Keeping Her Safe

TWO

Again, Mr. LeBlanc asked, “Do you want to contest the will?”

Hunter watched Rae. Guessing her thoughts was easy: If only she had the money to buy him out.

Her eyes lingered on her father’s signature. Was she thinking of Benton’s life insurance? There should be enough remaining after the funeral expenses to buy out Hunter’s share of the estate. Then she would own it all.

The thought caused something to lurch within him. He’d have money and freedom. He could leave, go somewhere to start again.

What about Benton’s warning?

She stood. “No, I won’t contest it. Do all the necessary paperwork, please. There’s no hurry. I know there will be things like income tax, and any liens to be sorted out.”

Hunter rose in turn as she reached across the table to shake Mr. LeBlanc’s hand.

“Call us when you have the papers ready,” she said, and walked past them both, out of the office and into the brilliant fall sunshine. Hunter shook the lawyer’s hand, then followed her out.

She said nothing all the way home. As soon as she’d parked the truck, she hurried into the workshop. A few minutes later, Hunter found her scribbling notes on a pad at the desk there. He hesitated. It had been nearly an hour since the lawyer had dropped his bomb, and Hunter still hadn’t absorbed it all.

Rae looked up as he walked toward her desk. “I guess I can’t tell you what to do, now that you own half of everything.”

Stolen from Rae, a voice inside him whispered, because you and Benton dabbled on the wrong side of the law before Benton panicked when another man—what was his name?—began to threaten him.

Was that the danger Benton had mentioned? Hunter pulled up a chair and sat at the end of the desk. “Rae,” he began, “we need to talk. I wasn’t completely truthful with you earlier.”

“How so?” She looked up from her writing.

“You asked when your father talked to me about violence, and I let you believe it was before I went to prison. I’m sorry. He did talk to me in prison, about violence and about something else. He visited with me in jail.”

She set down her pen and seemed to freeze there, waiting for him to continue. He went on. “Your father told me that you’re in danger.”

Her gaze pinned him. “In danger? How so?”

Here came the difficult part. How was he supposed to warn her, yet not tell her everything? Though Benton had wanted to confess his crime to his daughter, Hunter had no desire to tarnish his mentor’s memory. It didn’t feel right. For all Benton’s faults, he’d been a good father. And God knew that Hunter hadn’t been perfect, either. Enough reason not to defame the man.

Hunter leaned forward. “He didn’t go into detail, probably because he knew someone could be listening.”

“Why would he be concerned by that?” she asked innocently.

“All I know is he warned me that both of you were in danger, and that I needed to make sure you were all right.”

She bristled. “I’m as fine as I can be right now. Are you sure he wasn’t just asking you to check in on me occasionally?”

“If I were to just drop by to see if you’re all right, why give me half the estate, knowing that would make me stay?”

Her lips tightened. “There is no danger here.”

He scrubbed his face. “There is. Your father found gas-soaked rags here once, and thought he saw someone lurking around.”

She perked up. “That was only a few weeks ago. This is a woodworking shop. Sometimes we use solvents. He probably smelled them. And as for someone lurking around, this is an attractive area. I own—we own nearly half of this mountain. There’s public property all around here and people are bound to accidentally cross onto our land.”

“Your father wouldn’t warn me for nothing.” Even as he said that, Hunter wondered again if Benton’s mind had been ravaged by the cancer. “This is serious, Rae. You’re vulnerable right now, and your father was concerned enough to ask me to make sure that you’re safe.”

She waved her hand. “As you can see, I’m safe.”

He pressed on. “We should contact the police. They can step up patrols in this area, check out who might be using the land around you.” As the words left his mouth, he knew he was being hypocritical. Ten years ago, he and Benton had stolen valuable wood from government land.

No. Even though he’d gone to prison for arson—not theft—he’d learned his lesson.

Leaning back, Rae shook her head. “The police won’t do anything. They’re too busy.”

“Just go to them, Rae, or I will.”

Her brows shot up. “They won’t believe you.”

“Then listen to your father one last time.”

Rae pursed her lips. “We need proof. Did Dad write anything down?”

He sighed. “No.”

“And you want me to go to the police anyway?”

“Your father was more than just concerned. Your safety meant more to him than anything. That’s why he asked me to help. If you ignore his warning now, it’ll be as if he meant nothing to you.”

She sat a moment in silence. Hunter prayed for her to listen to reason.

Finally, she shrugged. “All right. We’ll go, but I honestly don’t think they can or will do anything.”

