Warning Signs (Love Inspired Suspense) (7 page)

She thought back to how he’d almost decided not to join her in Maine. Even raising his pay hadn’t made him jump on board right away. She tried to think back to the day Nick had texted her, saying he was in. Had he given a reason for the sudden change in plans? She didn’t think so. All she could remember was her own elation that Stepping Stones was going to be her home. With an interpreter to help reconnect her with the people she remembered from her childhood, she’d believed there was no way this replanting of roots could fail.

Except it had.

Owen waited for her compliance. As gentle as he’d been with her a moment before, she knew if she wanted to disobey, his request for her silence would become an order. With his feet firmly planted as they were, she read his message loud and clear.

Her hands were tied.

But even if they weren’t, she would do whatever it took to uncover the truth. Miriam nodded and signed, “Okay. You have my complete assistance in this matter. I brought Nick here. If he is the supplier, then I have a lot to make up for to these people. The retribution for their injustice is more important than my retribution for the pain he has caused me.”

Owen’s jaw set; his dark eyes became lethal. “No,” he signed with sharp movements. “Not more important. Just as important. You’ll have your day, Miriam. I promise you. You’ll have your day.”

SIX

M
iriam accelerated her Vespa around the bend in the road. The view of the endless ocean would appear as soon as she exited the thick forest of back roads leading to her home. More than ever she wanted to hit the waves and swim out to her lighthouse no matter how cold the water. In fact, the colder the better. She imagined the frigid waters numbing her core and easing the pain from Nick’s proverbial knife in her back.

Miriam hoped it wouldn’t be long before she could fire Nick. It would be so hard to have him by her side day by day, but she resolved not to let Nick’s betrayal hurt her anymore.

She gave her scooter more gas, feeling the vibration of the motor under her seat. A feeling she remembered experiencing as a child when Grandpa Hans took her out for a ride on it. A memory Miriam relished with joy, because it reminded her that Stepping Stones was not a place she’d dreamed up. Her few visits here had really happened. All the images from those visits were real memories, not whimsical illusions of a lonely girl.

Miriam broke through the forest into a clearing and caught a glimpse of her home sitting high up on the cliff, looking out over the sea in all its splendor and glory. An old ship-captain’s home with a widow’s walk perched on the rooftop. Its gray clapboard siding and white trim needed a fresh coat of paint and the roof was missing some shingles, but for the most part, Miriam had inherited a real gem.

The offers to purchase since the reading of the will conveyed that. A few times she’d hesitated in her refusal. Maybe she could take the money and go buy herself a place in the world. Except deep down she knew that would take a lot more than money. She knew what she needed were roots—like the roots her grandparents’ home offered. The fact that the principal job opened up shortly after the reading of the will made it feel like an invitation to come home and claim those roots as her own.

Out over the watery horizon, the sun said its last goodbyes as Miriam zipped along with the cliff’s edge on her one side and the conifer-filled forest on her other. Her home sprang up at the end of the winding road right before it dropped off into the wide-open sea.

As she neared her house, a pickup truck parked out in front caught her attention. Miriam slowed and flipped up the tinted visor of her helmet to identify it as Owen’s rented truck. She’d seen him park near her in the school parking lot that morning. Not that she’d been waiting for him to arrive or anything. She’d just happened to be looking out her office window when he’d pulled up.

Miriam wondered why he was at her home now, then realized she hadn’t informed him of her leaving school. After the horrendous afternoon of convincing parents the school campus was safe and the fire was a lone incident, Miriam had craved some solitude.

Owen couldn’t have been serious about her not leaving his side. She would need to tell him she could take care of herself. She didn’t need a babysitter. Not to mention, his idea was preposterous.

The truck’s headlights turned on and it drove toward her. The fact that he couldn’t sit tight and wait for her to reach him said he probably had a lot to say and she wasn’t going to like any of it. Miriam pulled over and braced herself for the tongue-lashing, or more like the hand-lashing, she was about to receive.

She smiled and bit her lower lip. She wouldn’t admit it to his face, but it was nice having another person on the island who spoke her language. Even if he was about to yell at her.

Miriam lifted her helmet off her head and let her hair flow freely. She trailed her fingers through her hair, then paused when the truck’s speed exceeded past common sense out on this cliff. She kicked the bike stand down to prop the scooter up and straddled over it.

