Opalescence

Inc.

The day moved in slow motion,

and it was nearly over when Paulette rang her phone, her voice near to panic. LynAnn, I received a call from your daycare. Cassie’s been hurt, and they’re taking her to St. Luke’s. They want you to meet them there.

Did they say what happened? she asked, stunned with a new sick feeling knotting her stomach.

Something about a fall. Paulette’s gum cracked.

LynAnn grabbed her purse and flew by the receptionist before she had a chance to put her phone down. Tell Dan I’m leaving, she yelled back as she raced out the door.

When she neared Jeff’s Buick in the parking lot she pushed the remote control to unlock the doors, but when she tried the doors they were locked. That’s odd. She screwed up her face, distinctly remembering locking the doors earlier. She had to get to Cassie immediately. The woman at the daycare had to be very worried to send the girl directly to the hospital. She pushed the key fob for the second time and the doors clicked open. She jumped into the car, started the engine, and sped out of the parking lot.

The first traffic light at the end of the block was red and she stopped and drummed her fingers nervously on the steering wheel waiting for it to change and hoping Cassie’s injury wasn’t too serious.

Suddenly, she felt something cold on the back of her neck, and her body froze. Don’t look back. Keep driving, the man in the backseat commanded, his upper body leaning over the front seat of the car. His icy menacing tone told her he was in control.

Opalescence

by

Darla Jones

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Opalescence

COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Darla Jones

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc. Design

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Crimson Rose Edition, 2015

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0354-3

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0355-0

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To Sandra Hoover Gilmer, my remarkable true friend.

Chapter 1

LynAnn jolted from her sleep, and her ears honed in on the night sounds of the cabin nestled high in the Laurel Mountains of northern Pennsylvania. Even though there was no breeze on this hot July night, the fresh aroma of pine hung in the air from the open windows of the upstairs loft of the modern log cabin. Outside, the Allegheny River gurgled as it rolled past the cabin, but its gentle rhythm was not what awakened her. Whatever sound roused her came from inside the cabin. Her body tensed as she strained her ears once more. She and her children were alone in the dense mountains. They were twenty miles from the nearest town and far out of cell phone range. Except for her friends who offered her the use of the cabin over this Fourth of July holiday, no one knew her little family was there.

Squee-ch. The floorboards in the great room below creaked, and the ominous noise sent a cold chill through her bones. LynAnn was certain she’d locked the doors and windows before her and her family went to sleep in the loft. Someone or something had broken in. Shivering with fear, she searched her mind to come up with a rational explanation. A bear could have smashed through a window, but a large animal would create a commotion.

Forcing her eyes shut, she waited and listened.

Sque-ak. Her stiff body jerked and she held her breath. Like fingernails scraping a blackboard, three more high toned screeches reached her ears. Footsteps. Someone had to be creeping around downstairs. Her intruder was human. Only a thief would slink around in the middle of the night. But most thieves wouldn’t chance entering an occupied residence, and her car was parked out back. What if he weren’t a thief? The invader may have more evil on his mind. LynAnn trembled and hugged her arms to her body. Her family was in danger.

Cre-eek. This time the eerie sound came from the bottom of the stairs. The intruder was coming up to the loft.

Oh God. She had to protect her children. She had to stop him. He couldn’t get to her children. Fighting back panic, she leaped from her bed, barefooted, and tiptoed to the top of the stairs. Darkness as black as the deepest ocean waited below, and she paused for her vision to adjust to the blackness. Once clear, she saw the stairs and landing were empty. Creak. This time the sound came from the cabin’s great room. Noiselessly, she crept down one slow step at a time, compelling her lungs to suck in air as she descended. When she got to the landing she stopped, and the dim outline of a man stood ten feet away.

LynAnn’s heart bounced erratically in her chest. She had to act fast. She needed a weapon. She plunged her hand into the pocket her thin nightshirt, balled her fist, and pointed her index finger faking a pistol. She sprang from the landing. Get out. I have a gun, she shouted, trying to make her voice threatening.

The shadowy figure paused for a second and then like a phantom, disappeared into the blackness of the big room, and she lost sight of him. Slowly, cautiously, she edged deeper into the room. She had to get to the light switch on the opposite side of the room.

