CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER LUNCH DAKOTA walked the few feet to her office, catching only bits of Lauren’s phone conversation, but what she did hear hinted that something must be happening. Lauren would be off doing her investigative reporting, and she, Dakota, was heading in to wait for emails. At least she’d had one call about a house, and it sounded promising.
A couple from Plainview, Reta and Howard Wilson, had called this morning and wanted to come down and look at everything Crossroads had under a hundred-fifty thousand. Something with trees, he’d said. Something away from any railroad tracks or grade schools, she’d insisted. Something with a sunset view, they both claimed, was a must.
Dakota had emailed them the two listings that kind of fit. One had huge pecan trees in the big yard, but it needed work—one branch of the tree nearest the house had crashed into the front window. The sellers were a thousand miles away and in no hurry to do repairs. The second listing fit all their musts but it was small—very small.
As Dakota always did, she also sent houses that cost more, but fit their musts otherwise. She’d been told people often said they were looking for less than they could actually afford.
She’d included a map of the town and a list of this month’s activities at the library before she pushed Send and tapped on the wall to go to lunch.
Now all she had to do this afternoon was wait until the Wilsons got back to her. If they did?
Open time. She smiled as the sun reflected off her office door. Rainy nights always made the next day seem so much brighter. She just wished it were that way in real life too.
Afternoons, her favorite time each day, when she allowed herself a slice of freedom. She’d pull out her notebook and draw up plans for a house that had been drifting in her mind all morning. A big house with the family rooms in the center and wings for bedrooms spread out like spokes on a wagon wheel in every direction.
She smiled, thinking she’d spend an hour designing a house for generations to live in, but where everyone would still have their privacy. A house with more than one bathroom.
As she reached to unlock her office door, it gave to her touch and her daydream was shoved aside by reality.
Dakota fought down a few swear words. Forgetting to lock the door was something that often happened. After all, there was nothing to steal but paper and a ten-year-old computer. The worst thing that could happen was someone would break in and buy a house while she was gone. She had the same philosophy about the old farm pickup. If someone stole it, let them pay the repair bills.
She bumped her way into the office, purse in one hand, the refill on her tea from the café in the other.
The afternoon sun came into the tiny office with her and spotlighted her desk. Nothing amiss. Stacks of flyers, notepads, two phone books, and three siphoned cups from past days.
Dakota glanced over the mess and froze. Someone was sitting in her chair. A big broad-shouldered shadow.
Correction. A Hamilton.
“About time you got back,” he said. “I’ve been talking to the Wilsons and they want to drive over to look at the houses you emailed them.”
“You answered my phone?” Dakota glared at him in disbelief.
“Sure. It rang.” He didn’t look the least bit sorry. “Took me a minute to find it on this desk.”
She set down her take-out cup of tea, looped her purse strap on the one wall hook and pulled off her jacket. “How’d you get in? What are you doing here? Get out of my chair.” She might as well spill everything out at once before he killed her. Murder was the only reason she could think of that he’d drop by.
And if he didn’t murder her, she’d be surprised. After all, he’d simply walked into her office, answered her phone, and took over her desk. Murder was the only crime left.
She fought down the urge to swear again. She wasn’t mad, she was furious. It wasn’t that she could pinpoint why. It was more like her anger was coming from too many reasons to settle on just one. Fury swirled like a tornado in her mind and sitting in the middle of it, all calm and comfortable, was her new neighbor.
He stood, making the office seem even smaller. “You left your computer on. I looked at the Wilsons’ potential homes. If I were you, I wouldn’t even bother showing them the one with a tree in it. Howard Wilson said he uses a walker so he’d have trouble moving around in a living room full of branches.”
Dakota was starting to shake with anger. She’d spent the past five years hiding all her emotions and now they were exploding inside her.
Blade Hamilton walked around to the front of her desk and sat down on a stack of flyers. “While I was waiting, I ordered a few things online since it looks like I’m going to need more than one change of clothes. I had them overnighted here because I probably won’t be home during the day and they can’t deliver them to my house because the bridge is out.”
When she just glared at him, he added, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I have to stay around this area for a while. I got a job.”
“I thought you had a job.”
“I did. Correction, I do. This is just helping out the sheriff. It’s kind of my vacation job.”
He folded his arms and leaned his head sideways as he studied her. “Is something wrong with you?”
She thought of yelling, You. You are the thing that is wrong. But she just looked into those gray eyes and said, “No, I’m just tired and have a great deal of work to do. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my desk.” When he didn’t move, she added, “I work best alone in my office.”
He slowly stood. “Oh, sure. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ve just had a busy day and thought it would be nice to see a friendly face.”
She grinned a no-teeth smiley-face grin. If he thought of her as a friendly face, the man must have no survival skills.
