My Deadly Valentine - By Valerie Hansen & Lynette Eason Page 0,39
things right with Holly. Today had been a start. When she turned left onto the long drive that led to her house, a prayer whispered through him.
Lord, I’m so new at this. Please continue to help me know what to say and what to do. I’m a different person than I was six years ago, but You and I are the only ones who know it right now. Give me the opportunity to apologize to Holly. And maybe the chance to show her I’m trustworthy now and see if there’s anything left to build a relationship on. I know it’ll take time. Help me be patient.
His prayer trailed off as he pulled into his drive. Buckeye’s truck sat in the spot where he’d parked this morning. A good and faithful friend was hard to find but his dad had one in Stan Buck, or Buckeye to everyone who knew him.
Eli would make sure there was a little something extra in the man’s paycheck this week even though he knew Buckeye didn’t expect that. He also knew Buckeye had a single daughter with a baby on the way. A lot of the man’s check went to help with her medical expenses.
Entering the house, Eli noted the scent of roast and rolls still lingered in the air and knew he’d find some leftovers in the fridge.
Miz Hannah had been the family cook since Eli was two. She’d been like a grandmother to him and was as much a part of the family as Eli himself. When he was twelve, and his mother had taken off to parts unknown, Hannah had smothered him with as much love as he could stand.
And when they’d been teenagers, Holly had been in and out of this house almost on a daily basis.
Then he’d left and broken her heart.
And he’d been too self-centered to worry about it. Regret pierced him. He’d always justified leaving by telling himself that he’d asked her to go with him and she’d refused. Now, he realized just how selfish he’d been to expect her to leave her sick mother and follow after him…and his dreams.
“Dad?” Eli entered the den and found his father sitting in his wheelchair, he and Buckeye watching a preseason baseball game on the big-screen television. His outstretched casted leg hung from the traction device designed to keep the limb as immobile as possible.
Eli flopped onto the couch beside Buckeye. “Who’s winning?”
“It’s tied right now.”
For the next half hour, Eli cheered and groaned according to his team’s performance, enjoying the evening with his dad.
The phone rang and Eli grabbed the handset from the coffee table. “Hello?”
“Eli? It’s Holly.”
The hoarse whisper set his teeth on edge and his cop instincts on high alert. “What’s wrong?”
“I think someone’s trying to get in my house.”
TWO
With a trembling hand, Holly hung up the phone and went back to the window to push the curtain aside a millimeter. Duster, her beloved German shepherd, whined at her side and Sassy, a shy border collie, yipped at the door.
After taking some nausea medicine, her mother had finally fallen asleep. Needing the distraction from her constant replaying in her mind of the assault, Holly had planned to go over her personal bills. She’d just settled at the table to work when she heard a noise outside.
She’d jumped, startled. A little uneasy. Then she’d laughed at herself and decided she was still jumpy after her ordeal at the shop. Then she’d heard it again and noticed the dogs were restless. When she’d looked out the window, a shadow had passed by.
She’d dialed 9-1-1 then hung up before it even rang. What if someone wasn’t out there, and it was just her overactive imagination and on-edge nerves due to the break-in at her store? And she really didn’t want to deal with Alex again. But if someone really was skulking around outside and she needed help…
So she’d called Eli.
Did he still carry a gun?
Another rattle against her back door. Her stomach dropped to her toes only to bounce back up into her throat. Oh, Lord, please…
Duster’s ears went flat against his head. Sassy had disappeared. All she had to do was tell Duster to “dust it up, boy” and he’d go after whatever she pointed at. But she couldn’t do that yet.
A weapon. She needed a weapon. She had her mother to protect. Avoiding the windows as much as possible, she skirted her way into the kitchen. The block of knives sat by the sink.