Breathless (8 page)

“I hate to disturb you.” Richard Petry yanked him from his thoughts. “But there's a pretty good size leak in your radiator. It needs to be replaced.”

“How long will that take?” Lydia glanced over at Richard.

“The problem is I have to order it. I can't get it in until tomorrow.”

“I'll give you a ride home,” Matthew said.

“I guess I'll have Sheryl bring me back over tomorrow. I have to use the facilities, if you don't mind.” Lydia nodded toward the ladies' room.

“Mind? You're sitting behind me on a motorcycle. I insist.”

“You don't talk much like a preacher man.” Lydia let out a laugh. She rose and headed toward the back of the cafe.

“And there it is, that smile again.” Everything appeared to brighten when Lydia gave a half smile. “I'll swing by once I pick up the bike.” He watched in silence as she walked away before turning to his brother-in-law. “So?”

“You called it.” Richard hesitated. “The radiator was definitely tampered with.”

Anger rose inside. Matthew had hoped he'd been wrong. Once they returned to the garage, Richard led Matthew to the car still raised off the ground.

“They jabbed a hole in the bottom with, my guess from the size, would probably be a screwdriver.” Richard pointed it out. “They then fidgeted with her temperature gauge so it wouldn't show she was leaking water until it was too late. I'll take it out and give it to the cops to look at.”

Matthew fists tightened.

Richard shook his head. “I'd say whoever it was tried to leave her stranded. Maybe out of spite. Or worse, he probably hoped she'd be alone so he could have her go with him, either by choice or force.”

 

****

 

Matthew's scent wafted over Lydia as he followed her up her steps. It was a smell she could get lost in.

He retreated to his bike after telling her goodnight. She had a hop in her step as she entered. It had been a while since she enjoyed getting out with someone new. The suggestion of slowly building a friendship grew on her.

She glanced at herself in a mirror that hung over one of the chairs. Her hair lay flat on the top of her head. She ran her hands through giving it some much needed volume. There's no way to keep a good style when you have to put on a helmet.

When she passed through the living-room, a giggle escaped. She was as bad as a teenager who learned their crush also liked them. She tossed her shoes off and spun in a circle on the wood floor. Feeling attracted to another man had not been what she'd planned. It gave her a strange mixture of glee and guilt. They seemed to collide in her system. Sheryl's words resonated in her mind. Justin
would
want her to be happy and to go on with her life.

Matthew has an interesting history, one she would like to learn more about. When he spoke earlier of being undercover, she found herself relieved he no longer placed his life in danger.

At times tonight, he seemed concerned about something else. His eyes glazed over for a moment, and he appeared to have a secret he wanted to tell her, but didn't dare. She laughed out loud. She needed to quit reading those mystery novels, or she'd start to see a murder behind every door.

As she stepped into the kitchen, she noticed the blinking light, indicating a message on her answering machine. Inside she hoped it would be Matthew who left the message, but with him on a motorcycle, she doubted it. Most likely Sheryl. A neighbor probably called her about Matthew dropping her off. After taking a deep breath to prepare herself for one of Sheryl's interrogations, she pressed the button.

“How could you do that to your husband? Cheating on such a nice man. Walking in the park. Tsk, tsk. If you had kissed him, I would have had to teach you a lesson.”

Fear engulfed her at the sound of the stranger.

She dialed Riley, her fingers trembling.

“Hello.”

“Riley. I got another phone call.” Lydia tried to control the panic in her voice. “It's on my machine.”

“I'm on my way,” he said. “Until I get there, don't answer the door or the phone.”

A cold sweat came over her. How long had the caller been watching her? Lydia's back pressed against the wall. Tears fell as she slid down the wall to the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

Matthew waited until he got home to call Riley about Lydia's radiator. The voicemail came on so he left a message. Within minutes the sheriff called back. There was only one explanation for the radiator—it had to be the person making the phone calls.

