would have greeted death with open arms, but it looked as though maybe he’d turned that corner and put it behind him.
When he had everything back under control, he checked for oncoming traffic and pulled back out on the pavement. This time he kept his speed within spitting distance of the speed limit. There was no use in pushing his luck.
When he made the last turn onto his street, there was an unfamiliar car parked right in front of the cottage. It was tempting to drive right on by, but maybe he was only jumping at shadows. Besides, he was tired. All he wanted was a hot shower and a cold beer, and not necessarily in that order. He sure didn’t need uninvited company, but he suspected he was about to get some.
Sure enough, as soon as he pulled into the driveway, the driver got out of the car. Now it would be a footrace to see if Spence could get inside before the guy caught up with him. He would’ve made it except the other man sprinted directly across the yard to stand on the steps, effectively blocking Spence’s way into the house.
“Corporal Lang?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Corporal. I would’ve been here sooner, but it took me a while to find out where you were staying.” He offered Spence a smile and stuck out his hand. “My name is Reilly Molitor, and I’m a reporter for the
Snowberry Creek Clarion
. I’m here to interview you.”
The reporter probably thought his grin was all slick and charming. Spence wanted to smack it right off his face. Ignoring the reporter’s outstretched hand, he pulled out his cell phone. “You have fifteen seconds to get back in your car and drive away before I tell the police that you’re trespassing.”
The smile faded a notch, the shark coming out. “I just have a few questions, Corporal.”
He had to give the man points for having the balls to stand there when Spence had several inches on him in height and a good thirty pounds of muscle. “I asked you to leave.”
The reporter held up a small recorder. “Seriously, man, just a few quick questions is all I need. I can get whatever else I need for the article from other sources.”
What article? Spence didn’t want his name plastered all over any paper, not even the
Clarion
. “No interview and no article.”
The reporter remained unfazed by Spence’s growing anger. “Look, Corporal, or can I call you Spence?”
“No.” He forced himself to back away, but the reporter’s next words brought him to a dead stop.
“It’s not often we have a real hero come home from the war, especially one everybody thought was dead. It’s your obligation to share the story, and I think your neighbors and friends have the right to hear what happened to you over there. It’s an amazing tale.”
That did it. Spence latched onto the reporter with one hand and dialed 9-1-1 with the other. The reporter was still fighting like a fish trying to break free of a hook sunk deep in its gut when Gage Logan himself pulled up in front of the house a few minutes later. The police chief strolled across the front yard, the flicker of the blue lights on his patrol car lighting up the yard.
“Hi, Spence. I see you’ve met Reilly.”
The reporter twisted his head to the side, trying to look directly at the lawman. “Chief, I want to press charges against this guy for assault.”
Gage ignored him. “Spence, want to tell me what’s going on here?”
Not particularly, but he had no choice. “This guy ambushed me when I came home. I told him I wasn’t interested in being interviewed and made it clear that if he didn’t leave I would call the police and report him for trespassing.”
He finally released his hold on the reporter and stepped back, figuring things would go more smoothly if he at least appeared to be in control of himself.
“He refused to leave and prevented me from entering my house.” He flexed his hands and fought to calm himself. “Then this little pissant told me that it
When he had everything back under control, he checked for oncoming traffic and pulled back out on the pavement. This time he kept his speed within spitting distance of the speed limit. There was no use in pushing his luck.
When he made the last turn onto his street, there was an unfamiliar car parked right in front of the cottage. It was tempting to drive right on by, but maybe he was only jumping at shadows. Besides, he was tired. All he wanted was a hot shower and a cold beer, and not necessarily in that order. He sure didn’t need uninvited company, but he suspected he was about to get some.
Sure enough, as soon as he pulled into the driveway, the driver got out of the car. Now it would be a footrace to see if Spence could get inside before the guy caught up with him. He would’ve made it except the other man sprinted directly across the yard to stand on the steps, effectively blocking Spence’s way into the house.
“Corporal Lang?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Corporal. I would’ve been here sooner, but it took me a while to find out where you were staying.” He offered Spence a smile and stuck out his hand. “My name is Reilly Molitor, and I’m a reporter for the
Snowberry Creek Clarion
. I’m here to interview you.”
The reporter probably thought his grin was all slick and charming. Spence wanted to smack it right off his face. Ignoring the reporter’s outstretched hand, he pulled out his cell phone. “You have fifteen seconds to get back in your car and drive away before I tell the police that you’re trespassing.”
The smile faded a notch, the shark coming out. “I just have a few questions, Corporal.”
He had to give the man points for having the balls to stand there when Spence had several inches on him in height and a good thirty pounds of muscle. “I asked you to leave.”
The reporter held up a small recorder. “Seriously, man, just a few quick questions is all I need. I can get whatever else I need for the article from other sources.”
What article? Spence didn’t want his name plastered all over any paper, not even the
Clarion
. “No interview and no article.”
The reporter remained unfazed by Spence’s growing anger. “Look, Corporal, or can I call you Spence?”
“No.” He forced himself to back away, but the reporter’s next words brought him to a dead stop.
“It’s not often we have a real hero come home from the war, especially one everybody thought was dead. It’s your obligation to share the story, and I think your neighbors and friends have the right to hear what happened to you over there. It’s an amazing tale.”
That did it. Spence latched onto the reporter with one hand and dialed 9-1-1 with the other. The reporter was still fighting like a fish trying to break free of a hook sunk deep in its gut when Gage Logan himself pulled up in front of the house a few minutes later. The police chief strolled across the front yard, the flicker of the blue lights on his patrol car lighting up the yard.
“Hi, Spence. I see you’ve met Reilly.”
The reporter twisted his head to the side, trying to look directly at the lawman. “Chief, I want to press charges against this guy for assault.”
Gage ignored him. “Spence, want to tell me what’s going on here?”
Not particularly, but he had no choice. “This guy ambushed me when I came home. I told him I wasn’t interested in being interviewed and made it clear that if he didn’t leave I would call the police and report him for trespassing.”
He finally released his hold on the reporter and stepped back, figuring things would go more smoothly if he at least appeared to be in control of himself.
“He refused to leave and prevented me from entering my house.” He flexed his hands and fought to calm himself. “Then this little pissant told me that it
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