Page 35 of Silent Menace
He grunted. “Sometimes people surprise you, especially when they’ve been hurt.”
He wasn’t wrong, and she couldn’t deny that Wesley’s actions had hurt the community—but his actions had hurt her too. And even if she could reconcile the idea of someone trying to get rid of her for that reason, she kept coming back to the question of why now? She’d have thought if an angry mob was going to run her out of town, they’d have done it right after Wesley was exposed. With the passage of time, her fears of such an event had faded—though she still felt the stigma of having been married to a criminal.
But there had been the incident with Oscar Redmond the other day, which had seemed to come out of nowhere. Had his anger been smoldering over the last ten months? And if so, what had fanned it into flame?
She’d have to chew on that, but she wasn’t going to bring it up to her dad. He’d be furious, and rightfully so. But the last thing she needed was for him to confront the town hothead. If Oscar threw a punch at him, her dad wouldn’t react with the same grace as Peter had, and she wasn’t sure which of the men would come out less injured. No, she’d let Eric handle Oscar.
“I don’t know, Dad,” she finally said. “I just can’t see it.”
He nodded, frown lines etching deep into his face. “Then what if there’s someone the police missed when they took down that crime ring?”
She blinked. That thought hadn’t occurred to her. But it only took a moment to see the flaw in his suggestion. “It’s possible, I guess, but I can’t imagine why they’d come after me.”
As far as they knew, everyone involved in Wesley’s shenanigans had died or been arrested months ago. Even if there was someone who had gotten away unnoticed, she couldn’t fathom what they would stand to gain from running her out of town. She might be able to see it if they were trying to blackmail or extort her, but whoever this was didn’t seem to want anythingfrom her—only for her to leave. It made as little sense as the other scenario.
Her dad shook his head thoughtfully, but she could sense his frustration. “Do the police have any other theories?”
“None that I know of,” she murmured.
“I don’t like this, Hailey. I really don’t.”
That she could agree with.
19
Peter was temptedto cancel dinner with his grandparents again. He had an inexplicable urge to stay nearby in case anything happened at Hailey’s parents’ place. But that didn’t make sense. Staying in Kincaid would still leave him too far away to be of help in an emergency. Besides, he got the impression that Mr. Jessup was quite capable of protecting his family.
And, as Peter kept having to remind himself, he was not Hailey’s bodyguard. That both relieved and irritated him, which also made no sense. He had zero confidence in his own ability to ensure her safety. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to.
He groaned, hating the fear and indecision that had plagued him since his accident. This was one of the many reasons why he couldn’t return to his former profession, no matter what his grandparents or Miguel said.
And he needed to get going if he intended to be on time. It really was too late to cancel without a good reason anyway, and he didn’t want to disappoint Gran. She’d video called every day this week to check on him. When she called this morning, she’d informed him that she’d gotten up early to procure fresh fish from a local specialty market and was going to make him the best fish and chips he’d had in a long time. He smiled, remembering herexcitement. She did love to take care of her grandkids, and he was the only one close enough to spoil on a regular basis since his sister was still in England and his brother traveled so much.
Shoving his phone and wallet into his pocket, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. Once he was in the car and driving north, he let his mind wander to Hailey’s situation again. He’d worked plenty of protection details before, but her situation baffled him.
Most people who employed the services of a personal protection agent had an obvious reason for why they needed security. Government officials were often subject to death threats or other forms of intimidation for their policies or political alliances. Billionaires had people out for their money. Movie stars, music artists, or other public figures frequently needed protection from rabid fans or stalkers. Women—and in some cases men—sometimes needed professional help to keep them safe from a violent ex.
Hailey fit none of those profiles. And there was no chance she’d simply been a victim of a random act of violence. Yesterday’s attack had been decidedly targeted.
His skin started to prickle, and his stomach lurched. It felt like the temperature had just jumped ten degrees. He glanced at the AC controls, but they were still set to max to offset the brutal August day. A wave in front of the vent confirmed cold air was still blowing through.
Then he realized where he was. Around the next bend in the road was the spot where he’d gone through the guardrail two years ago. In the aftermath of yesterday’s events, he’d had a chance to think about his lack of panic when driving past here yesterday. He’d hoped his days of unreasonable anxiety around this location were over. He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. Apparently not. He might not remember the night of his accident, but his body did.
Why couldn’t things just be easy? He knew the answer—hadspent quite some time discussing it with his church small group. Living in a fallen world often meant being surrounded by brokenness, being broken himself. But he also knew there was hope, and he had to cling to that. Implementing one of the breathing techniques he’d been taught at his most recent therapy session, he forced his fingers to relax, and then he prayed until the site of his near-death disappeared behind him.
About an hour later, he arrived at his destination. Despite the scorching heat and little rain they’d had over the last couple of weeks, Gramps’s flower beds were flourishing. Stretching the full length of the yellow-brick house, they looked like something from a home garden magazine. The backyard held more of the same, plus several raised beds where Gran grew her prizewinning tomatoes.
The front door swung open, and Gramps stepped onto the narrow walkway that connected the house to the driveway. His wide smile was contagious, and Peter felt some of his stress trickle away as he climbed out of the car.
“Thought you’d never get here.”
Peter checked his watch. “I’m five minutes early.”
Gramps clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah well, guess we just missed you. Come on in, your gran has everything just about done.”
As they approached the flowers, Peter made a point to slow his steps and give them a good once-over. “You haven’t lost your touch, I see.”
His grandpa’s eyes twinkled. “Gives me something to do.”