As Matthew recalled the conversation with Lydia in the sandwich shop, and how well she seemed to read him, his stomach did another flop. How could she be so correct about something that
he
hadn't even seen? He did act arrogant when he first arrived. He did all the things she had alleged. Her accusation of him acting as though he was a more devout Christian tore away at his nerves. That hadn't been his intention, but it had been the outcome.

How many other things had she'd picked up. Did she notice how on edge he became when talking about her brother? Matthew swallowed hard. He sat down in front of his laptop and ran an internet search on the name “Charlie Westerman.” Several news articles scrolled up. He read through each one. His own name wasn't mentioned on any. They didn't even indicate the DEA was involved. They just referred to Charlie's death as an officer-involved shooting. Good. That left the field wide opened. It could have been anyone.

He strolled over to the small bay window in his room. The darkened sky held a sprinkle of stars and a sliver of the moon. The light from the boarding house front porch cast a yellow glow around the yard.

Matthew combed his fingers through his hair. Hollowness gathered inside his body. It was pointless to sleep. He would toss and turn, or worse, dream. It wasn't until he saw Charlie's picture on Lydia's mantle that the nightmares returned. Matthew had almost erased it from his memory. Could that be why God brought him to this small town? Did he need to come to terms with what he'd done years ago in order to become the person God wanted?

He plopped down on the sofa and flipped on the television. If he got lucky, he'd find something to take his mind off Charlie Westerman lying on that cold pavement. It didn't work. He still smelled the stale beer and rotted pizza that permeated that hot Miami alleyway. And visions of large, handcuffed men leaning against cars marked with the agency's emblem. A kid Charlie's age shouldn't have been here, much less dead. He'd been too young to be involved in that particular drug sting. Matthew never did find out what he'd been doing in the alley with that gang of men.

He flicked off the set, then pulled out his Bible. Matthew spent the remainder of the night reading, looking for some way to find peace about the shooting of an innocent young man.

The next morning, James Newman, III sat in the reception area of the church when Matthew arrived. Beside him slouched a younger replica. His son Jimmy, Matthew assumed. Jimmy's thin face held a few days' growth of hair. His father probably came with him to ensure he kept his appointment. Unfortunately, force usually hurt more than helped in these types of situations.

“Matthew, how are you today?” James rose and pointed toward the younger man. “This is my son, Jimmy.”

The younger man's drug addiction showed with his thin body and bad oral care. Most people didn't realize how crack cocaine destroyed not only the inner body, but the outer as well. When most addicts died, they had lost the majority of their teeth, and their organs had begun to fail.

“It's nice to meet you Jimmy.”

Matthew extended his hand, but Jimmy only gave a slight nod as he sprawled slouched in the chair. His jeans, frayed at the bottom, covered worn tennis shoes.

“Lincolnville Church,” Phyllis said as she answered the telephone a few feet away. “Please hold.” She set the receiver on her shoulder, and let out a loud sigh. Her morning must have been as bad as Matthew's night. “Matthew, this is Tammy Wiley. She seems real interested in your driving Lydia Frederickson home yesterday evening. She's asking questions about what you two talked about and where her car is. Any suggestions on how you'd like it handled?”

Matthew let out a moan, smoothing his hair. “I'll leave that up to you.” Her short tone told him this call had been one of many. That was the problem with a small town. Everyone knew what you did five minutes after you did it.

“Tammy. I believe the pastor doesn't deem his personal life any of my business. Maybe we should plant a bug in his jacket to get exact quotes when he goes out again. After all, there's little else for us to concern ourselves with, is there…? I see... Well it's been nice talking to you, too.” A frown crossed over Phyllis as she replaced the receiver on its cradle. “From here on in, I expect an itinerary, and a list of subjects you'll be discussing when you go out with any other single woman in this community. It would definitely save me some trouble.”

Matthew let out a loud laugh.

“You were with Lydia last night?” Jimmy slurred his words as he lifted himself from the chair.

