Chapter Two

Laurel Roberts knew how to stay out of sight. In the three months she’d lived in Griffin Quinn’s county, Griffin had seen her barely a handful of times. Most of those were of her backside as she climbed into the old pickup truck she’d bought for a song from old man McWaters. Not that Griff was stalking her. He had happened to be close enough to catch a glimpse of the transaction as it went down. Mr. McWaters had been pleased as punch he’d been able to help someone out with a vehicle sitting in his drive, collecting dust as he’d said. He’d spilled the details inside the feed store while standing in line behind Griff after the sale.

Griff had been tempted half a dozen times to check her in the system to see if he could find information about the town’s newest resident. But she’d gone to great lengths to have her privacy, and since she hadn’t broken the law, he’d had no reason to intrude. Until now.

Watching as she batted at the ground with a broken oar while jumping up and down, screaming, he’d changed directions with his fishing boat and made a beeline for her instead. Despite being long overdue for real time off, he’d only managed an occasional late morning fishing trip and this was one of his favorite lakes.

Griff docked and tied off his boat so it wouldn’t drift away while he handled the situation. Times like these, he wished he kept a snake snatcher tool. At least, that was what he called the long metal stick with a gripper at the end.

“Water moccasin,” Ms. Roberts said, still hopping up and down while batting a broken oar at the ground.

“They can be spiteful creatures,” he said as he neared, his gaze constantly skimming the ground. The weeds had grown up near the edge of the water and there were several large rocks a snake might enjoy sunbathing on. In most cases, snakes did their best to stay away from humans. “Had a cousin who had to shoot one of these once, because it wouldn’t stop attacking his boat.”

These snakes were venomous. She was right about the type too, he realized as he got a good look. They had bodies that were thick and heavy for their length, with short, thick tails just like this one.

“I was minding my own business when he came at me from seemingly out of nowhere,” Ms. Roberts said with wide eyes and labored breath. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty was taller than he’d realized. At this distance he could also see a dotting of freckles on otherwise sun-kissed skin. Normally, freckles wouldn’t be considered sexy and yet on her, they worked. And she didn’t take her gaze off the gaping reptile. Its tail vibrated faster than a rattle in a child’s hand. The troublesome part was the creature was making no attempt to escape.

“It’s possible you scared him. Let’s take a step back,” Griff stated in a calm voice.

“What if he strikes?” Ms. Roberts asked, reaching out to grab Griff’s arm with her free hand. The jolt of electricity felt like the equivalent of a lightning strike. He ignored the impact she had on him.

“I’m betting we’ll be fine if we go slow,” he reassured. Most folks didn’t know cottonmouths, a.k.a. water moccasins, were considered more toxic than copperheads. This one was agitated and in defensive mode, which wasn’t a good combination. If Griff had to guess, he’d say she caught this one off guard.

“Okay. I’ll trust you know what you’re doing.” She sucked in a breath like she was steading herself to take a punch, before moving slowly backwards.

Once they were safely out of striking range, Griff pulled his cell from his pocket and made the call to Hank at the Department of Wildlife. A minute later, Hank promised to be on his way.

“I have a guy coming to handle this, since my vehicle isn’t parked anywhere around here,” Griff said. “You can hang onto the oar, but I doubt the snake will strike at this distance. Since it is holding its ground, I doubt it’s going anywhere either.”

“How long before your person arrives?” Ms. Roberts asked. Griff tried not to be offended at the fact she seemed uneasy at the thought of spending a minute longer with him than was absolutely necessary.

“Hank said he was twenty to thirty minutes out, depending on traffic,” Griff informed. “You can go on inside, if you don’t want to stand out here with me and wait.”

“Okay,” she said before dropping the oar. The woman couldn’t seem to get away from him fast enough.

Griff stood there, waiting. Five minutes ticked by. Then, ten. At the twenty-minute mark, he realized this was probably as good a time as any to check his work messages. Sherry Arnold was his secretary and right hand. The sixty-eight-year-old had been threatening to retire for the past six years. She wasn’t the type though; Sherry got bored taking vacation days.

