Security Measures. Sara K. Parker
of golden leaves scattered along the drive and the walkways.
“I’ll get in touch with Roman tonight and see what we can pull together. They have a security team here?”
He pulled into a parking spot.
“Sort of. Two officers patrol on twelve-hour shifts. You can usually find one of them in the admin offices over there.” She pointed to a small whitewashed brick cottage across the parking lot.
“Good. I’ll try to get with one of them before I leave.” He turned off the truck and focused his attention on her. Triss forced herself to meet his gaze, to pretend that the warm concern in his soft brown eyes didn’t affect her one bit.
“You sure you’re okay? We can turn around now and get you checked out.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, and she meant it. She hadn’t hit her head, and she wasn’t the least bit tired. She was overwhelmed. She’d almost died, and then Hunter had shown up—the man who had spent the past couple of years slowly chipping away at every wall Triss had built around her heart. The very man she’d been successfully avoiding since August.
She started to open the door, but Hunter reached past her and opened the glove box.
“Hold on.” He pulled out a packet of wet wipes and handed them to her. “Unless you want to answer a bunch of questions, you’ll want to get rid of the evidence.” A hint of a smile played on his lips, and Triss flipped down the visor mirror.
Traces of smoke residue were smudged along the side of her nose and the edge of her jaw. She took a wipe and swiped it over her skin, erasing any signs of the accident. Then she grabbed a new one for her hands, a warm thankfulness rising at Hunter’s thoughtfulness.
She handed the pack to him. “Better?”
His gaze traveled over her face, his eyes too soft. He nodded and popped the packet back in the compartment, which was also stuffed with a pack of crackers, two Pull-Ups and a box of Disney-character Band-Aids.
He glanced up at her as he closed the console, humor in his expression as he caught her observing.
“It’s my emergency stash,” he said.
Somehow, the stash made her heart ache, but Triss forced a small smile. “Always prepared.”
Of course, he would be as a single dad of two young kids.
She opened the door and stepped out, pushing away the emotions threatening to rise again. What was wrong with her?
Death. Funerals. Families weeping over graves.
And Hunter, crouching on the hood of her car, locking eyes with her and renewing her strength as her breath started to fail, just as her body started to give up.
If she was the type of woman who dreamed of happily-ever-afters, he was the type of man she would dream about. Courageous, quick and smart at work. Tender and lighthearted with his kids. Kind to everyone he met.
Of course, Triss wasn’t prone to dreaming. Even if she was, Hunter was off-limits, and she would never tell him why. The reminder wrenched at her heart as Hunter came around the front of the truck and walked alongside her. Sure, she’d moved here to cut her expenses and get out of her brother’s house. But the move had also allowed her to cut her hours at Shield and switch to the weekend night shift, which meant she rarely saw Hunter. And that had been on purpose.
“My mom lived here when her dementia got bad.”
Triss glanced over at Hunter as they headed up the walkway toward Creekside Manor, the independent-living home where Triss resided. Harmony was set on fifty wooded acres with walking trails, gardens, a man-made lake and a fitness center, and offered fresh, organic meals and live music twice a week. There were three separate homes for residents. Creekside was for those who could still live independently, and the residents resided in either single-or double-bed apartments. Silverwood Villa housed assisted-living and memory-care residents. Emerald Estate was the last stop, so to speak, with skilled nursing care available 24/7.
“This is the place to be when you can’t live on your own anymore,” Triss commented.
Hunter agreed. “Mom seemed to enjoy it. She started in Silverwood until she moved into Emerald.”
His voice had lowered, his gaze roaming over the property as they walked. “How many of the deaths were at Creekside?” he asked.
“All of them.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Exactly.” The deaths might not have been as worrisome or noticeable if they’d happened between the three homes, or mostly in Silverwood and Emerald, but all the residents had died at Creekside—where no one required nursing care. In fact, there had only been one other death since Triss had moved in, and it was over at Emerald in September.
A car parked nearby, a young family climbing out, likely coming to visit parents and grandparents, and Triss figured she and Hunter probably shouldn’t discuss murder suspicions out in the open.
“How long did your mom live here?” she asked, moving into more neutral territory.
“Four years. She passed away when Josie was two.”
“Young for dementia, right?”
He nodded. “Sixty-three at onset. She was never the same after my dad died. He was twelve years older, a smoker. Died of lung cancer.”
Triss knew loss. She also knew that Hunter had been an only child, and she could read the latent grief in his eyes. She was scrambling to think of something to say other than “I’m sorry,” but the doors flew open in front of them and Kaye Lawson emerged, her bright red lipstick matching her wide smile and fiery hair. Kaye had moved into Harmony after a stroke, determined not to burden any of her six children, and despite her nearly full recovery, she’d stayed.
“There you are!” Kaye was a thin woman, but tall, and she wrapped Triss in a motherly hug. Triss had finally stopped avoiding Kaye’s hugs several weeks ago. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to be hugged by her own mother, an addict who had been in and out of jail for decades, bringing home questionable men and leaving for days at a time. Kaye claimed that Triss needed more hugs, and Triss was starting to think she may be right.
“Sorry I’m late,” Triss offered, not mentioning the accident. She didn’t want to draw the attention away from the celebration of Frank’s life and onto her.
“We were starting to worry about you.” The woman’s observant gaze seemed to inspect Triss with a question, but she didn’t ask it. Instead, she glanced curiously toward Hunter. “Now, who is this handsome young man?”
Hunter flashed his disarmingly charming and dimpled smile at Kaye. “Hunter Knox.” He held out a hand, but Kaye laughed.
“I only accept hugs.”
Hunter laughed, too, hugging her in greeting and sending a good-natured wink at Triss. She felt a smile tugging, her pulse suddenly racing. She looked away. This was exactly why she was trying to get some distance from him. All her defenses were useless when he was nearby.
“Hunter and I work together at Shield,” Triss said as they all walked inside. “Hunter, this is my friend Kaye.”
“Are you helping set up?” Kaye asked him.
“He doesn’t have much time,” Triss answered for him, helping him off the hook. “You have to get home for the kids, right?”
“I have time.”
“I like you already.” Kaye smiled broadly, her face a map of lines that showed she lived a life bent toward joy and maybe adventure.
“So, you have kids,” Kaye said, leading the way through the common area. “How old are they?”
“My daughter, Josie, is about to turn six. And my son, Levi, is two.”
“Oh,