No Way Out Fern Michaels (e reader books .TXT) 📖

Colleen couldn’t hide her excitement. “He’s taking me to dinner on Saturday.”

“How nice for you.” Libby was genuinely pleased and relieved that someone close by knew her deep, dark secret.

It was getting close to five, and the women noticed Andy driving his blue Lincoln toward his house and gently pulling it into the driveway. He got out of the car slowly.

“God bless him,” Colleen said. “He’s quite a trouper.”

But before Libby could respond, Andy took a tumble.

“Oh my gosh!” Colleen cried out. “I’ll go see if he’s OK. You call nine-one-one.”

“Got it.” Libby punched the three numbers into the phone.

She gave the dispatcher the address and was told an ambulance would be there in five minutes.

Libby watched Colleen try to help Andy off the ground, but he was too tall and wobbly. Libby opened the door, and called out, “How is he?”

“A few scrapes, but he may have sprained his arm.”

“An ambulance is on the way,” Libby shouted across the yard.

Andy started to protest. “I’m fine. Really.” But Colleen was having none of it.

“Andy, you need to be checked out. And don’t give me any arguments.”

A few minutes later, the screaming sound of an EMS vehicle was heard turning onto Birchwood Lane.

Jackson and Buddy came running to the front. Jeanne and Frank were on the front lawn, and the new neighbors peered out the window.

Frank jogged over as they were strapping Andy onto the stretcher. “I’ll go with him,” he said, and hopped into the back.

When they got to the hospital, Andy insisted he was fine, but they wouldn’t release him until they did some X-rays to be sure he hadn’t broken anything. They admitted him and informed him that he had to stay overnight, if not longer, depending on his contusions. He vehemently protested, but the doctor told him that, considering his age, they did not want to take any chances.

Knowing Andy lived alone, they assigned a social worker to help him with the paperwork. When she informed him that they wanted to do a safety check of his home, he turned paler than when he had arrived. “No. I don’t want anyone going into my house.” Andy was vehement.

The social worker said that it was for his own safety. Andy almost started to cry.

Frank stepped in and addressed the social worker. “Can you give us a moment?”

Once the social worker left the room, Frank turned to Andy. “Talk to me.”

Andy was trembling as tears ran down his cheeks. “They can’t go in there. If they do, they’ll never let me back in.”

“Why not?” Frank was gentle with the frail man.

“It’s piled high with . . . with so much that you can’t really walk around. You can’t even turn around. Please, Frank, don’t let them in.”

Frank had an idea. “This is what we’re going to do. You will stay here for three days. Make something up.”

“But I don’t want to stay here.” Andy was close to having a tantrum.

“Andy, if they go to your house, they almost certainly won’t let you back in there. Listen to me. We are going to get a storage space and clear out your house. We’ll do an inventory, and when you’re up for it, you can go there and look through what you have. We’ll get your house all cleaned up, and you’ll still have all your stuff. It’ll just be in a different place.”

“How will you be able to do that?” Andy was shaking.

“Leave it to an ex-military guy to scramble. Deal?” Frank put out his hand.

“Deal.” Andy winced.

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“Not really. I’m practicing for the nurse. You did say three days, right?” Quickly, Andy was on board, and his spirits lifted.

Jeanne had driven behind the ambulance and met up with Frank in the lobby. “Is he all right?”

“More or less, but we have a major challenge.”

“What kind of challenge?” Jeanne asked.

“We have to clean out his house in the next two days.”

“How on earth are we going to do that?” Jeanne was dubious.

“We rally the neighbors. I’m sure the Gaynors have a lot of empty boxes. I’ll get a couple of guys from the shooting range; you call to get a U-Haul truck and the storage place where he keeps his cars. See if they have space. This way, all of his stuff will be in one place. Colleen can get in touch with a cleaning service. By the time he gets home and social services visits, they won’t have any reason to keep him from living there.”

Jeanne was speechless but managed a “Whoa.”

“Yes, my dear. Whoa is correct.”

On the way home, Frank used his Bluetooth to call a few of his friends. Three of them were on board to get to work the next day, provided Jeanne could get the truck and the storage space. By the time they got back to their house, they had the day lined up. Frank went to the Gaynors’ house to see if they could contribute the moving boxes. The Gaynors were more than happy to let them have them, saving them a trip to the recycling center.

Jeanne called Colleen’s cell phone and explained the situation. Colleen’s head was reeling. The day had started with the hearing, then Libby’s news, and now this. Was it a full moon?

Colleen called the janitor from the school and explained that they needed to clean a house the day after tomorrow. “Scrubbed ceiling to floor.” She admitted that she had no other information, but they should be prepared for the worst. Who knew what they would find?

Colleen explained to Libby what was going on. “What can I do to help out?” Libby asked, feeling helpless.

“Nothing right now, except figure out where that creepy ex-boyfriend is and stay safe.”

“I’ll do my best.” Libby signed off, determined to track that creep down. How she was going to do it she wasn’t sure, but she wanted to be able to know his every move until someone in authority could nail him.

Chapter Thirty-two

The following morning, Frank went to