A Silence in the Heart (Holmes Crossing Book 4) Page 6

  David shrugged, shifting the dog to get at some more quills. "I don't suppose that would hurt, though I don't want Kent to know. Or his mother."

  "Absolutely not." Remnants of her anger with Kent's mother surfaced. "She stopped by this morning making all kinds of threats, yelling at me to stay away from her son. If she does what she threatened, we won't be seeing much more of Kent. That's why I don't want to wait too much longer."

  "I see your concern. If Kent isn't coming here anymore, it's going to be harder to find out what's going on," David murmured, tugging on a particularly stubborn quill.

  Tracy steadied the dog's head as a familiar anger gripped her. If there was any way she could help Kent, she would.

  "I guess we'll just have to find some way to keep an eye on him," Tracy said. She snuck a quick look at the clock and bit her lip.

  David caught her frown. "Something wrong?"

  "I have an appointment with Edgar Stinson. I forgot to tell you."

  "Edgar?" He sounded incredulous, and Tracy didn't blame him. Edgar wasn't exactly Client of the Year material. "What do you need to talk to him about?"

  "I'm buying an acreage from him."

  "Really? That's a big step."

  "Well, it's been a long-held dream of mine." She delivered the information shyly, as if telling him gave him another connection to her.

  "When do you have to meet him?"

  "In about an hour," she said, turning her attention back to the dog. "So I might be leaving a bit early. I need to go to the bank to get my deposit for him."

  "Deposit?"

  Tracy wished she had kept her mouth shut. She blamed her blabber mouth on a combination of nerves. Juanita's visit, her appointment with Edgar, and if she were truly honest, her increased awareness of the man standing across from her all combined to her make her feel more vulnerable than usual.

  She sucked in a steadying breath, reminding herself not to get distracted.

  "Yeah. He wants me to put some money down as good faith."

  "Are you working through a lawyer on this?"

  Hearing him talk, she realized how silly her actions looked laid out in front of David. But she also knew Edgar Stinson. "’No legal yik yak' were his exact words," she said. In spite of her nervousness, Tracy did a dead-on imitation of Edgar Stinson's nasal voice. David laughed.

  "You sure you don't want to draw something up? Just in case?"

  Tracy waggled her head as if weighing the information. It hit too closely to her own insecurities, yet she didn't want to antagonize Edgar on this. "We're not at the buying stage yet. All he wants is money to pay for the subdivision costs."

  "Wouldn't hurt to cover yourself if your money is involved," David continued, as if playing on her wavering. "If he signs it, you've got leverage if he decides not to sell it to you. If he doesn't, you won't be any worse off than you are now."

  As Tracy thought of the two thousand dollars Edgar wanted, she realized David was right. Edgar had nothing to lose by signing something. She had too much to lose if he didn't.

  "That's a good idea," she said, giving a grateful smile. "I'll put something nonthreatening together."

  "I could help you, if you want. I'm no legal expert, but I've gone through a few land deals." His forehead puckered in a light frown as he concentrated on extracting a pair of quills far down the dog's throat. "But if I can give you some non-legal advice on Edgar Stinson, don't let him intimidate you."

  "I wish he didn't, but he does." Tracy held up the tray for David to deposit the quills he had pulled out.

  "Do you want me to come with you?"

  His offer gave her a gentle glow, but she shook her head. She felt a need to keep boundaries in place with this man. She sensed he could too easily slip into her heart.

  She had learned too many hard lessons about letting that happen.

  "Though I appreciate the offer, I don't think you would be an asset in the negotiation process," she said, keeping her tone light. Breezy.

  David laughed as Tracy handed him the penlight. David shone it down the dog's throat and then picked up the forceps again.

  "You're probably right." His eyes held hers as his expression became serious. "But I will give you one bit of advice. Edgar Stinson is a bully. Likes to brag that he plays hardball. Don't let him push you around. Don't let him threaten you. And don't be afraid to call his bluff."

  Tracy held his steady gaze. "Thanks for the advice," she said. "I'll try to put it in practice."

