Permanent Vacancy. Katy Lee

it would be so much worse for Gretchen.

      Colm ran to the back of the house and located the door to the basement. His boots hit the stairs in a rapid cadence that matched his heartbeat. What would he find below? Her neck twisted in an unnatural way?

      Please, God, let her be well, he prayed again. Be with me so I can help her. A twinge of guilt gripped him when he realized he had been worried about his job a moment ago. Gretchen Bauer could have broken her neck in the fall, and he was worried about being fired. What kind of person did that make him?

      As if he didn’t know.

      Nate followed behind, his camera light illuminating the dirt floor as Colm’s feet hit the compacted earth. He had been correct about the low ceiling. The way he had to crouch told him less than six feet stood between floor and ceiling. At least it was a short fall. Thank You, Lord, for old houses. He ran toward where Gretchen lay.

      A groan came from that direction. She was alive. Colm allowed a little relief to come, but only a little. She could still be quite hurt. He prepared himself for the worst and pulled his phone from his pocket, ready to call 911. “Gretchen, hold still,” he called.

      The camera light made finding her easy in the dark. He reached her as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. “Don’t move!” he shouted and knelt to stop her. “You shouldn’t move until emergency personnel have had a chance to check you out. I’m calling 911.”

      “No.” Gretchen grabbed his hand, her touch not delicate as he’d imagined, but rough and strong. She turned away from the camera’s light, putting half her pale features into the darkness. “Don’t call the sheriff’s office,” she said. “I just had the wind knocked out of me.”

      “Do you need your inhaler?”

      She reached behind her, pulling out a smashed container.

      “I’m calling,” he announced, his finger about to hit the number 9.

      “Please don’t,” she whispered. The camera wouldn’t have picked her voice up without her hooked to a microphone, but Colm heard it loud and clear.

      For some reason the idea of notifying the sheriff’s office scared her more than her fall, more than the inability to breathe.

      “Are you positive? Sometimes we don’t feel an injury until later.”

      “I’m fine.”

      Colm studied her for a moment in silence, searching for any injury she might be hiding or not know of yet. She flexed her shoulders and moved her head a bit to demonstrate that she was uninjured. Colm’s own adrenaline sank back to a normal level and when he looked up at the camera, he saw it continued to roll. Nate had filmed the whole scene. Colm wasn’t surprised. He knew Troy would expect it. The director was sure to eat this incident up. Probably use it for pre-ads to the airing to create some excitement for the upcoming episode. Colm also knew what the director expected of him. Troy would want him to wrap up this scene with a nice little bow. The fact that Gretchen was unhurt meant Colm could continue doing his job. He could now add a little of the humor he was famous for without feeling guilty.

      Colm grabbed a piece of floorboard that had come down with Gretchen. He lifted it to the camera. “I don’t know about you, but I can say for sure it wasn’t our home owner’s weight that sent her through the floor. I’ve seen more meat on a chicken’s forehead, if you’re following my drift. I’ll also say her decision to call Rescue to Restoration may have saved her life if the condition of these floorboards means anyth—”

      Colm stared at the board in his hand, unable to continue with his monologue. He may be just a host for the show, but long before his time in front of the camera, he had spent many hours beside his da in his woodshop. Colm studied the wood.

      Sharp angles, rough edges. Too perfect to be a break.

      He looked over the piece at Gretchen Bauer. She dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap. Was this why she didn’t want the sheriff’s office notified? Did she wonder the same thing he did? Or did she already know the answer to his unasked question?

      “This was no accident, Miss Bauer, was it? Speak to me, Goldie. Who’d want’cha dead?”

       TWO

      “Dead?” Gretchen gasped. “Nobody wants me dead.”

       Do they?

      No, of course not. She fought with the doubts that had appeared in her head the moment her back had come into abrupt contact with the dirt floor. “Why would you say such a thing?” Her words rose in defiance as she pushed her sore body up to stand, biting back the aches. “I’ve lived on Stepping Stones my whole life. The people here love me. They would never hurt me.” The statement fell flat even to her ears.

      “After seeing these boards and the public notice on your front door, I’d say not all of them love you. You’ve lived here long enough to make a few enemies, and one enemy is really all it takes to cut a few floorboards.”

      “How do you know they were cut? Unless...” A breath-halting realization struck her. “You cut them. That’s why you know they were tampered with. You probably did this for your show. To up those ratings you were talking about, am I right?”

       Please, let me be right.

      “Now, wait just a second. You are way off. I would never—”

      “You came inside before I returned home and set the scene up. I played right into your plan. Contrary to what people think around here, I do have a brain. I know when someone’s playing me.”

      “Playing you? Why? Who played you before? Your islanders? The ones you say love you so much? I thought you just said none of them would ever hurt you. Perhaps you want to modify your words. Someone has messed with you. Am I right?”

      Gretchen opened her mouth to deny it but in all honesty couldn’t. But that didn’t mean she would admit it. Never could she admit it to anyone.

      Not when she’d let it happen.

      But it didn’t matter: Colm McCrae already knew. Maybe not all the details, but he knew. Shame doused her attempt to make sense of the situation. The fact was, when she fell through the floor, she had a good idea who had done this. But instead of admitting to knowing what her ex was capable of and his possible involvement in this incident, she was quick to find blame elsewhere. Anywhere. Even the crew that was here to help her get out from under Deputy Billy Baker’s hold.

      But why? Why couldn’t Gretchen just say there was someone who’d want to hurt her and had?

       Oh please, you know exactly why.

      Deep down she wanted to believe she would never date a man capable of such a thing. Billy may have been controlling. He may have misused the word love. He may have gone above and beyond his duty to protect her by smothering her instead. But none of these things meant he would kill her.

      But he had hit her.

      Gretchen reached again for her right cheek. How could one slap have such a lasting and debilitating effect?

      “You’re right.” She dropped her hand to her side. “There is someone who hurt me once. I can’t say they did this, but I can say that’s why you’re here now—so I never have to depend on anyone again. I contacted Rescue to Restoration for more than a rehab. It’s not only the house that’s getting a rescue, it’s me, too. And when you finish, and I open the front door to my first guests, it will be the beginning of a fully restored me. It will be the beginning of my new life.”

      Gretchen released a deep breath, wishing honesty came this easily with her family and friends. Maybe someday when she was stronger, after she’d proven she could succeed with not only the business, but also with the plans she made for her life, she would tell