The Last Daughter (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) (6 page)

He watched her closely, as if something evil was going to reach out and grab her. She felt safe with him and appreciated his concern, but he had to know she’d risk life and limb to track down her past.

In spite of his hovering over her, they were growing closer. As much as she wanted to touch him, relax in his arms, she didn’t dare. How could she invite him into her life when she didn’t have a clue what her life was all about? She could see how much he cared. It was visible on his face, in his eyes. His obvious affection unnerved her.

Not yet, she thought. Not yet. Sometimes she could tell he wanted to talk about them, their future together. She’d always change the subject, jokingly nudge him in another direction. She suspected he knew exactly what she was doing. Talk about patience. He had some. She wondered if she was wrong, that maybe it was time for them to get their feelings out in the open, but she always decided against it. Didn’t every relationship have steps of progression? She thought she’d read that somewhere. Seemed like they were skipping too many steps.

More disconcerting, she wasn’t sure she and Trent wanted the same things. Could she accept his way of life—buying, selling, never settling down or owning anything? She wasn’t so sure she could. And if and when it came to selling this old house, she wasn’t certain she could watch him do it, and that would probably cause trouble between them.

Rayna was preparing to change into her nightgown when a knock on the door caused her to jump.

“Rayna?” Trent’s voice was low as he called to her from the other side of her bedroom door. He never came upstairs. He usually hollered up when he needed her.

“Just a minute, Trent.” She tossed her gown onto the light blue bedspread then yanked the door open. “What’s wrong?”

He frowned. “Why aren’t you using the locks?”

Rayna laughed. “Do I need to worry about you?”

He looked embarrassed. “Of course not.”

“Good, because they make me feel uncomfortable. I don’t like the idea of being locked in. What if I needed to get out in a hurry—you know, a fire or something? And a lock jammed.”

“Wow, thanks for the visual.”

“So, what do you need?” she asked. “Was I making too much noise?” she teased.

“No, but I heard a lot of movement up here. What are you doing?”

“Afraid I’m going to steal something?”

He looked hurt.

She put her hand on his arm. “I’m just kidding. Remember you said you were keeping your enemies close.”

“I was kidding too. I’m not worried about you stealing anything, but I am scared you might find something pertaining to your childhood and not tell me.”

“I don’t know why that would concern you or bother you, but I promise to tell you everything unless I think it puts you in danger.”

“See what I mean? I don’t like that. I don’t want you facing anything alone, and I certainly don’t want you trying to protect me.”

“Oh, Trent, please don’t worry because it won’t do any good.” She turned away from him. “I have to pursue this.”

“I can’t help it, Rayna. I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen.” He came up behind her and put his arms around her, pulled her close. “I know we’ve only known each other a few weeks but I feel as if I’ve known you all my life. I care about you. A lot. And believe me, I’ve never cared about anyone—not like this.”

She turned to face him and put her hand on his cheek.

“I know you care, Trent.” He looked so relieved, she laughed. “You’re pretty transparent sometimes. And that’s something I’ve grown to appreciate.”

“Then, don’t hate me when I tell you I want to get rid of the house and everything in it. Leave here together. As soon as possible.”

Tears burned their way into her eyes. She fought hard to get rid of them, she didn’t want him to see. She thought he realized how much the house meant to her. Surely, he knew the importance of finding her family. Why would he suggest such a thing? How could he? She gave in to the gut-wrenching pain in her stomach and pulled away. She faced him with a resolve she’d never felt before. “And don’t hate me when I say no. If you stand in my way, Trent, I’ll never forgive you. If you sell this house because of me, before I learn anything, I won’t be able to forgive you.”

He sighed, ran a hand through his thick dark hair, leaving it askew. “I figured you’d say that. I won’t stand in your way, but I want to be involved in this all the way. I’m serious, Rayna. I want to know exactly what’s going on, and I never want you leaving this house without me.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll feel like a prisoner.”

“Then promise you’ll at least let me know where you’re going and when you’ll be back.”

She rubbed her arms. “Is this about Louis?”