“Oh, a Dodge Ram I rented is being delivered to the sheriff’s office this afternoon, so you don’t need to worry about taking me home.”
“I wasn’t worried,” she answered. She hadn’t planned on taking him home. After all, the sheriff had driven off with him, so Blade was no longer her problem.
“Unless it rains again, that truck will have no problem crossing the stream or hauling my bike. I borrowed your internet to get a carpenter to go out to give me an estimate on the bridge. Sounds like a nice guy and said he’d start today. He seemed excited about the job. Said he just got laid off yesterday and appreciated any work he could get.”
Blade was walking too close to her life. Dakota didn’t have that much time or space to call her own. She didn’t want this stranger so near, but if he used her computer to make calls and her office as a drop for his clothes, maybe that would help get him gone sooner.
“Fine. The house will be easier to sell if we can get to it. So build the bridge. As soon as you get the place cleaned out, I’ll post the property. That should keep you very busy while you’re not working your vacation job.” She wondered if posting a sign near the highway that said Not Haunted would hurt or help. His place wasn’t big, but the land rolled nicely with fruit trees in the low spots out of the wind and wild plum trees so thick a horse couldn’t walk through them.
He didn’t respond to her last comment. He seemed more interested in staring at her than putting Hamilton Acres up for sale.
“What?” she snapped.
“You ever think of wearing your hair down?”
“No.”
He shrugged and added, “I’m glad you finally ditched the jacket. You look professional enough without it.”
She noticed his leather jacket on her chair. “I see you’re back to being a biker.”
He smiled. “Leather is the only thing to wear when you ride. Maybe you’ll understand that one day if you decide to take a ride with me.”
“Not a chance. I’m one of those practical women who keeps both feet on the ground.” Even if she’d wanted to, Dakota couldn’t risk it.
She began checking her mail. He seemed to have finally run out of anything to say now they’d discussed her business, his truck, and both their wardrobes.
The air stilled in the room as they both waited. Finally, he broke the silence. “If you’ll loan me your keys one more time, I’ll go have your pickup washed.”
“It’s not necessary. I’ll do it later.”
He leaned closer. “I want to. You’ve been real nice to me. I’d like to pay you back a little, and I’ve got a few hours before I’m scheduled to be at the sheriff’s office.”
She looked up, wondering if people always kept him at a distance. If he traveled all the time, stayed in hotels, worked in unfamiliar cities, he might not have many friends who’d loan him a pickup or offer to let him use their shower. He’d hinted he had no family. Maybe the man really didn’t have anyone even to be neighborly to him.
Standing up, she walked back around her desk and opened the glass door for him. “All right. The keys are in the truck. But don’t be gone long. The Wilsons might be on their way.”
“How are you going to get them in the truck if he’s on a walker?”
“I always have buyers follow me. It’s a small town. They won’t get lost.” She raised her hand to wave goodbye but he caught her fingers in a gentle hold that surprised her.
It reminded her of the first time she’d held a boy’s hand in middle school. Casual, but silently saying so much.
“Anything else I can do?” His voice lowered a bit. “I got time to kill.”
The urge to hit him came to her mind. He must be up to something. His words sounded practiced, like when a salesperson says, “Let me know if there is anything else I can do,” even though you both know you’ll never see them again.
What was wrong with her? He was being nice. Too nice, maybe? Confusing her. Maybe he was a con man or something? Serial killers are often thought to be nice guys at first.
“Sure,” she said very politely. “Remove that tree branch from the Platt home on Rainy Day Lane. Without the tree in the living room it’s just the right size for the Wilsons.”
To her shock, he leaned over and kissed her fingertips as if she’d just given him a quest, and then walked out of the office.
Dakota sat at the desk, trying to fit all the pieces of her nerves back together. She’d been polite, even helpful to him, but she hadn’t been friendly. Yet when his lips brushed her hand she’d felt his slight touch all the way to her toes.
They barely knew each other. How could she react to his touch? She didn’t even like him.
Well, she had slept next to him, but that didn’t give him the right to kiss her. However, a kiss on the fingertips wasn’t exactly an assault. Probably nothing more than a handshake to him.
Only Blade Hamilton didn’t seem like a man who went around kissing women, or even being nice to them. Or even talking to them. Yep, no doubt about it, this stranger was up to something.
She remembered how he looked standing knee-deep in Indigo Lake. He hadn’t looked nice then. In his black leather, he could have been the devil himself come to call.
She scrubbed her fingers against the wool of her skirt. He was messing with her mind.
They should have killed him at first sight.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER he was back, her truck clean and full of gas. She thought of asking him why he took so long. He’d had time to drive every street in town twice, maybe three times. The station that had a drive-through car wash was five minutes away, but Dakota didn’t really care. She had too much to do this afternoon to visit with him.