  David turned his attention back to the dog. He carefully ran his hand inside Radar's mouth to make sure he hadn't missed any quills. Checked once more on the outside. Then he stripped off his gloves and dropped them in the garbage can.

  "I'll take the dog back to the kennel room, and then I'll see you out front." But before he lifted Radar off the table, he touched her lightly, the merest whisper of his hand over her shoulder. It created a gentle yearning.

  Then she caught herself.

  She couldn't let him get close. He would let her down. She knew it.

  And when that happened, she would be worse off than before. Better to keep her heart closed, safe. Guarded.

  Chapter 5

  Tracy stood in the entrance of the Holmes Crossing Café, clutching the strap of her purse with sweaty hands. A quick glance around the half-empty restaurant showed that Edgar Stinson hadn't shown up yet.

  "Waiting for someone, Tracy?" Terra, the owner, looked up from the coffee she was pouring for a customer. Her curly auburn hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, her black pants and T-shirt broken by a white half apron.

  "Edgar . . ." She stopped. Cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. "Edgar Stinson." She wished she felt more casual about the meeting. Wished that Edgar didn't have such a stranglehold on her dream.

  It was a dream she'd cultivated her whole life, starting with small seeds hoarded from plans made when she was alone, cocooned in the silence of her mother's apartment. Plans that grew each time she visited Danielle's home on the farm in the country. Her fantasies of a place of her own became her feeble defense against the noises that intruded from the apartments beside, above, and below. They were the one thing she could control.

  Terra straightened and looked around the dining room much as Tracy had. "I'm sure he came in just a few minutes ago." She asked Helen, who slipped past the two of them. The woman angled her chin at an empty table with a chair pushed back from it. A worn plaid coat hung over the back, stained with grease at the cuffs and hem, the arms holding the bend of elbows, a ghostly memory of its wearer.

  "He was sitting there. Must have gone out for cigarettes," Helen said, glancing at Tracy as if trying to decide what she would want from a man like Edgar Stinson.

  "I can put you there until he comes," Terra said, pointing her half-full coffeepot in the direction of the table, the dark-brown liquid sloshing around in the glass carafe.

  "Thanks. That would be nice." Though she didn't relish the idea of sitting by herself, waiting to negotiate the most important deal of her life.

  "The usual chocolate milk, or can I convince you to take a walk on the wild side and get some tea?"

  "The usual," Tracy said with a nervous smile as she sat down.

  "You got 'er," Terra said, and then left.

  Tracy smoothed out the paper she had typed up in the clinic before she came here, disappointed to see her fingers trembling.

  No legal yik yak.

  The agreement she had drawn up, with help from Google, hardly fell into that category. It was simple, straightforward, and afforded her a flimsy protection should the unpredictable Edgar Stinson change his mind about the purchase.

  The acrid smell of remnant cigarette smoke intruded on her space just as a nasal voice pierced her thoughts.

  "You're late." Edgar Stinson dropped into the chair across from her, leaned his elbows on the table, grinning at her. His piercing blue eyes held a cunning that made Tracy shiver and wonder, once again, whether she was doing the right thing.
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br />   "So, you ready to play hardball?" he asked, his smile aiming at complete insincerity—with a sinister edge.

  "I'm ready to talk about the land deal, yes," Tracy said, wishing her heart wasn't thundering so heavily in her chest. Wishing she didn't want this so badly. This man held too much power over her right now. She wished she had taken David up on his offer to come along.

  "Did you bring the check?"

  Tracy lifted her purse to her lap and fingered with the clasp, hesitating. "I did. But before I give it to you—"

  "You get it certified?"

  "I didn't think that was necessary." With more confidence than she felt, Tracy pulled out the check she had carefully made out this morning, taking special care to write it clearly. Neatly. She unfolded it, kept one finger on it as she spun it around so Edgar Stinson could see the amount. "Here it is."

  Edgar held her gaze, as if testing her, and then looked down at the check. Tracy could feel his eagerness to get his hands on it. And Tracy dared a little more, David's words giving her courage.

