Rising Hope by Edie James
HARD LANDING CHAPTER 1
It’s nothing.
Mouth open in shock, Kelli Spencer stared at the footprints along the side of her garage. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s nothing.
The mantra didn’t make a dent in her fear.
Black and malevolent where they tore through the last of the spring snow, the prints caught her attention the instant she stepped out the front door for her morning run.
Her breath froze in her lungs and her heart hammered against her ribs, sending her straight back to those frightful months when her stalker had been on the loose. Heat spilled out the open door, insulating her from the chilly morning, but it did nothing to reduce the chill of fear.
The man-sized prints begin in the puddles of run off that pocked her drive, trailed straight past her front porch, and continued into the snow that still covered the walkway along the side of her closed garage.
Just like before. Lord, protect me.
She struggled to get her breathing under control. The footprints mocked her, ripping away the fragile sense of safety she’d only just begun to rebuild since the Hope Landing police had tackled the stranger skulking around the back of her house less than two months back.
The dark despair wrapped around her, squeezing her chest. And then came the hurt, the loneliness that gripped her throat so hard she couldn’t swallow.
Because she was alone. Vulnerable. Until the stranger began tormenting her, she’d held onto her faith, trusting in God to guide her to her soulmate in his own time. But living in fear had left her wanting, wishing for things she couldn’t control. A husband. A family of her own. Someone to hold her through the interminable nights when the stalker roamed the forest behind her house.
Ready to flee back inside, she eyed the driveway. Sunlight winked off the windshield of her dad’s car where he’d parked it at the very base of the drive. She sagged against the doorframe. The spurt of fear evaporated, leaving her legs shaking. It was only Dad. He’d told her he’d be by early to take her car in to have the snow tires removed. They’d switch cars once they both arrived at the office.
How had she forgotten that? She screwed her eyes shut, wrinkling her nose as she sent up a silent prayer of thanks. “False alarm,” she whispered.
Now that she saw the scene without terror clouding her vision, it was obvious the tracks stopped at the back door of her detached garage. Dad must have misplaced the extra door opener she’d given him. She chuckled to herself. He was a brilliant pilot and a skilled mechanic, but wallets, keys and shopping lists—the small bits of life—slipped through his fingers with distressing regularity.
At least he hadn’t lost the keys to her car.
Still shaky from her scare, she pulled the door shut and locked it, jiggling it firmly to assure herself it was secure before she jogged off down the road.
The tang of pine rode the cool air. She inhaled deeply, letting the familiar scent soothe her nerves as she ran, gently at first, giving her muscles time to acclimate to the chill. She loved the forest, loved the rugged, mountainous terrain of Hope Landing, her lifelong home.
Warm light shone from most of her neighbors’ windows, lending a cozy feel to the day. Still, despite the beauty of the late spring morning, it took two miles to burn through the tarry residue of fear. Her stalker was in jail. He’d be there at least another couple months awaiting trial for violating the restraining order. The DA promised. The last time he’d been near her home, three Hope Landing sheriff’s deputies had been there to arrest him.
There was nothing more to fear.
Life was back to normal. Regular, boring, normal. She sucked in a lungful of pine-scented air and attacked the hill at the far end of her street. Legs pumping, she leaned into the slope. Building up a good sweat would banish the last of the adrenaline.
The lengthy list of to dos waiting at the office would do the rest. She loved running Spencer Aviation. Every day brought fresh challenges, and when she was really lucky, a chance to fly. She loved that most of all.
As she crested the hill, Hope Landing’s small municipal airport came into view in the valley far below. Spencer Aviation’s enormous hangar anchored the storage area at the east end of the property. The wide doors were closed against the crisp morning air, but she imagined the scene inside. Their mechanics, Tank and Jonas would be downing their first cups of coffee as they eyed the client aircraft needing maintenance. Dice would be rolled. The winner got his pick of tasks, leaving the least interesting jobs—the older, smaller planes—for the loser to tackle.
Upstairs, in the office area, Nan, their longtime manager, would be sorting email, a mug of Earl Grey at her elbow, while their accounts manager, Erik, studied the spreadsheets splashed across his big triple screens. The image swept the last of the adrenaline away, leaving her with a sense of comfort. They were a small company, more of a family than a business. And while it wasn’t precisely the family she yearned for, it would do.
A familiar text tone interrupted the soft rock music streaming from her earbuds. Eyes still on the expansive view, she fished her phone out of her pocket and scanned the screen.
Lemon poppy seed muffins fresh from the oven. You need one. Trust me.
Kelli laughed and stowed her phone. Lauren Lowe, her best friend since freshman year of college, owned the cafe that took up one wing of their small municipal terminal. The kitchen might be small, but Lauren’s talent was not.
Another reason Kelli ran regularly.
She checked her watch. It wasn’t yet eight. Time enough for another mile. She’d need it with lemon muffins on the menu. She turned right instead of left, opting for the longer route. Besides, the extra exercise would do her good after that scare.
A siren whined from down the mountain. She stilled, listening. It was only the one, and it came from the west end of town. Far away from the airport. But the schools would start soon. It was probably the local deputies out catching early morning speeders.
Impatient with the lingering jitters, she slapped her hands against her thighs and ran on. The siren stopped, replaced by the purring motor of a plane. Still running, she glanced up. A sleek white fuselage streaked past. A top of the line Pilatus turbo prop. She grinned. Her dad’s pal, Dusty Barnes, was back early from his weekly trip to San Francisco.
If she knew Dusty, he’d have a case of Dad’s favorite chocolates on board. She rolled her eyes and picked up her pace. The doctor had cautioned her father to take it easy on the sweets, but Robert Spencer wanted something, it was best to get out of his way.
By the last mile, she’d shoved her fears to the back of her mind, where they belonged. Fear would not own her.
Determined to end her run on a cheerful note, she pumped up the volume and sped up as she rounded the corner for home. More sirens whined in the background now, fading in and out as the hills between her neighborhood and the principal route through town blocked the sound. Some lead-footed drivers would pay a high price for their inattention.
Three doors from home, she froze. A police cruiser sat at an awkward angle, half in, half out of her driveway. Her pulse quickened. Had Stan Graton escaped jail?
Hands on his hips, a young officer hurried toward her. “Miss Spencer?”
His expression said it all. Whatever the reason for his presence, it was serious. Dread crashed into her with all the force of a full body blow, rocking her back on her heels. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but pray as the officer strode closer.
Lord, give me strength. The prayer echoed through her brain.
He was close enough now that she saw the kindness in his eyes. “Your father’s been in an accident.”