“Thanks,” she said half-heartedly as she grabbed her purse. “I have to run. The Wilsons are heading this way. They want to see everything so I told them to meet me at the house on Rainy Day Lane. Once they see the worst, the others will look better.”
Blade just frowned at her and followed her out. “Better remember to lock the office door.”
She turned back. “No one has ever broken in but you, Hamilton.” She turned the key and flipped her sign to the out-showing-homes side. “You’re not planning to hang around and break in again, are you?”
He followed her to the truck. “No. I was thinking of coming along with you. I’ve got time. Fire’s out. From here on it’s mostly paperwork.”
“So, you are helping with the sheriff’s investigation?”
He raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”
“Small town. Word is, you and the sheriff are waiting until the ashes cool enough to pull a body from the barn, or what’s left of it. Who do you think set the fires? Did the arsonist kill someone and start the fire to cover it up? Or maybe the guy committed suicide. Or maybe he was just caught in the back of the barn when someone else set the fire.”
“We could have used you this morning,” he said, not looking at all comfortable discussing a case with someone who was guessing at the facts. He opened the passenger side door of her pickup and climbed in without being invited.
To keep from screaming at him to get lost, Dakota opted to continue guessing. “Or maybe he was killed a while back. Maybe whoever set the fires was simply covering up for an old murder. He might have figured someone would find the body once the ranch was sold.” She grinned. “Oh, by the way, as of today everyone is convinced Reid is selling out, not just downsizing.”
“Who is ‘everyone’?” Blade asked.
“You know, everyone. I went to eat at the café and by the time we left every table was having the same conversation.”
She started the pickup and backed out, noticing he’d taken the time to vacuum the seats, which had never been so clean before. “You and the sheriff have got a lot of questions to answer. This case won’t be easy to figure out, Hamilton.”
“That’s what I do for a living. The answer is usually there. All I have to do is work backward.” He leaned back as if settling into not only her truck, but her life.
“What makes you think that I wanted you to come with me?”
“I read it in your face, Dakota. You’re an open book. You’re bored, maybe lonely, definitely looking for something new. I’m guessing you rarely even talk to anyone about anything other than houses. Except maybe Lauren Brigman, the sheriff’s daughter. Who, by the way, is way overqualified for the job she’s doing.”
“How do you know?”
Blade shrugged. “Maybe I looked her up or maybe I visited with two old ladies at a gift store who told me all about everyone in town.”
“Everyone?”
He looked her way. “Well, you and Maria. How you work together taking care of your grandmother who lives out back in her own place because you understand that she’d die if she couldn’t walk her land. And about Lauren, who you eat lunch with most days. According to the Franklin sisters, both of you spend your lonely lunches wishing you were living another life.”
“You’re wrong about me and about Lauren. She loves her job as an online newspaper editor and she loves living here. And we go out with friends sometimes, so neither of us is lonely.”
He shrugged. “Let me guess. She’s a shy, studious type, and if you two do go out more than once a year it’s probably for a quick dinner because you have to be home before dark. She lives alone, just as you would if you didn’t feel you had to take care of Maria. Lauren probably sleeps with her cat like you do and the main topic of conversation between the two of you is the town.”
“What makes you say that?” He’d described Lauren exactly. They’d been friends for two years but rarely mentioned anything but the happenings in Crossroads.
They drove in silence for a few blocks. He didn’t answer her and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
“You don’t know me, Hamilton,” she whispered. “I don’t feel like I have to take care of Maria. When we were growing up she always took care of me. In a lot of ways she still does.”
“Why don’t you call me Blade?” he said, keeping his voice as low as hers.
“I haven’t decided if I even like you enough to call you a friend.”
“Maybe you don’t, Dakota. We don’t have to be friends, but I know you want me to kiss you. I can see it in those beautiful brown eyes. Anyone ever tell you that you have the kind of eyes a man could get lost in?”
“No. And I don’t want to kiss you.” In truth, she hadn’t really thought about it, but she had thought about touching him. All morning she’d wondered how it would feel to let her fingers slide down his wet chest.
“Look, Dakota, I’m a traveler and will be all my life. It’s who I am. Roots aren’t for men like me. In a few weeks I’ll be gone, out of your life. I don’t have time to play games or try to become friends, but I do make it a point to never lie. Why don’t we skip all the dancing around? I’m attracted to you and would enjoy spending some time with you.” He looked out the window as if remembering all the times he’d said this line before. “I can’t promise love or even hanging around for a season, but I can promise when we walk away we’ll both be smiling.”
She fought the urge to stop the pickup and slug him. Or, better yet, shove him out of the cab, then run over him a few times.
He must have some kind of learning block. Love dyslexia. She didn’t want to hook up or have an affair or try a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am thing. Deep down she believed love wasn’t something you did, it was something you felt. This traveler would never understand that.