Rae didn’t want to go to the police, but even more, she didn’t want anyone to think her father’s love meant nothing to her. She was gathering up the papers on the desk, readying them for filing, when a sudden noise made her lift her head.

Something black whisked past the small window of the workshop door, startling her.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked.

“I just saw something outside.”

They moved toward the front of the workshop, but Hunter cut her off at the lathe. “Let me go first.”

Rae nodded. She was no fool. Hunter was big and brawny, and in regards to security, he was an asset to her shop.

Good grief, was she actually taking his warning seriously?

He threw open the door and stalked out. Rae followed.

The front of the place was empty. She’d seen the movement to the left, and hurried to the end of the building, stopping at the corner nearest her house, only a few feet away. Beyond, the forest stretched, its golden autumn leaves quivering in the breeze from the bay.

Years ago, Rae’s mother had planted New Brunswick violets along this shady side of the house, but after the shop had been rebuilt and the land trampled by workers, all that remained was moss.

Rae glanced along the house. A woman stood there, dressed in black, a digital camera dangling from her left hand.

Rae caught Hunter’s attention, flicked her head toward the stranger. He strode over. “May we help you?” he asked.

The woman turned. She looked familiar, but like so many slim, bottle blondes, she could have been anyone. Smiling, she picked her way over the soft moss toward them, yanking out one narrow heel when it sank into the ground. Rae noticed her spiked sandals, a strange choice of footwear for the season. They didn’t quite complement the expensive-looking business suit. Some of her hair had escaped the loose roll she wore, but she didn’t seem to care. Her makeup didn’t soften the hard edge to her expression, either.

Rae bit her lip. She liked herself, and what she’d become over the years, but a part of her regretted not being more feminine, as this woman seemed to be.

“Rae Benton?” The blonde said her name as though she’d just recognized an old school friend. She hadn’t. Rae knew all her old classmates, and this woman wasn’t one of them.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Rae asked as Hunter shifted closer to her. She didn’t need him to protect her. This woman was hardly a threat. Yet as soon as she thought that, she recalled her father’s concern about finding gas-soaked rags. A woman could do that as easily as a man.

“I’m Christine Stanton.” The blonde thrust out a business card. Hunter took it before Rae could move.

She glanced down at the card before he pocketed it. Real estate agent? That’s where she’d seen her before. The woman ran her own agency, and her face graced flyers, whole pages in newspapers and occasionally the sides of city buses.

“What can we do for you?” Rae asked.

“This is a wonderful piece of property!”

“It was a land grant to my great-grandfather.”

“Good hardwood?”

Beside her, Rae felt Hunter stiffen. “Like everywhere else,” he answered.

Still smiling, Christine walked past them. When she reached the driveway, she peered upward. Rae owned half of the highest mountain in the area.

No. She and Hunter owned it now. Not that one could call the slope a mountain. Once, years ago, Rae had flown out to British Columbia to see her mother’s family. Those things out there were mountains. This was just a large hill.

All the same, its rounded peak rose high above the workshop. Rae was about to tell Christine how much of the mountain she owned when she stopped. It was hardly this woman’s business.

As if sensing Rae’s suspicions, Hunter said, “You haven’t told us why you’re here.”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m here, Ms. Benton, to see if you’d be willing to sell.”

“Sell what?”

“The house, the workshop, the property.” Christine lifted penciled brows and fluttered her hand. “Your father is gone, and what use is all this to you now?”

Heat tore across Rae’s cheeks and she bit down hard. It took locking her knees and a fast prayer to keep her from chasing the woman to her car.

Lord, give me some patience.

“You’re not from around here, are you, Ms. Stanton?” Hunter asked.

“I recently moved to Green Valley, but I can tell a prime piece of real estate when I see one.”

Or an opportunity to take advantage of someone in mourning, Rae thought savagely. As soon as she did so, she regretted it.

Forgive me, Lord. She was to be in this world, but not a part of it. That meant not thinking so callously.

Hunter spoke. “Are you aware that Rae just buried her father this morning?”

Christine put on an appropriate look of sympathy, but Rae wasn’t convinced of its sincerity. “I did know,” the woman said. “And allow me to offer my condolences. I should have done that sooner. But being financially secure at this difficult time can help to ease the burden that mourning places on us. Your father was wise not to sell before this. The market wasn’t ripe like it is now.”

Rae frowned. “Are you saying you approached my dad before he died?”

