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Reflections of a Stranger
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Praise for the Authors
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Back Page
Reflections of a Stranger
Linda Hanna & Deborah J. Dulworth
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Reflections of a Stranger
COPYRIGHT 2012 by Linda Hanna and Deborah Dulworth
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given away to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated are taken from the King James translation, public domain.
Cover Art by Nicola Martinez
Harbourlight Books, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC
www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410
Harbourlight Books sail and mast logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC
Publishing History
First Harbourlight Edition, 2012
Print Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-190-8
Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-189-2
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
We dedicate this book to our Lord and Savior, Who has led us to start this venture and has seen us through.
Thanks to our husbands, Bill Hanna and Ray Dulworth, for your patience and encouragement.
And to our families, much love and many thanks. We appreciate the prayers of friends, the red pens of the Marion Writer’s Group and ACFW critique groups 205 and 236. Your endless support has been a tremendous help.
And a heartfelt thank you to our editor, Jamie West.
Praise for the Authors
Linda Hanna and Deborah Dulworth have come together to craft an intensely clever mystery fraught with colorful, often humorous, true-to-life characters. Puzzling events, secrets aplenty, and strange, heart-thumping occurrences make this page-turner an enticing tale to the very end. Hats off to Hanna and Dulworth for delivering one fine read, and the fact it’s a debut makes me anxious for the follow-up stories. Truly another book for my keeper shelf! ~ Sharlene MacLaren, Award Winning Novelist
1
Cora Timms was a three-wheeled trolley ride away from a nervous breakdown. Her neighbor, Patrick Hyde, warned her of a prowler in the neighborhood. She ran to lock the doors. Where was Ed?
He should’ve been home hours ago. The sharp ring of the phone cut through the air, and sent shivers jolting down her spine. Another ring. Was it Ed, or…the wretched man who’d harassed her for several weeks? The thunder of the Arizona monsoon fed her near-phobic state. She was worried about her husband. She had to answer.
Cora held her breath as the caller’s gruffness accosted her ear.
“You look as pretty as ever in your white pants and purple shirt, Cor-rah.”
Her nervous fingers punched the off button of the cordless phone as her throat tightened with pent-up screams. She wiped perspiration from her hands and dialed her friend.
“Three threatening calls in one day, Dahlia. How could it be a coincidence? He can see me because he knows what I have on. I’m scared. Ed’s two hours late. Could you come sit with me?”
“My pie’s pert near done, so give me five minutes and I’ll be over, Sugar. Meanwhile, shut them curtains, and make us a pot of industrial strength coffee.”
The living room draperies billowed as Cora yanked them closed. Why hadn’t Ed taken the calls more seriously? Where was he, anyway? Had he drowned in a flooded ditch, like their daughter, Vanessa? Her stomach coiled. Determined to keep her mind off negative thoughts, Cora headed for the kitchen.
The rich scent of coffee grounds permeated the kitchen as she counted scoops. Cora filled the glass carafe with water, and wiped the bottom with a linen towel. She jumped as a loud thud outside grabbed her attention. What was that?
A movement on the patio. Lightning flashed and illuminated two obscured figures struggling in the torrential rain.
She gasped and choked back a cry. She set the carafe on the counter, and stretched across the sink to lock the window. Her elbow hit the glass pot and knocked it to the floor with a crash.
The next burst of lightning revealed only one person, his hooded face staring at her.
Cora screamed and jumped back in alarm. Her foot slipped. The world tilted and went dark.
****
A baritone voice called through the muddled fog. “Cora?”
Her eyes fluttered. She heard her name again, inviting her back to consciousness.
“Can you hear me?”
Dazed, she blinked several times as her elderly neighbor came into focus.
Dr. Sam Richmond sat on the floor beside her, and lightly smacked her hand. A mix of spicy aftershave and coffee hung in the air.
She turned. A coffee can rested beside them, its grounds strewn about with broken glass and water.
Dr. Sam’s white shaggy-dog eyebrows bobbed above pop bottle glasses, which magnified his eyes. A shock of unruly white hair topped his forehead, where drops of rain beaded.
What was he doing here?
Why was she spread-eagled on the kitchen floor? Cora pushed a lock of wet hair from her face, touched the throbbing lump on the back of her head and winced. “Ow! What happened?”
“I hoped you could tell me.” Sam’s arthritic fingers shoved his thick-lensed glasses up on his nose. He held two fingers to the pulse of her wrist and cleared his throat. “Do you recall how you got this knot on your head?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, in an attempt to remember. Vague images materialized in a cloud of gray. A gut feeling suggested she had witnessed something horrible. Another burst of lightning made Cora flinch and grasp the sleeve of Sam’s hooded windbreaker. The doctor’s eyes bored into hers. “You remembered something, didn’t you?”
