Love in Smallfoot Alley

By Connie Chastain

A blinding rainstorm ... terrifying, red-eyed creatures ... a crash into a flooded ditch... Will Leslie Hoffman survive the trip to her new job? Is her gorgeous, taciturn rescuer trustworthy, or another danger?

Chris Dupree -- misogynistic, semi-reclusive, blind to his loneliness. Can sweet, genial Leslie revive his dormant heart?

A young man found in an irreversible coma... a grieving brother obsessed with learning the cause... a shrewd PI hired to ferret out the truth.

Does a frightened IT tech hold the answers? And will he reveal them in time to save Leslie from the same fate?

Love in Smallfoot Alley -- contemporary romance suspense with a touch of the paranormal and a touch of sci-fi...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Connie Chastain
• Release date: Nov 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311632432

Connie Chastain

Connie Chastain grew up in Georgia and Alabama. A former staff writer for Joe Scarborough's The Florida Sun, she was inspired to write fiction by Rex Stout, Harper Lee, Frances Parkinson Keyes, and Margaret Mitchell. A crazy cat lady, she lives in west Florida with her crazy cat guy husband and a collection of the sweetest cats on earth.

Book preview

Love in Smallfoot Alley

A Southern Heroes Novel

Connie Chastain

Publisher’s Note:

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Published by Brasstown Books at Smashwords

Copyright © 2014 by Connie Chastain

All Rights Reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

ISBN: 9781311632432

Cover image ©Svetlana Alyuk

Cover design by Word Slinger Boutique

Author photo by Tommy Ward

* * *

Also by Connie Chastain

~Novels~

Southern Man

Sweet Southern Boys

Storm Surge

~Short Stories~

A Family at Last

Weekend at Lake Lucy

* * *

To My Nephews

Tad, Thom, and Tony

* * *

When love's well-timed 'tis not a fault to love;

The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise,

Sink in the soft captivity together.

Joseph Addison,

Cato, A Tragedy

Act III, Scene 1

Prologue

Catesville, Alabama

January 4, 2013

Less than seventy-two hours after he was brought in, an ambulance from Mobile showed up to take him away. The two EMTs stood in the fluorescent-bright waiting area conversing softly while hospital personnel completed the paperwork.

Their charge was a man in his late twenties. He'd been transferred in his room to their cot and now they wheeled him outside where the ambulance waited under a canopy. Beyond the brightly lit area, the shadows of winter dusk appeared darker by contrast and deepened the tragedy.

On January first, shortly after sunrise, he had arrived in the emergency room unresponsive. All efforts to rouse him had failed and he remained deeply comatose.

An ID card in the patient's wallet identified a family contact, a brother in Arkansas, and his employer. Hospital personnel had called them both. The HR rep at his workplace mentioned rumors of the patient's recreational drug use and speculated sadly on a possible overdose, though testing had revealed no evidence of drugs or alcohol in his bloodstream.

Since he'd been found unconscious behind the wheel of his vehicle on a roadside south of town, carbon monoxide poisoning had been suspected, but testing ruled that out, as well. Whatever fried his brain had left no traces of itself in his body.

His brother flew to Alabama the next day. Tall, auburn-haired and handsome, he was an older version of the patient, except that he was conspicuously alive, his body vibrant with pain, his dark eyes reservoirs of shock and grief.

He'd arranged for the long-distance medical transport, making certain he could accompany his brother on the eight-hour ride to Arkansas. He'd spent most of his time at the hospital in the patient's room, but the nurses sometimes saw him pacing the corridor, his cell phone at his ear. Twice he had briefly left the hospital to visit his brother's residence, arranging to have personal possessions and vehicle shipped home.

Now he stood under the canopy and watched the EMTs roll the cot into the back of the ambulance, a boxy maroon vehicle with the legend Harrison Medical Transport on the sides. A handful of the hospital's employees who had provided most of the the patient's care stood slightly aloof from the activity.

The older brother, his face still a mask of bewilderment and loss, stepped to them and murmured words of appreciation. He lifted his small suitcase from the concrete and climbed into the back of the ambulance. One of the EMTs followed him. The other closed the doors, filling the air with a metallic THUNK and walked around to slide behind the wheel.

The engine rumbled to life and the vehicle glided into the night without flashing lights or siren. There was no need for them. This was not a medical emergency.

