battling images of his recurring nightmare. Drenched in sweat, he sat on the side of the bed cradling his aching head in his hands. Damn it, damn it, damn it! The dream always started so innocently, luring him into the vortex of horror. The details might change, but the ending never did. Dressed in period costume, he stood on a scaffolding, holding in his hand a long-handled ax, dripping with blood. And staring up at him with a gentle but distorted smile was Pete, his head severed from his neck.
It didn’t take a shrink to get the symbolism. The hell of it was, he lived it every day, with or without the dream. Each time he passed the field where he and Pete had played American Legion baseball, reported to the National Guard Armory or shook hands with Bruce.
Why couldn’t it have been him? What did he have to live for compared to Pete? A mother who’d abandoned him and a father who beat the crap out of him on a regular basis? Certainly not a beautiful girl he loved with every fiber of his being. Nor a future full of promise.
Kyle shut his eyes to the photo on his dresser of him and Pete, arms around each other’s shoulders, caps tilted cockily, on their last day of leave before deployment to Afghanistan.
Slowly the sensation of Bubba licking his toes pulled him from his thoughts.
After a long, hot shower and a bowl of instant oatmeal, he felt minimally better. It would be a relief to go to work. There he wouldn’t have time to brood.
Rita eyed him speculatively when he arrived at the office. “You’re late.”
“So?”
“Just commenting because you’re almost never late.”
He shrugged, disinclined to engage in their usual banter.
“Well,” she drawled, “maybe you’re excused just this once. Besides, if you’d already been on the job, you’d have missed this.” She handed him a phone memo.
“Huh? The Greer place?” He studied the message requesting an estimate on repairs. “I thought I saw a car there last week.”
“Frankly, Geneva didn’t sound good. Told me she wants to get her place fixed up ASAP. Before she dies, she said. Talk about a conversation stopper. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I told her we’d have someone out today.”
The Greer cottage had always had a special charm. He was sorry about the old lady, but he’d love to get his hands on that house.
CHAPTER TWO
THE MORNING HAD NOT gone well. Figuring out Auntie G.’s medications and dressing her had taken longer than Annie had predicted. Then she’d burned the toast and undercooked the eggs. Geneva had waved off her apology, daintily dipping a corner of her toast in the runny yolk, but beyond that, eating nothing.
After breakfast, even though she seemed tired, Geneva insisted that Annie help her into her living room chair. Managing the walker and the oxygen tank at the same time was difficult, but finally she had her aunt settled, the afghan over her knees, a book in her lap.
“I’ll be fine here. Go, get the kitchen cleaned up, take a shower. Don’t worry about me.”
After loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counter, Annie checked on Geneva, who sat staring out the window with her open book facedown. Annie bathed quickly, worried that she wouldn’t hear Geneva if she called. Or fell. Annie toweled her hair, then threw on a shapeless blue T-shirt over gray sweatpants and was slipping on her Crocs when she heard Geneva ring the bell she’d given her to use as a summons. Annie raced down the stairs. “What is it?”
“Calm down. The repairman I’ve been expecting is coming up the walk.”
Through the bay window Annie saw a white pickup with red lettering on the door. AAA Builders Home Repair and Remodeling. “That was fast.”
“I told you I wanted the cottage fixed. And I want it done properly. This company came with high recommendations.” A heavy knock sounded on the door.
Running her fingers through her damp hair, Annie walked to the front hall and threw open the door.
The world fell away. She couldn’t breathe, much less utter a sound. She leaned against the doorjamb, a wave of dizziness threatening her balance.
“Annie?” The blond-haired man hovered over her, his strong, broad-shouldered body blocking the sun, his chiseled facial features pale beneath his tan. Then he turned away, swiped the ball cap from his head and paced to one end of the porch and back, stopping in front of her, his gray eyes icy. “You’ve got some nerve showing up in Eden Bay.”
Annie gripped the door, focusing on his chest, on the forest-green of his chamois shirt, on anything but those accusing eyes. If she could focus there, she could stop the memories—Pete, Kyle…her reasons for leaving town. “I…I…” She faltered, realizing there was absolutely nothing she could say to Kyle.
“Don’t even try to explain.” He placed the cap back on his head. “Find someone else for this job.”
“Annie?” Geneva’s imperious voice pierced the silence. “I want to see that young man.”
Kyle hesitated.
“Look,” Annie said in a low enough tone that Geneva couldn’t hear, “my aunt’s sick and wants this place fixed up.”
“There are plenty of guys who can do it.”
“You were recommended.”
He peered over her head into the interior. “All right. I’ll tell her no myself.” He stepped around her and strode into the living room.
Struggling for equilibrium, Annie sank onto the stairs, listening to the rise and fall of voices. After Kyle told her great-aunt he would be unavailable to do the repairs, she heard Geneva’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. After a few minutes, Kyle returned, his expression grim. He paused in the doorway. “Have your damn list ready. I’ll be here Wednesday morning.” He put his hand on the doorknob, then spoke again. “One more thing. Stay out of my way.” Then he was gone.
Slowly Annie released her death grip on the banister. Why had she ever thought she could hide out here? Avoid the disapproval, even hatred, of those in Eden Bay?
Her muscles tensed. She longed to leave this place. Now.
“Annie?”
She took a deep breath, then went into the living room.
Her aunt’s color had improved and her face bore a triumphant smile. “Well, everything’s settled. That’s a very professional young man.” She adjusted her nosepiece. “Did you know him when you lived here?”
Annie nodded, dreading further questioning.
“He seems nice. Maybe you should get in touch with some of your old friends.”
“No.”
The smile faded from Geneva’s lips. “It was a long time ago, dear.”
“They haven’t forgotten. Or forgiven.”
ADRENALINE
