Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“Stay here.” Tex hurried toward the front of the house.

The picture window in the formal living room was shattered, with ragged edges of glass protruding like fangs all around it.

There, on the red-and-blue oriental rug, was a brick with a paper rubber-banded around it.

Tires squealed somewhere close.

Before looking at the paper, Tex rushed to the window.

But when he peered outside, he saw nothing.

Even if he tried to follow, by the time Tex got to his truck his efforts would be useless.

Whoever had done this was now gone.

A rock formed in his stomach. What was going on here?

He strode toward the brick and ripped the rubber band off. Then he pulled his sleeves over his hands before he unfolded the paper. He didn’t want to mess up any potential fingerprints.

A message had been crudely written in thick, black marker on the white paper.

You’re not welcome here.

Tex sucked in a breath at the words. Were they meant for him?

But he’d just arrived, and he hadn’t told anyone he was coming. So the thought of this being directed at him seemed strange and unlikely.

“Tex?”

He turned to see Gilbert standing in the doorway behind him. Chelsea peered from behind Gilbert. They both stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Someone threw a brick through your window with this message attached.” He held up the paper. “Any idea what it means?”

Gilbert flinched as he read the words. “Why would someone do that? Why wouldn’t they want you here?”

“Nobody knew I was coming here,” he told Gilbert. “So it is a little strange.”

“Well, it couldn’t have been meant for me.” Gilbert threw his hands in the air. “Why would someone tell me I’m not welcome? I’ve lived here for twenty years.”

Tex didn’t know what was going on, but whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

“Should I call the police?” Gilbert frowned as he stared at his window.

“That’s your decision.” Tex headed toward the window again. He wanted to double-check that whoever had done this hadn’t come back for a second loop.

“What would you do?” he asked, honestly sounding uncertain—not a common emotion for Gilbert.

Tex turned back toward them. “It couldn’t hurt to file a report. The cops could find some fingerprints on the paper. I doubt there are any, but it’s worth a shot.”

Tex didn’t like where this was going. Between the mystery of why he’d been asked to come, finding Chelsea in Gilbert’s office, and now the brick through the window, this wasn’t the start to his visit he’d foreseen.

“I guess I’ll keep it quiet.” Resignation filled Gilbert’s voice. “No need to make a big deal out of it and just give more attention to whoever did this. I was really hoping my time with you while you were here would be peaceful.”

There was definitely more to this story than Gilbert had let on when he’d invited Tex back to Holly Ridge.

Tex nodded to the front of the house. “I should get some wood and cover this window. It’s going to get cold in here fast.”

“I have some plywood in the shed out back.”

Tex headed that way. “I’m sure I can find something.”

Chelsea trailed behind him. “Let me help. To get a piece of wood big enough to cover that window, it’s going to be large. Two people would be better.”

“I can—” Gilbert started.

“I know you want to, Gilbert, but your arthritis has been acting up lately,” Chelsea rushed. “It would be better if you just let me do it instead.”

“I know by that tone that I can’t argue with you.” Gilbert let out a laugh and raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll clean up the glass shards.”

On some people it would sound friendly, but with Gilbert it didn’t quite sound sincere.

Then again, that was just Gilbert. There were two camps of people with him: those who abhorred the man’s every move, and those who fell for his act and practically worshipped the man.

That second group was probably the only way he’d been allowed to have so many foster kids in his home over the years. He knew how to impress the right people. Or maybe the right people just saw what they wanted to see when the details worked in their favor.

Those were questions for another time.

Gilbert handed him the shed key, and Tex headed out the back door, Chelsea on his heels. He didn’t really need her help. But she seemed eager to offer it, so he didn’t argue.

Outside, darkness hung around them and the grass crunched beneath his feet. It had been a particularly dry autumn, and now everything was brown and crispy.

He’d checked the forecast before he left, and meteorologists were calling for snow in a couple of days. There was nothing he loved more than a good snow.

He’d mostly been working out of Florida lately, and he was ready for a break from the humidity.

“Do you know anything about that brick?” he asked Chelsea as soon as they were out of earshot walking toward the shed.

“Why would I know anything about that brick?”

“Well, you live beside Gilbert. Maybe you’ve seen something.”

Something flashed through Chelsea’s eyes. For a moment, Tex thought she might share something.

Instead, she said, “I have no idea. Gilbert and I both work at the high school, but I really know very little about him. We run in different circles. He’s the athletic guy, and I’m into the arts. The two don’t often mingle.”

Tex wanted to press her more about it, but he didn’t. Not now.

Instead, he took the lock off the shed and threw the wooden doors open as he peered inside the space. Right away, he spotted the wood he could use.

As he grabbed it, he said over his shoulder, “You’re going to need to tell me why you were snooping in Gilbert’s office.”

He glanced at Chelsea in time to see her face go pale.

Now he was really intrigued.

Something was going on here, and he needed to find out what.

Chelsea’s heart pounded so hard in her ears the beat was nearly all she could hear.

Even as she held the wood up to the window and listened to Tex hammer the nails into it, all she could think about were his words. You’re going to need to tell me why you were snooping in Gilbert’s office.

Could he really force her? She supposed, if she didn’t fess up, Tex could tell Gilbert. But she could fess up and he could still tell Gilbert.

She hadn’t expected Gilbert to be here today. He was supposed to be at the school for an athletics meeting. She’d double-checked the schedule.

Finally, the wood had been nailed in place, and she and Tex stepped back to look at their handiwork.