The woman flushed. “Uh, no, I didn’t. I just assumed that he would have thought it at some time. But now, eco land is growing in value, and this would bring you a tidy sum. I can offer you—”

“I am not ready to slap up the For Sale sign yet, Ms. Stanton. I’m sorry you had to come all the way up here to hear that, but my business is growing and I have no inclination to sell.”

“Not to mention that I am half owner of this land.”

Rae had wanted to deliver that tidbit later, but Hunter’s words struck where they needed to. Christine’s jaw fell.

“Half owner?” she echoed.

“That’s right,” Hunter answered. “Robert Benton, Rae’s father, willed the land to both of us, along with the buildings and the business. So whenever you feel the need to discuss business, both of us need to be present. And I agree with Rae. There’s no need to sell, especially not today.”

Rae felt Hunter’s gaze settle briefly on her. While she wanted to stand up to this real estate agent by herself, she was quite glad to hear his words.

Maybe when she got her insurance money, she’d push for him to sell to her, but for now, they stood in united opposition to this worldly agent.

Rae liked the solidarity.

But it was hypocritical to want Hunter around only while it was convenient.

“I didn’t know.” Christine’s voice had dropped, as if she’d been expecting something totally different. A second later, her bright smile returned. Swinging her camera sassily, she added, “I’m the best agent in the area and can get you a great price for this place.”

“We’re not interested,” Rae said flatly.

After a glance at Rae, Hunter studied the woman with suspicion. “Why do you think this land is so special? What did you call it? ‘Eco’ land?”

“Just like those ecotours of environmentally sensitive areas of the world, I see places like this as returning to the way they should be, so the land can be enjoyed in an ecologically minded way.”

Rae found it a strain to stay polite. She’d done nothing to this land, so how could the woman insinuate otherwise? “Well, you have no worries there. My woods are going to stay this way for a very long time. We don’t allow lumber to be harvested anymore, and we don’t do anything to the forest. It’s exactly the way God meant it to be.”

“Well, like I said, money can provide the security you need. Give it some thought.”

“Who do you think might want this land?” Hunter asked.

She smiled again, making Rae shiver unexpectedly. “I have a few people in mind. Perhaps I could evaluate your property for you. Free of charge, of course.”

“No, thank you,” Rae answered.

“Are you sure? Acreage around here is going fast.”

The woman wasn’t getting the message, Rae thought. But she had managed to pique her interest. “What land around here? I haven’t seen any For Sale signs, and behind me is all provincially owned forest.”

“Don’t be fooled by the lack of signs. This area is ripe for development and I want you to benefit from it.”

Wasn’t she kind? Rae wanted to answer her own question, but by then the woman had drilled one of her thin stiletto heels into the soft edge of the driveway. With a yank, she pulled her sandal free and sashayed back to her little black coupe. When she turned at the end of the driveway, the car door showed her bold, smiling face along with her agency’s logo.

“I can’t believe what just happened.” With a shake of her head, Rae returned to the workshop. Hunter still stood outside. Through the window, she could see his back. He turned, as if scanning the property.

Her heart lurched. Was he actually considering Christine’s offer? Was he thinking of forcing her to sell this place?

Would he thwart her desire to make this shop viable again? Worry gnawed at her and she did her best to discard it. Don’t borrow trouble. You have enough on your plate today to deal with.

She’d make this place work better than ever before. She had to. She’d bring the business back to its former strength, and no one was going to stop her.

“Let’s go.”

Rae frowned at Hunter, who’d walked in while she was deep in thought. “Where?”

“To the police. We agreed, and we’d have been there and back by now if it wasn’t for that woman. She doesn’t change anything here. We need to talk to the cops.”

He was still concerned for her safety. That seemed to squash any suggestion that he wanted money out of their new arrangement. Otherwise he would have used the threat, along with this offer of Christine’s, to force her to sell.

She reluctantly followed him outside. It was going to be a long day. Reaching the truck, she turned. The half-bare trees beyond her house rattled in the wind, like dry, bony skeletons.

The milled lumber at the edge of the yard snagged her eye, and she saw that what had been a neat pile two weeks ago was now leaning awkwardly, almost like a makeshift teepee. Had the wind pushed over the boards? Or had trespassers knocked the lumber off its supports on their way across her land?

Shivering, she stole a glance at Hunter as he climbed into the truck. It was probably hikers, nothing more, and not worth mentioning.

All the way into Green Valley, she wondered how he was going to convince the police that someone wanted to hurt her. A dead man’s complaint of gas-soaked rags, burned up now, and the notion of trespassers, probably Christine and her staff checking out the place, were hardly worrisome.

