“I’m sorry.” Kaine fought back a sudden rise of frustrated tears. “It’s just, after being told I was wrong so many times over . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“But look at it from a different perspective. It’s not in your timing, but the Lord has someone in your court, Kaine. This cop, Detective Tamara Hanson, called me the other day when she couldn’t reach you. She questioned me, since you named me as a witness, about the police reports filed after those first times things were moved in your house.”
“You mean when they said I had PTSD?”
“Kaine,” Leah scolded.
Kaine swallowed her anger. She should be thrilled. Finally someone was willing to risk believing her. Finally someone in law enforcement would listen when daffodils were left on counters or in the middle of an entryway floor. When her husband’s picture was left in an upstairs abandoned bedroom. Except she was in Wisconsin now.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she battled her cynicism. Detective Hanson may not be able to protect her here, but if she could uncover who had killed Danny, then they’d also know who was after Kaine. Local authorities could be alerted.
“Detective Hanson said she’d be calling you. She wants to dig into Danny’s history, and yours too. Even your career here helping abused women. She said that wasn’t exactly a low-risk career. How many women did you help escape their husbands or pimps, Kaine?”
Leah spoke with a thread of excitement in her voice. She had no idea what her announcement was doing to Kaine’s stomach. Even the possibility that something in her career, which had consumed so much of her life and alienated Danny, had anything to do with his death raked her insides into a sickening pile of guilt.
“Is she saying Danny was killed because of me?”
The silence on the other end of the line communicated Leah’s comprehension. “Kaine. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I mean, I didn’t want to imply that—you’re not responsible for Danny’s death.”
Kaine couldn’t answer. A lump lodged in her throat.
“Besides,” Leah continued, “the detective is just fishing. Speculating and digging for possibilities.”
Her head down, again Kaine squeezed her eyes shut. Danny had been an engineer. He didn’t make enemies. He’d get excited over building model airplanes in his spare time. He preferred solitude to social activities. He’d been devoted to Kaine, but she was devoted to life. To people. To saving them and fulfilling a mission and pursuing a passion. Danny’s worst enemy had been dried-up model glue.
“Well, hopefully Detective Hanson will find something.” Kaine’s response was lame, but her hands were shaking now. “Prove that Danny wasn’t on drugs and didn’t kill himself.”
“I told her you’d moved to get away. That nothing else had happened since you left.”
Kaine ran her palm over her eyes.
“Please tell me nothing’s happened.” Leah’s plea reawakened Kaine’s fear. Danny’s car wreck had been intentional. Danny had been murdered, and someone was really out there, following her.
“He’s here, Leah.”
The instant her finger pressed the doorbell Kaine regretted her impulsiveness. A dog barking wildly from inside the house was like a slap of reason against her irrational fear. The phone call from Leah encouraged a panic attack like none she’d had since the day she found out Danny was killed. Her hands were shaking, her heart palpitating. It was like an out-of-body experience. She could see herself reacting with no logic whatsoever but didn’t have control over it.
She swiped at the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Stupid. What inspired her to leave the security of her flimsy motel room and leap into her Jetta with Olive to drive four miles out of town and pull into Grant Jesse’s driveway? Why hadn’t she gone to Joy’s house—other than the fact she didn’t know where Joy lived? Safety. That’s what. Kaine could still sense the strength that emanated from Grant in the limited time they’d spent together. She was alone in Oakwood, with no source of comfort, save God who was pretty silent at the moment. While she was a strong woman, even the strongest sometimes needed someone to calm them. Joy was too spasmodic and excitable. Kaine needed calm right now.
Moonlight shone down onto the welcoming front porch of a white farmhouse while Kaine’s senses argued with her emotions. Go back to the motel. You’re exposing yourself as emotionally unstable. No one needs to see this side of you. Suck it up, Kaine Prescott.
So she did. Just as Grant opened the door, the light from the entryway silhouetting his body. Grant held his tan-colored pit bull back by its collar as it roared to life with a series of deep-throated barks and growls.
“Shush, Sophie!” Grant opened the door wider. “Kaine? What’s wrong? What happened?” He stepped aside, pulling his energetic dog with him.
Olive moved before Kaine did, sticking out her nose to sniff at Sophie. The two dogs danced around each other, then quickly made friends, their hindquarters wagging along with their tails. Kaine remained frozen in place.
“Kaine, are you okay?”
“Umm . . .” She paused and glanced at her car. She took a step back. “I’m s-sorry. I was stupid. Come, Olive.” Turning, she hurried down the porch steps, Olive on her heels. Seeing Grant face-to-face was a cold, hard slap of reality.
“Stay,” Grant commanded Sophie, and shut the door in his dog’s face. He leaped down the two porch steps and chased after Kaine, who couldn’t run fast enough back to her car.
The song of crickets surrounded them as the crisp air chilled Kaine’s coatless body.
Grant’s hand closed around hers and tugged. “Hey.”
Kaine stopped, and apologies poured from her without pause. “I’m really sorry. Waking you up. I shouldn’t have come. I-I’m going to head back. Please. Just—go back to bed. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Grant placed his hands on her shoulders and urged her to turn and face him. “Did something happen?”
Kaine lifted her chin, her gaze directed at the sky. She bit her bottom lip. “I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t.” Grant squeezed her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Kaine? Talk to me.”
Kaine pressed her lips together, opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut again. Her eyes glistened with tears and she blinked several times. A gust of wind brushed over them, and Kaine shivered.
Finally she whispered, wincing as she did so, “My husband . . . he was murdered.”
Chapter 14
Jvy