In the Eye of the Storm
Read In the Eye of the Storm Online
Authors: Jennifer Hayden
ISBN: 1482067617
ISBN-13: 978-1482067613
eBook ISBN: 978-1-63003-053-7
IN THE EYE OF THE STORM
Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Anne Hayden
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now or known hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording is forbidden without the written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, situations and places in the book are purely from the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone either living or deceased.
~NOTE~
Dear Reader: A minor change has been made in this book (in difference to After the Rain – Book 1 of this series) regarding the name of the baseball team that Beau Callahan plays for. This change was made for creative purposes. Enjoy!
CONTENTS
Beau Callahan turned the volume up on the radio as he climbed into his truck. He was beat. It was nearly eleven o’clock at night. He had crossed the Montana state line two hours earlier after driving straight through from Texas. Hours and hours, he’d been on the road, only stopping for essential food and bathroom breaks. Hence, the stop he’d just made at the Jiffy Mart off the highway. He’d stocked himself up with a couple of candy bars and a six-pack of Coke. Neither were things he would normally eat. One night of slacking on his usually healthy diet wouldn’t hurt.
As a baseball player in the MLB, Beau had a physique to keep up. He had a multimillion-dollar contract with the Texas Renegades that rode on his good health. Lucky for him, the season had ended a month earlier. It had not ended well. For the second year in a row, the Renegades hadn’t made it to the play-offs, let alone the World Series. Beau had been to the World Series twice in his eleven year career—hell he’d even been MVP. From that point on, things had gone downhill.
Sighing, he ripped into a Snickers bar and took a large mouthful, not bothering to start his truck yet. The candy tasted heavenly and he took a few minutes to enjoy the peanut and caramel chocolate bar as it melted in his mouth.
He looked out the window at the well-lit area. So far, he didn’t remember a stitch about Montana. He knew he’d been here a few years back with some friends. They’d stayed at a family cabin somewhere in the hills. Riverdale was not in the hills. It was a medium sized city, not far from Missoula. Beau knew his brother, Trey, was now on the narcotics squad with the Riverdale police, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine the job being very interesting. Did people really do that many drugs in a city this size in Montana? He guessed they must or his brother wouldn’t have a job.
Thinking of Trey, Beau felt bad. Two months earlier, his brother had gotten married. He had married his girlfriend of about a year, Kylie Rhodes. They had tied the knot back in Callahan, Arizona, on the family farm. Beau had missed the wedding. He’d been on the road with the team and hadn’t been able to get away. Or rather, he just hadn abruptly.
bothered to. He’d had his reasons of course—all of which he wasn’t about to share with his family. So naturally, they were all pissed—most of all, his favorite older brother.
During their childhood years, Beau had idolized the ground Trey walked on. As they had gotten older, they had been thicker than thieves. They were only a couple of years apart. Trey was thirty-three now and Beau was thirty-one. Dusty was the oldest at thirty-five. Only girl, Elle, was twenty-nine and Joey was the baby in the family at twenty-three.
Hearing his cell phone buzz, he checked the caller ID. He recognized the number and picked up the call.
“Mr. Callahan? Detective Mumford here. Is this a bad time?”
Beau grimaced. There was never a good time for things like this. “It’s as good a time as any.”
“Good. I have some of the preliminary findings back in the investigation on the latest burglary at your home. There was one set of fingerprints that we ran and came up empty. All the other prints belong to either you or your housekeeper.” Detective Mumford paused. “I’m afraid there was really nothing else to go on.”
This didn’t surprise Beau. “I appreciate the call.”
“Have you received any more letters?”
“No, I’ve been on the road for a while though. I haven’t checked my mail.” His housekeeper paid most of his personal bills and set the rest of his mail aside for him to go through when he made it home. The team fan club got the majority of his fan mail and he hadn’t checked in with them in a few weeks. He figured no news was good news on that front. They likely would have called him if there had been any recent threatening letters.
“It might be a good idea to have someone check it for you if you won’t be back for a while. Maybe you could have it forwarded to you.”
That was the last thing Beau wanted, but he agreed for the detective’s sake. After disconnecting the call, he took a long swig of Coke.
This last break-in at his home had not been the first one. It had only been the worst. This time the person had taken a knife to his things. His mattress and his box spring were ruined. The 1968 Chevy Camaro he kept in his locked garage was totaled. The tires on his Harley were slashed. The only reason the truck he was driving had been unscathed was because his friend had borrowed it for the weekend.
This person—this maniac who obviously had a beef with Beau—was getting bolder. He had managed to track the Renegades on the road a time or two and cause havoc with security. His message was always the same; he wanted Beau to pay.
The first letter had been more insulting than threatening. Beau usually got a few of those a month when things were going badly for him on the field. A lot of the guys did. People in Texas took their baseball seriously.
