Hidden Away

CHAPTER 11

THE next day another storm rolled in and by early afternoon, the skies were black and threatening and the wind blew in a ceaseless line from the water to shore. Sarah was vexed. She’d woken up feeling alive and ready to roll. She’d planned a trip into town for picnic supplies and then she was going to march over to Garrett’s cottage and invite him to go swimming and have a late lunch.

Now she was stuck indoors watching it rain when she wanted to be outside. With Garrett.

Instead, she curled up with one of the books Garrett had bought her and she cracked open the last chocolate bar. Still, there was a niggling of hope that Garrett would pop over. At what point she’d come to rely on his company, she wasn’t sure, but he’d crept in, slipped through her defenses and she found she quite liked it—a lot. It was nice to have a friend. Someone she could let her guard down around even just for a little while.

She ate some of the leftover brisket. Even cut a piece of the chocolate cake. Then she went back to her book, but unease had settled over her as the sky grew blacker and the wind blew harder. Eventually she gave up on trying to read when she figured out she’d read the same page no less than a dozen times.

She walked back and forth between the front window, which overlooked the beach, and the side window, which afforded her a view of Garrett’s cottage. Waves crashed on the beach with angry slaps and the water, which the day before had been aquamarine was now gray and ominous.

She was being fanciful and letting her anxiety have far too much control.

Then her lights flickered and her pulse ratcheted up about twenty beats per minute. She held her breath as the flickering stopped and let out a sigh of relief.

Her head pounded from all the stress. What she needed was some Tylenol and then she was going to bed and hoping for a better tomorrow. No reason she couldn’t have that swim and picnic then.

She chased the medication down with a glass of water and then changed into her pajamas. Patches was waiting on the bed, having given up her perch beside Sarah on the couch at the first boom of thunder.

“Coward,” Sarah muttered as she crawled under the covers.

Patches gave her a bored look and began licking her paw.

“The least you could have done was keep me company.”

Patches settled her chin flat on the mattress and closed her eyes to show Sarah how really impressed she was with her disdain. With a sigh, Sarah flipped off the lamp and snuggled under the sheets.

Sleep was a long time coming and when it did, it was fractured with images from the past blending with present circumstances. In her dream she was running and Stanley pursued her with a bloody knife. Even as she fought the dream, knowing it wasn’t rational, she couldn’t shake the veil of sleep so that the images would stop.

He called her name. It sounded like a crackly whisper. She frowned. He had a foreign accent. Stanley didn’t have an accent.

She heard it again and this time her eyes flew open just as another boom of thunder exploded across the sky. She lay there, so still her chest barely rose and fell with her breaths. A creak sounded down the hall toward the kitchen.

She bolted from the covers, sending Patches scrambling from the bed. Oh God, oh God. How was she supposed to get out if someone was in her kitchen? Her gaze latched on to the rickety dresser she’d shoved in front of the window. Not such a good idea in hindsight. Still, if she was quiet, she could push it aside enough that she could crawl out the window and run down to Garrett’s cottage.

Who could possibly be after her? If it was the authorities, surely they wouldn’t skulk around in her kitchen. They’d bust in, arrest her and haul her away. But what if Stanley had sent someone after her?

The idea sent a chill snaking down her spine that nearly paralyzed her. She had to force herself to move, to overcome the panic spreading through her like a wildfire.

She inched the dresser away from the window, holding her breath and praying she wouldn’t alert her intruder to the fact she was escaping.

The window slid upward with a groan. Sarah didn’t wait to find out if her intruder had heard. She threw herself out the window and hit the ground below with a painful thud. She slipped in the mud as she struggled to her feet, put her hands down to catch herself and then threw herself forward again.

She hit the beach at a dead run, her feet bogging in the saturated sand. Rain beat down on her, slicking her hair and pajamas to her like a second skin. Her only thought was to get to Garrett.

A prickle of alarm went up Garrett’s nape and tightened every hair on his head. His eyes flew open just seconds before his front door reverberated with fierce pounding. He came awake instantly, reached for the gun underneath the cushion and leapt to his feet.

He was halfway across the room when he heard Sarah’s voice. “Garrett!”

He yanked open the door to see Sarah standing on his porch, soaked to the skin, her hair plastered to her face as water dripped from the ends. Before he could say or ask anything she launched herself at him.

She hit him square in the chest and he wrapped his arms around her to keep them both from going down. She shook violently against him and burrowed deeper as if seeking a way to bury herself completely in his protection. Her heart pounded against his chest, way too fast. As much as he wanted to stand there holding her, he had to find out what the hell had scared her so bad.

He maneuvered them inside and kicked the door shut behind her. Then he laid his gun down on the small table by the window and gently pried her away from his chest.

“Sarah.” He took her shoulders in his hands and forced her to look up at him. He couldn’t tell if the wet was from the rain or her tears, but her eyes were huge and the pupils dilated. He touched her cheek and found her skin icy cold. She shivered underneath his touch and tried to push her way into his arms again. “Sarah,” he said again. With more force this time. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

The blankness in her expression concerned him. The shaking hadn’t stop and had in fact gotten worse as reaction seemed to settle in. She shook so hard that her knees buckled, and she would have gone down if he hadn’t tightened his grip on her arms to keep her standing upright.

