better path.”

“If we knew how to find her.” He considered a moment. “Maybe Mom would have some ideas of how to go about it. I'll ask her.”

Grace looked at her watch. “About ready to call it a night?”

“I guess so. I enjoy being with you so much, I forget the passing of time.”

She grinned. “That's a great thing to tell a woman.” After the fears she'd had at the beginning of the evening.

“I aim to please.”

It was completely dark when they returned to the truck. Caleb opened the door for Grace and got in himself. He nosed the vehicle down the driveway and stopped before entering the highway to allow a car to pass. On the other side and a few yards to the south was a turnoff for a country road bordered by thick brush and trees. Grace glanced at that area when Caleb pulled out and immediately stiffened. Two glowing red orbs stared out at them amid the leaves.

“Stop!”

Caleb braked to nearly a stop. “What? A deer?”

“No, go back. I saw something on the side of that gravel road.”

“You saw something?” He quickly did a U-turn, after checking both directions for oncoming cars. Then he turned down the country road.

“There.” Grace pointed. Only one of the red orbs showed as the beam of the headlights swept over the foliage. Then the other winked in the darkness. She felt gooseflesh rise on her arms. “Red eyes.”

Now Caleb saw it, too. “Red eyes?”

“The ghost cow?”

“They're not moving.” He waited a minute. “But something is flapping.” He parked the truck on the edge of the road and reached over her to remove a flashlight from the glove compartment. “We're going to investigate.”

She wasn't dressed for walking over uneven ground. Her high heels sunk into the gravelly dirt, and thick weeds scratched her legs. As they made their way through low-hanging branches and leaves that slapped them in their faces, Caleb put an arm around her waist to steady her.

“Careful,” he said, then flashed the beam of the flashlight on a nearby fence post, separated from the overgrown roadside by a small ditch.

Grace started when something fluttered in the wind, something dark with spots. Then they saw the glowing red orbs. But it was no ghost cow they faced. It looked and sounded like plastic. A garbage bag fastened or caught on the post?

“And reflectors,” Caleb finished her thought. “Stay here. Hold on to that tree so you don't fall.”

He jumped over the ditch and approached the fence post, leaving Grace in the dark. The garbage bag crackled in the breeze, followed by a ripping sound.

“Got it,” said Caleb, grunting. “Now for this. I'm gonna tear out these reflectors. But I need a tool.” He rummaged in his pocket, coming up with something—probably a pocketknife.

When he finished, they returned to the road and the truck.

Caleb held a large torn piece of black plastic in the beam of the truck's headlight. It was splotched with what looked like white paint. “I didn't get all of it but somebody tore up a garbage bag and attached it to the post. Look at the nail holes.” He reached in his pocket and took out a three-inch translucent red disk. “This is the type of reflector farmers can buy to put on equipment.”

“It glows in headlights.”

“And there were two of them nailed close enough to look like eyes.”

“Someone had to have done this deliberately.”

“They sure did. With a hammer.”

“Why? To look like a ghost cow?”

“Seems like it.” Caleb mused, “Green Meadows is haunted all right, but not by a ghost. Someone is playing pranks.”

“Angela?”

“I hope not. But I'm going to ask her,” he said. “Have you seen this before?”

“No, but it was kind of hidden in the brush.”

“You spotted it tonight.”

“And I've been out here after dark. I'm in and out a lot of the time to check on things.”

“I don't think Angela would have had time to do it, at least in the past few days,” he said. “It would more likely be Kiki.”

Grace was angry that the girl kept pulling pranks. “If you think it could be her, I'd like to talk to her.”

“We'll have to deal with the foster family.”

Grace hoped that was a good idea. If the girl's situation went from bad to worse, Kiki might never have a chance at a decent life.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“T
HIS
IS
IT
.”
Caleb parked in front of a modest two-story house at the edge of town. After he'd picked Grace up at her office, it had taken him merely minutes to find the house where Kiki lived.

