Harvest Moon by Helena Shaw Page A

alive...”
    “I know,” Dawn said as tears begun to sting the
corners of her eyes. “I shouldn’t have let her go.”
    “It’s not your fault,” the agent said, but Dawn was
barely holding it together. “Listen, I promise you, I will find what did this
and I will put it down, you hear me? It’s not going to get away with this.”
    “Okay,” Dawn whispered, but she couldn’t bring herself
to believe him.
    “If you want,” the agent continued, “I can spend the
night here. No funny business. I’d be happy to sleep on the couch. If whatever
was out there comes back, maybe I can take it down.”
    “Are you sure?” Dawn asked. “I mean, you don’t mind
sleeping on my couch?”
    “I’ve slept on a lot worse,” he told her with a weak
laugh. “That motel, for starters.”
    Dawn wasn’t quite sure about having an FBI agent
staying on her couch for the night, but she was a lot more scared of being
alone. Even if her mind was trying to convince her that it had only been a
raccoon on her porch, her instincts were fighting to prove otherwise. Having
the agent there was a good idea, despite her trepidations.
    She nodded. “Okay. I’ll get you some blankets. And,
um, thanks.”
    “It’s no trouble,” the agent said as he kicked off his
shoes. “That Mountain Lodge is garbage, anyway. I can see why Hart and Connors
stayed at the one a few miles away.”
    “Well, it’s appreciated,” Dawn said as she moved
toward a barely-used linen closet. Most of her blankets and towels had come
with the furnished rental house, and the large, gray flannel blanket she found
was no exception. With a hard tug, she pulled it out and lightly shook it to
air it out some for her unexpected houseguest.
    “Bathroom is over there.” She pointed with a free hand
while she gave Nash the blanket. “And help yourself to anything in the fridge.”
    “Thanks,” he said. “You should get to bed. After the
day you’ve had, you’ll be running on adrenaline, and your body needs to rest.”
    “Okay,” Dawn agreed. She was too tired to argue, not
that she wanted to, anyway. Even the idea of her bed was enough to make her
eyes heavy, and she began to shamble toward her bedroom.
    “Night,” Nash called after her from the open living
room.
    “Night,” she mumbled back, though she wasn’t sure if
he heard her.
    Even as exhaustion claimed her, Dawn thought that
sleeping would be a struggle. With everything that had happened, she thought
her brain would never still enough for slumber, but it was just the opposite.
Somehow, she felt safer than she had in months, years even, and as she let her
eyelids close, she realized that security was brought on by none other than the
man who was sleeping on her couch.

Chapter
Seven
    Dawn’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of footsteps
outside her bedroom door. Immediately, her breath caught in her chest and she
froze. In the stillness, she listened to the soft sounds coming from the other
side of her door.
    She’d been here before. Once, not too long after she’d
left New York, she was squatting with some kids who were about her age at the
time. She’d been sloppy then, using Richard’s credit card to buy food whenever
she got hungry, not dyeing her hair. She was still Jennifer Waters then, and
totally clueless.
    It was in Columbus that the cops had shown up at the
old, dilapidated house she was spending her nights in. One of the other kids
had let them in under threat of eviction from the derelict place. Dawn, or
Jenny then, was sharing a bedroom with another girl about her age, and in the
middle of the night, she woke to hear the conversation concerning her.
    “We’re looking for a Miss Jennifer Waters,” she heard
someone say then, and just like now, her breath stopped in her chest.
    “Yeah, she’s upstairs, one of the bedrooms,” a kid
said, his voice hushed and scared.
    “Which one?” a voice replied, but this time there
wasn’t a solid answer. She could only pray that the