Chapter One

Bristol, Alabama

January 7, 2013

Leslie Hoffman was the Bristol Cafe's sole patron, although it was only a little before six p.m. Beyond the the gingham-curtained window, sunset was obscured by a thunderstorm, and the winter night was black, wet and wild.

And you're planning on getting to Sommers tonight? asked the rotund, gray-haired man behind counter. The tilt of his head accompanying his question suggested he hadn't heard her correctly.

You said it's only twelve miles from Bristol, isn't that right? Just minutes away.

In good weather, he said. I'd be leery of traveling any further in this storm.

I'd just as soon not sleep in my car, Leslie said, alluding to the lack of lodgings in tiny Bristol.

Well, it ain't much but there's a big sofa in the office. Blanket, pillow in the closet back there. You're welcome to it. It's warm, and it'd be safer than driving through this weather. There's a little TV set, too, and if the satellite signal can get through, you can watch Alabama beat the Irish and win the crystal football. The prediction brought a grin to his face. Course it's up to you.

Someone is expecting me in Sommers, so I'll press on. But thanks for the offer.

She paid for her meal at the old-fashioned cash register, donned her raincoat and stepped out to her compact SUV parked at the curb. Powerful gusts threatened to toss her about like a pinball and drove needle-like raindrops against her face and hands. Using an umbrella, or trying to, would have been futile, as she knew from her arrival here half an hour earlier. She was soaked anew and shivering from the chill before she threw herself behind the wheel and slammed the door.

Wind-driven rain pounded on the roof like thousands of pebbles and drowned out the thunder, except for one crack that accompanied a bolt of lightning. In an instant, Bristol, Alabama was left in darkness.

Heart thudding, Leslie started the motor of the little SUV and turned both heater and fan to their highest settings. The vehicle rolled onto the deserted street and into the tempest caught in her headlights. Visibility was near zero and she drove at a crawl.

A reflective highway marker glowed up ahead. Sommers 12 miles. Twelve miles in this storm? Was she out of her mind?

* * *

I've gone more than twelve miles. I don't see how, but I must've taken a wrong turn somewhere...

The reality of her situation dawned. She was caught in a violent thunderstorm on a cold night in January – and lost.

Her hands cramped from clutching the steering wheel. Squinting and anxiety had combined to give her a pulsing headache. She could barely make out the road through the windshield distorted with rain, against which the wipers were nearly useless. High winds buffeted the vehicle. Any moment, the tires could lose their grip on the pavement and slide onto the mud-soft shoulder. She and her transportation could end up in a flooded ditch.

Is that a light ahead?

She vowed to stop, wherever she was, at any sign of habitation.

It was not a light but another reflective road sign. It read Erwin.

Erwin? Where on earth is that?

More to the point, what was it? Not a town, or even a crossroads community. There were no stores, no houses, no structures of any kind, and no lights. But the shoulder widened and led to a flat, open space, almost like a graveled parking lot, though no building accompanied it. Still, she pulled off the road, switched on the dome light and reached for a map on the seat beside her.

"I make it through this, I will get GPS installed," she muttered as she unfolded the map and searched for her whereabouts. She found Bristol and Sommers, but no Erwin.

Well, that's just great. I'm in the twilight zone.

Her fear abated a little since she had something to busy herself with, but she lowered the map when chills crept across her skin. She tossed the map aside and turned off the dome light.

Movement. Outside the back window. Not wind or rain, but something alive and stealthily approaching the SUV. She shifted to reverse to activate the backup lights.

What she glimpsed in the rear-view mirror sent a neural alarm through her such as she'd never known. Something – men? animals?-- slinking toward her. Two of them, long-haired, dressed in rags – or was it fur? -- with luminous red eyes.

A burst of fear froze her for a second, followed by greater fear that energized her icy hands. She double checked the door locks before shifting into drive and stomping the gas pedal. Wheels spun and sprayed gravel before they found traction. The SUV leaped forward, adding to her alarm, and she eased up on the accelerator to move off at a less frantic pace.

She had not imagined the creatures in the mirror because she heard bumps, like fists pounding against the fenders, as she drove away. The SUV careened onto the blacktop and, spurred by a spike in terror, Leslie again pushed too hard on the gas pedal. The vehicle whirled around and ran off the other side of the road, half into a ditch filled with churning water.

Tears blinded her as she tried to maneuver the SUV out of the ditch. The drive wheels spun furiously but the vehicle didn't move.

