All My Strength (5) (The Mile High Club) Page 14

  Wendy circled the house, slipping once on the grass. She checked every window and every lock, but Carson was a careful man. He didn’t take chances, and every single point of entry was secure.

  Not to be deterred, Wendy circled again, this time with an eye on what might be broken. The weakest point had to be the sliding glass door. Carson had complained bitterly about the cheap quality of the materials and how hard it was to protect a house with a weakness like that.

  First she tried jimmying the door. When that didn’t work, Wendy said, “Fuck this.” With a rueful grin up at the sky she said, “Sorry, John.”

  As a military man, John could curse a blue streak, and then a purple, red, and yellow streak to match. But he hadn’t liked to hear Wendy curse. He liked to think that she was the ‘good’ one. She found a huge rock. Lifting both hands and closing her eyes, she brought the rock down on the sliding glass door with all her might. The glass shattered, leaving tiny shards in her hair and on her skin. Before opening her eyes, she stepped back and carefully brushed the glass off her face, shaking her hair while the tiny shards of glass fell.

  After kicking all of the leftover shards out of the pane, Wendy stepped over the threshold with a shaky sigh of relief. At first she was frozen. She really wanted to take a shower, but duty came first. She called 9-1-1 and explained about the chase and the accident. Wendy said she needed to file charges, but had also had an accident and her car was wrecked. She asked if an officer could be sent to the house when one was available.

  The living room was a mess by the time Wendy had broken the door and walked through with muddy and wet shoes, but right now Wendy was simply grateful to be there. She took off her shoes and undressed at the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t want to bring all that filth into the bedroom. She should have time for a quick shower.

  As fast as she needed to be, Wendy couldn’t bring herself to run up the stairs. She was just too tired. She found a sweatshirt and pants that wouldn’t look terrible when the police showed up, and then she took a quick hot shower, determined that when this whole ordeal was over, she would grab a book and camp in the bath until she turned into a raisin and then when she was perfectly warm and content, she would go to bed and sleep for a week.

  Wendy bandaged her hand, and dressed, even to her shoes. Normally she roamed the house barefoot, but there was all of that glass downstairs and if the cops wanted her to go with them to describe what had happened, she’d prefer to be ready. The way the muscles in her legs burned, climbing up and down the stairs was more of a chore than usual.

  It was never Wendy’s intention to fall asleep in the arm chair while she waited. With book in hand, she turned on the lamp. Wendy ignored the mess and the wind blowing into the room, and read until her eyes swam. Somehow her head nodded, and Wendy slept until she was awakened by the doorbell.

  With a yawn, she stiffly pushed up from the chair, every muscle tight and screaming from overuse. “Be right there,” Wendy called out.

  She didn’t even think about what she was doing when she opened the door. It only occurred to her hours later that the three men might never have crashed and might have circled back for her. Wendy was lucky. It was Nate.

  Wendy opened the door, “Come in. Can you tell me what happened to the other car?”

  “I’d like to take your statement first,” Nate said. He had a notebook which he flipped open. Glancing over at the sliding glass door, Nate frowned, “Did they make unauthorized entry here?”

  It was very tempting to say yes. Wendy blushed, “No. That was me. It’s a long story, so we’ll get to the broken door somewhere toward the end if you don’t mind me starting at the beginning. Shall we sit down?”

  “Of course.”

  Wendy figured Nate was probably indulging her because she looked so terrible. Limping to the sofa, Wendy sat down. Nate sat down beside her but left a gap in the middle. It was very polite of him. Wendy found herself liking this deputy. Nate wasn’t a person she’d ever really had reason to communicate with much. He and his wife had three kids and found shopping in the next town over cheaper so they didn’t spend a lot of time coming and going through the mini-store. Wendy had probably said hi to Nate five or six times in her whole life.

