Shelby's Plan

By Michelle Renea Anderson

Shelby Morton, a 29-year-old widow, comes to Salt Lake City, Utah, to go to nursing school after her husband, a policeman, is killed in the line of duty. She first meets Keith McBride through a mix-up at the university housing office, when she walks into his apartment unannounced.

Keith turns out to be an undercover cop pretending to be a college student, and he immediately becomes interested in Shelby. But he wants her to accept him as he is, dangerous profession and all.

Shelby has a plan for her life, and it doesn't include marrying a cop again. Her husband was a cop. Cops die.

Shelby's two young sons immediately fall in love with Keith, but she can't come to terms with his profession. What will it take to convince her not to let happiness pass her by?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 23, 2001
• ISBN: 9781469776743

Michelle Renea Anderson

Michelle Renea Anderson was born in California, raised in Colorado, and spent most of her vacation time in Utah with extended family until she finally moved there. Her pioneer roots keep sending her off to explore new places but keep pulling her back to Utah. She has two boys, two dogs and one Prince Charming who insists he's really a troll. Since graduating from the University of Utah with a Bachelors Degree in Psychology, Michelle has enjoyed many professions. Her varied background lends inspiration to her novels, poetry, and cartoons. She has finally found a profitable life as a freelance writer and researcher. She loves to hear amazing stories all day and gets paid for it.

Book preview

All Rights Reserved (c) 2001 by Michelle Renea Anderson

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

Authors Choice Press an imprint of iUniverse.com, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse.com, Inc.

5220 S 16th, Ste. 200

Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Many thanks to Ellen B. Mickelsen, Marcia Markland, and Catherine Lo of Avalon Books, New York, NY, for publishing Shelby's Plan the first time around.

Previous Hardcover edition: Avalon Books

ISBN: 0-595-19434-6

ISBN: 978-1-4697-7674-3 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

To my volcanologist, my tease bug,

and my prince charming.

In memory of Monster,

our hamster, who led me on a merry chase..

Romance has a way of sneaking up on you.

Contents

CHAPTER O N E

CHAPTER TwO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FlVE

CHAPTER SlX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER ElGHT

CHAPTER NlNE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FlFTEEN

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER O N E

I was a cop's wife until my world fell apart six months ago. It wasn't a bullet that got him. It was a car. Skip was hit by a drunk driver while in pursuit of an armed robbery suspect. The town is not that big and bank robberies never happened there. But some idiot robbed a bank in the middle of the day in the middle of town. Other officers caught the robber, but that won't bring Skip back. Although the town drunk has no memory of the accident, the damage he caused will haunt him for life.

I was at the community center in Tremonton playing basketball with my boys when the police chaplain came in asking for Shelby Morton. That's me. That day I wished it wasn't me. His grim face spoke to me before he said the words. The agony was evident. I knew Skip was dead before he said it.

After he told me about Skip I prayed it wasn't true. I drew my boys into my arms and would not let them go. After the funeral I cried for days. I don't remember much of it.

But cop's wives always have a plan. You've got to have a plan. You spend your many sleepless nights, while he is out on patrol, plotting what you will do if your husband dies on the job. When I had stopped crying I got to work on my plan.

So, several months later, I found myself headed for Salt Lake City. The cool air blowing in the window felt good as I drove my old Ford Mustang along the freeway. In a few years I would be able to call my car a classic, but for now it was just old. The leaves were already starting to turn on the mountains east of the city. The hills looked beautiful. No wonder the place had been chosen for the 2002 Winter Olympics.

Salt Lake City proclaimed itself 'The Place' to be. For the next few years it would be the place for me as I tried to put my life back together. Tremonton was a nice place to raise a family, but it's just a little too far from any major university to raise a family and commute. Without Skip it was just too quiet.

I felt strangely alone that morning. Back home mornings were not that quiet with me rushing to get my two sons out the door to school.

I came ahead to arrange for an apartment. The school promised me a place in family housing. I hoped it would be nice; my boys just hoped it would be close to a playground or park. Three bedrooms would be enough for me--one room for myself, one for the boys, and one for my nanny. Julia was a recent addition to the family. I met her after Skip died.

Being a single parent was no fun. When I met Julia Hernandez, while volunteering at the community center, her mother had just kicked her out. Julia had apparently been dating a boy her strict mother did not approve of. I liked the pretty eighteen-year-old girl with her over-permed long dark hair and playful attitude. After meeting her, I called her high school. The counselors said that she was a good, responsible student who stayed out of trouble and didn't have any drug problems that they knew about.

I asked her to come live with us. She could take care of the boys for me and I would provide her with free food, shelter and medical insurance. The money I paid her she could save for her future. The arrangement solved both our problems. She seemed to be a good person who just had a problem getting along with her mother.

