the top floor. She went up the stairs before him as he hefted the heavy suitcase up stair by stair.
At the top he unlocked the door, then opened it and gestured her inside. He followed just after her, flipping on the interior light and welcoming the warmth the place offered.
He turned to look at her. Her lips were now completely blue and she trembled almost uncontrollably. “Let’s get out of these wet coats and shoes,” he said.
The whole scene felt a little surreal. The snow outside, a mysterious woman and baby…it was like the setup of some ridiculous movie.
He unbuttoned his coat and watched her do the same. Her gaze didn’t meet his but rather swept around the room like a rabbit hunting for a safe burrow.
He followed her gaze, taking in the place he’d called home for the past two years. When George’s wife had died five years ago, the old man had renovated the house with this apartment upstairs. It was a way for him to keep his house and not feel so alone.
The apartment was roomy, with a nice-sized living room, a small but fully functioning kitchen, a half bath off the laundry room and a large bedroom with a full bathroom. Dalton had furnished it in a minimalist, functional style. But as he saw it through another’s eyes he realized it was a cold space, with little personality.
He frowned and took her coat from her to hang in the small utility room off the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said and gestured to the sofa. “I’m just going to put these wet things in the other room.”
He left her there, hung the wet coats on hangers to dry, then returned to find her still standing in the center of the room, rubbing the baby’s back as he once again slept.
“Where were you headed?” he asked.
She jumped at the sound of his voice, as if she’d momentarily forgotten he was there. “Uh, Kansas City. I was going to visit my sister.”
Again he had a gut feeling she wasn’t telling him the truth. She refused to hold his gaze and even though the room was warm, her lips trembled slightly. And he realized she wasn’t cold. She was afraid.
“Look, why don’t we just get you settled in. The kitchen is there.” He pointed to the doorway. “If you want anything to eat feel free to help yourself. I’ll just go change the sheets on the bed then I’ll be out of your hair.” He started toward the bedroom but stopped as she called his name.
“If you just tell me where the sheets are, I’ll change the bed. And I need to pay you.”
“The sheets are on the bottom shelf in the bathroom, and it really isn’t necessary for you to give me any money.”
“Yes, it is,” she countered, and her chin rose with a show of stubbornness. “It’s important we keep this a business transaction.”
“Fine,” he replied. He named a nominal fee and watched as she opened her purse and carefully withdrew the amount in cash. “I’ll just get a few things together then I’ll head downstairs,” he said as he took the money from her. He shoved the bills into his pocket, then grabbed her suitcase and wheeled it into his bedroom. He gathered a small overnight bag, then returned to the living room where she still stood in the center of the room, as if frozen in place.
“You should find everything you need for the night, but if you need anything you can’t find, I’ll write down my cell phone number and leave it on the kitchen table.”
She gave an imperceptible nod of her head. “I %h; Thank you for this. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.”
“You’ll be fine here for the night and we’ll sort things out in the morning.”
“Thank you again,” she said, then disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. He heard the click of the lock being turned.
Dalton stared at the closed door for a long moment. His family would probably tell him he was crazy for allowing a stranger to take up residence in his place even for one night. But they hadn’t seen the vulnerability, the sheer desperation that clung to her closer than her coat.
Besides, what was she going to do? Tuck his television under one arm, her son under the other and run out into a blizzard? There was nothing here for her to steal that wasn’t insured. He didn’t know if he believed that she’d told him her real name or her destination, but he knew for sure that she’d needed someplace warm and safe and she’d found it here.
He went into the kitchen and wrote his cell phone number on a sheet of paper and left it on the small oak table. Then he wrote his own home phone number down and returned to the bedroom door and knocked. She opened the door, her eyes wide and wary.
“I just wanted to let you know there’s leftover roast beef in the refrigerator if you get hungry and there’s extra blankets on the shelf in the closet if you need them. If you need to call your sister to let her know where you are, here’s the phone number.” He held out the slip of paper.
“Thank you, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” One hand snaked out to take the piece of paper from him. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” She closed the door again but not before Dalton saw something flash in her other hand, something silver like a blade.
A knife?
Every instinct he owned shot to high alert. He’d been trained to look for trouble, and he had a horrible feeling he’d just invited trouble into his home.
Well, he couldn’t do anything about it now. He headed for the interior staircase that led downstairs to George’s living quarters.
He would have to face it—her—in the morning.
She saw the red lights flashing in her rearview mirror and glanced down at her speedometer. Damn. It looked like she was going to get a speeding ticket.
She supposed she was lucky that she hadn’t gotten one before now. Two nights a week she’d been making the twenty-five mile drive from Sandstone to a local community college, taking classes to eventually take the GED test. She always drove too fast on this particular stretch of deserted highway.
Pulling over to the side of the road, she wondered how many extra hours she’d have to work to pay for this particular mistake. As if money wasn’t already tight enough.
Glancing in her rearview mirror once again she saw the patrol car pull to a stop just behind her. The flashing red light went off, as did the headlights. As the driver’s door opened she recognized Sheriff Brandon Sinclair getting out of the car.
She fumbled in her schoolbag for her license as he approached the side of her car. She rolled down her window and offered him a small smile. “Sheriff Sinclair,” she said.
“Turn off your lights and get out of the car,” he told her.
She frowned, but didn’t think about not doing as he asked. As she got out of the car Sheriff Sinclair smiled. “Well, well, don’t we look all sexy in that little skirt,” he said, and there was something