Silence.

Except for her pulse echoing in her eardrums, the cabin was much too quiet. The moonless, murky darkness gave no clue to the man’s whereabouts. Her body rigid, she forced her legs into action and bolted for the light switch, but she was not as fast as the intruder. Let me see your gun. A man’s deep voice demanded from behind. He grabbed her shoulders and slipped his arms over hers and then trailed his hands down to her fingertips searching for her gun.

Her body, startled at the sound of his voice, then trembled at his touch. Now he knew she was unarmed. Remembering her self-defense course, she was determined to put it to use. With all her might, she flung both her arms upward, knocking the man’s grip from her shoulders. Then, she spun around to face him, bending her right leg, she hurled her knee upward into what she hoped was his groin.

The man was fast. Oh no, you don’t, he hissed, while he jerked his lower body away denying her access to her target and latching onto her shoulders again. Once more her knee flexed and hurled upwards, but she missed her target again. Aah. A low, exasperated groan fell from her lips. Go for his next weakest spot. She stretched her arms and aimed her fingers at his eye sockets.

He pitched his head to avoid her eye gouge, but her nails sank deep into the flesh of his cheek. Damn, he muttered a low curse. He whirled her body around as if she were a dishrag and tugged her backside against his chest. "Stop struggling," he commanded as his forearm moved upward, squashing her breast to her rib cage while his other strong arm clamped around her waist.

Panting, LynAnn drew uneven breaths and found a burst of power from an adrenaline surge coursing through her body. She fought with wild fury. Writhing and twisting, she tried to bite; she kicked with both bare feet and elbowed his chest. But not to be outdone by the strong man, he gathered her wrists together in one of his big hands and lifted her body from the floor.

LynAnn was still able to kick, and her legs flew, pounding her bare heels into his shin bones. Then she hurled her head back and smacked at the man with a hard head butt even Jessie Ventura would envy.

Ugh. On impact, her assailant uttered a groan and reeled backwards but refused to release his grip on her body.

She attacked his shins with her heels again. Her bare foot connected with something in the room, and it careened to the floor with a loud thud. Like a flounder caught in a fishnet, she continued to flail with her head and feet.

"Stop. Calm down. He tried to deflect her kicks. I’m trying not to hurt you. How did you get in here?"

Exhausted and gasping for breath, she could fight no more. The thief wore her down. With her body still in the man’s clutches and dangling a good foot off the floor, she hung her head in defeat.

Are you a squatter? The man gulped air into his lungs. How did you get in here? he asked once more.

Squatter? How ironic this criminal would assume she was there illegally. Perhaps he had been watching the cabin and knew her children were upstairs sleeping in the loft. Dread filled her as she thought of her family. She would do whatever necessary to save them, but physically she was no match for the strong man. She’d bargain with her intruder. I have a key. She managed to whisper. Take anything you want. I haven’t seen your face, and I can’t identify you.

With her body clinched tightly in his arms, the man began to walk. An overwhelming feeling of dread washed over her. Did he intend to kill her? She tried to pray, but no words entered her mind. All at once, the man’s steps ceased and with a click, the lights of the great room flickered on. LynAnn squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden brightness. Please, put me down. I won’t look at you. I promise.

I’ll put you down if you don’t attack me again and tell me who gave you a key to this cabin.

Drained of energy, she nodded in agreement and felt her body being gently lowered to the floor. Weak legged, she forced herself to stand and then wiped at the blood oozing from her lip with the back of her hand. As promised, she did not turn to look at her assailant. Stu Harrington gave me the key.

Stu? The man raised his voice in surprise. Who are you?

Stu’s name registered with the man, and LynAnn did an about face and was shocked by what she found. The man’s nose was bleeding and spurting onto his shirt, and two deep scratches tore down his left cheek. I’m LynAnn Johnson, Stu’s friend, she replied through muffled fingers pressing her bleeding lip. Who are you and why are you sneaking around here in the middle of the night?

He grimaced, shook his head, and then pinched his nostrils between his fingers in an attempt to stop the blood streaming from his nose. I’m Jeff Kelley, and I also have a key. It’s my cabin, he answered with a nasal twang. Stu didn’t tell me you were going to be here. I’m sorry if I frightened you. Are you hurt?

