Free Harvest Moon by Helena Shaw Page B

fingers found the
thin card and she fished it out. She stabbed the number into her old phone and
began to pray that he would pick up.
    Agent Nash’s cool, deep voice answered her so casually
that it shocked her. “Yeah?”
    “Um, Agent Nash?” she confirmed, terrified she’d
dialed the wrong number.
    “You got him,” he said.
    “It’s Dawn,” she said. “Dawn Garrett. You told me to
call if anything came up, and well...”
    Another noise outside sent her jumping so hard that
she almost dropped the phone.
    “Dawn?” Agent Nash’s voice brought her back to the
phone. “Dawn, is everything okay?”
    “No!” she admitted. “No, something’s outside. Someone,
or something. I’m probably just panicking, but I’m scared.”
    “I’ll be right there,” Agent Nash assured her, but
there was a touch of fear in his own voice that did nothing to calm Dawn’s
already frayed nerves.
    After she’d given him her address, Dawn hung up the
phone and grabbed her knife off the floor. He was only a few blocks away at the
old motel in town, but he seemed to take an eternity to get there. All Dawn
could do while she waited was clutch the knife to her chest and pray he got
there before someone, or some thing , else did.
    Dawn stood deadly still in the middle of her small
house while she strained to listen for the agent’s approach. The wind howled
outside, and she swore she heard footsteps, but nothing came of it. Soon, she
was straining so hard that she was giving herself a headache, and she almost
moved to call Agent Nash’s number again to find out what was taking him so
long.
    Just as she was about to move back toward the kitchen,
a knock at her door made her yelp once more.
    “Dawn?” Agent Nash’s voice called her door as he
knocked again. “Dawn, it’s me.”
    “Oh my God,” she sighed as she opened the door for
him. “What took you so long?”
    “I was only five minutes,” he told her, and when she
looked at the clock, she saw he was right. Still, it had felt like an eternity.
    Once he was inside, Dawn realized he’d changed out of
his suit and was again wearing something a little more casual: dark, beat-up
jeans, a plaid shirt, and the same green jacket from the night before.
    “I know I’m just being paranoid,” she said. “It was
probably just a raccoon looking for something to eat.”
    “I said call for anything,” the agent said with a hint
of a smile. It only barely touched the corners of his full lips, but it was
enough to reassure her some. “I’ll take a look outside. You stay put, okay?”
    “Okay,” she said as she watched him go. She knew he
was only a few feet away on the other side of the door, but once he was out
there, she was overcome with the need to lock him out.
    What were you thinking? her mind scolded her .
He’s an FBI agent, you idiot. What if he finds out who Dawn Garrett really is?
    “No,” she whispered to herself. “No, he’s different.”
    She didn’t quite know how he was different, but there
some something about him that was. He made her feel strangely safe, and she
couldn’t deny she enjoyed his company, even under the circumstances.
    “It’s all clear,” Agent Nash said as he stepped back
into her house. “You’re right, it might have just been a raccoon, but it’s
better that you played it safe.”
    “Thanks,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry if I pulled
you out of bed, or something.”
    “Nah,” he shook his head. “Just doing some late night
reading. You going to be okay?”
    “I think so,” Dawn said. “But I still feel bad about
calling you out here for nothing. Want a cup of coffee? I have decaf.”
    “Sure,” the agent said as he pulled off his jacket and
hung it over the arm of the couch. Dawn realized then that his shirt was just a
little tight across his chest, and she could see the muscles hidden underneath
it. She wanted to stare, but she knew how that would look and she forced her
eyes away.
    “Hey,” he said as she