I squirm on the couch. “They don’t make me feel safe. I haven’t had a great track record with them. Even in Maple Ridge.”
“Alex Wilson and Cole Dunbar were bad cops. I personally know a few members of the police force, and they’re good people.”
My gaze flicks briefly to the ficus in the corner. “I only know one Maple Ridge cop I think I can trust.” Noah.
“Would you call them if you felt your safety was at risk?”
Maybe. Possibly. “I don’t know.”
She slowly nods, her expression revealing nothing about what she thinks of my answer. “What about military? Do you trust someone in military uniform?”
“I trust Troy and his brothers. They were all Marines.” It’s taken me time to get to that point, but they’ve done so much for me since I moved to Maple Ridge. Troy has done so much for me.
“Anyone else?”
“You mean other than you?” I nod at Robyn in her green Army uniform.
“Do you trust me?” The question is asked straightforwardly, like she’s asking if I drink coffee.
“I’m talking to you about things most people don’t know about, so I must.” It took me a while to even admit them to Troy.
“Have you had any negative experience with any member of the armed forces?”
“No. Only cops.”
“So, that’s something we can further explore after I return from my vacation, starting with when Alex Wilson assaulted you in your own home. The goal will be to help you learn to trust members of the police force.”
“Okay.” Except I can’t see that happening anytime soon. Not after everything I’ve been through. It’s going to take time. And lots of baby steps.
* * *
I digup a stray dandelion from the flowerbed and toss it into the bucket next to me. The hot afternoon sun kisses the backs of my bare arms, and small birds in the trees serenade me. I should be weeding the front yard, but the idea of being in plain view of my neighbors has my stomach twisting in tight knots.
You’re being silly. No one has probably realized it was you in the newspaper. You’re getting worked up over nothing. Five years in prison has made you paranoid.
Bailey and Butterscotch chase each other on the grass.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice says, startling me.
I turn to the wooden gate separating the backyard from the driveway. The hedge on either side of the gate is my height, but the gate is shorter—reaching my waist—and reveals Anne Carstairs on the other side of it. Her chin-length blond hair ruffles around her face in the light breeze. She’s wearing tailored shorts and a short-sleeved top in the same lavender as the blossoms in the flowerbed near the gate.
I push to a stand, beaming at the woman who is partly responsible for my life becoming better. “Hi, Anne!” I walk to the gate and open it.
She looks at the two dogs who are now watching her with great interest, heads cocked to the side. “Who do we have here?” She steps through the gate as Bailey and Butterscotch bound the short distance to us.
Bailey leans against my leg, and I stroke her. “This is my dog, Bailey. I’m training her to be my psychiatric support dog.” Shame heats my face at admitting that much to Anne, even though she knew I needed a place to stay while I was recovering from a traumatic event. She just didn’t know the details. “And that is Butterscotch. Troy Carson’s dog.”
She crouches and strokes Butterscotch, who happily laps up the attention. “You hired Troy for the renovations? Good choice. And you’re now his dog sitter?”
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “More like his girlfriend. We’re still working on the renovations, but he injured his shoulder during a search and rescue last month.” The same shoulder that has been hurt two other times since then. “So the renovations have been temporarily put on pause. Would you like to see what we’ve done so far?”
“I’d love that. The outside looks great.” She glances up. “You had the roof redone.”
“I did. I hired a roofing company Troy recommended so he and I could focus on the inside of the house.” Troy and Lance helped me with additional repairs on the outside, and we’d repainted the wooden siding a light blue-gray. On top of that, the shutters have been replaced and the front and back doors painted a medium blue-gray.
We go inside through the back door. “How was the trip to the UK and Europe?” I ask.
“It was wonderful. We went to the usual tourist spots, of course. But we also spent a lot of time exploring small towns that tourists tend not to bother with.”