  "I also drew up an agreement that I've already signed and would like you to as well. Just a small formality that covers my investment in the acreage."

  Edgar's head snapped up as she pulled the papers out of her purse. The gleam was replaced by a piercing look. "I told you. No legal stuff."

  "I just wrote this up myself. It's not a big deal. A copy for you and one for me." She held his gaze, willing herself not to back down. "We won't need to see a lawyer until we start dealing on the acreage."

  He leaned forward, his nearness intimidating her. Just as David had said he would. She fought every instinct to lean back and away and forced herself to lean slightly forward into his space. Hold his steely gaze.

  "Once it's subdivided. But till then, I ain't signing nothin', little lady. And if you want the land, you give me a certified check."

  He's being unreasonable. Don't give in.

  "I'm sorry. It's this or nothing." Where had that come from? Those brave, bold words? But they were spoken and she couldn't take them back. Edgar held her gaze, testing her. A thin little smile tugged at his lips.

  Edgar shoved his chair back, yanked his jacket off the back, almost upsetting it. "You push me too far, little lady." He paused as if waiting for her to object.

  The moment hung, tense, waiting. Tracy could feel the edges of her dream slipping out of her fingers. However, she was also tired of feeling powerless.

  Don't give in. Call his bluff.

  She said nothing, and then watched Edgar spin around and stride out of the dining room before Tracy even realized what had happened.

  What had she done?

  She looked down at the now-useless check and the paper that had set him off. David was wrong. She shouldn't have pushed. Edgar had played the hardball he bragged about, and he was gone.

  She wasn't going to cry.

  But as she folded up the check and the agreement and slipped them both into her purse, she had to press her lips tightly together to hold back a vulnerable and unwelcome quiver. She had lost everything again.

  Slipping her purse over her shoulder, she dropped a couple of dollars on the table to cover her drink and a tip, and then left the café.

  As she stepped out the door and onto the sidewalk, a door of the truck that had just parked on the street opened, and David stepped out, frowning as he saw her. He wore a loose shirt over a T-shirt tucked into blue jeans, making him look younger than he did in his lab coat or coveralls.

  The curious weightlessness that gripped her lately in his presence was offset by the loss she had just experienced. And she was suddenly angry.

  He walked slowly over to her, his eyebrows lifted as if in question. "The clinic was quiet, so I thought I would stop by. See how things were going," he said, his voice quiet, his eyes holding hers.

  "They didn't," she said flatly. "I pushed him, like you said I should. He went ballistic, and he left."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He walked out on me. Without my money and without signing that wonderful agreement you told me to draw up," Tracy snapped, her anger and sorrow finding a focus in the man standing in front of her. She knew it wasn't his fault, but she couldn't stop. "I should have done as I intended. Make up nice and cozy to him and maybe he'd have my check and I'd have a piece of land."

  David tunneled his hand through his hair. "He would have had your check and you'd have had no guarantees you would have gotten that land once he subdivided it."

  "You don't know that." Tracy wrapped her hands around her purse, holding it close as if protecting the papers inside. "He promised me I'd get it."

  "Tracy, you know that with someone like him, a promise doesn't mean much without a signature on a piece of paper." David took a step closer. Touched her lightly on the shoulder as if emphasizing his point. "You know even better than me what Edgar Stinson is like."

  She did, but she also knew that right now Edgar Stinson held the only thing she had wanted, truly wanted, since she was young—a piece of land that represented the home she wanted to create for herself. The home her mother hadn't given her.

  She looked up at David, aware that his hand still rested on her shoulder, large and warm.

  "Well, thanks for stopping by," she said, taking a step back from him, her anger draining away, slowly being replaced by the all-too-familiar sorrow of loss. "I'm going home."

  "Do you need a ride?"

  She shook her head. Right now she didn't want to spend time with David. Or anyone else. If she did, she was afraid she would take her first step into the pit of self-pity that lay at her feet.

  She had spent enough time there.