Four-wheel...four-wheel... How? Where? Oh, under the shifter...

She yanked on the T-bar that locked in the the four-wheel drive, something she'd never done, and pressed the gas pedal. She vehicle seemed to move forward and hope surged inside her. But it was over in an instant. Both the engine and the tires whined uselessly and the vehicle actually bogged down a little.

Please, oh, please! Move, roll, please!

Her pursuers reached her, knocked on the windows, rocked the car. Rain cascading down the glass distorted their faces, but she saw enough to lift the hairs on her neck. They were man-like but not human and their eerie vocalizations, high pitched with an echo effect that sounded almost electronic, formed no words.

They would break a window and get to her any moment. Terror turned to madness and her scream filled the night.

* * *

Leslie's scream ended abruptly when she saw headlights emerge from the darkness and move closer. A vehicle pulled off the pavement near her SUV. The two creatures or men or whatever they were ran toward the woods behind her and disappeared in darkness.

Someone got out of the truck wielding a very bright flashlight, swept the beam across the hood toward her vehicle, and into the night, left and right. She barely made out the form of the newcomer when he stepped around the front of the truck, through the beams of the headlights--a man clad in a long duster with a shoulder cape. A wide-brimmed cowboy hat shielded his eyes from the rain. He approached her SUV and tapped on the window.

Hello, he called, his voice raised to carry above the pounding rain. He held the flashlight against the back window and slanted the beam around inside.

She rolled the window down a few inches and gulped back a sob. Oh, thank goodness! I was so scared! Those-- Empty lungs made further speech impossible. It was as if the the scream had knocked the breath out of her and she struggled for air.

Are you all right?

Deep gasps wracked her, but she felt a measure of calm, or at least coherence, returning. I sort of... hit my head...on the steering wheel. But...I don't think I'm hurt. I need--

I'll take you to the hospital in Catesville.

No, I just need to get my car out of the ditch and get to Sommers.

That'll take a wrecker. Have to wait for the weather to clear. If you're injured, you need to see a doctor.

No, really....

You can't stay here.

He was right. No point in resisting. She pulled her keys out of the ignition, unfastened her safety belt and snatched up her purse.

I have luggage, she said as she struggled out of the tilted vehicle and, blinded by the pelting rain, promptly stumbled over something and went down on her hands and knees in the mud.

He took hold of her arm, helped her to her feet and led her to the truck, idling at a low rumble. He opened the door and said, Get in. I'll get your luggage.

Trembling from the frigid air, she climbed up into the spacious crew cab and dropped her keys into his outstretched hand. Grateful for the warmth flowing from the dashboard vents, she kept an eye on the stranger as he brought her suitcases to the truck. The small back seat was folded out of the way to accommodate something behind the driver's seat. something large and boxy and covered with a tarp He slid it aside to make room for her luggage.

Back behind he wheel, he handed her the keys.

I locked it, he said.

Thank you. She dropped them into her purse and glanced out the window. Did you see where those...men went?

What men? The truck's motor rumbled as he made a U turn and headed northwest.

There were two of them. Real short, five feet tall, maybe. Long hair, ragged clothes that hung off them in tatters. They chased me.

He shook his head. Chased you? I didn't see any other vehicles.

They were...on foot. She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how crazy her story sounded.

He didn't speak for a moment. I didn't see any men...on foot. But you can file a report about them with the Sheriff's Office in Catesville.

Chapter Two

He brought the truck to an unexpected stop. In the beams of the headlights, roiling, muddy water flowed across the road. The tops of concrete bridge rails barely cleared the water. A sign rising up out of the turbulence read Crow River.

Bridge is awash, the stranger said.

Wow, Leslie murmured as the implication dawned. That's not a very high bridge, is it?

It's high enough for recreational craft, when the river's not flooded. The Crow is not commercially navigable. He turned the truck around and headed back the way they'd come, but as they reached the area where they'd left her vehicle, he slowed and turned left.

Leslie peered ahead and her terror, which had calmed to simple fear, rose again. The road was paved but in need of repairs. Vegetation, stark and leafless, pressed close in on each side, and the skeletal structures of defoliated tree limbs entwined overhead, like a tunnel into a nightmare.

Where does this road go? she said, unable to keep the quaver out of her voice.

It goes by my place and intersects with a county road into Catesville.

I wonder if you could take me-- She cleared her