Realizing her nightshirt did little to cover her body; LynAnn grabbed a throw cover from the sofa and wrapped it around her torso. She recognized the man, and Stu had told her the cabin belonged to him, but he was supposed to be in New York on legal business this holiday weekend. At the moment she wished he’d been a robber instead of the man who stood before her. Seeing him again made her cringe, and Stu had assured her he would not be at his cabin. I’m okay, she tried not to mumble with her hand pressed to her lip. I thought you were a burglar. Angry and embarrassed at the same time, she bowed her head.

I’m so sorry. I must have frightened the wits out of you, he apologized again.

Frightened? Yes. She was fighting for her life and her children were upstairs. Why didn’t you identify yourself?

"Hah, he scoffed. You said you had a gun. I figured you’d shoot first and ask questions later."

I had to defend myself.

You most certainly did, he agreed. His nose continued to spurt blood and clamping her palm to her split lower lip, LynAnn went to the kitchen for ice. She was surprised when the man followed her into the kitchen, grabbed a wad of paper towels, squeezed it to his nose and headed out the back door. She prepared their ice packs while he returned carrying a small sleeping boy in his free arm.

I left my son in the car when I saw a strange car outside, he explained as he toted the boy past her and carried him through the cabin and to the loft.

Because of her friend Stu and his association with the man, she knew he had a son. She gauged the boy’s age to be about six, the same as her own son. Stu had mentioned the man and his son often. The two men had once been law partners. Stu had a new law partner now since Kelley had moved on to become the district attorney of Delta County.

When he returned to the great room, she handed him his ice pack. Standing with a few feet between them, the petite woman and the taller, broader man glowered at each other while they both iced their wounds. Finally, the man removed his ice pack and gingerly felt his upper lip for signs of blood and then spoke, I saw your children in the loft and they somehow managed to sleep through our little rumpus. He gave her a hint of a smile. I think I can place you now. Don’t you and your family live below Stu in their duplex?

She nodded and removed her ice pack from her lips. Yes. They’re wonderful neighbors, and both Stu and his wife, Jean, adore my children. I guess you could say Jean is my best friend, too.

He did a quick scan of her blanket-clad body and then his eyes swept upward as if in thought. Both you and Jean are nurses, and Stu talks often about your son. His eyes rested on her face. He takes him to the barber with him, and they both get haircuts. Isn’t his name Matt?

Yes, Matt’s six.

My son is also six, and it seems we have mutual friends. I’m surprised we haven’t met before now. His smile was wider this time, and it made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

I guess we do. LynAnn failed to return his smile. She felt her lower lip swelling as blood and old feelings of distaste rose in her mouth. Although he’d gathered a little information about her from Stu, Jeff Kelley gave no indication he remembered their previous encounter. It was nearly four years ago now, but she remembered it well. Her life would have been much different if he had only taken her accusations seriously at the time. Her life had been destroyed, and he did absolutely nothing to help her.

Finally, the man plopped on the sofa and threw his head back with the ice pack planted over his nose. She dropped into a chair opposite him and nursed her lip. Then she noticed the shattered lamp on the floor. I’m sorry about the lamp. I’ll replace it.

No need. This whole incident is my fault. I hope I didn’t hit you in the mouth. I didn’t know who you were, and I only wanted to subdue you. His head remained tossed back and his eyes shut.

I think I bit my lip myself.

He expelled a deep chuckle. We had ourselves quite a donnybrook.

So now, he thought their encounter was funny. Well, she didn’t. Didn’t he realize how much he’d frightened her? It would serve him right if she marched over there and smashed his ice pack over his bleeding nose a few times.

A cry from the upstairs loft interrupted her anger, and she recognized it came from Cassie, her youngest. That’s Cassie. She leaped to her feet, relieved to have a chance to escape from the arrogant man. Excuse me, please. Tails of the throw blanket dragging on the floor, she rushed up to her daughter.