“Let's go to my office, and make ourselves comfortable.” Matthew pointed the way.

“I'm not about to talk to you.” Jimmy spun sharply toward his father before returning a glare to Matthew. “You leave her alone. She deserves better than you.” He jerked around Matthew and stormed out.

“I'm sorry.” Matthew knew it wasn't his fault, but felt an apology would soften any hard feelings. Jimmy'd been looking for an excuse to leave, and he'd found it.

“I'll bet you are.” James's expression remained cold. “Certain members of our flock won't appreciate you coming on to the single women in this community so soon after arriving.”

Matthew disliked the way James always used the word flock, it was old-fashioned and Pharisee-like. The way he pronounced it gave an added haughty air to his already egotistical disposition.

“If you must know,” Matthew said through gritted teeth. “Ms. Frederickson's car broke down on the interstate. I'm not about to leave her sitting alone by the side of the road where who knows what could happen.” Matthew worked to contain his anger. “Secondly, I try not to listen to what a bunch of gossips have to say.”

“Let me make myself clear,” James said. “You weren't my first choice for pastor. I understand Ms. Frederickson is beautiful, but that's no reason to lose your perspective on things.”

Matthew fought the urge to sock the man in the jaw. “I have not lost my perspective. I told you merely seconds ago, the woman's car broke down, and I happened by. We had it towed to my brother-in-law's shop, and I invited her out for a bite.” He twisted over his shoulder toward Phyllis. “In case you're asked, she had a ham and cheese sandwich, and I had a burger.”

Returning to James, Matthew continued. “When we were told it wouldn't be ready until the next day, I offered her a ride, which she graciously accepted. I'm not sure why I feel the need to explain
again
, but there it is. I would have done the same if you'd been sitting out on the interstate.” He chose not to say aloud that he found her more captivating.

“How nice of you.” James's jowls went red. “I wouldn't want you accused of doing something you aren't. You have plenty of time to date whatever single woman you chose. I would hate for gossip to be the cause of you losing this job.” He adjusted his suit coat as he stomped out.

Matthew knew his mouth stood open as the door closed behind James.

Speaking of arrogant. Maybe Lydia should give the sermon this week. Obviously there were others beside himself who would benefit from a lecture on haughtiness.

“James is just a stubborn old mule,” Phyllis said. “He thinks if Lydia becomes involved with his little Jimmy, it'll fix all his problems. Sometimes I wonder if he's not the one attracted to her himself.” She stood behind Matthew's shoulder as he watched James climb into his car. “So'd you two kiss?”

“Excuse me.” Matthew spun.

“You're awful jumpy this morning. Listen, Lydia's a wonderful person, pretty, and you're not bad looking yourself. You're both decent people. You two wouldn't make too bad of a couple.” The phone bellowed again. She paused as she walked over to the desk to answer it. “You did say ham and cheese, and a burger, right?”

A smile inched over his lips at Phyllis' approval. It actually meant a lot to Matthew.

“Hello. Hold on.” Phyllis placed the receiver back in its cradle. “It's Riley Owens. What'd you do now? Everyone will probably be calling for an update.” She winked.

“I'll take it in my office.” Strolling into the back, he reclined in his chair, placing his feet atop the oak desk. If Riley happened to be calling to tease about Lydia, he decided he'd at least be comfortable. “Hello Riley, how are you today?”

“I'm doing okay. You said you drove Lydia back from Ringgold?”

“Yes I did,” Matthew said with a sharp tone. “I hear it'll be on the local news before we know it. Let me guess, we broke a bunch of laws by being seen together.”

“Gossip hounds are out this morning, huh?” Riley was all serious. But then he usually was. “I wouldn't be bothering you, but Lydia had a message on her answering machine when she returned last night. It's not a veiled threat anymore.”

Matthew bound to his feet. “Is she all right?”