Grace still wasn't certain Kiki was the one responsible for the glowing-eyes contraption they'd found by the side of the road. She'd already eliminated Kiki from contention for the parking lot incident, if not the tent falling on her at the park. The girl couldn't have been in two places at the same time. But still they needed to talk to her.

Caleb glanced at his watch. “School is out by now, though that doesn't mean we'll find Kiki here. She seems to get around.”

The blare of a TV could be heard as they climbed the steps to the front porch and knocked. A woman wearing a big frown answered the door. “Who are you?”

“Caleb Blackthorne. And this is Grace Huber.”

“Sarah Watson.”

“We'd like to talk to you for a few minutes,” Caleb began.

“About what? One of the little maniacs do something again?”

“Maybe,” Grace answered, not liking the woman's accusatory tone.

“Kiki is a friend of my daughter's.”

“Come right in.” The woman opened the door wider. “Kiki's not here right now, though.”

They entered a hall that passed by what Grace assumed to be the living room, and then headed for the kitchen. Off the kitchen an addition had been built with strikingly different flooring, cheap laminate in comparison with the kitchen's linoleum. The large space held the TV that was blasting away, a couch and chair set that had seen better days, and two unsmiling teenage girls, who were now staring at the visitors.

Rather than introduce the teenagers, the woman said, “Kiki's just like her no-good mother. She'll end up in jail, too.” Then she turned to Caleb. “You might want to be more careful about who you let your daughter be friends with.” She headed for the stairs. “You can check her room.”

Caleb and Grace followed.

On the landing, Sarah opened a door, revealing a medium-sized bedroom with bunk beds against one wall and two single cots parallel with another. The bedspreads were the same cheap-looking blue plaid and the walls were bare except for a small drawing of a bird tacked above the cot. Sarah Watson reached over and tore it from the wall. A wave of sadness washed through Grace at the gesture.

“I told Kiki to keep her little drawings in her notebooks.” Sarah sounded disgusted.

Grace asked, “Why can't they have artwork or pictures on the walls? Or a bulletin board?”

“I want things clean and neat. These girls' lives are so messy, it can spill over into how they function day to day. I'm not a counselor. We provide a roof over their heads and two square meals a day. Otherwise, they'd be living in the streets.” Sarah tore up the drawing and threw it in a wastebasket by the door. Then she said, “If you want to search for whatever the little thief stole, she has a couple of boxes under the bed.”

“We're not looking for stolen items,” Caleb said. “We're just wondering if Kiki has been involved in some pranks around town.”

“What kind of pranks?”

“Knocking someone down in a private parking lot,” offered Grace.

“Or putting up some kind of scare cow off a country road,” said Caleb. “On public property.”

Sarah Watson frowned. “Scarecrow?”

“Scare
cow
,” corrected Grace, enjoying the even more puzzled look that spread across the woman's face.

“We know that Kiki was in the Birdsong campground on Saturday in the middle of the night, scaring campers,” said Caleb. “Don't you give these kids a curfew?”

Sarah sighed deeply. “Yes, they have a curfew.” She gestured to the window. “But Kiki doesn't pay much attention to it. She climbs out the window and gets down somehow, usually when I'm asleep. Sorry, but the county doesn't pay me enough to watch them every minute.” She looked back at them. “Do you want to make an official complaint? Go to the police. She'll be sent off to an institution a little sooner is all. Probably for the best.”

Grace just gave Caleb a look as they finished up the conversation and left, heading for the car. They had lots to talk about.

* * *

“W
E
ARE
NOT
taking this to the police,” Grace announced vehemently as they drove away.

After the visit to the foster home, Caleb could see why she'd reached that opinion but he still had doubts about how to handle the situation. “Not all young people are like you or me, Grace. Sometimes professionals are needed.”

“Professionals? Such as guards and wardens?”

“I mean social workers or counselors.”

“A kid doesn't get much of that in an institution.”

“But you can't just let Kiki go around creating havoc.” Caleb gripped the steering wheel harder. “She might really hurt someone one of these days.”

