Picnic in Someday Valley (Honey Creek #2)(66)

If Leon thought she was still in her trailer, he might figure she wouldn’t be expecting him in the darkness before sunrise. No one would be up this early. No one would see him. Over the years, Brand had learned to think like his targets. They all followed patterns. Leon had been on his radar since the night he knocked on Marcie’s door. If he was lucky, Leon wouldn’t cross Brand before the sheriff had enough evidence to put him away.

Brand had left her sleeping in Honey Creek. He knew Marcie wouldn’t be at the trailer and Leon would never find her.

Brand walked toward Leon’s house. He thought he would have to break in, but it turned out Leon had left the back door unlocked. Brand stepped over several trash bags and switched on a flashlight. Pig sties were cleaner than this place. It looked like the trash truck had pulled up to the door and dumped a load. Old paper, half-eaten food, dirty clothes. The bathroom was worse. In a back bedroom there was nothing on an old stained mattress but a rag of a blanket.

Brand touched nothing, but was sure some of the stains were blood. Could have been Leon’s blood, of course. Maybe he had frequent nosebleeds. Brand had a feeling, though, that the spots wouldn’t match Leon’s blood type.

Brand backed out of the house and checked the tracker in his truck. Leon was heading to Someday Valley, just as he’d guessed the guy would.

Leon was making a wasted trip.

He thought of calling to check on Marcie, but she’d said she had a few things she had to work out, and needed time to learn the kitchen and where everything was in the huge house. Mr. Winston would need help getting everything ready for the baby.

Marcie was safe in Honey Creek. Brand relaxed.

Brand drove around for a while, fighting the urge to go check on her. He knew he was getting too close to Marcie too fast. There were a thousand rules in his occupation, and the first one was: Don’t get too involved. Don’t get close enough to people that they might notice you disappear from time to time.

He told himself he was simply helping Marcie out of a bad spot. A few kisses didn’t mean commitment. Once everything settled down, they might see each other now and then. They’d probably drift into just being friends.

Man, he was going to miss those kisses though.

When he pulled up to his house just after dawn, he sensed something was wrong even before he saw the barn lights were on. He cut the engine and silently walked toward the open barn door.

The barn was silent except for the occasional shifting of the horses.

Brand moved along the left side, all his senses on full alert.

Then he saw Marcie, standing in the center of his workout space. She had on gloves and was punching at the bag. The bag didn’t move. Her long ponytail was flying behind her as she battled without any progress.

“Morning.” Brand jumped onto the mat. “You beating up my equipment?”

She lowered her head. “I’m afraid the bag is winning.”

He walked over to her and unstrapped the gloves. “What are you doing here, Marcie?”

“I couldn’t sleep after you left and I remembered seeing this equipment earlier. I want to learn to fight. I’m tired of being afraid. Will you teach me to defend myself?”

He saw the panic in her hazel eyes and decided her fear took precedence over his need to check his security system. She was a mouse who wanted to roar. “It’s a great deal of work, honey. By the time you learn how to fight, every part of your body will hurt.”

“I have to learn to survive. I have to be prepared to fight.”

He understood. He’d seen her broken the night of the almost rape, and again when she’d been left alone at the station. He saw her afraid at the bar last night, but she hadn’t told him why. He wanted to hold her and tell her he’d watch over her, but she needed to know how to feel safe when no one was around to protect her. He knew she was right. He couldn’t promise to always be there.

He smiled at her. “First, you’ve got to learn to fall. How to roll and be back on your feet before anyone can kick you. That one skill might save your life if danger does come.”

“Teach me.”

They began. Working out on the machines to strengthen her core and improve her balance. Then he taught her to stand so she could put power into her hit and avoid being hit.

After an hour of hard work, she strapped on gloves and he showed her how to hit the bag. No, not hit just the bag, but swing like she was going through the bag.

The second time she hit, the bag moved.

The morning passed. No matter how many times she fell, she got up and wanted more. When he tried to slow down, take it easy on her, she would have none of it.

When she was out of breath and barely able to stand, he stood in front of her and asked, “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

“No!” she yelled. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

“All right.” He tossed her a towel and they walked outside to his truck.

He opened the passenger side and helped her in. “You mind if I drive you home?”

For a moment she held his hand tightly. “I don’t want to be alone. Can I stay with you for a while?”

They didn’t say another word as he drove her the fifty feet to his front door. Once they were in his house, she disappeared down the hall and he made cocoa. He stepped outside to cool off as she took a shower. Twenty minutes later he found her curled up in his bed.