“Yeah, and somewhere along the way we both grew up. I’m sorry you missed Flora’s memorial at the church.”
“Dad didn’t leave me much opportunity to get here. It’s okay. Flora didn’t want all that for herself.”
“That sounds like Flora, all right. Go on, finish your breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I hate cold eggs. Come to think of it, cold toast isn’t much better.”
Part of her wanted to journey down memory lane with him. Thinking back, she realized the two of them really hadn’t spent that much time together those few summers she had visited. He’d been apprenticing with his father and only occasionally had time off. As for her grandmother...well, it seemed likely he’d spent more time with her than Haley ever had. They’d been neighbors, after all.
But then he asked the question that directed her to more urgent matters.
“Why do you have all the curtains closed?” he asked. “Flora only did that during the winter.”
She laid her fork down on her empty plate. Had she imagined last night? It seemed so distant now, but she was still wrapped in her robe against a chill that didn’t exist except inside herself and she had turned the house into a cave.
“Last night...” She hesitated, hoping she didn’t sound fanciful or hysterical. “The moon was awfully bright. It woke me up and I was staring at it, thinking how beautiful it was when...” She sighed and pushed the words out. “Someone was looking in my window, Roger. It unnerved me.” Understatement.
He was already rising from his chair. “Flora’s room?”
“Yes.”
Before she could say any more, he’d gone out the front door.
She rose to her feet, wondering why her legs felt wobbly. Because she’d addressed what had happened last night, hadn’t just shoved it into the background to be forgotten with a million other bad things? She’d learned to do that in early childhood—a lesson she had believed was well-learned, a lesson she used often in her work.
She rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher that her father had installed many years ago during one of her summer visits here. Darn thing was still working.
Then she leaned against the counter, resting her weight on the palms of her hands, and closed her eyes.
The image floated up in her mind, as clear as it had been last night. Her heart pounded once, hard, then settled again. A Peeping Tom. Probably no threat at all, just a guy who got his kicks by sneaking looks at sleeping women.
Nothing, she told herself. Nothing to fear.
When Roger returned, he entered the kitchen talking on his cell phone. “Yeah, Flora McKinsey’s house on Poplar—901. Her granddaughter’s staying here at the moment and last night she had a Peeping Tom. There are footprints under her bedroom window.” He paused. “Geez, Gage, how would I know? Probably scared the bejesus out of her. We don’t have any known peepers making the rounds, do we?”
He fell silent. Then, “Yeah, I think she’d be glad to see Kelly. Someone has to come, right?”
When he disconnected, Haley let go of the counter and faced him. “I didn’t want to make a federal case out of it.”
He gave her a half smile. “I did it for you. It matters, it upset you, and there’s not a whole lot I can do, not being a cop. Just get yourself another cup of coffee and relax. You’ll like Kelly.”
“Kelly?” She looked down at herself. “I should get dressed.”
“You’re decent. Relax. Kelly’s one of our K-9 officers. She’ll probably talk to you for a few minutes then try to follow the guy’s trail. Her dog, by the way, is called Bugle.”
“Bugle?” That surprised a small laugh out of her. This was happening too
fast. She’d spent most of the night trying to regain her equilibrium, to push childhood memories back into the tar pit, and, with just one phone call, everything was awake and alive again. It didn’t matter there was no kidnapper involved. It only mattered that someone at her bedroom window had shaken her life until past ugliness tumbled into the present.
She took Roger’s advice and poured herself some fresh coffee before returning to her seat. “It was always odd to me how Grandma would start every day with coffee and switch to tea by midmorning.”
“Yeah.” He pulled out the chair he’d been sitting in earlier and sat facing her once again. “She never could persuade me about the tea. And, Lord knows, she tried.” Then he eyed her straight-on. “Haley? Why didn’t you call the police last night?”
The underlying truth burst out of her, shocking her as she faced it. “Because I didn’t want to make it real!”
* * *
Those vehement words told Roger he’d tripped into a minefield, one he wasn’t equipped to handle. Damn, he was just a guy who made saddles. He knew horses better than he knew people. Well, with the possible exception of their riders.
But the very honest anguish Haley had just displayed left him feeling helpless and as if he needed hip waders so he wouldn’t get in dangerously deep. The last thing he wanted was to make some stupid comment that would exacerbate whatever Haley was experiencing.