“I won't be responsible for putting her in a detention center.”

“If not you or me, it could be someone else who does it, then.”

“Surely she's not that bad.” She turned to him. “You've seen her with your daughter. She's not a serious criminal.”

“Still, you can't personally save every troubled teenager in the world. You need to know when to back off. Maybe it's time we talk to Alex Novak.”

“
Turn her in?
You sound like my father!”

He didn't know where that was coming from. “Is that bad?”

She made a disgusted noise.

Her irritation bothered him. “I thought your dad was in your corner when you were growing up?”

“He was always supportive of me, but that doesn't mean he would stand up for anyone else.”

“Kiki has a grandmother.”

“I only wish I knew where we could find her. Or if she might take the girl.”

He had reached the downtown area of Sparrow Lake and turned onto the street that passed the police station.

“Police can trace people,” Caleb said. “Heather Scofield once told me that Alex Novak has a heart for troubled youth.” He pulled into the station's parking lot.

Grace looked around and started. “What are we doing here? I don't want to talk to the police! At least not yet.”

“Then what do you suggest we do about Kiki? Let her keeping pulling pranks?” It wouldn't hurt to talk to the police.

“No, Caleb,” she said in a tone he'd never heard before. “
No.
Please drive me home.”

She was actually upset, he realized.

He was about to apologize when a Sparrow Lake police car drove up and parked next to them. Alex Novak got out and opened the passenger door. A freckled kid of around twelve or so tumbled out and then a huge black-and-white Great Dane that must have been at least a yard tall at the shoulder. The dog trailed a long leash.

His window was down so Caleb could hear Alex tell the kid, “Wait here.”

Then the police chief popped the squad car's trunk to remove a skateboard. Seeing Caleb and Grace, he nodded.

“Where'd you find that creature?” Caleb asked. “It's as big as some ponies.”

Alex laughed and nodded toward the boy. “This is Randy Beaman.” He waved to the dog. “And this is Atlas. They've been terrorizing the slow and the elderly around these parts.”

“I've seen that dog,” mused Grace. She raised her voice. “Has Randy been having Atlas pull him on the skateboard?”

“Wherever there's concrete. Anytime, day or night.” Alex turned to Randy, motioning him to go inside the station. “We're going to have to call your folks, son. You can't use the town sidewalks for your personal speedway.” Before following the boy, the police chief asked, “Did you have some problem, Caleb?”

“Not right now.”

He and Grace sat for a moment, silent.

Then Grace said, “Well, I think I know who and what ‘attacked' Mr. Cassidy in the parking lot.”

Caleb added, “I think I know who left the big footprint beside the Green Meadows walking path.”

She nodded. “And the wheel marks.”

He started the engine and pulled the truck out.

The tense atmosphere having eased, he and Grace made small talk as they drove away.

“Do you want to have some supper at The Busy Corner?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I need to get home and catch up on a little work.”

When he reached her building, she said, “You don't need to get out and open my door for me.”

Why not?
Before he could ask, she leaned across to give him a chaste kiss on the mouth. He objected, “Hey, that's not a real good-night kiss.”

“It is for this night.”

“You're still angry. I said I was sorry for driving to the police station.” He told her, “And I am. I care about what you think and want.”

She relaxed a bit, her expression seeming to soften. “Okay. I accept your apology.” She even laughed. “You could try being a little less pushy sometimes.”

“I know, I know. Just push back.”

And he reached for her again, this time for a longer, deeper kiss. He enveloped her in his arms, wishing they could stay like that forever. But there were things to do and places to be.

Finally, she pushed him back gently. “See you,” she said, then jumped out of the vehicle.

“See you,” he said as well, hoping that would be sooner rather than later.

* * *

I
T
TOOK
G
RACE
a full day to forget her irritation with Caleb. Sometimes he just seemed to run over her wishes, not respecting them. Which reminded her of the not-so-great part of her relationship with her father.

