Threat of Darkness Page 6

  “You do that.” Glenn touched the brim of his cap as he sauntered past Samantha and bid her goodbye with a simple nod and a pleasant, “Ma’am.”

  John shook hands with Walter. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Just doin’ my job.” The older man eyed his partner. “Don’t mind him. He’s been like that ever since his wife left him. A real pain in the…”

  “No problem,” John said flatly, “as long as he keeps his mind on his work.”

  Walter hooted as if he’d just heard the punch line to a great joke. “Yeah, well, see that you do the same. You may have a fancy diploma that says you’re the smartest detective since Sherlock Holmes but around here you’re just one of the boys.”

  “I know that. It’s what I wanted when I came back to Serenity. I’d have hired on with the Sheriff’s Department again if Harlan had had an opening.”

  Obviously highly amused, Walt chuckled. “Okay, suppose I buy that, and I’m not sayin’ I do, how come you’re always first on scene when something bad happens to Ms. Rochard? You tryin’ to tell me that’s pure coincidence?”

  “No.” John spoke aside. “I stumbled into this mess when I responded to the hostage crisis at the hospital. Ever since then I’ve been keeping an eye on her on my own time.”

  “You wouldn’t be tryin’ to get back into her good graces by settin’ her up so you can pretend to rescue her, would you? ’Cause if I found out you were, I’d have to report you.”

  Sobering and shaking his head John assured the veteran cop that his intentions and actions were honorable. “All I’m trying to do is prevent another crime.” He raised his right hand. “I swear it.”

  “Okay. But just you remember that Samantha is one of ours. Always was, always will be. If someone was to try to hurt her I’d be the first one in line to even the score.”

  “Right after me,” John vowed. “Thanks for your concern. I feel better knowing you and I are on the same page.”

  Watching the others drive away, John returned to Samantha.

  She arched a brow. “What was all that about?”

  “Man talk.”

  “Oh? Then why did Glenn leer at me and why did Walt look as if he was thinking about punching you in the nose?”

  “Let’s just say that I no longer worry about either of them causing your problems. Glenn wants a date and Walt warned me that I’d better not do anything to hurt you.”

  Although Sam was still smiling when she said, “Where was he five years ago?” John could tell there was far too much truth behind her candid comment.

  * * *

  The trip to the only local store open on Sundays, the Walmart in Ash Flat, was relatively uneventful. Samantha wished she’d thought to change into flat shoes before going shopping but all in all, she managed well.

  “How about grabbing lunch?” John asked as they loaded their purchases into the open bed of his pickup truck. “The pizza place across the street used to be pretty good.”

  She hesitated. Yes, she was hungry. And tired. And stressed from the eventful morning. Yet she wasn’t sure she was up to sitting in a familiar restaurant and sharing a meal with him. It might seem too much like one of their old dates, even though it wasn’t, and she was afraid her blissful memories would be more than she could take right now.

  “I should get home to Brutus. He’s all alone.”

  “And armed to the teeth, pun intended. Besides, what are you going to do with him tomorrow when you have to go back to work? He’ll be by himself then.”

  “I know. And I don’t like it.” Another problem suddenly occurred to her. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “Will I have any way to get to work by then?”

  “Probably not. I can pick you up. What time?”

  She stopped tying the handles of the plastic grocery sacks long enough to make a face at him. “You don’t think I’ll have my car back by then?”

  “I doubt it. Besides, how are you planning to drive it without keys or a decent place to sit?”

  “You don’t need to bother,” she said with conviction. “I can phone a friend for a ride to work now that I have a new phone.”

  “Only if you can get it activated right away.”

  He was staring at her as if he could look through her eyes and see into the deepest reaches of her heart and mind.

  That obvious emotional connection bothered Sam so much that she purposely averted her gaze. “You’re a bundle of sunshine, aren’t you? Why does everything have to be so complicated when you’re concerned? I’m sure I can manage to activate a phone.” The sound of his soft chuckle caused her to look up. “Well, I can.”

  Catching herself smiling, she realized she truly was glad to be in this man’s company. What would it hurt to allow him to help her out for a day or so more? After all, they had been close at one time.

  “Okay,” Samantha said. “You win. I’ll make us lunch back at the house and then you can listen while I talk to somebody in Outer Mongolia about transferring the old number to this new phone. That should be worth a couple of good laughs.”

  “At least. Here, let me tie the tops of those last bags for you.”

  “Fine. While you load them I’ll go stow the cart in the rack. Be right back.”

  The afternoon sun warmed her face, lifted her spirits and put a spring in her step. The more she anticipated spending additional time with John, the more joy bubbled up, although she tried her best to tamp it down.

  Shoving the shopping cart into the narrow storage area one row over from where he had parked, she turned and checked traffic to make certain it was safe to cross the lanes again.

  It had never occurred to her that leaving John for mere moments might be hazardous until she heard the squeal of spinning tires and caught a glimpse of a beat-up, maroon-colored car racing toward her.