Before he could make the call, the door opened in the cabin behind him. Griff kept his eye on the snake.

“Sorry about my manners,” Ms. Roberts said, as he heard her walk up behind him. “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? Water?”

“Water, if it’s not too much trouble,” he said, wondering about the mystery woman even more, now that he’d had an interaction with her.

“I’ve got a bottle right here,” she said, coming up beside him.

He thanked her and then took the offering. “I’m Griff, by the way,” he said, figuring he didn’t need to formally introduce himself as sheriff.

“I know who…” She paused, seeming to think better of continuing.

Griff took note of the odd behavior. There were plenty of reasons folks moved to a small town like Gunner out of the blue. Topping the list was a wish for privacy. Many locals stayed here for the wide-open skies and the endless acreage. People moved here for the peace and quiet. This was the place folks came to leave city life behind, embrace nature, and live a quieter life. Of those folks, quite a few didn’t want to be pestered by strangers or checked up on by law enforcement. It was the number one reason they bought acreage, to put distance between themselves and everyone else. Griff didn’t take those wishes lightly and never imposed on folks without an invitation.

And yet, there was something troubling in Ms. Roberts’ eyes that caused him to want to know more about her. Where did she come from? Was she escaping from someone or something, or just seeking out a peaceful place where she would be left alone? A protective instinct in him stirred, and he shifted uncomfortably.

City folks moved here to escape traffic and constant drains on their time. They usually moved back within a few months, saying it was too boring or there wasn’t enough excitement. This life wasn’t for everyone. Some didn’t realize how much they needed the buzz of filled roadways and constant noise until they met silence.

“I’m Laurel,” she finally said, as Griff took a long pull off the water bottle.

“Nice to officially meet you, Laurel,” he said.

“Once your guy gets here, would you like to come inside?” she asked as the sound of a truck hummed toward them. Her gaze widened and he could almost hear her pulse pounding from here.

“I’m betting that is Hank. And I’ll take you up on that offer,” Griff said, hoping this would give him a reason to start a conversation with the town’s most secretive resident.

Sure enough, the truck engine cut off and Hank came around the house a few moments later. Laurel’s gaze, however, stayed glued to Griff. He gave a nod, and she exhaled.

“What do we have here?” Hank asked, cutting into the conversation between Griff and Laurel. He hoped the interruption didn’t put her in the mood to be a hermit.

“I’ll just be inside,” she said, backing away like Hank might strike instead of the snake. There was a sudden chill in the air and Laurel looked like she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

“Be there in a few minutes, once this has been taken care of,” Griff said to her, making eye contact and holding for a few seconds so she could gauge his sincerity.

Her smile was tentative, but not a rejection. He’d take the progress as he turned his attention back to Hank. He was as Texan as they come, oversized belt buckle included. He was also one of the nicest people Griff had ever met and he’d known the man since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.

“Water moccasin. At least one, and this baby is aggressive,” he explained, glancing toward the house to see Laurel had closed her blinds. He put the fact in the ‘not a good sign’ column and kept moving. “I was almost struck. She’s agitated and unpredictable.”

“Let’s see what we can find. I’ll start by removing her,” Hank said. He motioned toward the porch. “You might want to head over there and wait. The fewer people standing around as a threat, the better.”

“Will do,” Griff said, moving to the cabin and thinking how Laurel had looked almost as scared of Hank as she had the snake. As far as he knew, she lived here alone. Rumor had it she’d moved from a big city, but no one seemed to know a whole lot about her other than a few minor details. Most folks in these parts wore boots, whereas she wore shoes with low heels when she shopped at the grocery store, according to Sherry.

Had Laurel come to escape someone? Being in law enforcement, Griff’s experience told him the biggest threat to a woman was her domestic partner. His hands fisted at his sides involuntarily at the thought. He’d come across it far too many times in his line of work and the anger he experienced never dulled. People who love each other should not physically or emotionally abuse one another. Period.