The next few letters got more and more threatening and began showing up at his house rather than team headquarters. Eventually the break-ins started. At one point, a man had broken in when Beau’s housekeeper was there and nearly scared the daylights out of her. Luckily he’d run off scared and Carmen, a woman who had worked for Beau for four years now, had escaped unharmed. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to provide the police with an accurate description of the perpetrator.
Another time the wacko had managed to get through security at Arlington Stadi sometimes.”
After that, Beau made a point of spending less and less time at home in Arizona. This lunatic was clearly tailing him on and off and he was terrified to put his entire family in danger, especially with the birth of his nephew, Dusty and Faye’s little boy.
So here he was in Riverdale, praying he’d managed not to leave a trail as to his whereabouts—and hoping he could make amends with his brother and his new sister-in-law.
Starting up the truck, he shifted into reverse and let off the brake. He felt the bump and heard the bang. Something had hit his truck—or rather
someone.
Cursing, he put the vehicle in park and opened his door. Jumping out, he prepared to let the
someone
have it. Damn it, he didn’t have time for this. He was beat. All he wanted was a warm bed and some peace and quiet. Of course, that was too much to ask for.
“What the hell?” a female voice said, from behind him. He walked to the rear of the vehicle and found a woman standing there staring at the place where their vehicles were joined at the bumper.
He cursed again.
“This is just great,” she snapped, before he could say another word. “I can’t believe you just hit me.”
“You’re clearly mistaken. Do you need glasses?” he asked, pulling his baseball cap down further over his eyes. He hoped she wasn’t anyone who would recognize him. He wasn’t in the mood for fanfare.
“Me?” She looked up at him, her brown eyes narrowed in irritation. “You are the one who hit
me
.”
“I did
not
hit you. I was backing up at a reasonable speed and you were barreling through the damned parking lot like the Batmobile.”
Her eyes grew wide and she frowned at him. “That is not what happened and you know it. You didn’t look before you backed up.”
Had he?
He honestly couldn’t remember. Even so, he sure wasn’t going to tell her that. “So what do you want to do about this?”
“Call the cops,” she snapped irritably, running a hand through her already unruly, curly dark hair. “That’s what you’re supposed to do when an accident occurs.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary? If I bounce on our bumpers they will come loose.”
“You are not going to bounce on anything. You need to be cited for your reckless driving. Do you have proof of insurance?”
Now he was getting pissed. Leave it to him to get hit by the most irritating woman in the state. He cursed again. “I already told you, I didn’t hit you. You hit me. You’re the one going forward.”
“And you are the one who backed up without looking.” A tiny thing, she did her best to hold her chin up high. “Police officers can tell that sort of thing you know. They’ll be able to determine this was your fault said, grinningonhe was right away.”
“I’m sure they have more important crime to fight. Don’t you think?”
She scowled. “Don’t try to manipulate me, Mister. I’m calling the police.” She pulled out her cell phone, while he waited impatiently, figuring she had made up her mind. There went his early bedtime. Tapping his foot, he grimaced while she pounded on her phone.
“The battery’s dead,” she announced, after several moments.
“That’s a shame.” He stood there waiting to see what she would do next.
“Well, don’t you have a cell phone?”
“I do,” he confirmed, but made no move to retrieve it.
“For goodness sake, get it,” she demanded, her big brown eyes narrowing in anger.
“I don’t need my phone because I don’t want to call the police. You’re wasting your time—and mine.” He gestured around them. “It’s late at night and there’s nobody around that’s going to corroborate your story. It’s your word against mine. We will probably both get citations. What’s that going to solve?”
She scowled and started mumbling under her breath. “Great job, Kate. Just great. A perfect ending to a perfect night.”
“Are you talking to yourself?” he asked, frowning.
Now she glowered at him. “I’m thinking out loud.”
He rolled his eyes. “Look, I can have us out of here in two minutes if you let me. Make up your mind.”
He could tell he was wearing her down. Shivering, she pulled her coat around herself tightly. “Oh go ahead and get the cars apart,” she snapped, obviously knowing when she was licked.
He had them both free seconds later. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet. “Here’s a couple hundred bucks. You can get the scratch in your bumper buffed out if you want to.” He held the money out to her.
“I’m not a charity case.”
“Huh?” He stared at her dumbly.
“You obviously don’t feel you hit me, so why should you pay for my bumper?”
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. “Are you high?”
“Keep your money for your own bumper,” she snapped, stomping back to her SUV. “And watch where the heck you’re going next time.”
Beau watched her climb into the vehicle and back up, her eyes never leaving his—at least not until he heard a crash again. She had just backed into the telephone pole behind her.
Sighing, he contemplated just getting into his truck and leaving. Hell, it wasn’t his vehicle she’d hit this time. This was not his problem.
He looked at her through the windshield. Her eyes were closed now, but he had to hand it to her, she wasn’t bawling her head off like most females would do.