  Instead she gave him a quick nod farewell, and then walked down the street, heading to her apartment. She wished she could back up and get another shot at her time with Edgar Stinson. And this time she would just do what he wanted her to. He had the power. She should have known that she didn't. Never had, never would.

  "My mommy says I can't have the kitty," Kent said as he slowly reached his hand toward the cage holding the little kitten. He touched it carefully with one forefinger as if afraid to make too close a connection to the tiny animal.

  The kitten lay curled up on its side, its head angled back, eyes closed, the poster kitty for feline contentment. It didn't even twitch when Kent stroked it down the side of its soft head.

  After his mother's performance in the clinic yesterday morning, Tracy had been positive she wouldn't see Kent for a long time. His mother must have gone out in order for Kent to dare to come back.

  "Not at all?" Tracy asked.

  Kent shook his head and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his worn jeans, almost pushing them off his skinny hips. "She just yelled at me and said no kitty and she means it."

  Tracy's swift surge of anger surprised her in both its intensity and its speed. What would it hurt for this lonely little boy to have a kitten? A small companion to keep him company when he was alone. And she was sure that right now, Kent knew Juanita wasn't coming home for a while, or else he wouldn't have dared come here.

  "That's too bad. Maybe we can find someone else who can take care of it." Tracy tried to inject a cheerful tone into her voice that was as superficial as glitter on a cardboard angel's wings. Mixed with her anger was the practical reality of what she had done for this kitten. Thanks to her impulsive generosity, she was out a fair shot of money for a cat of dubious heritage and a questionable future.

  There was no way she could take it, though she dearly would have loved to. If she had her own place . . .

  And that's not happening.

  She forced a smile to her lips, smothering the negative words before they overwhelmed her once again.

  "Would it help if I asked your mom if you could have the kitty?" she said, forcing a pleasant tone to her voice.

  Kent shook his head so quickly, his long, untidy hair flung out in an arc from his head. "You can't talk to her now. She went with Uncle Steve . . ." He presse
d his lips together as if he had committed a grave breach of security.

  Uncle Steve. The appellation rang a chorus of warning bells. "Uncle," indeed.

  Kent glanced past Tracy, a brief expression of fear flitting over his face so quickly, Tracy thought for a moment "Uncle Steve" had come for him.

  Tracy glanced over her shoulder and saw, thankfully, it was just Dr. Harvey. She pushed herself to her feet. "Hi, Alan. Kent and I were just trying to figure out who we should give his kitty to."

  Dr. Harvey nodded, frowning at Kent, who now stood with his head bowed.

  "We can put a notice up in the office. Someone will ask for it."

  But Tracy didn't want just "someone" to get the kitten. She wanted a person who would let Kent come by once in a while to visit.

  Crystal put her head in the doorway. "Tracy, Edgar Stinson to see you in reception."

  Tracy couldn't stop the sudden surge of her heart, nor could she stop Kent from backing away from her, his eyes still on Dr. Harvey. Then he spun around and ducked out the back door leading outside.

  "Why's he so jumpy?" Dr. Harvey asked.

  "I think he's scared of men." Tracy could identify with his fear. What would Edgar Stinson possibly have to say to her?

  "I'll be in my office if Edgar needs to talk to me," Alan Harvey said with a wink. "Don't let him upset you."

  He already has, Tracy thought. She wiped her suddenly sweaty palms down the sides of her lab coat, fluffed her hair, and bit her lips. Then she sent up a quick prayer and walked out into the reception area.

  Edgar stood with his back to the desk, his elbows resting on it, as if disdaining to look as though he was waiting. A small posture that didn't bode well for what Edgar might have to say.

  Tracy glanced at Crystal, who sat at the desk. Crystal lifted her hands in an I-don't-know gesture. No help there.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Stinson, you asked to speak to me?" Tracy said in what she hoped was an upbeat yet not groveling tone of voice.

  Edgar spun around, his narrow eyes catching hers and once again holding her gaze in the same forthright and antagonistic way he had before.