“That will keep the wind out for a while,” Tex told Gilbert, who leaned in the doorway watching them work. “But you’ll definitely want to call about having the glass replaced.”

“I’ll do that.”

“It’s a shame,” Tex continued. “The house looks so Christmassy, and this is going to look like a bruise on the otherwise innocent spirit of Christmas.”

“At least it’s fixable,” Gilbert said. “It could be worse. Now, why don’t we try to put this out of our heads and sit down for a nice dinner together? I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to eat.”

Now that he mentioned it, Chelsea was hungry. The spaghetti smelled wonderful—fresh garlic, tangy tomatoes, and savory beef.

Tex agreed they should eat. At first, Chelsea had thought he might rebel until they found answers. Instead, they headed into the kitchen and washed their hands before sitting at the table. Tex offered to lift up a prayer before they started to eat.

That was new. He hadn’t been one for church or God or the Bible back when she’d known him. Even though she’d gone to church and had invited him to go with her, he had always said no.

Once he’d even told her that if there was a God out there He was cruel. Because why else would Tex be in the situation he was if God loved him?

His question had broken her heart, and she hadn’t had a great answer. Sure, she’d known everything she’d been taught. But those words had seemed too cliché.

All she’d known to do was to hold his hand.

She remembered the day clearly. She’d expected Tex to pull away. He hadn’t.

She kept holding his hand until her mom had walked into the living room a few minutes later. Then they quickly jumped away from each other as if they’d been doing something wrong.

Chelsea knew that day that she loved Tex Thrasher. She loved how protective he was of her. Loved a smile he seemed to have reserved for only her. Loved that she could be the person in his life who brought him a sense of steadiness amidst his turbulent childhood.

She’d continued holding his hand over the next year as he’d learned that his birth parents had been drug addicts who’d both later died of overdoses. Giving him up had been the one smart choice they’d made, even though his life still hadn’t been sunshine and roses.

“So tell us what you’ve been up to for the past . . . how many years?” Gilbert twirled some spaghetti around his fork.

“Twelve,” Chelsea stated, the garlic bread suddenly feeling dry in her throat. “Twelve years.”

Tex glanced at her, questions in his gaze.

He hadn’t expected her to remember the exact number, had he?

She shrugged, trying to play it off. “I was in tenth grade when you left so it’s pretty easy to do the math.”

Tex’s gaze remained on her another moment before he slowly nodded. “I suppose that’s true. After I got out of the military, I went to work for an organization called the Shadow Agency. We do private security for companies and individuals in need of our services.”

“How long have you been out of the military?” Her voice sounded strained as she asked the question.

She hadn’t expected to feel any emotion with the question. But his decision to leave had changed her. It had left her heartbroken.

He shot her another questioning look before saying, “Three years.”

“How did you like being in the military?” Gilbert asked.

Tex shifted as if uncomfortable, like he wasn’t used to being around people who asked him these kinds of personal questions.

“It was a job. In many ways, it was an honor to serve the country. If I hadn’t joined the military, who knows where I’d be right now. It gave me focus and something to strive for.”

The funny thing was, Chelsea had always seen him as a military guy. He had all the right qualities—starting with the fact he was selfless and brave. She understood where it was a good choice for him.

What she didn’t understand was why he hadn’t said goodbye. Or why he hadn’t been in contact since then. He could’ve come back to visit on occasion.

Had she meant nothing to him? Had he just been biding his time all those days they’d spent together? Waiting for the chance to leave Holly Ridge?

As they continued to eat, they talked about where he’d lived. About the fact he wasn’t married.

Then the questions moved to Gilbert. When had he stopped being a foster dad? Five years ago. Why? He was getting too old.

“I do stay in contact with a few of the guys who lived here,” Gilbert said. “Mostly the ones who stayed local. I run into them on occasion.”

“How many kids did you have in total throughout the years?” Chelsea asked as she finished her meal.

She had one more forkful of spaghetti and just a bite of her garlic bread left. She planned on soaking up some of the remaining marinara with it.

Gilbert could make a mean spaghetti. It was one nice thing she could say about him.

But at school, he was cliquish and a brown-noser. All he cared about was winning and prestige.

Chelsea was fairly certain he’d gone to bat for some of his football players when they’d been failing certain classes. Their grades had mysteriously improved.

He’d even talked to Chelsea once about a quarterback when he’d failed his literature exam. She’d refused to change the boy’s grade, and Gilbert hadn’t been happy.

Yet the quarterback had somehow remained on the team. The principal and athletic director had allowed it.

She’d lost a little respect for all those men that day.

“Ninety-six,” Gilbert answered as if he always had the number ready in case anyone asked. “I know it sounds like a lot. Some only stayed for a day. Some for a week or a month, and others for years. I’m just glad I could offer a safe place for these kids during the hard times.”

Chelsea stole a glance at Tex, wondering what he thought of that statement.

He said nothing.

She reached for her phone looking for a distraction, only to realize she didn’t have it on her. She’d left it in the formal living room.

She stood and pointed behind her. “Let me just run get my phone before I forget about it.”

The truth was, she needed to be away from Tex a moment. Her emotions were getting the best of her, and her heart had begun to ache.

She hurried into the living room and spotted her phone on an end table. But in her haste to reach it, her foot caught on the edge of the coffee table.

She lunged forward, and her palms hit the carpet.

She gasped as pain screamed from her hand.

She jerked it back, unsure what she’d hurt herself on.

Then she saw the shard of glass.

The edge of it had cut through her skin, and now blood gushed out.