Vengeance

19 MEDINA FALLS, ARKANSAS

It was late in the afternoon on an unseasonably warm spring day when Sarah Greenwood, holding a plate in each hand, passed through the front gate of Miss Potter’s antebellum-era estate. But instead of heading toward the front door, framed by two majestic white columns rising toward the portico roof, Sarah turned toward the cottage where Jake was staying.

Last weekend, Jake had intervened at the diner, freeing her from Trent’s grip and knocking him to the ground. After her busy weekend shifts at the diner, Sarah had finally found time to prepare a thank-you gift for Jake. Unsure whether she should bake a pie or cookies, she had settled on both, and one hand held a still-warm cinnamon apple pie while in the other rested a platter of chocolate chip cookies.

Sarah had initially been embarrassed at how forward she had been with Jake that night, caressing his hand. But after further reflection, she decided she had done nothing wrong. She liked Jake and wondered if there was a possibility they might get together once Jake worked through whatever had happened in his previous relationship.

After debating whether she should let the matter take its natural course or attempt to influence its outcome, she had decided on the latter. There was nothing wrong with working toward something she wanted. To that end, her mom had mentioned on occasion that there were two ways to a man’s heart, and that one of them was through his stomach. She had never mentioned the other way, but Sarah had figured that part out on her own. For now, however, she would focus on food.

When she reached the cottage door, she balanced the plate of cookies on one forearm, then knocked. There was no response. She knocked again, and still no one answered. Disappointed, she went to Miss Potter’s house to drop off the food, but she wasn’t home either.

Sarah didn’t want to head back home with the pie and cookies, and wondered if it would be okay if she left them in Jake’s cottage, leaving a note saying they were from her. After returning to the cottage, she turned the doorknob — it was unlocked — and called inside for Jake. There was no response.

She entered the small cottage, which featured a combined living room, dining room, and kitchen in the front, and a bedroom and bathroom in the back. After placing the pie and cookies on the dining room table, she looked around, searching for a pen and piece of paper. Or even better, something that might provide a clue to Jake’s identity and what had brought him to Medina Falls. After spotting nothing noteworthy, she decided to check the bedroom. At the diner, Jake always paid with cash, pulling the bills from a pocket; he didn’t seem to even carry a wallet. But he must have one, and if she could find it, there would undoubtedly be a driver’s license or credit card with his name on it.

The bed was neatly made up and there were a few shirts and pairs of pants hanging in the closet, plus a shaving kit in the bathroom. But there was no sign of the backpack he had stepped off the bus with. As she stood with her hands on her hips, wondering where it might be, she heard sounds coming from outside, behind the cottage. Through the bedroom window, she spotted Jake in the backyard, replacing a section of Miss Potter’s fence.

Sarah approached the bedroom’s back wall, being careful to stay out of Jake’s view in case he happened to look her way, then peered at him from the side of the window. He had his back to her, digging holes for new fence posts. It was a warm day and he had taken his shirt off. Sarah couldn’t help but notice his muscular back and shoulders, slim waist, and nice butt. What caught her attention even more, though, were the scars on his back. She had never seen anything like them in real life, but she had in the movies: two bullet wounds, one behind each shoulder.

She sucked in a sharp breath, wondering what type of man Jake really was. He clearly lived on the more dangerous side of the tracks, but was he a good guy — maybe a policeman or military veteran — or a criminal? Maybe even a highly wanted fugitive, hiding out from the law in Medina Falls. Her curiosity had spurred her desire to learn more about Jake, and now her concern provided extra motivation. If only she could find his wallet.

Turning around, she scanned the bedroom again for his backpack; it was nowhere to be found. She searched the closet more closely, finding nothing, then decided to check under the bed.

Jackpot.

She pulled the backpack out and unzipped the top, revealing more clothes stuffed inside. She searched through the garments until her hand touched something cold and hard. Pulling the item from the backpack, her eyes went wide as she stared at a semiautomatic pistol in her hand. Placing it carefully on the bed beside her, she searched further, finally locating Jake’s wallet. Inside was a driver’s license, which she pulled out and examined.

At last, Sarah had a name to go with his face.

Jake Edward Harrison.

As she stared at his photo on the ID, Sarah’s sixth sense gnawed at her. It took a few seconds to realize that the sound of Jake digging postholes in the backyard had ceased. She hurried to the window, spotting Jake walking toward the cottage; he was already halfway there.

She stuffed Jake’s wallet and pistol into the backpack and shoved it under the bed, then, after a quick glance to ensure she hadn’t disturbed anything else in the bedroom during her search, returned to the dining room. With her pulse racing, she stopped beside the table just as Jake entered the cottage.

He stopped suddenly after spotting her, his eyes skimming the cottage before settling back on Sarah.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was just—” She tucked a curl of hair behind one ear, then pointed to the plates on the table. “I baked something for you. To thank you for helping me with Trent at the diner. You and Miss Potter weren’t home, so I thought I’d drop it off. Your door was unlocked…” She stopped talking and forced a smile.

Jake glanced at the pie and cookies, then shifted his gaze back to Sarah. It looked as if he was debating how to respond, and Sarah waited tensely as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She fought the urge to flee the cottage, realizing it was hopeless if the situation took a sinister turn; he was still at the door, blocking the only escape point.

After a long moment, he finally spoke. “Thank you.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the door.

Relief washed over Sarah. “I hope you enjoy them,” she managed to say as she moved toward the door.

As she passed by, Jake gently grabbed her arm, stopping her.

“A word of advice,” he said. “In the future, don’t be so…” He paused, searching for the right word. “… unguarded around strangers. Understand?”

There was a darkness in his eyes again.

Sarah nodded, then he released her.

After she exited the cottage and reached the street, her heart rate slowly returned to normal.

After returning home, Sarah immediately sat down before the computer, typing Jake’s name into the internet browser. The search returned only a few results.

The first few were local news snippets concerning Jake’s performance on a high school football team in Fayetteville, Iowa, which is where he appeared to have grown up. Then an article about him enlisting in the Navy after graduation. Sarah felt relieved, learning that he had served in the U.S. Navy, which must have been how he received the bullet wounds.

There was nothing more on Jake until sixteen years ago: an engagement photo in the local Fayetteville newspaper, with Jake beside an attractive woman. Then another gap until a few months ago, when he was mentioned in an obituary for his wife, Angeline. There was no mention, however, of how she had died.

Sarah pondered the newfound information, convinced she had solved the mystery of Jake Edward Harrison — a military veteran hiding out in Medina Falls as he dealt with the tragic loss of his beloved wife.

Her heart went out to him.