  Sun glinted off its windshield and obscured the driver’s face but she could see a man’s beefy fists clenching the wheel. This was no potential accident. She was being attacked!

  Jumping between the nearest parked cars Samantha closed her eyes and crossed her forearms in front of her face. Melding with her scream was the clenching, grinding sound of metal against metal and the shattering of breaking glass.

  The car next to her was being shoved closer! She lost her balance as she turned to flee. The side of her head clipped an outside mirror on one of the sliding parked cars and she stumbled. Fell. The asphalt was hard and unforgiving.

  Flashes of blinding light filled her closed eyes. Colors danced, flickered like a desert mirage.

  An instant later the rippling, hazy edges of the picture converged, all the lights went out and she dropped into the welcome blackness of unconsciousness.

  * * *

  John had seen what was about to happen but was in the wrong position to intervene in time. He started to draw his weapon, then realized there was no way to be certain this was anything more than a driver’s stupid mistake.

  By the time the car that had been aimed at Samantha slewed into the next aisle and sped away, it was too late for him to take any aggressive action.

  Instead, he raced toward the last place he’d seen her, vaulting over a wrinkled fender and landing nearby.

  The sight of her, lying there so still, made his heart clench. If she hadn’t stirred and moaned at that moment he didn’t know what he’d have done.

  Dropping onto his knees he pinned her shoulders. “Don’t try to get up. You may be hurt. You shouldn’t move.”

  “What?” Her eyes blinked rapidly, as if she was confused, then focused on him. “I’m okay. Really.”

  “Just the same, you should be checked over by a medic.”

  “I’m a nurse, John. I know when I’m injured. I’m fine. Honest. Let
me up.”

  He reluctantly eased his hold, took her hands and helped her to her feet. “You sure?”

  “Positive.” She began to gently probe the side of her head with two fingers while scanning the parking lot. “I see the guy split. Did you get his license number?”

  “No. He was moving too fast. I was more worried about you. What did you see?”

  “Not much. Older car. Dirty. Probably rusty, too.” Samantha rubbed her temple and winced. “Ouch. That smarts.”

  “I’m taking you to the E.R.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not. I don’t want to go there on a Sunday afternoon any more than you’d like spending your days off at the police station. If I start to get dizzy or have any other symptoms, I’ll go see a doctor. I promise.”

  John cupped her elbow, urged her back to his truck and opened the passenger door as sirens wailed in the distance. “Fine. Sit right here where I can see you and behave yourself while I give a statement to the Ash Flat cops. I’ll try not to be gone long.”

  Pausing, he touched her hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Positive.”

  The unshed tears dampening her long, dark lashes touched his heart. Sam might be so stubborn and self-assured that she drove him crazy, but there was still a vulnerability about her that made him sympathetic beyond common sense.

  That’s not the same thing as love, he insisted to himself, slamming the door and turning away. He was just feeling overly protective due to the calamities that had recently befallen her, that’s all.

  If that was true, then why had he had such a gut-level reaction to the thought that the speeding car might have injured her? he asked himself. And why was it such a struggle to merely walk a few yards away from her now? She’d be perfectly safe sitting in his truck.

  Yeah, he countered, as safe as she’d been putting away their empty shopping cart.

  He closed his eyes for a long moment and did what he knew he should have done immediately. He thanked God that Samantha had survived.

  SIX

  As Samantha waited for John to return she took further inventory of her injuries. All seemed slight except the bump on her head and since her vision was still good, she wasn’t worried about concussion. Double-checking, she pulled down the visor and peered into the mirror so she could be certain the size of her pupils was equal.

  That was when she saw the unexpected reflection in the background. Ben Southerland, his wife and son were leaving the store. They approached a car parked almost directly behind John’s truck. Although they’d had to walk past the police cars and damaged vehicles, they hadn’t seemed the least interested. Not that that was wrong. It just struck her as a bit unusual for a pillar of the community to pass by without stopping to offer aid.

  “Oh, well,” Samantha muttered, “this isn’t the same as being in Serenity so he probably doesn’t know those folks.”

  Curiosity kept her watching the little family. The boy was helped into the backseat of the silver-colored luxury sedan by his mother before she got in the front. Ben Southerland seemed to be the one doing all the talking and, judging by his body language, he was delivering a lecture.

  Samantha had to slew in the seat to keep them in sight as they drove away. Bending her knee to do so pointed out another minor scrape. All she gave the injury was a cursory glance. She had other things on her mind.

  The Southerland vehicle never got out of sight so she was positive it had pulled across the highway and entered the lot for the pizza restaurant. The same place John had offered to take her to lunch.

  Should she tell him? Go there, too? No. Yes. Oh, rats. What real choice did she have? She’d been praying for a chance to observe the whole family and the Lord had just provided it. If she held to her previous plans and went home—where she’d already be if not for the delay caused by the collision—she would miss the opportunity to catch Ben Southerland interacting with his son.

  Still, was she up to spending the next hour or so staring across one of those familiar booths at the man she had once dreamed of marrying?