The truck propelled forward even faster. Miriam’s stomach rolled in apprehension. Something didn’t feel right. Almost hostile, even. But that couldn’t be the case. Owen wouldn’t harm her, would he?

The idea that he might have a dangerous streak made her queasy. She swallowed hard and watched the truck careen around the curve of the cliff, coming closer at its ridiculous speed. Miriam lifted her foot over the bike to get off. When the truck veered across the road and entered her lane, her escape became fumbled.

Owen was going to hit her! The idea was unfathomable, but she didn’t have time to think it could mean anything else.

Miriam stumbled back, realizing she wouldn’t be able to get out of the truck’s path fast enough. She flung her helmet into the street for a blind dive off the edge of the road and down into a patch of prickly trees and brush. The smack of hard earth ricocheted through her bones, but even so, she pushed herself into a roll to get farther away from the road. A solid tree trunk ended her momentum with a jolt. Her lungs ached as all her air expelled in a rush. Stunned and bleary-eyed, she struggled to sit up and scan her surroundings.

Her scooter remained parked. From her position, Miriam couldn’t be sure if Owen was still on the road or if he’d driven away. She was sure he’d meant to hit her, though.

She could feel herself gasping and forced her body to relax enough to refill her lungs deeply. She would need air to think clearly in case Owen came back.

Owen.

Tears pricked her eyelids. She did not want to believe he could ever be so cruel. So dangerous. She needed to call the sheriff, but with the two of them being friends, that line of thinking could be futile. Especially if it was the good sheriff who’d brought Owen here to scare her off in the first place. Maybe it was Sheriff Grant sending all those notes...and maybe it was Owen who’d blown up her car. It would explain why he’d been down in that ditch.

Determined to find out, Miriam pushed her body up to stand, but her ankle gave out from under her. She nearly went back down, but hunched over to balance her weight before she could.

A sprain, she told herself, while she became aware of all her sore places screaming out. A burning feeling came from her legs where her skin was scraped—her long skirt and silk stockings were not the best protection.

Miriam didn’t think any bones were broken, but she assessed each of her movements carefully while slowly gaining her feet. She pushed her hanging hair out of her eyes and swept a shaky hand down her face. Stickiness pulled her attention to her palm—smeared blood covered her hand.

She was hurt in too many places.

A sudden feeling of vulnerability overcame her.

Miriam shot glances up and down the empty street. The truck was gone. And so was the sun.
I need to get out of here,
was her only thought.

Miriam stuck to the safety of the trees as she made her way to her house. She wondered, though, if she was moving at all. It wasn’t more than a thousand yards, but with cut-up legs and a sprained ankle, every step posed a challenge, especially with her head pinging back and forth from front to back. She wasn’t able to hear if someone was behind her—or coming back for her.

Pain shot from her ankle, and Miriam inhaled with a wheeze of breath through her clenched teeth. She needed to get off it for a minute. She leaned against a tree to inspect it in the growing darkness. A pine needle protruded from her ruined silk stockings. She plucked it out as headlights appeared down the road. She pushed through the pain and raced around the tree to be shielded from view.

The only reason to come out this far was to come to her house. For seven months now, she’d wanted nothing more than for someone to visit her. No one ever came, so she didn’t believe for a second this visitor was looking to chat it up over coffee.

The longer and lower shape of the vehicle told her it wasn’t Owen’s truck. She waited for it to reach her, but it seemed to be moving slowly. It stopped a few times. She thought maybe the driver knew she was in the woods—knew because they’d witnessed her dive into them.

Miriam stilled and plastered herself to the tree, not daring to move as the car crept by on the other side. She turned her head, waiting and watching for it to pass.

Only it didn’t.

The car stopped right behind her tree. Her fingernails bit into the hard bark of the trunk as she wrestled with what her next move should be. Miriam couldn’t tell if the person was still in the car or if he approached her. There would be no way for her to know until he was upon her. Not unless she peeked her head out to look.

She had two choices. Try to run home and make herself known, or run deeper into the woods. Either way, she was going to have to run. She couldn’t stand here all night playing hide-and-seek behind a tree. If someone wanted to find her, a tree was not going to protect her for very long.

Dear God, I can’t do this by myself, and I have no one to call for help on this island. I have never felt so alone...so isolated...so scared. Not even in the darkest of closets. I know You were there with me then, and I know You are with me now. I’m stepping out because I trust You to see me through to safety as You always have. See me, Father. Hear me, Father.

