Jasmine and Sarah spoke simultaneously, and Eli answered both. “Thanks for the invitation, Mrs. Hart. I’ve spent a lot of time overseas and picked up the habit there.”
“Overseas? Are you military, Mr. Jennings?” Sarah shuffled back into the house as she spoke and Eli followed, passing by Jasmine, who hovered near the open door. She looked confused, her blue-green eyes wide with anxiety as if she wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up in the house and wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to do about it.
“I was military. A marine. I’m retired now.”
“My husband was a marine. Went to Vietnam and never came home.” Tears pooled in Sarah’s eyes, and Eli wished he’d left the two women alone. He’d wanted to find out what was going on, not dredge up Sarah’s painful past and bring her to tears.
Which, by the way, he wasn’t very good at dealing with. Sure he had four sisters, but they were more likely to cry on each other’s shoulders than his.
He cleared his throat, put a hand on Sarah’s thin shoulder, wondering why it was taking Jasmine so long to follow them into the kitchen. “That must have been painful for you, Mrs. Hart.”
“Call me Sarah. And it was painful. It was also a long time ago. I shouldn’t be getting teary eyed about it anymore. Chalk it up to fatigue and pain.” She offered a watery smile, and Eli smiled back, thinking again that Sarah was a lot like his gran. Tough and soft all at the same time.
“I imagine that’s to be expected after hip surgery.”
“Hip surgery? How do you know she’s had hip surgery?”
He turned to face Jasmine, surprised at the quick leap in his pulse when he met her gaze. She wasn’t pretty in the conventional sense of the word, but there was something about her that commanded attention. Commanded his attention, anyway. The strong line of her jaw, the wide blue-green of her eyes, the dark arched brows and full lips made him want to look again and again. “My grandmother had hip surgery two years ago. She used a walker for a while. I just assumed that might be the case.”
“Did you?” Jasmine’s eyes bored into his, her suspicion obvious. Good instincts, but he wasn’t going to admit the truth. Telling her he’d paid a fair amount of money to find out everything he could about the Hart women wasn’t on Eli’s agenda for the night.
“Did your grandmother have an easy recovery?” Sarah’s question saved Eli from doing some verbal backpedaling, and he smiled in her direction.
“She sure did. Gran was riding horses six months later. Seeing as how she’s probably a decade older than you, I’d say you’ll be back to your normal activities in no time.”
“I’ll be back to my normal activities if I survive long enough.”
Survive long enough? Now they were heading in the direction Eli wanted to go. “Is there some reason why you wouldn’t?”
“Someone is trying to kill me.”
“Why would someone want to do that?”
“If I knew maybe I’d be able to figure out who it was. As it is, I can’t get anyone to take me seriously.”
“The sheriff seemed to be taking you seriously.”
“Do you think so?”
“I’m going to start the tea,” Jasmine interrupted, grabbing a teapot from the stove and making a loud production of filling it with water, her tight, short movements the equivalent of a three-minute lecture titled: You Shouldn’t Be Having this Conversation with My Mother-in-law.
Too bad he didn’t agree. A woman had gone missing two months ago. Probably it had nothing to do with Sarah Hart’s belief that someone was trying to kill her.
Probably.
On the off chance it did, Eli figured conversation on the subject wasn’t out of line. “Has someone threatened you, Sarah?”
“Threatened? Pushed me down the stairs, that’s what someone did. Broke my hip, gave me a concussion. It’s only by the grace of God I’m still alive.”
“Grace of God? If He was really gracious, He would have kept you from falling.” Jasmine pulled teacups from a cupboard, her shoulders stiff, the bitter words surprising Eli. According to the report he’d received, Jasmine attended church every Sunday, gave copious amounts of money to charity, illustrated children’s books for a Christian publishing company.
“I didn’t fall. I was pushed.”
The conversation had a well-worn feel to it, and Eli suspected the subject had been hashed out more than a few times. Might as well stick his nose into it and see where that took him. “Pushed by the same person who was at your window?”
“Probably.”
“No.”
Once again, the women spoke in tandem. This time, Eli focused his attention on Jasmine as she poured steaming water over tea bags. “It is possible, you know.”
She raised her gaze from the tea, her feelings hidden in the blue-green depth of her eyes. “Of course it’s possible, but is it likely? Ice is spitting from the sky, the ground is slick, only a fool would come out on a night like this. A fool couldn’t push a woman down the stairs with dozens of people around and not be seen.”
“A fool couldn’t, but someone very, very smart and very, very determined might be able to.”
Her eyes widened at his words, tea sloshing over the rim of the cup as her hand jerked. “That’s not very comforting.”
“Comforting is hot chocolate on a cold day. It’ll warm you, but it won’t keep you safe.”
“What will?” She sized him up, her eyes moving from his head to his feet and back again. “A big strong hero?”
“I’m flattered.” He grinned, not at all bothered by her sarcastic tone and more than willing to volunteer his services. “But I was thinking more along the lines of knowledge. And a good security system.”
“A security system. That is a good idea. We should call someone tomorrow, Jasmine. See about putting one in.” Sarah lowered herself into a chair, took the tea Jasmine had set on the table.
“Sure. We can do that.” Jasmine passed a cup of tea to Eli, her fingers brushing against his as he took it from her. A zing of warmth ran up his arm, lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his chest and made his heart race.
What was it about this woman?
Her eyes?
Her lips?
The toughness that barely hid her vulnerability and sadness?
Yeah. That was probably it. Eli was a sucker for the downtrodden. This time, though, he was going to have to keep his distance. He’d come to Lakeview to do a job. Getting distracted was a surefire way to be certain it didn’t get done. He’d gotten the information he’d come in the house for, found out what had happened, made a practical suggestion for
