Protected Hearts. Bonnie K. Winn
to her small house. Numb when she first arrived in Rosewood, she hadn’t cared where she lived. But once she accepted the fact that she was in Rosewood for the duration, she’d contacted the U.S. Marshal and made arrangements to find something more suitable than the apartment chosen for her. Although there were complexities because of her new identity, the Marshal had helped her through the maze.
Emma’s home had many qualities of the larger Victorians that filled the town. Detailed gingerbread trim outlined the steep roofline. And the original windows, some of them stained glass, made the place bright and inviting. It was very different from the sleek contemporary home she’d shared with Tom. But she couldn’t bear to duplicate her previous life. And she had always loved the history of older homes, the feeling of continuity from one generation of owners to the next.
Emma pulled in the driveway, glad to see the lights burning cheerfully in her front windows. She took the precaution of using timers so that they were on before she arrived home. Not that crime was a factor in Rosewood. But it was in her life.
As she pushed open the door, her dogs, Butch and Sundance, danced around her feet, tails wagging in furious delight. Butch, a black Scottish terrier, was a touch more reserved. But Sundance, her incorrigible West Highland White terrier, held no such constraints.
As was her habit, she quickly walked to the old-fashioned, country kitchen and opened the door to the backyard. Bouncing bodies of fur charged outside. Without fail her dogs cheered her, making her seem less alone.
After filling their dishes, she glanced into the fridge. She didn’t keep much food on hand. Seemed a waste for just one person. But tonight she wasn’t particularly in the mood for a frozen dinner for one.
Emma glanced at the small pile of mail. Nothing there intrigued her, either. She went back to the door and called for the dogs.
Within a short time Butch trotted over to her, ready to be petted and adored. But Sundance didn’t join them. After a few minutes she called him again. Nothing.
“Where’s your buddy?” she asked Butch.
Sundance was always the one who lagged behind, always the one most apt to get into mischief. She’d had Butch first and when she’d acquired the second dog, Sundance had proved to be more of a challenge. Knowing he would willingly go farther afield than was wise, Emma walked outside, calling his name. Anxiety was never far from the surface, one of the scars she now carried.
The sky was dark and Emma shivered despite the warmth of the evening. Sundance was nowhere in sight. After scouring her own yard, Emma glanced next door at the empty house.
She called out softly, not wishing to disturb any neighbors. Hearing scratching from the other side of the vacant property, she ventured toward the sound.
But as she walked deeper into the yard, it seemed to get darker, the tall trees blotting out any trace of moonlight. Telling herself not to be silly, she rounded the corner.
Then stopped suddenly.
Lights flickered in the supposedly vacant place. Like candlelight, shimmering and uneven. Emma swallowed an unexpected taste of fear. Where was Sundance?
Twigs cracked beneath her light footsteps, making her jerk around. Emma tried to control the ridiculous pounding of her heart. There was no point coming unglued over nothing.
Turning back, she slammed into something hard, something warm, something alive. The scream in her throat emerged as something between a shriek and a croak.
“It’s you! The hardware-store window lady!” Seth McAllister stared at her in disbelief.
Swallowing her fear and trying to disguise her ragged breathing, Emma nodded. “What are you doing here?”
“A better question is what are you doing here?”
Emma’s fear was giving way to annoyance. “Answer my question first.”
“This is my yard, my house.” His clipped tones revealed the man’s equal annoyance.
“That can’t be.” Suspiciously, she backed up a fraction. “This house is vacant.”
“It was until I rented it,” he replied, clearly still annoyed.
“You?”
“Yes. Which brings me back to my question. What are you doing here?”
Not certain whether to believe him and at the same time embarrassed that he might be telling the truth, Emma stuttered. “Sun…Sundance, I was looking for him.”
Despite the dark night, she read the skepticism in his face. “As in Butch and…?”
Oh, this was just too embarrassing to explain. She straightened her shoulders. “Sundance is my dog, a Westie, white, tons of long fur. He has a habit of roaming.”
He glanced over at the open gate. “Maybe if you kept that closed—”
“I only opened it just now to look for Sundance.” Irritated that she was having to explain herself, Emma took the offensive. “I don’t want to sound rude, but how do I know you’ve rented this house? I saw you for the first time today and now you’re lurking outside in the dark.”
“Lurking?” A flash of white teeth showed his amusement. “Are you suggesting I followed you?”
She was grateful for the darkness as she felt her face flush. “If you rented this house, why is it lit by candlelight?”
“Because the broker screwed up. He was supposed to have all the utilities turned on. As you can see, he didn’t.”
Plausible, but experience had taught her that she couldn’t take anything at face value.
“So, where is this alleged dog?” he asked.
Startled from her suspicions, Emma listened for Sundance. She heard a faint barking from the opposite side of the yard farthest from her home. “That sounds like him.”
As she followed the barking, Seth followed her.
It sounded as though the yelping came from underneath the house. Trying to keep one eye on the man while at the same time watching out for Sundance, she crept along until she heard a whimper. “Sundance?”
The whimper grew louder.
“Where is that coming from?” Seth asked, reaching into his jacket pocket. He withdrew a flashlight, turning the bright beam on the path.
The house was on blocks, but wood skirting covered the open area. Cringing, she knew Sundance could find the smallest spot to crawl through and apparently had done just that. “I’m guessing he’s probably underneath the house.”
Seth directed the light over the closed area. “I don’t see how.”
“Terriers are bred to go to ground—to get into impossibly tight spots, then rout out their quarry.”
“Wasn’t aware there was any quarry to be hunted.”
“The house has been empty for a while. Probably field mice have found their way inside.”
“Great,” he muttered. “So, how do we get the dog out?”
“I’ll look for the spot he managed to crawl through and try to open it a little. Can I use the flashlight?”
“No.”
Fear crowded her throat and made her step back. The flashlight was more than adequate as a weapon. But she refused to let panic show in her voice. “What?”
He knelt down. Then, as she would have done, he crawled along the siding, poking for an opening. Was this chivalry? Or did he just want to get rid of her faster?
After several yards, Emma heard Sundance growl. He’d no doubt caught the man’s scent. “Quiet, Sundance.” The growl gave way to a bark, then silence.
“This must be it,” Seth announced, pulling on a flap