was fabulous.
I could listen to you sing all day.
You made me cry.
Tracy looked overwhelmed by the attention, but she gave everyone her 500-watt smile. Leif
watched fascinated. Whenever she smiled, a funny little hole popped into her cheek. He
could have picked her up and kissed her right there in front of the whole choir.
Cool it, Ericson, he told himself.
Tracy, are you really going to start a handbell choir? one of the women asked.
Tracy looked hesitant. I’m thinking about it. Rev. Jim said we have a five octave set of
bells that someone donated years ago, but they’ve been sitting in the storage room ever
since.
Go for it, another member chimed in. I’d love to play handbells.
Leif stood listening to the chatter when he felt someone clasp his arm. He looked down to
see Sheila Dunn gazing dreamily into his eyes. No wonder Tracy thought this woman was his
wife.
He edged his way through the crowd, ignoring the fact that Sheila was still firmly
attached to him. Tracy, your song was beautiful. Somehow the words weren’t adequate to
express how deeply the song had affected him.
But she smiled gratefully. Thank you, Leif. That’s my very favorite song.
What time should I pick you up for work? He tried to disregard the disapproving sniff from
Sheila.
Tracy gave Sheila a curious glance. I have to be there at four. I think three-fifteen
should give us plenty of time.
Three-fifteen it is.
Thanks so much, Leif. I’ll see you then, but I have to run now. Maggie’s waiting for me.
Leif stood silent, his gaze following Tracy as she turned to the door. He felt Sheila
tugging at his arm. He looked down to see her adoring gaze had become a disgruntled frown.
I don’t understand you, Leif, making such a fuss over that woman. And why does Rev.
Edwards let her in the door? Everyone knows she’s a disgrace to this town.
Leif managed to escape Sheila’s grasp as he removed his choir robe. He didn’t feel the
need to respond to her comments. If everyone knew Tracy was a disgrace, everyone didn’t
include Leif Ericson.
That New York detective, Diaz, had told him to keep an eye on Tracy in case Rick Timmons
paid her a visit. He had done a thorough job of watching her, maybe too thorough, but so
far there was no sign of a mysterious stranger. Still, he had to admit that watching Tracy
Dixon was not a hardship.
****
Tracy studied her appearance in her mother’s old cheval glass. The restaurant’s pale blue
uniform with white piping was attractive. She was really looking forward to this evening.
She enjoyed waitress work, and it would be a relief to have money trickling in instead of
pouring out.
Waiting on tables had paid her way through three years of college, but her flight to New
York sent her plans off on a detour. Even counting her evening classes at NYU, she still
needed a full semester’s credits to finish her final year and earn her degree in music.
Excitement bubbled up inside. You can do it, she told her reflection. Save enough money
this summer, and you can enroll at Bridgewater for the fall semester. That degree will be
in your hot little hand by the end of the year.
She was startled by a knock at the front door. That couldn’t be Leif already. It wasn’t
quite three o’clock. She made a last quick check of her appearance and hurried downstairs
to open the door. With Leif’s warnings ringing in her head, she left the chain in place.
The middle-aged man on her doorstep was tall and painfully thin with a smattering of
scraggly salt and pepper hair. A scar that ran down his cheek from his eyebrow to his chin
shouted Danger.
Tracy’s heartbeat accelerated. Forcing her voice around the lump of panic in her throat,
she managed to speak. Can I help you?
Yes, Ma’am. The man gave her a toothless grin. I hear you got a car for sale—a ’74 Ford
Galaxie, but I ain’t seen it around for a
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