“There’s something about him that makes me...I don’t know...I think he’s a little too interested in you. He wants to be here in the middle of things. No one, absolutely no one, carts off another person’s trash day after day for free—especially with gas prices as high as they are.” He looked at her. “Does the guy even have a real job?”

“Okay, I agree with you. But I don’t think he’s a bad guy. Look into his eyes next time. He’s sad. There’s something deep down sad about him.”

Trent shook his head. “You’re way too trusting, Rayna.”

“And you don’t trust enough.” She pushed him toward the door. “Now get out of here so I can get some sleep. My boss is a slave-driver and if I slack off, he’ll fire me.”

He curled his arm around her. “You could always sleep with the boss and see where that gets you.”

“Ha-ha. If the boss wants to sleep with me, he’s going to have to change his ways.”

“And be more trusting?”

“Among other things.”

He pulled her to him just as the north window shattered and a bullet whizzed past the back of her head. They gripped each other and ducked to the floor. Unable to speak, Rayna concentrated on trying to control her shaking body. No luck. She was almost out of control. Panic like she’d never known had her in its grip. When Trent tightened his arms around her, when she felt his warm breath against her neck, she felt a calmness oozing through her. Finally, Trent whispered. “Someone just tried to kill you.”

Rayna buried her face in his neck. “I know.”

****

Trent couldn’t sleep. Rayna had begged him not to call the cops, but he didn’t feel good about his promise. Who was shooting at her? And why?

He planned to stay up all night, keep an eye on the place while doing a little more work. When he got tired, he’d stretch out on the sofa in the dark. He doubted anyone would try to break in tonight, but he wasn’t taking any chances. By nature, he didn’t require a lot of shut-eye; he’d inherited his mom’s energy to spare.

With his clipboard in hand, he reviewed some of the inventory forms and examined several pieces of furniture. Rayna had written good descriptions. She was definitely an asset. His mind kept drifting back to the picture of her and her ugly doll sitting in the corner of that very room, the crack of the gunshot shattering the bedroom window, her plea for him not to call the cops. Something wasn’t right.

First of all, the picture was weird. Rayna wasn’t just sitting in the corner. To Trent she looked as though she huddled there—as if she was scared, about to burst into tears. She hadn’t commented on her actual expression—only the doll. He wondered if she’d even noticed that she wasn’t smiling, that her fingers were clenched and her arms were wrapped tightly around her doll. He wondered if she chose to ignore her expression and not to say the words aloud. To Trent, she looked frightened, but who would take a picture of a frightened child? Nothing made sense.

And the gunshot. Could it have to do with her family and her search for them? He wished he’d never promised to keep the gunshot a secret. He wouldn’t make such a promise again. In fact, he needed to document everything so he could give the cops a date if the need arose, the exact time and all the details. He clicked his pen a couple of times while he thought, then began to jot some notes, everything he could remember about the picture, the gun shot, Louis. It was no coincidence that odd things started happening only after Rayna came to town.

He ran his hand roughly across his face. All signs pointed to Rayna being abused. He’d always heard if someone couldn’t remember their childhood, had blocked it out completely, then it was a sign of something horrible that they didn’t want to remember. What kind of doors were they opening? How would Rayna react when she learned the details of her past? Would she go bonkers and need therapy for years? How would he handle it? How would he ever be able to help her through childhood horrors if he had to? Right now he felt totally inadequate.

He still believed strongly that he should sell the house and everything in it, and get back to Texas. He couldn’t do that though. She’d told him loudly and clearly, she’d never forgive him if he stood in the way of her search. Of course, he could sell everything and leave her behind, but he had a feeling he’d never forget Rayna, never be able to live without her. Besides that, what kind of man would he be to leave a woman when she was in need of protection?

“Guess I’m in it for the long haul,” he mumbled, tossing the pen and clipboard onto the sofa.