Griff flexed and released his fingers a few times to work off some of the anger. He redirected his thoughts to how he might ask Laurel questions casually, instead of sounding like an investigator who was grilling her to find out everything about her. He’d heard from previous dates that the kind of questions he asked out of curiosity could come across as interrogatory if he wasn’t careful. He’d been told enough times for him to realize it was a problem, and probably a job hazard for someone who worked in law enforcement. He was a good investigator too, so that probably didn’t help matters. This job could be twenty-four/seven, and impossible to turn off. Hence, the need for vacations he never had time to take.

Hank had wrangled the snake by the time Griff ended his thought.

“I’ll secure this one in the truck and then we can search for others,” Hank said. “No reason to worry about a nest, since Water Moccasins give live births. Wait for me to come back before you start. Okay?”

“Are you worried I’ll find one first and take your job away?” Griff teased, trying to lighten the mood before heading inside in a few minutes.

“Go ahead and make my day,” Hank said with a scowl. The man loved Clint Eastwood.

Griff chuckled. One of the reasons he loved living in Gunner was for characters like Hank.

After spending another fifteen minutes searching for any other hazards, Hank excused himself to relocate the snake while Griff walked toward the cabin. He knew the layout well, considering he’d been invited to parties out here at various stages of his young life. All the cabins were the same, coming in at roughly five hundred square feet. Each had a different color scheme. This particular cabin was yellow. Knowing these facts about the places in his hometown also made him very good at his job.

He tapped on the door three times. Nothing happened and there were no sounds coming from the other side. Did she reconsider her invitation? Was she inside hiding? More of those questions surfaced as he stood on the wooden porch. None he liked, because they all caused his mind to circle back to either abuse or trauma. In his professional experience, it was usually the former.

Having patience wasn’t exactly in the job description of sheriff, but it sure helped that he had an abundance of it. Griff lifted his fist to knock again after another minute or two passed by. He couldn’t be certain how much time had gone by, although it felt longer than it probably should have.

Using his knuckles, he rapped on the door again. This time he heard the creak of wood flooring underneath heavy footsteps. A few seconds later, the snick of the lock was followed by the door opening. Laurel’s body blocked the entrance. She bit down on her bottom lip and, for a few seconds, looked like she was undecided about stepping back enough to allow him to enter.

Griff had encountered pretty much every type of person in his line of work; good, bad, and everything in between. He’d become decent at reading people based on the tension lines on their faces or the way they shifted weight from one foot to the other, signaling nervousness. Laurel was out of her comfort zone. Rather than push his luck, he offered a small smile.

“The snake has been taken care of,” he said.

“Good,” she said, blinking at him in a sure sign she was nervous. There were others, like her rapid breathing and the way her pulse pounded at the base of her throat.

This was going nowhere fast. He held up the empty bottle of water.

“Mind throwing this away?” he asked.

“Please, come inside,” she said, opening the door wider before taking enough of a step back to allow him passage. “I apologize for my manners. I’m out of practice when it comes to having guests in my home.”

“Not a problem,” he said, before taking a step inside. The place was as he remembered, with enough bright yellow to make it seem like someone had bottled the sun and sprinkled it around.

“Have a seat.” She held out a hand toward the small dining space. “Can I get you something else to drink?”

“No, thank you.” He started toward the seat, then stopped. “Mind if I use your sink? I wouldn’t mind washing my hands.”

“You can use the bathroom,” she offered. “Unless you want to wash your hands with dish soap. I’m out of the other kind in here.”

“Will do,” he said. He needed to figure out how to get her to open up to him soon. Time was ticking. At this rate, she would be asking him to leave before he could find out if she was safe. Asking her outright about her circumstances would only push her away and cause her to be even more protective. It could end up the equivalent of putting his hand out to an injured animal that had been cornered. Out of self-preservation, the animal would bite. When it got away, it wouldn’t stop running.

Griff walked down the hallway, past the bedroom, and into the washroom. A bag of trash that had been tied off sat next to the small can. Trash day? A cabinet was left partially open. He glanced inside. The cabinet had been cleaned out. It was completely empty. He opened a couple of others, revealing the same.

