Chapter 3
Chapter Three
A flash of light pulled me from my thoughts. It was the blinking neon sign from Emmet's Diner. A few heads bobbed in the windows as people hunched over their plates of Emmet's steak and eggs. It wasn't midnight yet, but that didn't stop people from ordering the midnight special. It was famous in these parts. The diner sign was what I'd always considered a beacon of light letting travelers know they were just two curves away from Ripple Creek.
I was close and the dread I'd been trying to avoid was creeping up my spine like a cold hand. Nana had to be all right. She'd been my only family for years. There just couldn't be a world without her. After the terrible tragedy of losing my parents, I'd been spared a second tragedy. Even though my mom had enthusiastically entered the glossy, champagne filled life of the rich and sometimes even famous (I distinctly remembered a party where my mom was exceptionally nervous about hosting because two movies stars were going to be there. I was expecting Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen, but I got some old guy and his wife who didn't look the least bit famous to me) she had the forethought to make certain her mother, Grandma Evie, as my parents called her, got custody of me if something happened to both my parents. The alternative would have been Grandma Katherine, although, she hated the Grandma label and told me I could just call her Katy. At Katy's house you had to ask permission to leave the table, and you were never ever allowed to put your feet on the couch. At Grandma Evie's, feet on the couch was not only allowed but encouraged. One of our favorite games was 'don't touch the floor'. With a snap of her fingers, Nana would turn the entire floor of her cottage into hot lava, and we had to climb across furniture to avoid burning to a crisp.
My phone rang. I reached for it so urgently, so clumsily, it slipped down into no man's land between the seat and console. I frantically jammed my fingers into the narrow space and scraped the back of my hand on the edge of the seat belt clasp as I yanked the phone free. "Nana," I said without even looking at the screen.
A deep throat clearing followed. "Scottie, is that you?"
"Roy, thank goodness. Are you at my grandmother's house?"
"Evie's house? Well, no, Scottie. I saw you called. I'm not in Ripple Creek. Didn't your grandmother tell you? I retired my badge. I'm living in a retirement community in the city."
I'd been so busy the past few months, at work and with wedding plans, I'd hardly had time to call Nana. It seemed I'd lost track of what was happening in Ripple Creek. Was that what Nana meant when she said it was too late when I asked about calling Roy? I hoped that was all she meant. "Congratulations, Roy. I'm sorry I called you so late, but Nana called me a few hours ago and she sounded—she sounded—" that was when it really struck me. Nana sounded scared. The only other time I'd heard her sound scared like that was when I'd gotten a terrible fever, and the doctor put me in the hospital for a few days. "Roy, something's wrong. She sounded frightened, almost as if she was running from something or someone. I'm almost at Robin Road now."
"Oh dear. I'll call my nephew, Dalton, and let him know," Roy said. I wondered if Roy really had slipped mentally. I'd grown up with Dalton Braddock, Roy's nephew. During those school years, I'd developed what might be termed a five alarm fire crush on Dalton. There had almost even been a kiss during a game of truth or dare at Bev Emmerson's twelfth birthday, but, alas, Dalton said he had a slight cold and didn't want to get me sick. Naturally, I was beyond heartbroken and cried on Nana's shoulder until her sweater was wet with tears. Dalton's father got a job in the city when he was thirteen, and they moved away. Last I heard, he was a detective in a big city precinct.
"I'm sorry, Roy, but I don't think Dalton can be of assistance up here in Ripple Creek." I tried my hardest not to sound patronizing, but the words were coming out all wrong.
"Guess you haven't heard that news either," Roy said. "You should call your grandmother more," he scolded. "Dalton moved back to Ripple Creek to take over the position of ranger. I'll call him and let him know he should get right over to your grandmother's house." A fleeting moment of schoolgirl giddiness swept through me, then I reminded myself that this was no time for blushing or nervous trembles. I hadn't seen Dalton in years, and I was sure the sparks had been extinguished long ago. And since the sparks only ever came from one direction, Dalton probably would not even remember silly, giggling Scottie Ramone.
"Yes, please call Dalton, and tell him to meet me at Nana's house."
"I'll do it as soon as we hang up. Don't worry, Scottie. Everything will be fine." His words reassured me for all of a second. I came around the corner where Nana's cottage was nestled between pines and spruces. There were only a few houses on the small road. Without the lights of the city and with most everyone in bed, the dark enveloped my little car like a black blanket. Weak moonlight filtered through the tall evergreens dotting the landscape, but it wasn't enough to provide me any comfort.
Nana's kitchen light gave me a touch of relief, but she hadn't turned on her porch light. She never went to bed without turning on her porch light. She said it was more to welcome people than keep them away. That was the way Nana lived her life.
I pulled in the driveway and left my headlights on. They illuminated her cottage, the wonderful house I grew up in. I'd been pulled away from a six bedroom penthouse with views of the entire city to live in a small two bedroom home with a postage stamp sized living room and a kitchen that was so tiny you could crack open eggs on one counter and pour them into the frying pan on the stove behind you without taking a single step. I loved our cozy little fairy tale cottage. It always felt like home. Nana made sure of it.
A thought occurred to me. If Nana was hiding from someone or something, then the headlights might give the person an advantage. I turned off the lights and climbed out of the car. The night air was crisp, but the warm edges of the summer day still clung to the surrounding trees and shrubs. I slammed the door, deciding if someone with nefarious intentions was lurking about the place, they needed to know that help had arrived and their plan had been thwarted.
As those heroic, brave thoughts played through my head, I concluded that I wasn't exactly ready to face down an attacker. Nana's garden hoe was leaning against the front of the house. Her flower beds had been newly planted with lavender.
A noise, a heavy footstep crunching dead pine needles, torpedoed me into action. I grabbed the hoe and wielded it like a sharp sword, holding it out in front of me and keeping my grip tight, so I could swing it at a moment's notice. It wasn't the most menacing weapon, but with the right amount of force it could do some damage.
I peered into Nana's front window. It gave me a clear view of the cozy front room and the kitchen. There was no sign of her. A breath caught in my throat as a reflection appeared in the window, a reflection that was most assuredly not my own. It was taller and broader and darker.
"Hold it right there," a deep voice ordered from behind.