her arm, the beautiful blonde bride who’d helped him resuscitate the boy gaped at his hand, her joy and admiration morphing suddenly into something ugly and cold.
“Where did you get that watch?” she demanded, her tone clipped and accusing. As if he had no right to own something of value.
And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he should have sold the watch months ago to help pay for food, his rent, his child support. But he couldn’t bring himself to part with the last thing he owned that Jill had given him.
He tamped down the swirl of emotions that still ravaged him when he thought of Jill’s death and the terrible repercussions that followed. Keeping his tone even, he met the woman’s hard greeneyed stare. “It was a Christmas gift from my wife a few years ago.”
“Your wife?” She narrowed her eyes skeptically, as if being down on your luck and scrimping to make even a scant income meant you could never have had a wife and children, a home and career. A life to be proud of.
“Yes, my wife.” Matt sighed. He didn’t have much to be proud of now, and he couldn’t really blame the woman for her snap judgment. In her position, he might think much the same. But the past few months had taught him how close every person was to living on the street.
His golden life had suffered a chain reaction of tragic blows and shattered.
An ambulance arrived, and the crowd of spectators cleared a path as the rescue workers huddled around the boy and his mother, checking the child’s vital signs.
Matt inhaled deeply, and looking back at the blonde woman, he pushed to his feet.
He dusted his hands off, then extended one to help the bride to her feet.
She glanced at his proffered hand, hesitated, then let him pull her from the floor.
“I’m sorry. I just…My husband had a watch like that one stolen, and—”
“You thought I’d stolen this one.”
She turned away guiltily. “It just startled me to see it. Your watch is just like Ryan’s and—” She huffed and smoothed a hand over the skirt of her wedding dress costume. “Never mind.” She backed away one step, then forced a tight smile. “Thank you…for helping with Tommy. You saved his life.” Her delicate brow furrowed, and she tipped her head. “How…how did you know what to do?”
“Anyone can learn CPR and the Heimlich maneuver. They are valuable skills to have.” Yes, he was being evasive, cryptic, not fully forthcoming. But he didn’t feel like explaining the whole sordid story of his ignoble downfall—which he’d inevitably have to. When he mentioned his medical degree, his career, the question always followed.
How did a successful doctor end up scavenging a meal from a soup kitchen on Halloween?
“Well, thank you. You saved the day.” Her smile was brighter now, more genuine.
Matt’s gut kicked. Her smile transformed her already beautiful face to nothing short of breathtaking. Not for the first time, his own ragged appearance left him feeling awkward and embarrassed. He nodded to the woman and turned to make his way through the crowd. He needed air, and the small room at the Community Aid Center had begun feeling cramped, stuffy.
As he stepped out of the building, the crisp autumn breeze nipped at his lungs and bit his cheeks with a sobering reminder that winter was mere weeks away. If he didn’t want to freeze at night, he’d have to continue renting his ramshackle room at the Woodgate Inn. Which, in turn, meant he’d have to find a new source of income.
The irony of his situation appalled him. He had a medical degree, had graduated top of his class. But thanks to his appearance, his lack of transportation or a permanent address, he couldn’t find a job that paid enough to make his child support payments and also get ahead. The tanked economy didn’t help, either. The few available jobs were grabbed up by mill workers who’d been laid off, or clean-cut, white-collar men taking second jobs to cover their mortgages.
Pulling his collar up against the cold wind blowing off the slopes of the North Carolina Smoky Mountains, Matt squared his shoulders and headed down the street. He was through feeling sorry for himself, finished wallowing in his pain and failure.
He wouldn’t let the tragic turn of fate defeat him. He had to rebuild his life. For his kids.
He’d pull through this black period somehow and get back on his feet. He wouldn’t quit—even if everyone he loved had quit on him.
Tommy’s choking had rattled Holly, and seeing the watch, so much like Ryan’s, on the man at the center had destroyed her interest in revelry. After making sure Tommy would be all right, Holly had sneaked away from the Halloween party and headed to her truck.
She’d already been giving a few hours each month to the Community Aid Center when Ryan was killed. Knowing one of the people she helped at the center could be responsible for the attack on her husband disturbed Holly deeply. She’d almost quit.
But the evil actions of one person didn’t negate the good she was doing or the needs of the children she met at the center. Besides, what if she heard something through her volunteer work that could help the police catch Ryan’s killer?
Over the past several months, she’d learned more about the homeless than she’d ever imagined. And many of her conceptions of who the homeless were and why they were on the streets had been blown out of the water. Many of the people she had helped had high school diplomas or professional skills, but medical bills to treat an illness had depleted their bank account. Or they’d been laid off a job and couldn’t pay their rent. Or they’d fled an abusive situation and had nowhere to go.
A heartbreaking number of the center’s clients were single mothers, struggling to survive and feed their kids. As an elementary school teacher, Holly loved kids, and the needs of the homeless children touched her heart the most. Every child deserved a safe home and a roof over his or her head.
Once she’d reached her Tacoma, she’d decided a brief walk to enjoy the October afternoon and clear her head was in order. She’d left the veil and detachable long skirt from her wedding dress on the front seat and put on a long cardigan over the travel suit portion of the gown.
Now she stood in front of the old abandoned church where Ryan had been killed and realized the church had always been her destination. Before his death, Ryan had driven her by the structure and joked that they should buy it and restore it, as they were doing with the rambling old farmhouse they’d bought outside of town. Holly had only scowled at him. “One neverending, money-pit renovation project at a time, please!”
But Holly had been fascinated by the old church, the beautiful architecture and broken stained glass. The church had been a true treasure, lost to neglect and the elements. Since it was so close to the Community Aid Center, she had walked past the old church many times after she volunteered. She’d made the trip a sort of pilgrimage, a time to remember Ryan and renew her oath to find some truths and give herself closure.
Today, the familiar questions seemed all the more relentless. Why had Ryan been in the old church to begin with? Who had he come across in the abandoned building, and why did that someone bash him on the head, killing him?
Holly noticed white paper tacked to the front door and climbed over the yellow caution tape to read what had been posted on the church door.
Warning!
