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, no.” It was too early to think on her feet.
Ruthie held up her basket of fresh foods. “I thought you might be low on groceries. Meanwhile, knowing what’s in season, we can plan the menu for your first guests before the days get away from us. We have lots to do.”
“Of course.” Heather led the woman past Zach toward the kitchen. “It will be good to plan ahead.” Get her mind off Brian.
As they passed near the new addition, Ruthie whispered, “You don’t have to hide the fact that you hired workmen outside the Amish community.”
Heather’s lips formed into a perfect O, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to alarm her friend and employee. Nor did she want to offend her. Ruthie had recommended her good friend’s work crew.
Guilt threaded through her. Was Heather placing others in jeopardy by not going into hiding? How long would it really take to capture a fugitive?
Heather racked her brain about how to best explain Zach’s presence, when Zach approached and extended his hand, making the decision for her. “I’m Zach Walker, a friend of Heather’s.” Ruthie tipped her head in greeting but didn’t take his hand. Zach smiled and dropped his hand. “I stopped by to see how the new construction was going.” He pointed toward the window. “Good thing. The rain was pouring in the opening for the window.”
“Another early riser?” Ruthie muttered, then turned her attention to the plastic covering the window. “I’m so sorry. Sloppy Sam should have had the window in already.”
“I believe there was a delay by the manufacturer,” Heather said, eager to ease Ruthie’s concerns.
“I’m sorry for your inconvenience.”
Heather waved her hand in dismissal. “It’s fine. I suspect he’ll have it in today. Then we’ll have a beautiful new eating nook.” She wandered over to the far corner of the window and inspected the staples. “I trust they’ll be able to stain the woodwork the same color as the original wood throughout the house.”
“My friend is gut. Just let him know, yah?” Ruthie nodded at Heather. “I’m going to take inventory of the canned goods in the pantry. I’ve been doing a little shopping since you hired me. We need to start planning our menu.”
“Okay.” Heather watched Ruthie walk away. She dragged her hand along the unfinished edge, marveling that yesterday her sole concern was getting the addition completed on time.
“Ruthie is going to help me with the day-to-day operations of the bed-and-breakfast.”
Zach nodded his understanding.
Heather drew in a deep breath. She loved the smell of raw wood. She started to smooth her hand along the drywall when her eye caught something on the wall near the corner. In red permanent marker it read: Brian + Heather 4Ever.
Nausea swirled in her gut. She spun around, fear blurring her vision as she struggled to focus on Zach’s face. “Brian. Brian Fox was here.”
“I’ve already searched the house. He’s not inside. Not anymore.” Zach touched Heather’s arm in what she assumed was intended as a comforting gesture, but how could she possibly be comforted?
Her ex-husband had been in her house. He’s here in Quail Hollow.
Stars danced in her line of vision. Less than twelve hours ago this room had held so much promise for the future. For all the potential customers to her quaint bed-and-breakfast. Now its walls and the graffiti pulsed. A hot flush of dread crashed over her. She was suffocating. Trapped. She tugged on her collar and focused on her breathing.
“Are