“She's fine. I'm at the house now,” Riley said. “I'm hoping you might have caught something this time. Think it over, and I'll stop by in a bit, give you time to consider if there was anything or better yet, anyone, that stood out or was out of place.”

“You weren't able to retrieve the return number?”

“It came back as long distance. When I tried it, the number was no longer in service. Whoever this is, he knows what he's doing.”

“Worse yet, he knows what we're doing.” Matthew stared at the panoramic view from his window. “Maybe I should go over.” Matthew wondered if Jimmy had any knowledge about cars.

“I suggest you give it a day or two for things to die down a bit. Besides, Sheryl and Warren are with her now. I'll see you later.”

Matthew's midsection tugged as he hung up the telephone. As much as he longed to go to her, Riley was right. He went over in his mind the instances he was with her. The day she dropped off the books, she wore a green blouse and blue jeans. There had been no one lurking about. But then again he had his attention diverted by the lovely woman he'd been with.

Yesterday she wore a pair of black slacks, and a perfectly fitted beige blouse which caused her eye color to stand out more than usual. Nothing out of the ordinary struck him. Even if there had been, he wouldn't have noticed. It never dawned on him to watch for someone spying on them. He would remedy that from this day forward.

He walked into the sanctuary and stared up at the cross.

“Father, please help Lydia. Help us to discover who is terrorizing her. Until we do, please keep her safe.” He paused and slid into the nearest pew. His eyes faced the floor. “And God, please help with regard to Charlie Westerman. Help me to know the right time to tell Lydia I'm the person who shot her brother. And help me to live with the repercussions.”

 

****

 

Lydia clenched her jaw tightly, willing herself not to cry as Riley asked her questions about the day.

“Sorry none of the techs were available last night to take the machine.” Riley supervised as an investigator unplugged and packed up the answering machine to take it back to the lab.

“It's all right.” A pang of unease came over her at having to explain about her walk and then dinner, with Matthew. Not that having dinner with Matthew was wrong, Lydia reasoned. It was just somewhat uncomfortable to talk to her husband's close friend about it.

“This guy must have been watching you. Did you recognize anyone familiar?”

“No. Someone could have driven by without me paying particular attention.” Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, halting tears from escaping. She'd been too distracted by Matthew. “Why did the caller make it sound like I'm having an affair?”

“You aren't cheating, so chase that out of your head,” Riley said. “Justin would want you to meet somebody who makes you happy. He wouldn't like you taking refuge in this house, not living your life.”

“My car broke down, and he drove me home. That's all there was to it.”

“This person is affecting your life by making you feel guilty for something you haven't done. Everyone knows how much you and Justin cared for each other. But there comes a time when you have to let go.” Riley walked to the front door. He stopped and picked up the picture of Justin from the end table. “Maybe put some of these photographs in a scrapbook. Keep them for memories. You have this placed decorated like a museum, in remembrance of the great Justin Frederickson. He'd be the first to declare he wasn't that great, so pack them away.”

“What if I forget him?” Lydia trembled at the thought. “Some days it's hard.”

“You won't forget him. The reason it's hard is because you have all these memories staring at you.” Riley replaced the photograph. “Take this from a friend of his, remove some of the memorabilia, and redecorate this place. Not only for your health, but your sanity as well.”

“Matthew does seem nice.” Lydia lowered her tone.

Riley placed his arm over her shoulder. “This might be hard to imagine, but he is.”

His words alleviated some of the discomfort she carried inside.

“Will you be able to find out who's doing this to her?” Warren said. “Obviously he's following her. We can only imagine what he'll do next.” He came up behind them. His lips were pierced tight, and his breathing shallow.

A shudder quickly overtook the peace that fell upon Lydia only seconds earlier.

“I'm taking the machine to the lab, and hopefully they can figure something out,” Riley responded.

“Maybe if I ask a few questions,” Sheryl said, standing beside Warren. “Discreetly, of course. Maybe someone will say something that could help.”