Chapter Five #2
I hit the stage floor hard, Ransom's body covering mine, his arms cradling my head.
"Don't move." His words shook. "Just—don't move."
My pulse thundered in my ears. The theater had gone silent except for the settling creaks of the broken rig. Dust drifted down through the stage lights, creating hazy columns.
"Oh my God!" Vivian rushed over, her face sheet-white. "Rainey! Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I'm okay."
Ransom helped me sit up, his touch running over me—checking for injuries, making sure I was really whole. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping, and fury burned in his eyes.
Then the adrenaline crashed.
My hands started shaking. My legs felt like water. The full weight of what had almost happened hit me all at once—that rod could have killed me. Should have killed me. Six inches to the left and I'd be—
"Hey." Ransom pulled me against his chest, one hand cupping the back of my head. "You're okay. I've got you. You're okay."
I pressed my face into his shirt, tried to breathe through the trembling. His heart pounded under my ear, as fast as mine.
"That's it." He stood, pulling me up with him, his arm locked around my waist. "This has gone far enough."
Mason appeared from the wings, hammer still in hand, his face pale. "What happened?"
"What happened?" Ransom's voice could have cut glass. "Someone nearly killed her, that's what happened."
"It was an accident." Clay examined the broken rigging, his brow furrowed. "These old mounts, the cold weather makes metal brittle—"
Ransom shook his head, his hands fisted at his sides. "No. I don’t buy it. Not after everything that’s already happened.”
Sheriff Turley arrived within ten minutes—someone had called while I was still trying to get my legs steady. He examined the rigging, took photos, asked questions in that slow, deliberate way that made me want to scream.
His conclusion? "Could be sabotage, could be age.
Hard to say for certain without the county inspector taking a look.
" He scratched his jaw. "Look, Miss Bell, these old theaters have accidents.
And Halloween brings out pranksters. Until we have evidence of specific threats to specific individuals with clear intent to harm, there's not much I can do.
I'll have someone come check the setup tomorrow, but you folks might want to postpone rehearsals until then. "
"Postpone?" Vivian looked stricken. "We open in four days!"
"Better postponed than dead, ma'am," Turley said bluntly.
But Vivian was already shaking her head. "We've invested too much time, too much money. The festival depends on this production. We'll be careful, but we're not stopping."
After Turley left, Ransom pulled me aside, his hands gentle on my shoulders despite the hardness in his voice. "If the police won't take this seriously, then we do it ourselves. We find out who's doing this before someone actually gets hurt."
"Ransom—"
"No." He caught my chin, tilted my face up to his. "I almost watched you die today. By inches. Inches, Rainey. I'm not taking any more chances. We investigate. Together. Agreed?"
The fear beneath his anger—the genuine terror he was barely holding back—sent a sharp pang through my chest. "Agreed."
"Good." He kissed my forehead, lingering. "Now go home. Get changed. I'm taking you to dinner, and we're going to figure this out."
"A date?" Despite everything, I felt myself smile. "Ransom Hollis, are you asking me on a date?"
"I'm taking you to Midnight Eats to talk through what we know, but yeah." His mouth quirked. "It's also a date. I'll pick you up in an hour. Wear something pretty."
Heat flared in his eyes when I looked up at him through my lashes. "Anything else?"
"Yeah." He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Be thinking about whether you want me to stay tonight."
I WAS FASTENING MY favorite earrings—delicate drops with tiny garnets—when my doorbell rang.
My cottage on Maple Street was small but mine, decorated with castoffs from the shop and quilts Gran and I had made together.
I'd changed into a simple gray sweater dress and ankle boots, left my hair down the way Ransom liked it.
"Coming!" I grabbed my purse and hurried to the door, already smiling. "Hi, Ran—"
But it wasn't Ransom standing on my porch.
Mason filled the doorway, his stocky frame backlit by the streetlamp. He twisted a pair of work gloves in his hands.
"Mason." I kept one hand on the doorframe, didn't invite him in. "What are you doing here?"
"After what happened today at the theater..." His eyes were too focused behind the fall of his too-long hair. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. Check on you."
"I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, but—"
"You shouldn't be alone right now." He took a step closer, and I instinctively stepped back. "Someone's targeting you, Rainey. You need protection. I could stay. Keep watch. Make sure nothing happens."