  “Yes. For Danny’s sake,” Samantha muttered.

  “What?” a male voice asked.

  Her head whipped around so fast she felt a wave of dizziness, proving she was not as totally unscathed as she’d claimed. “Hi, John. I guess I was talking to myself.”

  “So I’d gathered. Were you answering, too?” he asked, sliding behind the wheel and slipping his key into the ignition.

  “Probably.” Samantha gestured at the accident scene. “All through?”

  “For now. I told them you said you weren’t injured but gave them your name for the record. They know where to find us if they need anything else.”

  “In that case, I’ve decided to take you up on your offer of pizza, if that’s okay.”

  “What made you change your mind?” He arched a brow at her. “The truth.”

  “I never intended to tell you anything but,” Sam insisted. “While I was sitting here waiting for you I happened to notice the Southerlands going into that place across the highway. I just thought…”

  “I get it. You won’t have lunch with me unless there’s a better reason than just enjoying a meal with an old friend.”

  “I’d hardly put it that way,” she countered, realizing that her change of heart could look suspicious from his point of view. Little did he know how much effort she’d had to put into her decision. Unfortunately, she could hardly tell him she’d been resisting because she was afraid she’d enjoy his company more than she wanted to.

  “Okay. Whatever you say.” He dropped the truck into gear and backed out. “Fasten your seat belt.”

  Subdued by the fact that she’d hurt his feelings, Samantha followed directions. This was a no-win situation. If she confessed how deep, how poignant her memories were, he would know she’d been pretending that she no longer cared for him. If she let things stand as they were, he’d suffer needlessly.

  One element of her dilemma stood out. If there was nothing left of her love for John Waltham, she would not be worried about whether or not he was upset. Therefore, the trick was going to be smoothing things over between them without letting him know her true sentiments. Since he had claimed he was able to read her like the proverbial book, she wondered if she was going to be able to pull it off.

  One quick, sidelong glance at him insisted she must try. There was more than simple ire in his expression. The man was putting on an angry front but beneath his hard-hearted facade lay a tender heart; a heart that had been wounded by her unexplained choices.

  Deciding to tell him enough to hopefully lift his spirits, she reached to touch his hand.

  John abruptly pulled it away. “You don’t have to pretend you like me, Sam. I’ll help you, anyway.”

  “I wasn’t…”

  “Enough,” he ordered.

  He expertly maneuvered the truck across the highway and into the parking lot for the pizzeria. Without another word he got out, circled and opened her door for her.

  Her scraped knee smarted when she slid to the ground but she hid the pain. There had been very few times in the past when John had gotten really mad at her. Back then, the only thing that had brought him around was having a chance to brood.

  So, she let him escort her into the small, colorful restaurant without comment, chose a booth behind the Southerland family and settled in as if nothing was amiss.

  Later, when John had had time to calm down she’d try again to explain. Probably. Maybe. Well, maybe not. If it looked as if he’d forgiven her later, there might be no need to hash it out.

  That was her fondest hope. One she chose to silently pray for while they waited for their order to be delivered.

  * * *

  “Which one is he?” John whispe
red behind his hand.

  Samantha leaned closer across the tabletop and mouthed, “Over my shoulder,” while also signaling by diverting her glance.

  “Got it.”

  The man seated with his back to them looked innocuous enough. Middle-aged, neat brown hair, still clad in the slacks, vest, shirt and tie from the suit he’d probably worn to church.

  The child wasn’t visible over the high back of the booth bench but John could tell by the way the father was moving and speaking that the boy had to be beside him.

  Moreover, the mother’s eyes kept darting from her husband to her son as if she were concerned. John could tell there was plenty of tension in the family.

  “Sit up straight,” Southerland ordered, then added, “both of you.”

  That command caused Sam to stiffen her shoulders. John could understand why. If the tone hadn’t been strident it might not have been so bad but there was a definite warning in the man’s voice. He was unmistakably the boss.

  “See?” Samantha asked, rolling her eyes.

  “That’s still not conclusive,” John replied, his own voice casual. “Ah, here’s our pizza. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, it smells delicious. You have to eat—unless there’s something wrong that you’ve been keeping from me. How’s your head?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Then dig in.” He loaded a plate with a slice of hot pizza and passed it to her. “I’m famished.”

  He knew he’d spoken a little too loudly due to the fact that his cop’s instincts had kicked in. He’d have sworn under oath that the man sitting directly behind Sam had flinched when he’d asked about her head. Why? Was it because he’d recognized her voice? Or had he noticed them when they’d walked in and realized she was the E.R. nurse who had reported him?

  Either was possible, but that didn’t fully explain such a telling reaction. It looked as though Samantha might be right. Southerland might very well have something to hide. Something like the fact that he’d been abusing his son. No wonder she’d pegged him so easily. Even without prior knowledge of little Danny’s injuries, John knew he would have been suspicious. The man’s demeanor fairly screamed “watch me.”