That was as crazy as Rae sitting in the police station foyer with Hunter, waiting patiently for some officer to come out and listen to a supposed warning from her father.

Hunter had to be insane to think that the local cops would act on such weak evidence. They were going to think her dad had become deranged from the cancer.

Tears stung Rae’s eyes. She was hurting her father’s memory by coming here.

An officer entered the small foyer. The tall man glanced down at her, then his curious gaze settled on Hunter, who had risen when the security door opened.

The two men stared at each other. Immediately, Rae sensed tension between them. The officer stiffened, and Hunter’s hand strayed to his shoulder, where the scar showing above his collar deepened in color.

The policeman turned to her. “My name’s Mike Halloway. How can I help you two?”

Hunter answered. “This is Rae Benton. We need to report a danger to her.”

Rae rose. She didn’t want to censor Hunter’s words, but perhaps she could tell the police what Hunter had told her, without making her father look like a fool. “There could be a small amount of danger to my life.”

Halloway crossed his arms. “What makes you think that?”

She paused. “My father told him when he was in jail.”

“Prison. Hunter was in the federal prison, not the provincial jail.”

He knew Hunter had been incarcerated? They were on a first name basis? Was that the reason for his obvious tension?

“Whatever,” she told the officer. “The point is, my father believed my life was in danger, and asked Hunter to come back here to discover why that was.”

“Your father didn’t know?”

Her cheeks warmed. “No, he didn’t. And he didn’t tell me anything about it. He probably thought he could handle it, and was too proud to ask for my help.”

“Was it like him to do that?”

She wasn’t sure. She’d thought that her father had kept her informed on most, if not all, issues of importance, but he hadn’t told her about his will. Or even about his cancer until the very end. Feeling foolish, she shrugged.

Hunter looked impatient. “Can we discuss this in your office?”

“If you like.” Halloway led them into the small station, past some desks and into a row of cubicles that served as offices. He indicated for Rae to sit.

She’d never been in a police station before. She’d never even talked to an officer of the law before. And doing so now felt like a waste of everyone’s time.

“So,” Halloway began, pulling up another chair, while taking out a large notepad and pen. “What has happened to make you two think someone wants to harm you?”

Hunter repeated everything he’d said to her.

Halloway’s pen hovered over the paper, while Rae studied his profile.

She’d seen the officer before, she decided, at the hospital, the day before her dad had died. Moncton General Hospital was a busy place. There were usually dozens of people in the entrance alone. But she remembered seeing this tall policeman there.

Strangely, that memory made the hair on her scalp tingle and a chill trickle down her neck.

Halloway glanced up at her, his pen still poised above the blank paper. He met her startled gaze coolly and she found herself wondering what he was thinking. Maybe about how they were wasting his time?

Letting her exasperation flare, she stood. This was ridiculous. “Look, Hunter, we’ve reported it, such as it is. I don’t think there’s anything serious going on.”

Hunter scowled. “You may not care, Rae, but this could be serious. You can’t ignore it.”

“Why? What could be such a threat up there?”

Halloway looked over at Hunter. “What do you think we can do about this?”

Rae bit her lip. Hunter cared enough to drag her down to the station. Yet this was so foolish, so unnecessary.

She threw her little knapsack over her shoulder, then waved her hand. “Look, if you’re not going to do anything, we won’t waste time here. I’ve got too much to do.”

“Let me take down some information and we’ll increase our patrols by your house. Would you like us to drop by periodically?”

No, she didn’t want them to. She wanted to go home and rebuild her business, not look like a child afraid of imaginary threats.

But Hunter answered, “It wouldn’t hurt. It’s coming into hunting season and there’s a lot of unused land behind her house.”

Halloway paused. The only words written on the paper between them were, “Rae Benton feels there is a threat to her safety.”

She watched Hunter’s jaw tighten and again she felt the uneasiness swell between the two. Halloway shot her a calculating glance, and more shivers rippled down her spine.

When the report was finally finished, she hastily signed the bottom of it. And found herself anxious to be free of the uneasiness lingering in the cubicle.

THREE

Outside, the day was ending, and Rae had nearly reached her truck, which she’d parked around the corner from the station, when she heard her name being called.

She turned. Her cousin was hurrying down the street toward her. At their small truck, half a block away, stood Kirk, his arms folded as he leaned against the front bumper.

“Rae!” Annie gave her a warm hug. Years ago, after the fire, she had tried hard to be a mother figure to Rae, but young herself, and without children, she had ended up being more of an older sister.