Miriam stepped straight into the dark forest, putting distance between her and the car on the road. With each step she fought the need to look over her shoulder to see if she was being followed. In the next second, a beam of light gleamed off the tree in front of her.

She had her answer. She was being followed, and whoever it was had a flashlight.

Miriam frantically picked up her pace, weaving through branches and trees. The bouncing ray of light grew bigger and ensconced her surroundings. It told her he was right behind her. Her upper arm flung back when something grabbed her. Miriam cried out in fear and frustration at being caught, but the grip on her arm triggered a past lesson to resurface automatically.

In one swoop, Miriam whipped around and banged her fist into the wrist that held her. The force loosened her assailant’s hold, giving her enough time to slam her palm up into his nose. The flashlight went flying above her, blinding her for a second before it landed behind her and settled its beam on...Owen.

He stood before her, holding his nose, his other hand up in surrender. But that didn’t make her want to stick around. Miriam stepped back to run again.

“Wait. Don’t run,” he signed, halting her. “What happened out on the road? Were you in an accident?”

Miriam’s chest rose and fell. She didn’t answer him, but stood still and silent, trying to decide if she should trust him or not.

“Are you hurt?” Owen stepped closer, and Miriam retreated a step. “When I heard you had left the school without me, I ran to the parking lot and found my truck gone. I was so afraid—” His signing stopped in midair. His exploring eyes assessed her face.

Miriam wanted to believe more than anything that Owen wasn’t in that truck earlier. She thought if he was, then he was a good actor. His concern for her felt sincere. But if it wasn’t him, then she was back at square one.

She noticed him squinting. He couldn’t see her very well with the light shining on him and not on her.

She picked up the flashlight to put them both into the light. She searched his face for any clue that he might be lying. Any twitch of a smile at the sight of his handiwork on her face. Or raised eyebrows in mock surprise.

Instead his face twisted in confusion, then morphed into anger.

Or fake anger, she reasoned, and signed, “If you thought you could run me down to make me leave, you thought wrong. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Run you down?” Owen signed with genuine shock on his face. “Is that what happened?” He reached out again.

Miriam yanked her arm away before he could make contact. “Yes. With your truck.” She stepped back on her bad ankle and winced a bit before she masked her pain from him.

“You’re hurt,” he signed. Apparently her masking capabilities were lacking.

“I’m fine,” she signed.

“No, you’re not.” He clenched his teeth before he continued signing, “Who wants you off this island, and why?”

She couldn’t give him an answer. Saying it was him who wanted her off the island didn’t feel right to her. Especially with real anger radiating from him. It didn’t feel faked. The fever look of his eyes cut into her resolve. She could feel herself swaying to believe he hadn’t been behind the truck’s wheel. Did she dare let it melt her distrust in him?

“Someone wants you off this island for a reason,” he continued more slowly, his rage contained. “It’s stopping you from doing your job. Don’t you want to know why?”

Miriam hesitated before she nodded her answer.

“Then let me help you find out.”

Air rushed out of her lungs. She hadn’t realized she’d held her breath. So afraid and alone. Owen’s offer beckoned to her better than any lifesaver float.

But should she trust him?

Did she have a choice?

He spoke her language.

So had Nick.

“How do I know it wasn’t you who ran me down?” she signed before making her decision.

“I promise you it wasn’t me. But if you need more proof than that, I was still at the school when you left. Check with your fire chief. I just left him.”

“I don’t know who I can trust,” she signed.

Owen unclipped his phone from his waist and thumbed out a text. He hit Send and gave her the phone.

Miriam read the text he sent to the fire chief, asking what time he’d left him. A moment later the phone vibrated in her hand. The reply read 6:30.

Less than fifteen minutes ago. There was no way Owen would have been able to run her down, return to the school to switch cars and get back to her and be in the chief’s presence at the same time.

“It wasn’t me. Now will you let me help you?” He reached for her elbow with a gentle hand.

Miriam nodded tentatively, but then made her mind up and leaned her weight onto him. Relief flooded her as the pressure was taken off her foot. She squeezed her eyes through the pain and let him guide her out of the woods and back to the road.

Up close she could see the car he drove was a deputy’s olive-green cruiser. He held the door for her, all the while assessing her every move. Definitely not someone who meant her harm. She felt comfortable with her decision and she relaxed back into the seat as he came around to the driver’s side.