Only By Your Touch by Catherine Anderson Page A

there was never much traffic out that way. Normally, Chloe enjoyed driving the curvy, two-lane highway. But tonight, fearing she might fall asleep, she needed the wind in her face.
    As she nosed the Honda through town at a sluggish twenty-five, she loosened her hair and sighed with delight at the breeze moving over her. The scent of pine and manzanita from the woods made the air smell fresh and clean.
    As she turned left onto Shoshone Road, she accelerated and set her speed at fifty, slowing only when she passed one of the residential or business districts en route to the subdivision. The little store where she sometimes stopped to get Jeremy a treat was dimming its lights. The owner, a grossly overweight man, stood out by the gas island, balancing a clipboard on one hand. Just as Chloe passed, he bent over to read a pump meter. The waistband of his baggy jeans dippedlow in back, flashing a broad expanse of bare rump that gleamed in the moonlight like the underbelly of a dead fish.
    She gulped back a startled laugh. Country living . Just last week, her brother Rob had asked if she missed the cultural diversity of Seattle. Heck, no. She had all the cultural diversity she could handle right here.
    She sighed as she reached her favorite stretch of the road, bordered on both sides by trees. Some five miles long, it was intensely dark, with a windy ribbon of moon-silvered asphalt stretching ahead of her and a midnight-blue sky overhead, studded with thousands of stars. This was the Oregon she’d come to love as a girl when she’d vacationed here with her family, and it had been memories of this place that had drawn her back as an adult.
    As she turned off onto Whispering Pines Lane, a two-mile stretch that led to the housing district, Chloe slowed her speed, ever watchful for deer. No deer leaped out in front of her, but she did come upon a porcupine waddling up the center of the road. Jack Pine’s version of a traffic jam .
    Ringed by towering pines that blocked the moonlight, her front yard was cloaked in darkness when she pulled into the driveway. Tracy hadn’t turned on the porch light. The illumination inside the house, diffused by curtains at the windows, cast only a dim glow over the shrubs bordering the foundation. In the breeze, shadows shifted, creating sinister shapes.
    Chloe hesitated before exiting the car. Then, scoffing at herself for being a goose, she wrenched open the door, got out, and forced herself to walk, not run, to the steps. This was a sleepy town, the crime running to domestic disturbances, traffic infractions,and poaching, with an occasional fight at the bar to keep things interesting. She had no reason to feel uneasy.
    Foiled by darkness, she fished for her keys, which, like an idiot, she had dropped in her purse. Oh, duh. Sleep deprivation. Her brain was on autopilot. She fumbled to insert the key in the lock. When she pushed into the living room, Tracy, engaged in conversation on the kitchen phone, waved hello.
    “Gotta go. Chloe just came home. Yeah. Me, too.” She made kiss noises. “Bye.” After hanging up, she said, “Ooh, bummer. You look totally wiped. Was it a busy night?”
    “Not too.” Chloe limply patted the girl’s shoulder. “I’m just tired.”
    The supper dishes had been washed and stacked in the blue drainer. “You’re an angel, Tracy. Thanks for cleaning up.”
    “No problem.” Tracy’s brown hair was secured in a twist with a big purple clip. Glitter gel made her sweet face sparkle like a showgirl’s, and she’d slashed her skintight jeans in strategic places. “I put some clothes in the washer for you and ran the vac. Jer spilled his popcorn.”
    “When my ship comes in, I’m giving you a raise.” Chloe moved past her to go check on her son.
    The night-light in her son’s bedroom cast a fanlike glow over the wall, illuminating his bookshelf and the posters above it, depictions of John Deere tractors, Winnie-the-Pooh, and monster-faced characters from his