Deadly Cover-Up. Julie Lindsey Anne
the hospital, shouldn’t she? She rested her cheek against Maggie’s head. No. She couldn’t have stayed. She’d spent last night half fearing a second break-in and half curious about what the cowboy-for-hire on Grandma’s couch might’ve done to anyone who’d try.
Her throat tightened at the memory of the fleeing intruder. He’d run straight for her. Broad palms plowing into her shoulders. He’d thrown her onto her backside in the space of a heartbeat. She’d found bruises on her back and elbows when she showered. Marks from where she’d crashed against the hard floors and rolled. Twelve hours later, a car had run her off the road. There was no way that was a coincidence. Even Violet’s luck wasn’t that bad. Her gaze ran back to her grandma’s bandaged head. A near-fatal fall, a break-in, a psychotic road-rager, the hiring of a private security guy. That list definitely added up to something, and it wasn’t coincidence. In fact, Violet needed to contact the local sheriff’s department and make a report about the demolition derby car. Even if the driver wasn’t found, it seemed like a good idea to document the strange and dangerous things happening around her. She’d considered calling the police from the church parking lot, but she and Maggie were too shaken, and the offending car was long gone. All she’d really wanted was to find respite somewhere with witnesses in case the car returned. Could the car’s driver be the same man who’d been inside her grandma’s home?
“Ruth,” Violet began, turning back to Grandma’s friend. “When you found Grandma yesterday, was the front door open to her home? Ajar maybe?”
“No.” Ruth shook her head as if to underline the word. “I knocked. Rang the bell. Door was shut tight. Why?”
“Did you go inside?”
“Sure,” she said. “Wasn’t locked. Rarely is. I let myself in and took a look around. I called for her, but she wasn’t there. I figured she’d run out to the garden to cut some roses, so I went around back. That was when I saw the barn was open.”
“That’s when you found her,” Violet said.
“Yes.” Ruth blinked emotion-filled eyes. “That’s right.”
“Do you have any idea why she was in the barn? Was she keeping something out there?”
“Not that I know of.” Ruth raised a wide gray eyebrow. “Why?” She twisted in her seat to face Violet, a strangely parental look in her eyes. “Why all these questions? Did something else happen?”
Violet slumped in her chair, unsure how much she could say. It was impossible to know her limits without knowing what her grandma had been up to, but she was certain Ruth was a friend. Ruth had been part of Grandma’s life long before Violet was born. Before Violet’s mother, too. “Her home was broken into last night.”
“What?” Ruth gasped. “Are you okay? Is the home? What did they take?”
Violet shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing seemed to be missing, but I haven’t been here in a while.” Honestly, she’d barely been anywhere since Maggie was born. These last eight months had boiled down to meeting her baby’s needs and trying to calculate how many hours of sleep she might get each night. The answer to the second part was “never enough.”
“A break-in,” Ruth whispered, still clearly baffled.
“How has Grandma seemed to you lately?” Violet asked. “Was she okay, or was something going on with her?” Violet tipped slightly forward, begging Ruth to share something that might help her understand.
Ruth puckered her brow and stared at Grandma’s slack face. “She’s been a little on edge and distracted. I’d assumed that had to do with Mary Alice.”
“What’s wrong with Mary Alice?” Violet asked. She knew Mary Alice as well as she knew Ruth. Both women had been lifelong friends of Grandma’s. They’d held Grandma together when her daughter, Violet’s mom, had left, when her husband passed, and when she’d had to raise a grieving, rebellious granddaughter despite it all. “Is she…” Violet began, then halted. “Is Mary Alice…” She came up short again. Was there a nice way to ask if an old woman had died?
Ruth scrutinized Violet’s struggle for words. “Mary Alice isn’t dead, if that’s what you were going to ask,” she said after a few seconds. “She’s got dementia, though. The symptoms have gotten a lot worse these last few weeks. She’s slipping away fast, and the whole Masterson family has been a little grouchier than usual these days. The illness has taken a toll on everyone close to her, your grandma included.”
Violet didn’t know Mary Alice’s family well, aside from the general knowledge small town living provided. Her husband had been the sheriff when Violet was young, and their son was sheriff now. Neither man was in the running for Mr. Congeniality, or the sort who’d show up at local gatherings, unless duty demanded it. “And you?” Violet asked.
Ruth gave a sad smile. “Someone’s got to hold it together.”
Tanya peeked her head through Grandma’s open door and rapped her knuckles on the wall. “Knock knock.” Her bright smile set Violet on her feet.
“Tanya.” She met her cousin at the room’s center and gave her a gentle hug, careful not to wake Maggie. “Any news?”
“Not yet,” she said, rubbing Violet’s arm when she stepped out of the embrace. “Dr. Shay says everything looks good, and we should be patient. Grandma will wake when she’s ready. Until then, we just have to wait. She’s been through a lot and it can take time to overcome an accident like this one. How are you and this little princess holding up?”
Violet stroked Maggie’s back and her sleeping baby released a contented sigh. “We’re okay.”
“Good.” Tanya smiled. “I’ll be here as often as I can, and I’ll keep you posted if her condition changes. Grandma’s tough, Violet,” she assured. “She’ll be fine.”
Violet nodded. Grandma would find the strength to recover, and Violet would be there to help every step of the way. Until then, Violet needed to stick a little closer to the former ranger at Grandma’s house. Violet had no intention of testing her luck with another burglar or demolition derby car, and she was certain he would have no problems handling either.
Of course, spending too much time with an attentive and sexy man like Wyatt Stone was going to pose a few problems of its own. Beginning with how to keep her undeniable attraction to him from blurring the lines of their reality.
An engine roared outside the front window of Grandma’s home. Violet jumped, still edgy from her run-in with the demolition derby car this morning. She’d called the police as soon as she got home and the woman who’d answered had promised to send an officer out to take the report, but she doubted any of the deputies would be racing to get to her.
Her heart sprinted and her palms grew slick as she moved carefully toward the front window to check the driveway. Maggie was asleep in her crib, but Violet could get to her and be outside in under a minute if she had to. She pulled the curtain’s corner back with trembling fingertips, scolding herself once more for not taking Wyatt’s suggestion to stick together today.
Relief washed through her chest at the sight of Wyatt’s truck, back in the driveway. He was already making his way up the front steps in long, anxious strides.
Fresh terror rent Violet’s heart as she took in his grim expression. Whatever had drawn that kind of fear on Wyatt’s face was surely something for her to worry about. “Wyatt?” she asked, opening the door with an anxious tug. “What’s wrong?”
His steps faltered a moment as his eyes landed on hers. “You’re okay,” he said, sounding half awed and half stricken. “Someone said a car fitting your vehicle’s description was run off the road this morning. I thought for sure it was you. I tried calling. You didn’t answer.”