LITMIR.BIZ

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* *

      Heather’s entire body shook. The yellow light in the kitchen of the old farmhouse made her pallor more pronounced. She pulled out the chair and slumped into it, placing her elbows on the table and digging her fingers into her hair.

      “Do you have someplace you can go?” Zach hovered over her, then realized he might get a better response if he sat down across from her. Less threatening.

      After a moment, she glanced up. A silent tear slid down her cheek. Law enforcement officers learned to separate their feelings from the job, but this case was too personal not to feel heartache for this woman.

      “No, I don’t have someplace to go. I spent every dime I had on renovations. I moved out of my apartment today. Today! It’s like he knew how to mess with me.” She held up her palms, disbelief threading her tone. “I’m opening a bed-and-breakfast. I’ve decided to name it Quail Hollow Bed & Breakfast. Simple, but appropriate. Renovations are nearing completion. I’ve worked so hard.” Her tone had a weary quality, probably a mix of her frustration with the contractors and the new bomb he had dropped on her: her violent ex-husband was tracking his way across Western New York to continue his reign of terror.

      “Could you delay the opening? Just until Fox is back in custody?”

      “Maybe he won’t find me. It’s not like I’m on social media or anything advertising where I live.” The hope in her voice was like a knife twisting in his heart. How could one man cause so much havoc?

      “We were able to track you down through a real estate transaction. Easily. He could do the same.” Zach resisted the urge to reach out and cover her hand. Comfort her. But it wasn’t his place. He hardly knew Heather. He only knew what she had done for his family. She stepped up at his sister’s murder trial when it counted. Now he had to keep her safe.

      Heather straightened and pounded a fist on the table. “That jerk took my twenties from me. I refuse to let him take any more.”

      Anger pulsed through his veins. “Fox could take your life.”

      Heather jerked her head back as if she had been slapped, but instead of crumbling, she seemed to grow angrier. She pushed back her chair. It slammed into the wall behind her, then crashed to the floor. She stepped over it and paced the small space. Then she turned to face him, jabbing her index finger in his direction. “Don’t you think I know that? I left him in the middle of the night with only a few dollars and the clothes on my back. I made sure I stayed off the grid. I lost touch with my family. I moved every few months when I thought he might be closing in. I don’t know when he stopped looking for me, but I know when I stopped fearing him. When he went to prison for murdering—” her voice faltered “—for killing your sister.” She pressed her palms together and touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t pray for Jill. And there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for sparing my life.”

      Heather bent over and righted the chair and tucked it under the table. Wrapping her hands around the back of the chair, she leaned toward him. “I’m not going to run. I don’t want to bring danger to anyone else’s doorstep. I’ve run too often in the past to have established any solid friendships to impose upon. And I have no money to leave on my own.” She placed her hand on her midsection. “It’s like I’m trapped all over again.”

      “There have to be options. It shouldn’t be long before they track Fox down. They have NYS Troopers, FBI Agents, and every other law enforcement agency between Quail Hollow and Peters Correctional Facility looking for him. They’ll find him soon. But you must lie low for a few days.”

      A determined look settled in her eyes. “I’ve worked too hard. I refuse to let him control me again. The bed-and-breakfast is booked for opening weekend in a couple weeks. I have lots to do to get ready before then. If this place isn’t ready and I cancel the reservations, I won’t be able to pay my bills. I fear everything will spiral downward from there.” She crossed her arms again and gritted her teeth. “I’m not going to live in fear anymore.”

      Zach stood to meet her frantic gaze. He knew this was anger and fear speaking. Not logic. “It’s only temporary,” he spoke softly.

      She locked gazes with him. “I’m not leaving. I bet you can call your boss and convince him to have someone stay here to protect me.”

      He scrubbed a hand over his face, no longer bothering to hide his frustration. “My superiors are going to insist you go to a safe house.”

      “It’s not going to happen. I’m staying here so I can continue getting this place ready and your office is going to see that I’m kept safe.”

      He cocked his eyebrow. “If I can’t convince you to leave, how do you suppose I’m going to be able to convince my superiors to allow me to stay?”

      “Because New York State won’t like the bad press if they not only allowed a killer to escape from one of their secure correctional facilities, but in doing so, they let him get to one of his prior victims.” Her tone was oddly cool, as if living in fear had made her numb. Or maybe she had reached the end of her rope and instead of letting go, she had decided to swing out with her legs and kick with all she had.

      * * *

      Heather held up the plastic sheet while Zach used the staple gun to secure the edges. She was glad she had something to occupy her hands, but she wished she could say the same thing about her mind.

      Brian was out of prison and headed her way.

      Her ex-husband had haunted the periphery of every part of her waking life and he had visited many of her nightmares.

      But ever since he had been locked up in Peters Correctional Facility, she had allowed herself to hope, to dream, to make plans for a brighter future. Push him out of the center of her mind.

      Tonight, Brian had come roaring back. The worst possible scenario was laid out before her. Despite her rioting emotions, she was not going to let him ruin this dream.

      Erring on the side of caution, Zach had searched her house for any intruders. Thankfully, everything other than the construction zone was secure.

      “The workmen will be here in the morning, but if we’d allowed this rain to keep coming in, it would have ruined the plywood. I’d hate for the workmen to install the new hardwoods on top of warped subflooring,” she said, feeling the awkwardness of the silence stretching between them.

      “Yeah, no problem.”

      Cha-chink. Cha-chink. Cha-chink. Three more staples went through the thick plastic into the raw wood. Per Heather’s instructions, Zach carefully aligned the staples so any holes they left would be hidden by the frame of the new window.

      After they finished the task at hand, they sat in the rockers quietly, interrupted only by the occasional polite chitchat. Heather was unwilling to leave and Zach was unwilling to leave her alone. Heather’s bones ached by the time the sun crept over the horizon. Finally she stood. “I’ll make us some coffee.” She started toward the kitchen when a knocking on the front door drew her attention. She glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised since it was so early.

      “Hold up,” Zach said, stretching out his hand to block her from going to the front door.

      Heather did as he said, her heart in her throat. Would Brian actually knock on the door?

      A soft voice floated in from the entryway. “Um, is Heather here?”

      Ruthie! Heather rushed to the front door to find her Amish friend standing there with a basket full of fresh fruits and vegetables. “Hello, you’re here early.”

      “I figured you’d be up, ready to start the day. If not, I figured I could let myself in and start without you.”

      Heather had forgotten she had given Ruthie a key.

      “Gut morning.” Ruthie cocked her bonneted head and gave Zach a pointed stare. “Have you hired extra help?”

      “Um,

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