She released the death grip on the older man’s arm. Years of trust between them should’ve brought reassurance. Why did she feel so uneasy?
“I can’t make sense of what happened. I saw someone outside the kitchen window.” Cora turned away and changed the subject. “These lousy monsoons are the only thing I hate about living in the Arizona desert.” She winced. “My back hurts, Sam. I need to get off this floor.”
Another flash of lightning filled the room.
She covered her eyes while images popped into her mind, again.
Two men wrestled on the patio…and then, only one. Could one have been Sam or…her husband?
Cora shuddered at either possibility.
&nbs
p; She struggled to get up. “Ed left and never came home. Where is he?”
“Calm down.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Ed’s in the living room talking to the McGibbons’s. They were too loud so I asked them to leave. We’ll call him in a minute.”
As Sam scooted forward on the rubber mat, caked mud fell from his shoes. Maybe he was one of the men outside the window. She suppressed the negative thought.
“Do you remember anything else?”
Cora hesitated. “One minute I was making coffee and waiting for Ed to get home with ice cream from Sugar Dips. The next thing I know, I’m on the floor with you staring down at me.”
“So, you were at the window, and whatever you saw caused you to faint?”
Should she say anything else? One admission would lead to another. She covered her face, and whispered, “All I remember is slipping in the water.”
“It’ll come to you.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Any other pain?”
“Other than my tailbone taking root on this hard floor, no.”
He smiled and patted her arm. “You and me both, Cora. Here, take my arm. Let’s see if you can sit. Easy does it.” Dr. Sam’s manner, as always, was professional and dignified. He changed positions and braced her with his left hand.
The room doubled as Cora sat up. Two Sams and four magnified eyeballs swirled in front of her. “That’s far enough, Sam.” Her voice shook. “I’m woozy. Where’s Ed?” She blinked and attempted another peek as Dahlia McGibbons’s familiar Texas drawl came from the dining room.
“All I know is, the poor little thing was fit to be tied about ya bein’ two hours late, Ed. Ya keep scarin’ her like that, she ain’t never gonna get her pluck back.” Dahlia clucked her tongue. “Anyway, there was another one of them phone calls, like last week when ya was gone.”
Ed cleared his throat. “Did she say if it was the man this time?”
“Yeah. He scared the puddin’ out of her. I sent Wendell Floyd to Sugar Dips to fetch ya while I came on over here.”
As Dahlia spoke, worry bounded through Cora. The bits and pieces of memory confused her, like two jigsaw puzzles in the same box. Oh, yes, Ed was late. Now that she remembered with great clarity. Her teeth clenched. ‘Late’ would’ve been twenty minutes, but two hours? That’s more like…missing. She was glad he’d made it home safely, however, once her backside was off the floor, he was dog meat.
“Ed?” Her voice squeaked.
A gamut of emotions flickered across Ed’s face, and his shoes crunched on broken glass as he rushed to her side. “I’m here, Toots.”
“She’ll be just fine.” Sam shifted to face him. “We’re trying to figure out how to get off the floor. Wanna give us a hand here, buddy?” He raised his arm for assistance.
“Absolutely.” Ed used his foot to scoot shards of glass away before helping the wobbly doctor. Once Sam was steady on his feet, Ed knelt beside his wife. “How are you?” His voice quivered. “I’ve been worried.”
Cora gazed into Ed’s bronzed face, and her frustration melted. She loosened the hold on his golf shirt. “I’m fine.”
He drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Dahlia was on her way over when Wendell and I got here. We found you unconscious on the kitchen floor.”
Dahlia came into the room. Her signature flippy, dark hair, still damp, had been whipped and tangled by the storm’s gale. “Like he said, ya was out cold. Wendell Floyd hot-footed it next door to get Sam.” Her bracelets jangled when she placed a cool hand on Cora’s forehead.
Equally wet and disheveled from the storm, Wendell Floyd McGibbons stood behind his plump wife, and patted down his meager comb-over. The pudgy security guard invested a lot of time to disguise his bald pate with a few surviving hairs. “Ya got glass all over the floor. Did ya have yourself an intruder?”
Ed stood. “Let her gather her wits before you go into interrogation mode, Wendell.”
“Well, it’s my sworn duty as senior secur’ty guard to ask questions,” Wendell griped.
The kitchen window rattled with a crash of thunder and heavy rain beat against the house. Ed turned to the doctor. “OK to get her up, now, Sam?”
“Yes, but take it easy, Cora.”
Her trembling hand reached for Ed. “I’m fine.”
“You may experience more dizziness when you stand.” The doctor turned to Wendell. “Let’s get a chair ready for her.”
