Keeping Her Safe. Barbara Phinney

I’ll be right in.”

      He nodded and walked out of the workshop. In the kitchen, he carefully took only enough to hold him until he got groceries. The rest of the food was meant for Rae. And she’d need it.

      He shut the fridge. Then, on an afterthought, he cruised through the house, checking locks and windows, anything that might threaten her. Satisfied, and not wanting to intercept Rae, he quickly left. She’d had enough of him for one day.

      Inside the annex, Hunter set the food on the bed. While being infinitely better than a cell, the annex was small. A man could get claustrophobic if he didn’t have experience dealing with small spaces.

      Before the evening air could chill the room, Hunter shut the door. To his left, under the window, stood a small fridge and a two-burner propane cooktop, with a tiny sink and cupboard. Between all that and the bathroom was a chest of drawers. On top sat a small television.

      He opened the tiny fridge to set the food inside, and spied a thick T-bone steak through the plastic door to the freezer. Catching sight of his name, he grabbed the note taped to it.

      Hunter, welcome home. Take care of Rae. Remember what we talked about. Don’t let them trick her.

      The note was signed “R.B.”

      Hunter sank onto the bed. If Benton had collapsed at the doctor’s office the day he’d visited Hunter in prison, he must have bought this before, hoping to explain everything on the way home.

      Too late now. The flimsy clues penned here weren’t much help. What were the threats? Who were the people hoping to trick Rae?

      Still frowning, Hunter looked around. This small room had been built for him, and having been backed into a corner by her father’s will, Rae had let him use it.

      With gritted teeth, he unpacked the few things he owned. Then, with a silent prayer of thanks, he grabbed the steak, plus a pan he found in the cupboard, and fired up the stovetop.

      He didn’t remember ever eating a decent steak like this one. While it cooked, he reached for a date square, thankful that Rae had noticed he was hungry. But it just hadn’t seemed right to eat the food delivered to her by well-meaning mourners.

      Still, the snacks and the steak were long gone by the time he crashed on the bed.

      He was still asleep, Rae noted. He hadn’t heard her soft knock, or the door open when she twisted the knob a minute later. The draft of cool morning air that rolled in hadn’t disturbed him, either.

      “Hunter!” she whispered as she peeked in.

      The guy slept like the dead. Rae didn’t want to step into the small room, but they had work to do. A quick glance around showed he’d settled it. Her father had taken her grandmother’s quilt for the bed, plus warm fleece sheets. Her inspection returned to Hunter’s face. This was his first full day of freedom. She shouldn’t deny him one sleep-in.

      With a feeling of guilt, she noted the small garbage can holding the remains of a steak and its wrapper and tray.

      Plus a note with Hunter’s name on it, in her father’s handwriting, though the words were smeared.

      Dad had bought Hunter a steak? They could barely afford groceries right now, and her father had purchased a top quality, twenty-dollar steak?

      Irritation rolled over her. Here she’d risen early, eaten leftovers and prepared for a day that would begin her healing and earn some much-needed money, while Hunter, full of steak, slept in….

      Louder than before, she called his name for a third time.

      When he still didn’t move, she knew something was dangerously wrong.