  She told the whole story from start to finish, how Temper had dropped her off here at the rental house, how she’d packed a bag for herself and Carson, and how driving down the road she had passed the pickup, and that they had turned around. She described her frantic drive down the hill and the car crash. Wendy edited this particular section a bit. It seemed crazy to say that divine intervention had saved her life. She didn’t even believe herself when she thought it. She described her walk back to the house, how she stopped for a few hours when the rain was at its worst, and how she realized she couldn’t get in without a key.

  After she’d finished telling her story, Wendy said, “What happened to the men following me? I heard a huge bang and thought I saw an explosion, but they’d gone past me a mile or so, so I never saw exactly what happened.”

  “We have three bodies. Given your description at the scene of the fire, it’s probably the same three men who set fire to your house and who followed you up here. If they would commit arson, they would commit murder. You’re lucky they didn’t catch you.”

  “That’s what I think, too,” Wendy said. She asked, “Was there any evidence left behind? If we could trace who they worked for, it might help bring my husband’s killer to justice. I believe they thought I had evidence against someone powerful in the government. I don’t know what their orders were. I believe they set fire to my house to destroy evidence.”

  “It’s too soon to tell. We have several different cases that seem related. I might have more questions later. Can I reach you here?” Nate asked.

  Wendy thought of Carson. No, she wasn’t going to hang around an empty house with Carson in the hospital. She said, “Only through tomorrow. I’m worried about Carson.”

  “The fellow hurt in the blaze?”

  Wendy nodded. She added, “I’m going to stay with him at the hospital until he’s released, then we’ll come back here, at least until the end of the month. Someone else wants to rent the house through August. You can get in touch with me through Temper after that.”

  “Here’s my card. I hope things turn around for you.” Nate nodded and let himself out. Wendy just sat on the couch for several minutes, unable to move. She was too tired to walk up the stairs and go to sleep.

  Finally Wendy forced herself to stand. She locked the door, although a lot of good that would do with the back door completely open. It’d be a wonder if the whole wild kingdom didn’t move in.

  Every muscle ached, but Wendy somehow managed to climb those stairs. She decided that if she ever rebuilt, it would be a single story house. Climbing stairs is fine when you’re ten, but as an adult she was ready for a single level.

  Changing into her t-shirt, Wendy crawled into bed. Before sleeping that night, she thought of Carson and wondered how he was and whether he had needed surgery. She thought that the nice thing to do would be to call the hospital and find out, but then Wendy remembered that there was only one phone hookup in the house. It was in the kitchen. That would require climbing down the stairs, pressing a bunch of numbers, and then walking back up the stairs again. Wendy just didn’t have that kind of energy. She was asleep before she could gather enough motivation to roll to the edge of the bed.

  Chapter 16

  WENDY TOTTERED DOWN the stairs, one hand on the wall. Every muscle in her body hurt. She discovered bruises on her hip and thigh from the impact when she rolled the car, and if she were honest with herself, she had no idea how she was going to get to Carson. But she would, because that’s what you did when someone you loved was in the hospital. Not ‘cared for’. Not ‘friends’. She loved Carson heart and soul. It might have taken a fire and maybe even an act of God to figure it out, but she wasn’t going to leave him wondering why he was alone.

  At the bottom
of the stairs, Wendy realized that she wasn’t alone. There, curled up on the couch with her Tina Wainscott book was her best friend, Temper. Wendy exclaimed, “How did you know I needed you? Did Nate call?”

  “Honey, I’m just wondering why you didn’t call,” Temper said in that backwards ‘angry friend way’ she had when she was pissed but still cared.

  “Because you have to work today, and I already kept you up with the fire,” Wendy explained. She couldn’t help smiling, even in the face of Temper’s scowl. She said, “Besides, I was way too tired to think straight. I didn’t even call the hospital. I really am glad you’re here, though. I had a terrible night.”

  “Yeah. Guess how I found out?” Temper’s smirk was something to behold. She clearly thought she held all the cards in this conversation...or was it an argument? Wendy was too exhausted to tell.

