Tara Quinn - Nothing Sacred

Or maybe he was some friend of the Montfords—descendents of the town’s founder. They were richer than Will and Becca Parsons.

“You going to town?” she asked, holding the edge of the door as she looked into the car.

“I am.” He smiled. “If you’d like a ride, hop in.”

With a lift in spirits that had been plummeting all day, Ellen climbed inside, thanking him and giving directions to Aaron’s dorm. “It’s just this side of the main light in town,” she told him. “It’s not far out.”

Finally something positive was happening today. It was just like Pastor Marks had said. If you could stand up to the challenges, and if you did everything you could to help yourself, assistance would come.

“Have you ever been to Shelter Valley before?” she asked the man, who seemed friendly the couple of times he glanced over at her.

“Nope.”

“It’s a great place. You’ll like it.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said, smiling at her again.

“The turn’s just ahead.”

He nodded.

“It’s after that next group of trees.”

He nodded again, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel as he drove.

“There!” she said quickly, when it looked like he was going to miss the road.

He drove past.

“That was it!” Ellen said, sorry he’d have to turn around, that she was costing him more time than he’d intended. She’d tried to be so clear.

He didn’t slow down. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t even act as if he’d heard her.

“Excuse me.” She tried again. “Did you hear what I said? You missed the turn.” Did he have Alzheimer’s or something? She’d heard Becca talking to her mother about one of the ladies at the new adult day care in town and how her family had had to take her keys away because she’d driven off and forgotten not only where she was going, but most of the rules of driving as well.

God, don’t let him wreck the car. Mom would just die if she were to get a phone call that Ellen had been in an accident. It was a parent’s worst nightmare. Everyone knew that.

She tried two more times to get his attention.

He didn’t say anything, just smiled at her and nodded.

But on the other side of town he slowed down, and Ellen breathed her first sigh of relief. She’d get out as soon as she could, find a phone, call Aaron. Even angry, he’d come and get her. And she’d call for someone to help the old man, too.

Not that he really appeared old enough to have Alzheimer’s, but it did hit some people in their fifties. And no one she knew had ever acted this strange before….

“This isn’t anyplace you want to be,” knowing for sure that he was confused when he turned into the parking lot of a run-down and apparently deserted single-story building. It housed one-room apartments and used to be a hotel back in Shelter Valley’s early gold-mining days.

The man was scaring her.

Especially when he pulled up to a door and grabbed a key from the console between them. “Let’s go,” he said.

“Go where?” Was he crazy? She wasn’t going anywhere with him.

“Oh, so that’s the game you want to play?” he asked, not sounding crazy at all. He held her wrist tightly. Suddenly he had the air of a powerful businessman used to getting exactly what he wanted.

But what did he want? The man was rich. Nicely dressed. Driving an expensive car.

“I don’t know why—”

“Let’s go, sweetie,” he interrupted her. “I don’t have a lot of time before my wife’ll expect me back—”

He broke off abruptly, frowning as though he’d said too much, letting go of her wrist.

Ellen didn’t even think. She wrenched open the car door, intending to run as fast as she could out to the road.

With one foot out of the car, she propelled herself forward, trying to figure out which direction would be the safest bet. She had the sick feeling she might only get one chance.

As she hesitated, her other foot tangled with her ankle and she started to fall.

Except that the man was there, catching her. “So you like it rough, huh?” he asked, sounding excited in a way she’d never heard before but recognized, anyway. “They didn’t tell me that.”

“No!” She tried to pull away from his grasp, unable to feel anything but the urgent need to escape. His words made no sense to her.

His grip made no sense to her.

Aaron! She screamed inside, even as her mind refused to work. Something terrible was happening and she didn’t know why.

She had to get away. For Aaron. For Mom. For herself. She had to do something.

The man held her body in an iron clutch, carrying her to the door just a few feet away. She kicked him. Hard. On the shins. Over and over. She tried to reach higher.

“You little bitch,” he said, but he didn’t sound mad. Somehow she seemed to be pleasing him.

Oh God.

Ellen screamed, so long and hard the sound ripped at her throat. There was no one around to hear. He covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her cries.

She had to vomit. And bit him to make him let her go.

He bit her back, sliding her down to hold her body between his legs while, with one hand on her swollen mouth, he unlocked the door with the other.

Then, his hands on her breasts, he pushed her ahead of him into the room and kicked the door shut behind them.

AT EIGHT O’CLOCK ON Thursday night, David Marks was trying to convince himself that he was interested in the National Geographic show on television. He found the plight of pandas interesting, but he’d already seen the program twice.

And he couldn’t stand another sitcom, another half hour of laugh tracks. Or news that was a repeat of what he’d heard that morning.

He’d read for an hour. Chores were done. This week’s sermon finished. Bills paid.

Never since he’d joined the ministry had he had downtime like this. Exactly the opposite, in fact. In his experience, there were always people who’d take advantage of an extended hand—usually too many of them to help. His challenge, and concern, had always been what to do with those he didn’t reach, those he couldn’t help. He’d always had to spread himself thin—so thin he’d had no time for television or extra reading or boredom or discontent. Living in this town, which didn’t trust him, didn’t need him, was an experience unlike any he’d encountered before.

“The panda is…”

What more could he do to convince the people of Shelter Valley to use his services? To do more than just show up at church and nod thoughtfully at his sermons? To ask more of him?

“Watch how playfully…”

How much longer could he hang around where he wasn’t needed?

As long as it takes.

Great. Just what he wanted to hear.

His sarcasm got no response.

“Where’ve you been?” he said aloud, staring at the television screen, registering little.

Right here.

“I haven’t heard from you in two weeks.”

You haven’t asked.

No, he supposed he hadn’t. He hated it when he did that—got so caught up in himself and his mission that he forgot he wasn’t doing this on his own.

“So tell me, is there a reason for me to be here?”

What do you think?

“I’m asking you.”

What do you think?

David didn’t know why he bothered trying to take the easy way out. Expecting him to do the work. There was no getting around the voice in his head. It always told him what he intuitively knew was right—even he didn’t recognize the rightness of what that voice said until he heard it.

And it didn’t give up.

It was why he’d grown to trust them so implicitly.

“I think I have a job to do here.”

Yes.

“There are people here who need my help.”