but she wouldn’t know that. It was all part of the game to raise the terror factor. When he called back, he got a busy signal.
“No, no, no...Not now!” His voice—a prolonged, deep growl—resonated throughout the deserted back alley of the local bar.
He hit redial. Busy signal. Again...again...and again.
A low snarl accompanied the loud crack as cell phone hit the twelve inch thick brick wall.
***
After spending five days trying not to think of Sam over the Thanksgiving holidays, Carrie was surprisingly glad to see him waiting for them at his carpool pick up spot. Instead of sitting in the front, he opened the back door, forcing her to slide to the middle as he climbed in next to her. She tried to concentrate on her latest library book, a thriller by a cop turned crime writer. Unfortunately, having Sam near enough to brush his arm against hers, to smell his cologne, sense his need to be near her...all kept her from concentrating as she read and re-read the same page for the sixth time. By the time they pulled up to the office, she was ready to scream.
As Dan vacated the seat to her left, Carrie slid across the bench seat toward the door. Before she could slip out she felt a gentle tug at her wrist, and turned to see Sam still remaining at his end of the bench seat.
“Please stay,” he murmured, his eyes pleading with her.
She kept her silence as one by one their co-workers entered the building through the back door. When the door closed she turned to him, pulling her hand back.
“You were right, and I’m sorry!” he blurted out before she had a chance to say anything. “I’m worried about you, but that doesn’t give me the right to tell you how to handle your problems. It’s your life and you’re a smart, self-reliant woman, fully capable of making your own decisions.”
“It’s not Dave.”
“If you believe that, then I trust your judgment.”
“No... really ...it’s not Dave,” she said, her voice firmer. “I know because I got the Sheriff’s department to trace the call yesterday morning.”
His face paled visibly. “What happened?”
She rubbed at her tired eyes. “He wouldn’t stop. He kept calling, and calling. I didn’t want to take the phone off the hook because of mom being in the hospital. But finally, I had to.”
“So, they know who it is now?”
She shook her head. “It traced to one of those prepaid cell phones and whoever bought it paid in cash. They know the call was made from around the Abbeville area, though. Dave was at his mom’s last night.”
“You’re positive about that?”
“Yep, I called Ruby’s myself to make sure.”
“So, if it’s not Dave, then who the hell is it?”
“I don’t know, Sam. And that’s what really scares me. As long as there was a possibility it could be Dave, I could dismiss it. But now...”
“Now you’re as worried as I am?”
She cocked her head and squinted up at him. “Maybe not that much.”
“Well, hell. It’s time somebody worried about you, Carrie,” he said, reaching out to touch her hand.
“Somebody,” she whispered, looking down at the seat, where his hand rested on hers.
“What was that?” he asked, leaning closer.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, pulling her hand back as she stepped out of the truck.
Sam hurried around to meet her at the door. “You never said. Am I forgiven?”
“You are, but don’t let it happen again.”
He shook his head. “It won’t. I got a lot of thinking done over the past five days. I’m determined to change, Carrie. Whether it’s for you, or just for myself , I’m trying to be a better man.”
She scraped her lower lip with her teeth and nodded, afraid to say anything more.
***
At seven-thirty the next morning, Carrie walked into the office and intercepted Sam’s look of worry.
“I know,” she muttered. “I’m late, and I look like crap.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he countered. “Craig said you called saying
“No, no, no...Not now!” His voice—a prolonged, deep growl—resonated throughout the deserted back alley of the local bar.
He hit redial. Busy signal. Again...again...and again.
A low snarl accompanied the loud crack as cell phone hit the twelve inch thick brick wall.
***
After spending five days trying not to think of Sam over the Thanksgiving holidays, Carrie was surprisingly glad to see him waiting for them at his carpool pick up spot. Instead of sitting in the front, he opened the back door, forcing her to slide to the middle as he climbed in next to her. She tried to concentrate on her latest library book, a thriller by a cop turned crime writer. Unfortunately, having Sam near enough to brush his arm against hers, to smell his cologne, sense his need to be near her...all kept her from concentrating as she read and re-read the same page for the sixth time. By the time they pulled up to the office, she was ready to scream.
As Dan vacated the seat to her left, Carrie slid across the bench seat toward the door. Before she could slip out she felt a gentle tug at her wrist, and turned to see Sam still remaining at his end of the bench seat.
“Please stay,” he murmured, his eyes pleading with her.
She kept her silence as one by one their co-workers entered the building through the back door. When the door closed she turned to him, pulling her hand back.
“You were right, and I’m sorry!” he blurted out before she had a chance to say anything. “I’m worried about you, but that doesn’t give me the right to tell you how to handle your problems. It’s your life and you’re a smart, self-reliant woman, fully capable of making your own decisions.”
“It’s not Dave.”
“If you believe that, then I trust your judgment.”
“No... really ...it’s not Dave,” she said, her voice firmer. “I know because I got the Sheriff’s department to trace the call yesterday morning.”
His face paled visibly. “What happened?”
She rubbed at her tired eyes. “He wouldn’t stop. He kept calling, and calling. I didn’t want to take the phone off the hook because of mom being in the hospital. But finally, I had to.”
“So, they know who it is now?”
She shook her head. “It traced to one of those prepaid cell phones and whoever bought it paid in cash. They know the call was made from around the Abbeville area, though. Dave was at his mom’s last night.”
“You’re positive about that?”
“Yep, I called Ruby’s myself to make sure.”
“So, if it’s not Dave, then who the hell is it?”
“I don’t know, Sam. And that’s what really scares me. As long as there was a possibility it could be Dave, I could dismiss it. But now...”
“Now you’re as worried as I am?”
She cocked her head and squinted up at him. “Maybe not that much.”
“Well, hell. It’s time somebody worried about you, Carrie,” he said, reaching out to touch her hand.
“Somebody,” she whispered, looking down at the seat, where his hand rested on hers.
“What was that?” he asked, leaning closer.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, pulling her hand back as she stepped out of the truck.
Sam hurried around to meet her at the door. “You never said. Am I forgiven?”
“You are, but don’t let it happen again.”
He shook his head. “It won’t. I got a lot of thinking done over the past five days. I’m determined to change, Carrie. Whether it’s for you, or just for myself , I’m trying to be a better man.”
She scraped her lower lip with her teeth and nodded, afraid to say anything more.
***
At seven-thirty the next morning, Carrie walked into the office and intercepted Sam’s look of worry.
“I know,” she muttered. “I’m late, and I look like crap.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he countered. “Craig said you called saying
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