He turned out the overhead light and sat down in a chair, resting his head on the high padded back. The lamp in the corner of the room offered a dim, seductive glow. Who would want Rayna dead and why? What if he couldn’t protect her? What if something happened to her? If he called the police, would they think he was nuts? Of course not. He’d tell them everything he knew about her and all that had happened: the mysterious picture of Rayna with the doll, the gun shot, and all about Louis showing up to collect free garbage. Tomorrow, he’d dig the bullet out of the wall and he’d talk to Rayna again about reporting the shooting. He was satisfied with his decision. In a few minutes, his eyes shuttered closed. He hovered on the edge of dreamland when a loud thump jerked him fully awake. It came from the porch. Someone was out there.

He sat still, held his breath, and listened. Complete silence. He eased from the chair and moved toward the front of the room, stopped, listened again. Nothing. He braced himself for a fight and yanked the door open. A large box sat flush against the threshold. He’d bought enough boots to know it was probably a boot box wrapped in brown paper. With a black marker, someone had printed, “
Rayna: this is for you
.”

“Not if I can help it,” he whispered. He reached down to pick up the box, stopped himself. She’d never forgive him if he opened it, destroyed it, hid it from her. He straightened and stared at the crudely wrapped package for a brief moment before he shut the door. Nothing he could do. He’d let her open it, then help her deal with the consequences.

“It can sit out there all night for all I care,” he mumbled “If someone steals it, so be it.” If it was still there after breakfast, it was meant to be.

“And it sure as hell ain’t no coincidence.”

Chapter 5

“You look like a grump this morning. Didn’t you sleep well?” Rayna beat him to the kitchen. She’d made the coffee and was whipping up a breakfast casserole.

“Why are you fixing so much food?”

“I realize you’re the gourmet cook in this house, but I’ve been wanting to try this recipe. No better time than now.”

He grunted and shifted in his chair. “Lots of better times.”

She quit mixing and dug inside her pocket. She held a silver object toward him. “Okay, I know why you’re upset. Look at this.”

When he didn’t respond, she explained. “It’s from a pellet gun.”

“Right, I’ve seen a lot of them. I just don’t understand why that should make me feel better.”

“No one was trying to kill me. It was probably just a kid out goofing off at night, shooting at street lights. Every bayou kid in Louisiana has a b-b gun or a pellet gun.”

He took the pellet from her. “Then you realize there are pellet rifles out there thirty-eight and fifty caliber that are legal to deer hunt with. Rayna, a high powered pellet rifle will leave an exit wound on a white tail deer and blow all the way through a squirrel.”

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong. Everything was good when you left my room last night—except for the gunshot. I’ve never seen you like this.” She put her hand on his arm.

“Here’s what’s wrong, Rayna.” He held up the pellet. “You could have been killed. Someone shot at you. I never should have promised you I wouldn’t notify the police. If something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.” He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. She looked fresh and rested. “Don’t tell me you slept like a baby.”

She took the pellet from him, and turned back to the counter. She leaned against it. “As a matter of fact, I did sleep like a baby—after I dug this thing out of the wall.”

He shook his head. “We need to go to the cops. We need to get an investigation going.”

“You may regret it, but you did promise.”

“I know. But, Rayna, I’m afraid I’m going to—that we’ll both regret not getting them here to investigate.”

She sat down at the table and put her hand on his arm. “We can do our own investigation. I’ll do whatever you say as long as you don’t get the police involved.”

He scowled. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, I promise I’m not. And maybe you’re right about the cops, but let’s discuss it. First, why would anyone shoot at me? It doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t, unless someone doesn’t want you to find your family.”

Her fingers tightened. “I don’t want to believe that. But if it’s true, I need to know why? Why, Trent?” She moved her hand to her chest and rubbed the fabric of her high neck pullover. “Do you think I witnessed something I shouldn’t have when I was a child? Or have I come into a huge inheritance that someone doesn’t want me to have? Why would anyone care?”

Trent got up from the table and pulled her from the chair. He cupped her face with both hands and his thumbs caressed her cheeks. “I meant everything I said last night, Rayna. Everything. I’ll sell this place now and take you away from it. I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’ll walk away from it now, give it up completely if you’ll come with me.”