LITMIR.BIZ

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with Haley for a week or so. A comfortable pattern. Then Grandma had missed a summer, made some excuse Haley couldn’t even remember now, and she felt guilty for not having realized that something was wrong.

      Well, she could kick herself over that later, she decided as she forked some scrambled egg into her mouth then followed it with a bite of rye toast. The voyeur seemed like a more immediate issue and she wondered if she should even bring it up to Roger. He’d stopped in to offer a friendly greeting, not necessarily to get dragged into any part of her life.

      “Listen,” he said. “This is an old house and I used to do some work on it from time to time when Flora needed it. I was in the middle of a project to fix the ductwork in the basement when she…took ill.”

      She looked up from her plate. Man, she’d forgotten this guy was so attractive. Maybe he hadn’t been years ago, when still a stripling. “What’s wrong with the ducts?”

      He put his mug down. “A little of everything. Rust, age, shrinkage, loose joints. Anyway, it was rattling enough when the heat came on that Flora finally got irritated. I can’t say I blame her. She asked me to come over and listen to it. Clang, bang, rattle. And, of course, it came amplified right through the registers. Anyway, I was replacing it a bit at a time and, unless you have an objection, I’d like to finish the job. I hate to leave work undone.”

      “I have no objection,” she answered promptly. It would be nice to have a chance to get to know him again. “They really make a racket, huh?”

      He laughed briefly. “Let me put it this way. If it hadn’t happened slowly over time, I think Flora would have blown a gasket. I can’t believe how much she got used to before she decided she needed to do something.”

      “Isn’t it funny how we can do that?”

      “Oh, yeah. We adapt to an awful lot. Except saddle sores, heel blisters and…well, no need to make a whole list.”

      It was her turn to laugh. “It’s so good to see you again, Roger. It’s been an age.”

      “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.

      “Sorry,” she said quietly. Her gaze was now focused on the coffee mug she held in two hands before her.

      “No need.” Really there wasn’t. His brain was on a rapid search down the halls of memory, trying to pull out some sliver that could give him a clue to this moment. Peering down those hallways, however, told him how little he truly knew about Haley, how little time they’d really spent together. Flora provided more recollections.

      But then, somewhere in his mental search, he ran

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