The house was quiet with the family gone to church. Only Miss Trudy remained behind, and she was watching her favorite television pastor, her knitting needles clacking away.
Micah was building a Jenga tower on the kitchen table as Eden finished breakfast cleanup. She stifled a yawn as she hung the towel on the peg. A nightmare had woken her at three thirty, and she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. The dark cloud had hovered around her all morning, making her jumpy and irritable.
She’d lain in bed thinking of her dad, missing him. She’d bought a disposable phone on a whim last week. She knew she couldn’t call him. Marshals Walter and Brown had drilled that into her the first weeks at the safe house. She couldn’t contact anyone. Not her dad, not her old friends. It would only put their lives in danger. Put all of their lives in danger.
The thought of her dad worrying about them made her heart squeeze tight. It wasn’t fair. Look what she’d done.
I’m sorry, Daddy. She rubbed the spot over her aching heart. I miss you so much.
She missed his sturdy hugs, his rugged laugh, his warbly voice. What she’d give just to hear it again. Was he okay? Had the stress of her situation caused health problems? What if he’d had another heart attack? What if he’d died? Would the marshals even have let her know?
Anxiety zipped through her veins like electricity, lighting up every worry zone in her body. The phone burned a hole in her pocket.
No, Eden. You can’t.
She looked at the kitchen clock. He’d be at church right now, if all was well. He’d always gone, despite his phobia, coming in late and sitting in the back pew.
But what if all isn’t well? What if he’s ill? Ill and alone because of your stupid mistakes? Or what if Antonio’s “friends” had paid her dad a visit? Had tried to extract their whereabouts after they’d run? Why hadn’t she thought of that until now? She’d been so busy trying to keep Micah safe, she’d forgotten about her father.
She glanced at Micah, still mesmerized by his Jenga tower, and slipped out the back door before she could second-guess herself.
He wasn’t home, she reassured herself. It was a disposable phone—untraceable. She wouldn’t talk to him. Only listen to his voicemail. She needed to hear his voice. She’d hang up before it cut off, and no one would be any the wiser.
She huddled against the cold on the back stoop, her fingers trembling as she pushed in the familiar numbers. Her pulse jumped, racing ahead of her shallow breaths. She lifted the phone to her ear and waited.
It rang once. The thought of those men getting hold of her dad tightened an invisible cord around her neck, sucked the moisture from her mouth.
The phone clicked. Her dad’s voice filled her ear. She listened to the message, her eyes stinging at his familiar inflections. His Southern accent sounded heavier than she remembered, his tone warmer. Her eyes filled, and she blinked back the tears. The message was winding down, and she had to hang up before the beep sounded.
She waited until the very last moment and disconnected. She kept the phone to her ear as if she could hold him there for just a few more seconds.
“I miss you, Daddy,” she whispered. “I love you. We’re safe. Don’t worry about us. Be careful.”
Her breath vaporized before her, disappearing as quickly as a wish on the wind.
Eden slid into her coat. She was ready for her afternoon off, eager for some quality time with Micah. And she was desperately in need of a nap—if she could get her son to cooperate.
“Hey, Kate,” Beau said as he exited the kitchen. “Can you help me with something before you leave?”
He looked like he was fresh out of a J.Crew catalog, in his plaid button-down and fitted khakis. The Callahans sure weren’t hard on the eyes.
“Um, yeah.” She started to take off her coat.
“Leave it on. I need you outside.”
“You both can’t leave,” Miss Trudy said. “Who’s going to babysit me?”
Beau put his hand on Eden’s son’s shoulder. “Jack, you up for the challenge?”
He looked up at Beau and nodded solemnly even while Miss Trudy scowled.
Beau winked at his aunt. “There you go. Problem solved.”
They scuttled out the front door before she could complain.
“That was ornery.” Eden followed him around the house.
“Ornery’s my middle name.”
Her shoes made tracks in the few inches of snow. “Where are we going?”
“To the barn. There’s something I think Jack might like, but I wanted to check with you first.”
The barn was a short walk from the house. She had yet to step foot inside it. The door opened with a squeak, and a musty smell filled her nostrils. The shadowed, dank building wasn’t a place she wanted to spend any time. She sneezed at the dust their feet scuffled up.
Something about the atmosphere dredged up the nightmare from the night before. Was it the smell? The darkened interior? The male body so near to hers?
She stopped when Beau did, trying to shake the dark feeling that had come over her.
“There’s a sled right up here,” Beau said, reaching up on a high wooden ledge. He pulled something forward. Boxes tipped to the side as he worked to free the object.
“I guess it’s been awhile. It’s wedged under a bunch of crap. No telling what all’s up there. My dad was kind of a pack rat.”
She reached up to help, catching hold of a red runner as he tried to clear the boxes away. It was almost free. She tugged on the runner, and it came loose easily. She stumbled backward. A large box fell with it, and Beau batted it away from his head, letting loose of the sled.
Its weight fell toward her, and she pushed it aside as she went down. Beau reached for her, but it was too late.
She landed with a hard thud on the wood floor, Beau following a millisecond later, sprawling over her, his hands landing beside her shoulders, his weight pressing down on her.
She blinked at the ceiling, her breaths ragged, as she assessed the damage. Her back had taken the brunt of the fall.
Beau leaned away, his sharpened gaze on her face. “You okay? Did you hit your head?”
His body felt like a thousand-pound weight pinning her down. Her arms were trapped against her body. Suddenly it was Antonio’s body pressing against her. His greedy hands touching her in ways that turned her stomach.
Panic flooded through her, and hysteria built inside. She pushed against his weight. “Get off. Get off me!”
Beau rolled to the side.
Eden scrambled across the floor crab-style until she hit the sled. Her breaths plumed in the cold shed, her heart beating out a frantic rhythm. Beau’s eyes fixed on hers, recognition dawning in the shadowed depths.
Beau didn’t know exactly what he’d done wrong, but he felt like all kinds of jerk. The past few seconds rewound in his head to the panic that had burned in Kate’s eyes in that instant before she’d pushed him away. Something had happened. Something more than a clumsy fall.
Her chest rose and fell quickly as she scrambled to her feet.
He rose, too, moving warily. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
She backed away, not meeting his gaze. “I-I’m fine. I have to go.”
“Kate . . .”
But she was already rushing toward the door and through the snow. He watched her go, wondering what the heck had just happened.