“That must be them,” he said in a normal voice.
“Who?”
“Reta and Howard Wilson. He’s getting his walker out of that van.”
Dakota had forgotten all about where she was going. The house! When she slammed on the brakes she almost rammed the pickup parked beside the house. Two men were loading up logs while two more hammered a window into place.
Hamilton jumped out of the pickup and hurried to help Mr. Wilson.
Dakota ignored both the workmen and Mr. Wilson as she sat, clenching the wheel in a death grip, and trying to stop her mind from whirling.
No one had ever suggested an affair to her like it was nothing more than a business deal. He made no promise except that they’d walk away smiling. He wasn’t promising anything. Not love or forever or even tomorrow. He would so not make it into one of Maria’s romance novels.
Leaning her head on her knuckles she tried to think. He was right about one thing: she was attracted to him. And she didn’t want to go into middle age without ever having a lover. The few guys she’d dated in high school didn’t count. They didn’t know any more than she did about making love. And college hadn’t taken her much further.
She was twenty-five and didn’t know firsthand what he was offering, exactly. Even her sex dreams were only rated PG-13.
She had a feeling Blade Hamilton had a great deal of this kind of experience. He probably had no trouble connecting with a woman in every town. He probably used the same line on them. It was too simple, too honest not to work. He probably changed women like people change number settings on a bed.
But it wouldn’t work on her. The thought crossed her mind that maybe the way Hamilton planned to kill her was to simply break her heart.
She wouldn’t allow that. She couldn’t. She had responsibilities.
As she stepped out of her truck, she noticed two things were missing. One, the tree branch that had crashed through the front window was now driving away in pieces in the bed of a pickup.
And two, Hamilton and the Wilsons seemed to have vanished.
Dakota snapped her mind back to reality and tried to focus. No wonder she had trouble making it in the real estate world. She couldn’t keep up with her clients and one of them was on a walker.
Since the front door was open she decided to try there first. The living room was empty, but the guys putting in the window had made an effort to clean up. With the tree branch out of the way, the picture window would have a great view of the sunset.
“I know it’s small,” Hamilton’s voice came from the back of the house, “but so will be your taxes and bills. This place will cost almost nothing to heat and cool, plus it wouldn’t take much to build a patio off the back and on nice days it’ll be like having another whole room.”
Dakota followed his voice.
“The house has a great flow, and with just the two of you it seems to be about the right size.” Hamilton turned and caught her stare. “Oh, I’m sorry, folks, I didn’t know my girl was back. She was delayed. Probably tied up thinking about another offer.”
Reta Wilson grinned at Dakota. “We love this place, dear. It’s just what we were looking for.”
“Any chance there’s a golf course around?” Howard asked.
Mrs. Wilson glared at him. “No more golf, Howard, and that’s final.”
He glanced at Dakota and blinked a smile. “I fell out of the golf cart three months ago. Broke two bones in my left leg. The wild times are over. Reta says my new retirement hobby is building birdhouses.”
Dakota reminded herself to be an agent. She pointed out all the highlights of the house and how, with an addition of one wall, the extra bedroom that ran the entire back wall of the house could be transformed. A workshop for him and a quilting space for her.
“What with the hospital bills, we can’t afford much of a remodel,” Howard offered, “and birdhouses are pretty much the limit of my skills.”
“I’ll be happy to get a few estimates.” Blade jumped into the conversation as if he belonged. “I know a few guys who can do the work. In fact they dropped what they were doing and came over to put the window in.”
Mentally she made a note to advise the Wilsons to offer a little lower to cover the cost of the wall. The owner would jump at any offer since the house had sat empty for months. She’d also pay for the window repair out of her commission. It would only cost a few hundred and she stood to make thousands.
Dakota also named a few things they might want to ask to be updated before the sale and promised to ask for a price break if the owner didn’t want to bother doing them himself.
Fifteen minutes later, she and Blade walked out with the Wilsons, who were already planning how they’d arrange their furniture in the small house.
Hamilton smiled at her and she couldn’t help but smile back. A sale! She’d finally broken the dry spell.
Hamilton shook hands with Howard. “I’m sorry, folks, but I have to get back to work. Dakota will take care of you. I’m a deputy sheriff here in town so don’t speed on your way back to Plainview.”
When she raised an eyebrow, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, but his words were for the Wilsons. “If you two don’t mind giving Dakota a ride back to her office, I’ll catch up with her later.”
Dakota thought of arguing, but Reta and Howard were already leading her to their van. When Hamilton started her pickup she realized she’d left the keys in the ignition. The new town deputy was stealing her truck.
“Your man’s nice,” Reta giggled. “And not bad looking.”
Dakota thought of saying he wasn’t her man, but she just smiled, thinking of how she’d kill him later.