Lena Diaz - Secret Stalker

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THE EMT, DON, steadied Bex’s left forearm on a raised metal board that he’d slid out from the wall of the ambulance. From the amount of bandages, antibiotic sprays and other first aid equipment lying around, Bex would have thought her arm had been severed. She was embarrassed at all the fuss he was making over such a small cut.

Pausing with a needle poised between what looked like tweezers, he said, “Ma’am, are you sure you won’t go to the hospital and have a doctor stitch you up? You may need X-rays. There might be other injuries you don’t even know about yet.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have anything more serious than this.”

“You’re one lucky woman. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

Bits of memories flashed through her mind—gunshots, crouching behind the T-shirt rack, her stomach clenching with dread as the gunman with the ski mask raised his arm, ready to shoot her. She shivered and considered the bandage on her arm. He was right. It could have been so much worse.

“You’re right. And I assure you I’m very grateful that I’m only getting stitches.”

“Stitches? What stitches?” a gravelly voice said from the open doors of the ambulance.

Bex looked over, smiling to see her lawyer looking all proper and perfect, his white hair neatly in place, his handlebar mustache sticking out on each side like skinny white toothpicks. She started to lean toward him to shake his hand, but Don frowned at her, holding her injured arm steady.

“Sorry, Don.” She waved at her lawyer. “Mr. Leonard, nice to see you. What are you doing here?”

He arched a bushy brow. “I might ask you the same thing, Miss Kane. Imagine my concern when I look out my office window and see a SWAT team racing into the grocery store. Even worse, a few minutes later, you’re carried out by Detective Remington and placed in this ambulance. And now I hear something about stitches. Do tell, please, what’s going on? How badly are you hurt?”

She nodded toward her left arm. “Not bad at all. Just about to get a couple of stitches, that’s all.”

“More than a couple,” the EMT murmured as he pricked her skin with the needle.

The shot he’d given her to numb her arm did its job, but she couldn’t help wincing and looking away.

“How did you get cut?” her lawyer asked.

“It happened when I crawled in between some shelves. Some gunmen held up the store and I had to hide. I really am okay. Thanks to Max—ah, Detective Remington.”

“Who else was hurt?” he asked. “I saw two men brought out on stretchers.”

“I have no idea. I haven’t heard about anyone else in the store, or the details about what happened. I hope those men will be okay.”

“They were the bad guys,” Don said without glancing up from his work. “Heard it over the radio. Two of the gunmen were shot and taken to Maryville. I don’t think any of the shoppers were injured.”

Bex turned her head again as he poked the needle into her skin.

“Hurts?” Augustus asked.

“No, I just...don’t like needles.”

“It’s a shame your mother refused to let you come see her in Destiny all these years and then your first time back you end up in the middle of a robbery.” He shook his head. “Dorothy shouldn’t have kept you from your own home all this time. It wasn’t right. For what it’s worth, I did try to talk some sense into her. But she was too worried about you, was determined to keep you away.”

“I just wish she would have agreed to move in with me. But she insisted on staying here,” Bex said.

“Destiny was her home. She had a lot of friends here, her volunteer work at the church. I doubt she’d have moved for anyone.”

“Well, I guess it all worked out. Mama enjoyed the trips to see me. She got a little thrill every time I had a limo pick her up.”

“You spoiled her.”

“She deserved it. I only wish I could have done more for her while she was alive. No matter how well my business did, she refused to let me buy her anything expensive. Half the gifts I mailed her were returned. I sent her a houseful of furniture once and she wouldn’t sign for it, wouldn’t even let the guys unload anything from the truck.”

He smiled. “That’s Dorothy for you.” He leaned forward and patted her good hand. “My condolences again. I know you loved her very much. Her heart attack was such a shock to us all.”

She blinked against the burn of unshed tears. “Thank you. No sense in dwelling on the past anymore, though. I need to wrap things up here and get back to my own home as soon as I can, make sure Allison isn’t ready to quit after being left in charge of the antique shop so long.”

“Allison?”

“My assistant. And friend. Once I pack up everything, when do you think I’ll be able to put the house up for sale?”

She risked a quick look at her injured arm. Four stitches in, probably a few more to go. She looked away before Don dipped the needle in again.

“Another few weeks at best, a month at the worst. Your mother’s will is fairly straightforward. But there are some tangles to unravel with the various properties she had around the county and ensuring there are no liens before I can get them transferred to you as the owner.”

“You’re referring to the farmland my daddy used to have? Aren’t those plots leased out to local farmers? The same ones who’ve been on that land since Daddy died years ago?”

“Yes, but it won’t take long to clear them out. Shouldn’t be a problem. It’s a standard eviction process.”

“I don’t want them cleared out. Just transfer the deeds to them.”

He blinked like an owl. “Pardon?”

“I don’t need the land, Mr. Leonard. And I’m doing well with my antique store. I’m not rich by any stretch. But I’ve got what I need. No reason to be greedy. Those men have worked that land for years. They’ve earned this. It’s the right thing to do. Mom and Dad would approve, I’m sure.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but he gave her a crisp nod. “Very well. It’s your land, your money. I’ll draw up some papers to make the transfer. It will take more time than originally planned, of course.”

“Thank you. I understand.”

Don jostled her arm as he leaned past her to put away the needle. But when she started to pull back, he stopped her.

“I need to bandage that before we’re done,” he said.

She sighed and relaxed her arm.

Don cleaned up the tabletop to prepare for bandaging her cut.

“If the paperwork takes much longer, can we plan on doing it through the mail? Including the sale of my mom’s house?”

He frowned. “Why would you want to do that? You’re here now. If a few more weeks is too long, I can try to put a rush on things.”

“I don’t want you to have to hurry on my account. But after, well, after today, I’m more inclined to finish packing up the house and just go. Can’t I sign some kind of power of attorney over to you?”

His brows raised again, making her think of snow-white caterpillars.

“You can, certainly. But most people prefer to give power of attorney to someone they know and trust rather than to their lawyer.”

“My mama trusted you. That’s good enough for me.”

He puffed out his chest, his face turning a light shade of red. And suddenly Bex wondered whether he’d felt more toward her mother than simple friendship. And whether those feelings were returned. If so, her mother had never said anything. But then again, her mother might have worried that Bex would feel funny about her finally dating someone after all these years. And, truth be told, she would have felt...odd about it.

A car crash had taken Bex’s father from them when Bex was in middle school. The loss had been devastating for her and her mother. Imagining her mom with anyone other than her daddy made her feel sad. But happy, too. Her mother deserved some male companionship in her life. And if she’d found it with the honorable Mr. Augustus Leonard, then that was a very good thing.