  Wendy settled onto the couch next to Temper, groaning like a person with bad knees. She said, “I have no idea.”

  “Carson called. He wanted to know if you were all right after yesterday’s excitement. It had been hours since we parted. By all accounts, you should have been there by his side. I told him that you were on your way there. Not that you should have been there three hours ago, mind, because I knew the man would check himself out of the hospital and go searching for you himself.

  “So you came here?”

  “So I called Nate who couldn’t tell me all of the details, but said there had been an accident on your road. He suggested that you were fine, but that it might not be a bad idea if I came up to visit in the morning.” Temper tucked a bookmark into the book and handed it back to Wendy.

  “You can finish reading it if you want,” Wendy said.

  “Oh, I will. I’m sure the hospital will be perfectly boring and a great place for reading. But hey, I get my way and will be driving you to the hospital like I said I should all along, so yay me,” Temper joked. Even in her coarse way, Temper was a true friend.

  Wendy said, “What about work?”

  “The bar is officially closed today. I called and told George all about last night’s shenanigans. Get this, he wrote down the license plate number from the pickup. He was terribly disappointed that he wasn’t able to help bring those guys to justice.” Temper laughed and added, “George was so proud of himself for getting that license plate number, I hated to burst his bubble and tell him that they were all dead and the pickup in a junk yard by now.”

  “Thank you. I don’t even have words,” Wendy started tearing up and then shook her head and hugged Temper.

  “Well, you better find some because I want to know everything that happened. I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone. I knew it.”

  “It’s quite a story. Shall I cook us some breakfast, and I’ll tell you all about it?” Wendy asked. She yawned and wondered whether she should try eggs or go lazy with oatmeal.

  “Hell, no. You get your ass upstairs and get into your visiting clothes. I’m taking you out to breakfast, my treat, and I don’t want any arguments.” Temper used her most ferocious tone, the kind reserved for rude customers.

  Wendy raised her hands, “Fine. We’re in agreement. I need another shower, though.”

  It took an hour for Wendy to get ready, mostly because she was so stiff and tired from her adventures. By the light of day, the mountain was beautiful. The storm had brought out the vivid greens of the grass and the trees. The air was fresh and full of that beautiful spring smell of life.

  They climbed into Temper’s car.

  Wendy cautioned her, “Drive slowly. There have already been two wrecks on this mountain today.”

  “Fine. Now start talking. I want to hear everything. Nate is about as good at gossip as a tree stump.” Temper complained. She threw Wendy’s duffel bag into the trunk with her own. Hopefully, she could talk Wendy into a hotel room tonight, and maybe Carson would be cleared for release in the morning.

  Wendy gave Temper the whole story, even the part where her seatbelt unlatched itself and she was thrown out of the car.

  When she told Temper that, Temper licked her lips and glanced at Wendy, “You’re serious? That really happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Holy hell. That changes my whole life-view.” Temper said.

  “You know, I think it does me, too,” Wendy said. They were on the highway now, nearing the diner where they would eat. Wendy added, “I don’t get it. I’ve had plenty of other bad things happen and no intervention, and why didn’t John get saved like that? It was so random.”

  Temper glanced at Wendy and said, “One of life’s mysteries, I guess. I’m sure not going to argue fate on this one. I’m just glad to have my friend intact. So chicken fried steak or bacon?”

  “Bacon.”

  After breakfast they were back on the road again. Wendy zoned out while Temper drove. Wendy was still aching all over from last night and found every movement stretched a muscle that protested its mistreatment.

  Wendy arrived just in time for Carson’s release. He had a number of follow up appointments, but she could take him home. Temper joked about not getting her day’s vacation away from Wilkerson. Wendy had to tell the whole story one more time, but at least this time Temper broke in from time to add her own opinions.

  It seemed an age before they pulled into the driveway of the rental house. Neither Carson nor Wendy were at their peak, both limping toward the door. As they approached the door, Wendy said, “I didn’t lock it. My key to the house is still in the car.”