My skin prickled. "That's not necessary. Really."
"I think it is." Another step. His boot crossed the threshold. "I've been watching out for you, you know. Noticed things. People acting strange around you. I could—"
"Mason." I put steel in my voice. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. I don't need—"
"You don't understand." His hand came up, reaching for my arm. "I've seen things. Someone's been—"
"She said it's not necessary."
Ransom's voice cut through the evening, low and dangerous. He materialized from the shadows of my walkway, his truck parked at the curb behind Mason's old pickup. Even in the dim light, I could see he looked ready for a fight, shoulders bunched tight, jaw set.
Mason's mouth tightened. "I was just checking on her."
"And now you've checked. She's fine." Ransom moved onto the porch, positioning himself between us. "Time to go."
"I don't think that's your decision to make."
"Mason." I rested my hand on Ransom's arm—felt the tension vibrating through him—and stepped forward. "I appreciate your concern. I do. But I have plans tonight, and I'm okay. Really."
He looked between us, understanding dawning in his eyes. His expression shifted—wounded and angry all at once. "You're back together. You and him."
It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway. "Yes."
"I've asked you out six times, Rainey. Six." His voice went rough. "You always said no, said you weren't ready, weren't interested. But he suddenly shows up again, and you just—" He shook his head. "I've been here. The whole time. I would have been good to you. Better than him."
"Don’t do this." Ransom's voice dropped low and cold. "She's told you no. Multiple times. That should've been enough the first time. Now I'm telling you—don’t show up here again. Stop watching her. Stop whatever the hell you think you're doing. Are we clear?"
The two men stared at each other, tension crackling in the cold evening air.
Finally, Mason jammed his hands in his pockets and stalked to his pickup. The engine roared to life, taillights disappearing down the street too fast.
Ransom turned to me, his hands immediately on my shoulders. "Has he been harassing you to go out with him?"
I let out a long breath. "Not really harassing. Just... persistent. Like he said, he's asked me out a few times over the years. I've always said no, thought he understood by now we were just friends. Or acquaintances. This felt different though. More pushy."
"I don't like it." His thumbs stroked my collarbones, soothing despite the edge still in his voice. "Mason's always been odd. Quiet. But this obsessive watching, showing up at your house—"
"You think he could be behind the sabotage?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to find out." He pulled me close, pressed his lips to my hair. "You ready for dinner? Or do you need a minute?"
"I'm ready." I looked up at him. "I just need to feel safe again."
"Then let's go."
MIDNIGHT EATS OCCUPIED the southeast corner of the square, its vintage neon sign casting pink light across the sidewalk.
Inside, red vinyl booths lined the walls, black-and-white checkered floor gleaming under fluorescent lights.
The diner was warm after the chill outside, windows already starting to fog at the edges.
June Caldwell looked up from the register, her face lighting up when she saw us. "Well now, if it isn't our theater stars! That was some scare this afternoon. You doing okay, honey?"
"Fine, thanks to Ransom." I slid into a booth while he took the seat across from me. "Got room for two?"
"For you? Always." She grabbed menus, lowered her voice conspiratorially.
"Though between you and me, folks have been talking.
All these incidents—the mirror message, now this rod?
People are starting to wonder if maybe the old place really is haunted.
You know the stories about the actress who died there in 1923. "
I'd heard them. Everyone had. But June loved her ghost stories almost as much as she loved gossip.
"Do you really think it's a ghost?" Ransom asked skeptically. "Or have you noticed anything—or anyone—acting strange lately?"
June's eyes went bright—she lived for questions like this.
She slid into the booth beside me, her voice dropping even lower.
"Well now that you mention it, there has been some oddness.
That Brooke girl—she's been mighty touchy since losing the lead role to Rainey.
Saw her arguing with Vivian a couple weeks ago, something about professional experience deserving recognition.
" She leaned closer. "And that lighting tech, Darcy?
Always filming everything. Makes folks uncomfortable, you know?
Like she's looking for something to catch on camera. "
"Has Brooke said anything specific?" I pressed. "About the production, about me?"
June pursed her lips, thinking. "Nothing direct. But she's been real friendly with Darcy lately. Saw them having lunch here Tuesday, heads bent together real close."