Ed put an arm around her waist as Cora took a deep breath and clung to him for support. Another thought resurfaced. The phone calls. That man threatened Ed’s life and knew her secret. How could he know about that? Well, now wasn’t the time to spring that little nugget on Ed, still, he needed to know his life was in danger. She tugged on his sleeve and looked up. “Ed, there’s something I need to tell—”
Sam interrupted. “You might want to have her lie down for a while. Be sure to call me right away if you have any problems.”
“Thanks, Sam.” Ed shook his neighbor’s hand. “Don’t know what we’d do without you. Now, what can I give you for the house call?”
The older man waved. “Don’t mention it. Glad to be of help.” With his medical bag in one hand, he reached for his umbrella with the other. “I don’t know why I brought this thing. The wind’s too strong for it. ‘Night, now.” Lightning flashed as Ed opened the door. The doctor hesitated before stepping into the deluge.
Determined to stay on the subject, Cora waited until Ed returned. “I’ve been trying to tell you that wretched man phoned again.”
Wendell moved forward. “Dahlia Sue told us about that when Sam was here.”
“Is that when you passed out?” Ed lifted her hand and kissed it.
Cora’s pulse quickened. “Just listen to me. It’s hard for me to piece it together. I need to talk it through.”
Ed shrugged and rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t mean to rush you. Take your time.”
“Let’s see. I was putting the kitchen window down, and then, I-I saw them.” Weariness weighed her down.
Their home, in this gated community, had always been a safe haven. It certainly wasn’t now. Not with the phone calls and two strangers fighting on her patio. She felt violated and vulnerable.
“You saw someone in our backyard? In this storm?” Ed handed her his hanky and tenderly smoothed her hair. “You’ve been so high-strung since those phone calls began. I don’t mean to doubt you, but are you sure there were people out there?”
Wendell spoke up. “Every now an’ again, Sam forgets to let his silly cat back in. I’m guessin’ that was him out there lookin’ for ol’ Smudge.”
A frown creased Cora’s forehead. “I know the difference between a man and a cat, Wendell.” She brushed coffee grounds from her stained pant leg.
“Now wait a minute.” Ed went to the kitchen window. “Could it have been your own reflection?” He pointed. “There’s mine. It would’ve been an honest mistake.”
“You’re not listening, Edward.” Cora’s eyes flashed. “It was not my reflection. I saw two people out there! They were fighting and one of them fell.” She frowned.
Wendell’s face lit with excitement. “Maybe he’s dead. I’ll go check for bodies.” He hitched up his pants. “Dahlia Sue, flip on the outside light.”
“Ya’d best watch your step, Wendell Floyd.” Dahlia’s pendulum earrings wobbled. “If there really was someone out there, he might still be prowlin’ around. An’ besides that, the lightnin’ is bad, an’ I don’t want ya shish-kebobbed into Abraham’s bosom.”
“Now wait a minute,” Ed countered. “Things are getting out of hand. Let’s all calm down. Go ahead and check it out, Wendell.”
The eager security guard snatched his Stetson and hustled outside.
Cora grabbed her husband’s arm. “This nightmare started before I saw them. That caller phoned again. He was looking in the window because he knew exactly what I was wearing.” Her breathing became rapid and shallow. She pressed a hand to her
chest. “There’s more. Patrick Hyde called before him, and, and…”
“She’s gettin’ too excited, Ed. She can’t breathe.”
2
The patio door slid open. Wendell stormed in and joined the others, now in the living room. “Didn’t find no mortal remains out there.”
“Well, that’s a load off our minds.” Dahlia headed for the kitchen. “I’m gonna go tend to the broke glass.” She stopped in the doorway and put her hands on her hips. “Wendell Floyd, we’re gonna need coffee, so hoof it on over to our place an’ fetch our perc’lator.”
“Horsefeathers,” Wendell mumbled. “Ya ‘spect me to go back out in the storm?”
“Yeah, an’ wear your hood this time.” She wiped her hand on a kitchen towel. “Oh, an’ while you’re at it, bring that apple pie sittin’ on the counter.”
Wendell perked up, rubbed his hands together and smiled. “Why didn’t ya say pie in the first place? I’m on it, Dahlia Sue.” The Texan ambled from the room.
Cora drew a deep breath. There were things Ed should know, but first, she needed time alone to reflect on the events of this nightmare. She scooted to the edge of the sofa. “I’m feeling much better, Ed, except my clothes got wet when the carafe broke. Even my scuffs got soaked. I’m going to change into something dry.”
“Want me to help you to the bedroom?”
She slowly stood to check her balance. “No, I’m fine. Could you look for my old pair of black slippers in the spare closet?”
Cora entered the dark bedroom. Her vulnerability peaked when she closed the door. Her fingers felt along the wall to find the light switch. The bedside lamps came on and a tingle ran down her spine as a sense of being in the spotlight enveloped her. The caller could see everything. She raced to draw the curtains and dim the lights. No way would she provide one more peep show for that ogling ogre.