With a curse, he hauled her toward the couch and sat her down. He left her long enough to grab a blanket and then he wrapped it gently around her, gathering the ends under her chin so she would be warm.

Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes, her face crumpling. She lowered her head, and her shoulders hunched inward as if she was closing herself off from the world.

He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms, holding her against him so his warmth would bleed into her too-cold skin. Ignoring the fact that she was soaked, he tucked her head underneath his chin and smoothed a hand over her tangled, wet hair.

“Hey, it’s okay now. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything hurt you. You’re safe.”

She snuggled farther into his embrace, her arms leaving the confines of the blanket to clutch desperately at his waist. Finally he gave up on trying to keep her in one place and hauled her into his lap. He leaned back and reached with one arm to gather the blanket around the both of them.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get a word out of her until some of the shock had receded, he concentrated instead on getting her warm and soothing some of the horrible fear in her eyes.

“It’s all right,” he crooned as he stroked down her arm. “You’re safe now. Take some deep breaths.”

She shuddered against him and he tightened his hold until they were wound so tight around each other that his clothing soaked up all the wetness from hers.

Gradually her heartbeat slowed and he could no longer feel the erratic thump of her pulse. She raised her head, bumping his chin as she stared across the room at the table where his gun rested.

“You have a gun,” she whispered.

He winced. Trust her to notice that detail. She was probably one of those women who fainted at the sight of a weapon.

“Yeah.”

She raised herself off his chest to look into his eyes. “Can I have it?”

As what-the-fuck moments went, this one was one of the bigger ones. The thing was, she was dead serious. There was an earnestness to her gaze that said she really wanted him to give her his gun. Shit.

He touched her cheek and let his fingers trail down her jaw. He tugged at a wet strand that stubbornly clung to her skin and tucked it up over her ear. “Sarah, honey, tell me what happened.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled again. It came out as a staccato stuttering over her lips. “Someone was in my cottage. I heard him.”

Garrett sat up, nearly upending her from his lap. He caught her arms and pulled her back against him, but he sat up straight, processing what she’d just said.

“How the hell did you get out? Did he hurt you? Tell me what happened. Everything.”

“I crawled out my window. I know I sound like the world’s biggest coward, but all I could do was lie there, terrified. I had to make myself get up.”

He brushed his lips across her hair in an unconscious gesture of comfort. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart. Fear can render even the most powerful person immobile. Now tell me the rest.”

“I pushed the dresser away from the window and crawled out.”

“Where did you hear the noise?”

She frowned. “In the kitchen. There was a creaking sound. Like maybe a cabinet opening. It was what woke me up. I thought I was dreaming it at first.”

“Do you think maybe you were dreaming?”

Her head popped back up and fire blazed in her eyes. “I’m not crazy, Garrett. He was there. I heard him.”

“Shhh. I believe you, Sarah.”

“I can’t stay there.” It came out as a sob. “Oh God, I can’t do this.” She beat her fist against his chest and then her head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Garrett gathered her in his arms and rocked back and forth, murmuring soothing nonsense in her ear. She reminded him so much of Rachel, so broken and afraid. Sarah was teetering on the edge and he wondered if this would be the final straw in the tight grip she kept on her composure. Sooner or later she would break. No one could hold up under the strain for so long. Not with everything that had happened to her.

“You don’t have to stay there,” he murmured. “You can stay here with me.”

She went still against him and then she pushed herself away. It was then he knew she realized that she was close to him. Touching him. Allowing him to comfort her. Her initial terror had faded enough that the barriers had gone back up and she had returned to self-preservation mode.

Her eyes became troubled and she edged backward, but for the first time, he forced the issue and kept a tight hold on her. He watched her closely for signs of true distress but what he saw was uncertainty. Not fear.

“Listen to me, Sarah. I want you to stay here while I go check out things at your cottage.”

She shook her head but he put a finger to her lips to staunch the denial.

“What I want you to do is to take a hot shower while I’m at your cottage. I’ll bring back your things. You’re freezing.”

She clutched at his hand, her cold fingers curling around his. “Garrett, you can’t! What if he’s still there?”

“I hope to hell he is.”

He lifted her and set her over to the side and then he pulled the blanket up over her knees and tucked the ends around her neck.

“Please be careful,” she begged.

“I’ll have my gun. I tend to shoot first and ask questions later. While I’m gone I want you into a hot shower before you make yourself sick.” He nudged her chin up with his fingers. “Okay?”

She nodded and he got up. She had more color in her cheeks now, and she seemed more cognizant of her surroundings. She’d be fine while he checked things out. But he wasn’t taking any chances.

“When you go into the bathroom, I want you to lock the door. Don’t come out until I get back and tell you it’s okay.”

She nodded again and he picked up his Glock as he headed toward the door. He turned as he stood in the open doorway and instilled enough force into his words that she’d pay heed. “Get on into the bathroom. Do it now.”