While sorting through papers on the table in her apartment, she'd found the envelope with the certificate for the dude ranch that she'd won at the fund-raiser social. There was a time limit, so she'd called Caleb and they made a date to go a few days later.

When Caleb picked her up, she noticed his baseball cap. “Nice cowboy hat.”

“Isn't it?” He laughed. “I would have worn my ten-gallon Stetson but it's in storage.”

He seemed to be relaxed and in good humor.

They made small talk while driving the short distance to the ranch. A fancy wrought iron gate with running horses announced “Larson Dude Ranch” where they turned in. Sam Larson was waiting for them.

“Hi there.” Sam shook hands with both. “Ms. Huber.”

“Grace, please.”

Then he turned to Caleb. “Professor Blackthorne, I've heard about your environmental classes from Heather Scofield.”

“Caleb. Nice to meet you,” Caleb told him.

Sam, an attractive man with the look of an authentic cowboy about him, showed them around and let them choose their mounts. There were several horses in the corral. A young man stood inside the door of a nearby tack shed, examining a saddle.

“I like the paint,” Caleb said. “How about you, Grace?” Before she could answer, he told Sam, “Something nice and gentle.”

Paying no attention to Caleb, Grace pointed out a frisky, bright-eyed chestnut mare with a white streak marking her face. “I'd like that one.”

“Saddle up Cloud and Lightning, Logan,” Sam ordered the young man. “I'll take Marengo, as usual.” He turned to the couple. “I don't know what kind of ride you want—beginning, intermediate, expert?”

“How about intermediate?” said Caleb. “That'll probably suit us.”

Grace didn't know how much experience Caleb had but it may have been a while since he was on horseback.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Caleb said, “I rode a lot on the rez growing up. I don't do it as much now.”

Sam and Logan tacked up the horses and Grace was the first to mount.

“Take hold of the mane, not the saddle horn,” Caleb said from behind her.

“I know.”

Caleb was being his usual take-charge self. Though she appreciated his warm hands on her waist as he helped her mount Lightning.

As soon as everyone was ready, Sam swung up on his own horse and led the way through a gate, then along a stretch of fence. They soon entered a beautiful, wide-open pasture.

“Notice the grasses are longer than usual out here?” Sam said. “We're letting it go back natural, only keeping the trail clear.” He added, “Constant hooves on it helps keep it free of growth anyway.”

“Looks great,” said Caleb. “I see you have some original prairie species.”

“I guess you would know,” said Sam.

“We're going to create some prairie areas at Green Meadows,” Grace said.

“I've seen the place when I drive by,” Sam commented. “It's looking great.”

“Didn't notice any ghost cows?” asked Caleb.

Sam looked puzzled. “Ghost what?”

“I guess you missed the ghost tour fliers claiming the land around Green Meadows is haunted,” said Grace. She chuckled. “By a ghost cow.”

Sam admitted, “Logan said some guy from a haunted Wisconsin tour stopped out here and wanted to leave fliers. He didn't. Not sure why Logan refused.”

“Well, I appreciate that he did,” Grace said. “Green Meadows doesn't need bad publicity. We already have someone pulling pranks out there, trying to prove something.”

“Pranks?” Sam turned back to glance at her. “Such as what?”

“Somebody built a contraption with reflectors for eyes and a white-splattered garbage bag for a body on the side of the road near the community's entrance.”

“Kids?” suggested Sam.

“There's one kid we're checking into,” Caleb told him.

Sam snorted and shook his head. “A fake cow might startle some people but I doubt anyone would take it seriously.”

“I don't know,” Grace said. “Some residents are starting to believe there might be a ghost.” She had heard rumblings when she visited the community that morning. “Even though the figure people saw sneaking around at night turned out to be a squatter, and the animal that knocked down a resident in the parking lot proved to be a very large, friendly black-and-white Great Dane towing his owner on a skateboard.” She'd checked with Randy Beaman and he'd shamefacedly admitted he'd accidentally run someone down at Green Meadows and was sorry about it.