Chapter Thirteen
What was going on, Shanna wondered? How had he found her? It wasn’t like Wes to be sloppy. Maybe she should have never left a message with Mom. Shanna’s biggest concern about being discovered was how it would affect the whole picture and the person she was protecting.
There’d been something in Rick O’Neill’s eyes that had her emotions in upheaval. Kind of like the first time he’d talked to her in the parking lot at school all those years ago. She’d been deeply ashamed to have him see her with all those bruises when they’d run into each other at the Inn that evening. But she’d fought Wes off earlier that day.
Although it hadn’t done her much good.
Right now, all she wanted to do was be alone and paint. She was a little worried about Anya being here in town, so Shanna would probably check up on her regularly until she finally left. Although she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been threatened by Wes’ partner, whom she’d never met. For a while, she’d gotten regular calls from the guy. Either that meant that Wes wasn’t saying anything about her, or the guy was away, carrying out his trafficking schemes elsewhere.
* * *
Wes called her the following week, checking in to see if she was working on her paintings again.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’ve got some other watercolors finished.”
“I’ll come by and get them from you later today and bring you some groceries. I’m going to have to go out of town for a week or two, but I don’t want our routine to change unless it has to.”
It was October and the weather was becoming brisk. She was glad she didn’t have to go along with him in the cruiser, but she hadn’t left the cabin at all since Wes had taken her to the cemetery. Something must be up, and Wes was afraid she might be recognized. Maybe the person Wes answered to was in town because he’d delivered groceries last week without taking her along then either.
Wes called five hours later, so she’d have her paintings packed up for him once he was waiting down below at the dock. She already had most everything packed up, except for a few new watercolors depicting the Dragonfly Pointe Inn at Christmas in years gone by. They were something new, so she’d have to see if they sold before she painted more.
Wes was already down below sliding some boxes of groceries onto the dock when she walked down the staircase with the paintings. Those carriers had really come in handy. She was able to pack everything she’d painted during the past couple weeks into two of the carrying cases he’d purchased for her.
After he stacked the last box of groceries onto the pier, he studied her closely. “You look a little better than you did last week.
“Thank you for those sleeping pills,” she said. “They’ve helped.”
He nodded, suddenly looking worried. “Listen. I know that you sometimes leave the cabin in that old canoe,” he said, much to her surprise. “But you should avoid that while I’m gone. There’s someone here in town who could be trouble if he saw you, and I won’t be here to make sure that you’re okay.”
His voice was gruff, but his concern surprised her. It made her realize that he might be disobeying orders by allowing her time away from the cabin.
“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll do what you say, Wes.”
“Good. I’ll give you a call if I’m going to be much longer than a couple weeks. You should have plenty of food.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling worried. This whole situation felt odd. Something must be wrong.
Nodding his head one more time, he revved up the engine of the cruiser, backing away, and spinning the wheel to turn and head out.