  “With the screen door broken in the back, I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” Carson put his hand on Wendy’s shoulder. She felt comforted by his touch and snuggled closer, but they were both fragile, so her moves weren’t quite as enthusiastic as the love she felt for him.

  They slept together in Carson’s bed that night. If their love was quiet and stately while their bodies were healing, it was no less real. It would be a while before either Carson or Wendy were up for making love, but they were together, and that was what mattered.

  They slept-in the next morning, joking about the nest of animals that would end up in their living room because they were both too tired to fix the screen glass door. With the sun beaming through the blinds, Wendy rested her hand on Carson’s chest and tucked in close to his side. Between the two of them they had found the few places where they could touch and not hurt.

  It was a new and delicate love for both, and yet as strong as steel cable.

  While they lay in bed Wendy said, “I know we’re here in this bed together, and that means something, but I’m not sure exactly what. Do you want more? I’m not talking just sex. I mean the whole of everything.”

  Carson closed his eyes. That level of question deserved a deep and considered answer. He said, “I’m attracted to you. I don’t know if we’re compatible. You might get tired of me after a year.”

  “Not likely. I love playing board games, so you definitely have an advantage in keeping my attention there. We seem to have a lot in common,” Wendy said.

  “Like our penchant for trouble?” Carson asked with an affectionate smile.

  “I wasn’t going to mention it.”

  Carson kissed the side of Wendy’s head just above her eyebrow, mostly because it was the only place he could reach the way they were laying. He said, “I love you, Wendy. I don’t know if it’s the eighty year love that can stand the test of time, but I want to find out.”

  “Me too.”

  Most of the day Carson and Wendy stayed awake in bed, too sore to do anything thrilling, but the comfort they drew from their conversation and the slow building of a foundation of trust and companionship served them well. They both lurched down the stairs arm in arm at lunch time. Wendy made sandwiches while Carson peeled sweet potatoes. He made a mean sweet potato fry, and he looked forward to sharing one of his favorite foods with Wendy.

  The next few days were magic. Wendy felt a little panicky at the thought that they would have to find a new home at the start of August. She was
n’t ready to abandon the vacation home. At least they had a week and a half to figure things out.

  ON THURSDAY CARSON and Wendy were expecting workers for a new sliding glass door. Carson had spent an hour on the phone with the landlord. Although the opening discussion was a little tense, once the landlord realized his renters weren’t going to stick him with a huge door bill, he lightened up.

  A car pulled into the driveway, and a man walked to the door. Neither Carson nor Wendy had been watching for this man, nor were they aware that he was going to visit. The doorbell rang. Carson opened the door, lifting his eyebrows when he was greeted by General McFarland himself.

  “What are you doing here?” Carson asked. It wasn’t a polite question, but Carson wasn’t trying to be rude. He was just shocked to see the general.

  “I don’t trust any of my staff. I’m about ready to fire the lot of them and start fresh,” McFarland said. He stood on the doorstep and waited.

  Carson honestly considered not allowing him in. If not the man himself, then his office, had caused a lot of people a lot of hurt.

  Wendy called out from behind Carson, “General, would you like some tea? I’m just about to brew a pot.”

  That solved the question as to whether Carson would invite him in.

  General McFarland said, “I’d love some.”

  Carson had no choice but to open the door wide. He let McFarland precede him, following behind with a limp so exaggerated that it made him look like a sailor with a peg leg. Not that Wendy would tell Carson that.

  McFarland got right to the point, “Jonas is still out. He’s managed to hole up somewhere in Wyoming. I’ve got a team on him, but with half of my men ready to switch sides, I’m hesitant to use them to flush him out. I don’t have anyone I can trust.”

  Carson pressed his lips together. This was why Carson worked for one man. This was why he didn’t talk to the enemy. He couldn’t very well tell McFarland that Drake had a team that could help or that the Red Rock company had some stand-up men who doubled as mercenaries. He didn’t say a word. He let Wendy carry the conversation.