abruptly.
“I painted over it the next day…The words were ugly and I didn’t want my grandchildren to see them…Or anyone else for that matter.”
“Show me, anyway.”
Faith grabbed a coat from the peg by the back door and led him outside. He shivered in the January cold as he followed Faith to the far side of the garage. He could see the fresh layer of white paint. “Although it might be embarrassing, tell me exactly what the message said.”
Faith stared down at her feet and told him. She was right; they were ugly words. He wished she’d told him about this earlier, since it might have yielded evidence. Now, however, it was too late.
Troy frowned. “You think whoever was responsible for the break-in came back and did this?” It was definitely a reasonable assumption.
Faith nodded. “The other night…I woke up and heard noises. At first I was too terrified to move. I was afraid they were inside the house. It took me a few minutes torealize the sound came from the garage.” She was obviously making an effort to control her voice, but despite that it started to tremble.
“You should’ve called 9-1-1,” he said urgently.
“I know…I wish I had. Oh, Troy, I’ve been so scared.”
Troy couldn’t bear to see Faith upset. Instinctively he slipped his arms around her—and she willingly moved into his embrace. He felt her shudder and his hold tightened. He wanted to reassure her that he’d do whatever he could to prevent anything like this from happening again.
“You should’ve called 9-1-1,” he repeated.
“But what if it was nothing? I thought my imagination might be running away with me.”
“Then you saw the graffiti…”
“The next morning,” she confirmed, “and I realized I’d been foolish not to call the authorities right away.”
“You should have,” he said. There was no telling what might’ve happened while she hemmed and hawed, afraid to risk a little embarrassment.
“Faith, listen to me.” He cupped his hands around her face and raised her head so that their eyes met. “I would rather you had peace of mind. I don’t want you lying awake at night, worrying that someone’s on the property.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m not sleeping nights…I haven’t slept more than two or three hours at a time since the break-in.”
“Faith…”
“I know I was ridiculous. I won’t ignore any noises again.”
“Has this happened more than once?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know…I don’t think so. I sleep so lightly now. I’m afraid someone will break in…My emotions are all askew—just look at me.I’m not a weak woman! I hate being vulnerable. I’m on the verge of tears, and all because I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m afraid it’s going to affect my ability to do my job. The worst thing—” she paused “—is the fear. Night comes and I’m terrified all over again.”
Troy pressed his hand against her head, weaving his fingers into her thick dark hair. He was almost overwhelmed by the temptation to bury his face in the clean freshness of it. He’d missed her more than he’d dared admit, even to himself.
He wished he knew how to reassure her. But no matter how strong that desire, he refused to whisper platitudes, nor would he mislead her by making promises he couldn’t keep.
Faith must have recognized that she’d said more than she’d intended. She eased out of his embrace and glanced self-consciously at the street. She folded her arms around her waist, as if she suddenly felt cold.
“Let’s talk about this inside,” Troy suggested, placing his arm around her again as they headed back to the house.
Once inside, Faith removed her coat and hung it by the door, first straightening the shoes and boots that stood there. Then she refreshed their coffees. Troy could tell that this busywork was an attempt to regain her composure.
For his part, he would’ve been content to spend the next ten years holding Faith, even if it
“I painted over it the next day…The words were ugly and I didn’t want my grandchildren to see them…Or anyone else for that matter.”
“Show me, anyway.”
Faith grabbed a coat from the peg by the back door and led him outside. He shivered in the January cold as he followed Faith to the far side of the garage. He could see the fresh layer of white paint. “Although it might be embarrassing, tell me exactly what the message said.”
Faith stared down at her feet and told him. She was right; they were ugly words. He wished she’d told him about this earlier, since it might have yielded evidence. Now, however, it was too late.
Troy frowned. “You think whoever was responsible for the break-in came back and did this?” It was definitely a reasonable assumption.
Faith nodded. “The other night…I woke up and heard noises. At first I was too terrified to move. I was afraid they were inside the house. It took me a few minutes torealize the sound came from the garage.” She was obviously making an effort to control her voice, but despite that it started to tremble.
“You should’ve called 9-1-1,” he said urgently.
“I know…I wish I had. Oh, Troy, I’ve been so scared.”
Troy couldn’t bear to see Faith upset. Instinctively he slipped his arms around her—and she willingly moved into his embrace. He felt her shudder and his hold tightened. He wanted to reassure her that he’d do whatever he could to prevent anything like this from happening again.
“You should’ve called 9-1-1,” he repeated.
“But what if it was nothing? I thought my imagination might be running away with me.”
“Then you saw the graffiti…”
“The next morning,” she confirmed, “and I realized I’d been foolish not to call the authorities right away.”
“You should have,” he said. There was no telling what might’ve happened while she hemmed and hawed, afraid to risk a little embarrassment.
“Faith, listen to me.” He cupped his hands around her face and raised her head so that their eyes met. “I would rather you had peace of mind. I don’t want you lying awake at night, worrying that someone’s on the property.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m not sleeping nights…I haven’t slept more than two or three hours at a time since the break-in.”
“Faith…”
“I know I was ridiculous. I won’t ignore any noises again.”
“Has this happened more than once?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know…I don’t think so. I sleep so lightly now. I’m afraid someone will break in…My emotions are all askew—just look at me.I’m not a weak woman! I hate being vulnerable. I’m on the verge of tears, and all because I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m afraid it’s going to affect my ability to do my job. The worst thing—” she paused “—is the fear. Night comes and I’m terrified all over again.”
Troy pressed his hand against her head, weaving his fingers into her thick dark hair. He was almost overwhelmed by the temptation to bury his face in the clean freshness of it. He’d missed her more than he’d dared admit, even to himself.
He wished he knew how to reassure her. But no matter how strong that desire, he refused to whisper platitudes, nor would he mislead her by making promises he couldn’t keep.
Faith must have recognized that she’d said more than she’d intended. She eased out of his embrace and glanced self-consciously at the street. She folded her arms around her waist, as if she suddenly felt cold.
“Let’s talk about this inside,” Troy suggested, placing his arm around her again as they headed back to the house.
Once inside, Faith removed her coat and hung it by the door, first straightening the shoes and boots that stood there. Then she refreshed their coffees. Troy could tell that this busywork was an attempt to regain her composure.
For his part, he would’ve been content to spend the next ten years holding Faith, even if it
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