Before Laurel could get suspicious, he turned on the spigot and pumped out a dab of foamy hand soap. After rubbing his hands together, he took note of the fact there was no bath towel hanging. He glanced around for something to use to dry his hands. Came up empty. Instead, he ended up patting them dry on his jeans.

The scene in the bathroom was suspicious. To make certain he was on track, he peeked behind the shower curtain. No soap and no shampoo. Not even a razor.

On the way back toward the living area, he glanced inside the bedroom. The door wasn’t cracked much more than a sliver but he noticed the opened suitcase on top of the bed right away. Was Laurel in a hurry to go somewhere?

“I’m not sure I thanked you earlier for immediately charging to help after I screamed,” she said as Griff re-entered the room.

“You’re welcome, but it’s muscle memory with a job like mine,” he said with a half-smile. His attempt to put her at ease seemed to fail miserably, based on the small tension lines that formed when he referred to having a job. Interesting. He took note of the reaction and filed it in the back of his mind. He also realized he needed to think up a question or he’d be invited out the door. “How do you like living in Gunner so far?”

“It’s great,” she said with a forced smile. “This area is nice and the lake is beautiful.”

“It’s one of my favorite spots,” he agreed.

“There’s something magical about being on the water early in the morning,” she continued, surprising him by continuing the conversation when he’d been almost certain the opposite was about to happen. There was a wistful quality to her eyes. A loneliness?

“Mind if I take you up on the earlier offer of a cup of coffee?” he asked. “Unless it would put you out.”

“No,” she quickly countered. “It’s fine. I have one of those pod-thingies that makes a cup in like two seconds. It’s no trouble at all. Why don’t you take a seat and make yourself comfortable?”

Griff considered himself good at reading people. Laurel was packing up and getting ready to go. To move? It appeared so, based on the lack of bathroom products in the shower. In fact, he wondered if packing had been the reason she’d been delayed in answering the door. Surely, she didn’t think someone had placed the snake there to intimidate her or run her off. Those snakes were rampant in Texas. It was only a matter of time before someone came face-to-face with them on the water. He was still scratching his head as to why she’d invited him in the second time, when she was clearly about to bolt.

Wasn’t she happy here? Hadn’t she found a place she could see herself calling home? As the questions mounted, Griff was more determined than ever to figure out what was going on with her. See if he could change her mind? Based on the suitcase, he didn’t have a whole lot of time.

Or had she already reconsidered leaving? Was packing a knee-jerk reaction to her fear of the snake?

He needed to get her talking about something unimportant to put her at ease so he could wind up to bigger questions.

“I noticed you were bringing a kayak to the water earlier,” he said.

“Right. I owe my landlord money to replace the oar after breaking it,” she stated. “I hope he won’t be angry about it. Just my luck it would be some irreplaceable family heirloom.” She threw her hands in the air after pushing the button on the machine. It instantly fired up, spitting and sputtering until the glass coffee mug was full.

“I’m sure he’ll understand. You acted in self-defense,” Griff said. “Feel free to use me as a witness if it comes down to it.”

“Do you think it will?” she asked.

The shock in her eyes and fear in her voice caused his chest to squeeze. His attempt to lighten the mood felt flat once again.

“No. I don’t,” he immediately reassured. “In fact, I know the owner of all the cabins around here and I can confidently say he would have told you to break the kayak if it meant saving yourself from a snakebite.”

“Oh. Okay. Good,” she said as she set down the mug in front of him.

“Are you joining me?” he asked.

“A cup of coffee is the last thing I need right now,” she said, holding her hand out to show that it was still trembling.

Now, he really felt bad. His attempts at humor weren’t working. Neither were his attempts at conversation in general. Griff wasn’t normally so bad at this. Glancing around the cabin, he realized that not much had changed since the last time he was here. There were no personal items like photos on the fireplace mantel. The hand towels hanging over the oven door were the same ones he’d used before when he’d been inside manning the stove for a cookout. This place came fully furnished. He had expected little changes. It was missing those personal touches that made a space feel like home instead of a temporary stop.

So, where did he go from here?