Once upstairs, LynAnn gathered her wailing daughter in her arms. Hush now, Cassie. Mommy’s here. She paced the floor with the girl, patting her back and trying to soothe her. In a few minutes, Cassie slept once more, and she tucked her back into her bed. But LynAnn only had time to do away with the throw blanket she’d been wearing when the child began screeching like a high pitched, out of tune violin. She had to get her out of the loft before she woke, not only her son, but Kelley’s son also. With dexterity only known to mothers, she put on her terrycloth robe and wrapped her cuddly little blonde girl in the blanket at the same time and then carried her down the stairs.

I’m taking her out on the porch to the rocking chair, she announced to the man sprawled out over the sofa. His nose must have started bleeding again. He held the ice pack to his nose with one hand and with the other he pinched the paper towels to his nostrils. Blood stained his shirt. He looked as if he’d lost both the battle and the war.

Settling on the chair, Cassie slept peacefully nestled against her breast as she rocked her in the clean night air. Fireflies flitted along the river while a chorus of frogs serenaded them. The clouds had dispersed and bright moonbeams illuminated the night sky like muted candlelight.

Jeff Kelley must have recovered from his bloody nose. A few minutes later, he moved about in the kitchen, and soon the aroma of brewing coffee floated to the porch and mingled with the fragrant pine. The brawny man leaned around the door jam and waved a cup in her direction, Coffee? he offered, whispering so he wouldn’t disturb her sleeping child. An unruly lock of his thick brown hair fell over his forehead.

She nodded, and for the first time she noticed he was a handsome man, his attractiveness something she hadn’t remembered from their first encounter. She would have never agreed to come to the cabin if she had known he was going to be there.

In a few moments, he appeared with a cup of coffee in each hand. He’d changed his shirt. Placing the cups on the picnic table, he moved a smaller table in front of her, set their cups down on it, and settled into the chair beside her. Leaning his broad shoulders toward her, he studied Cassie’s sleeping face. Then he glanced at LynAnn, smiled and spoke softly. She’s beautiful. How old is she? His azure eyes did a slow sweep over LynAnn’s face.

Intimidated by his scrutiny of her, she whispered, Thank you. Cassie’s three and a half. She bowed her head. When she agreed to coffee, she didn’t realize he planned to join her. She certainly didn’t want to share the porch with him. Because of her past experience with him, his close proximity made her uneasy.

Sensing her discomfort, he reached for his coffee cup, leaned back in his chair, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He was silent for a time and then inquired, You’re okay, aren’t you? I mean, I didn’t hurt you, did I?

He seemed genuinely concerned. What a surprise. Did the man actually have feelings? In his office four years ago he’d listened patiently to her allegations and promised to check into her claims immediately. But she never heard from him again. I’m fine, she replied. How ’bout you?

Leaning forward he took a sip of his coffee and then chuckled, Fine, although when I saw how small you were, I couldn’t believe the fight you had in you. You’re one feisty lady, like a 5.7 liter Hemi engine. His dark eyes swept over her face once more, and once more she avoided them.

She had no idea what he was talking about and refused to acknowledge his compliment, if that’s what it was. I’ve decided we’ll leave this morning as soon as my kids are up. I think I’ve done enough damage around here. Although she’d just made the decision, she felt it would be best to leave as soon as possible. Not only because she’d made a fool of herself thinking he was a burglar or worse yet, a serial killer, but because of the callous man himself. She had no idea how he got elected to the DA position; the man was cruel and didn’t know the meaning of empathy.

Leaning nearer, he forced eye contact. Oh, please don’t, his tone sincere as his blue eyes locked with hers. To say we got off to a bad start is putting it mildly, but my son will be thrilled when he sees your children and besides, I want you all to stay and enjoy yourselves.

She considered what he said, but shook her head. No, thank you. I have to leave this evening anyway. I have work tomorrow morning at St. Luke’s Hospital. Part of her really didn’t want to leave yet. Her children would be so disappointed, but she didn’t want to face the famous district attorney again. This was the first vacation her family had in years, and because of him it had turned into a fiasco.

Please don’t go, his voice pleaded as he leaned closer, and then a big grin spread over his lips. I promise I won’t sneak around like Jack the Ripper if you promise to holster your gun.

Despite herself, she burst out laughing and then remembered Cassie on her lap and clamped her hand over her mouth.

A hearty laugh also erupted from deep within his chest, and he squeezed his lips together to quiet himself. "Our