Thank goodness, Skip had enough life insurance to take care of our needs for a couple of years. But what would happen after that? I decided not to leave that to chance.

I had gone to college a couple of years after we were married. When Bradley was born, I quit without finishing my nursing degree. If I wanted to have enough money to live on later, I knew I would have to go back to school. That was all part of my plan. So I had left my two boys with Julia and driven to Salt Lake City alone.

I awoke from my thoughts to find I had arrived at my destination. I parked my old Ford Mustang in front of an ancient red brick building. There were butterflies in my stomach as I walked toward the housing office that had just opened. I walked up to the window, introduced myself, and waited. After about ten minutes the lady at the window had located my record and handed me a set ofkeys. The building and apartment numbers were on a card with little map. All I needed to do was find the apartment.

The building that loomed before me did not look inviting. It was huge, with five stories made of red brick and glass. The boys would hate this, I thought in dismay.

I walked in the door and took the elevator to the fifth floor, where I found apartment 521. After turning the key in the shiny brass lock, I opened the door.

There must have been a mistake. The apartment was furnished and the socks on the couch gave it a distinctly lived-in look. I went toward the kitchen, which would tell for sure if people were already living there. Aware that someone might be home, I opened my mouth to call out. But before I could make a sound, an arm pushed me against a wall and I felt something cold and circular on my forehead. I assumed it was a gun.

My heart raced. What a way to start the day. Please, I must be in the wrong apartment, I gasped, holding up the key and the map.

The cold metal moved away from my head. Grateful, I looked up to see who had held it there. I found myself looking into cold blue eyes with eyelashes most women would have envied. But they were on a man. A very handsome man, with dark hair and a half-shaven face. His hair was wet. The robe he was wearing suggested that I had disturbed his morning routine. Even though the navy terry cloth robe was tied at the waist, it revealed some of his muscular chest. I had to take a deep breath. What an unusual way to meet a man, a very attractive man. I was embarrassed. Surely my face was turning red.

Where did you get those? he asked, taking the keys from me.

The housing office gave them to me. There must be a mix up.

Some mix up. It could have gotten you killed, he said angrily, looking straight at me.

I'll take them back, I suggested, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible.

Aren't you going to yell at me for threatening you with a pistol?

No, I might have done the same thing, I answered, taking the keys from his hand and heading for the door.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.

That's all right, I replied, not even looking back. I opened the door and left.

Once in the elevator, I let out a sigh of relief. That was one uptight man to meet an intruder like that. I hadn't seen anyone that uptight since Skip died. He had always been worried that someone might want to take revenge on his family for his part in getting them jailed. I told him that normal people didn't carry a grudge that long. Skip had replied that he didn't always deal with normal people.

After a brisk walk back to the housing office, I explained the mix up to the lady. I just wanted to put the whole thing behind me, but I had to have a place ready when the moving van and Julia arrived the next day. I had rented out my house in Tremonton to my younger brother and his wife. Since they didn't have kids or furniture, I'd left a lot of stuff for them to use. I'd only planned to move what would fit in a little apartment.

I am sorry about the mix up. Here are the right keys. You're in family housing building five, apartment twenty-one. You will like it much better. It's in the new area, said the lady.

I hope so, I thought.

I thanked her and got in my car, heading in the opposite direction from where I had gone the first time. After a few minutes of driving around, I found building five in what was obviously family housing. The new brown brick townhouse-style apartments were more like what I had in mind. They had been constructed only recently. There was a playground out front in a grassy area and children were running about. The parking lot was very convenient.

I went inside number twenty-one. Thank goodness it was empty. It had a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom on the main floor. Upstairs there were three bedrooms and another bathroom. The bedrooms were small, but it would do. The apartment was wonderfully new and would probably have none of the bug problems common to the old housing area. I couldn't believe my luck.

Pleased, I smiled at myself in the bathroom mirror. I checked the state of my hair and decided that my blond waves were in no more disarray than usual. I wondered when my hair had gotten so long. There were a few more strands of gray than I remembered. There were a few more lines around my blue eyes but my general appearance was not unpleasant. It was a shock to realize that I really hadn't looked at myself since Skip had died.

Was I really here? I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming.

Nope, I said, looking deeply into my own eyes. Was I really about to go back to college after almost ten years away from school?

Yeah, I responded.

To stop the nervous jitters about the future, I decided to bring in my things and then go for a walk around the housing area, maybe even survey the campus.

As I rounded the corner to my building, I saw him leaning against my car. The parking lot in front of my the building was quiet. The streetlight was reflected on the windshield. Even though it was dark, I could see who it was. It surprised me that I should remember him so well after such a brief meeting.

I thought I could avoid him by ducking into my apartment, but as he started toward me I realized I was wrong. I decided it was best to meet him out in the open. At least there my new neighbors could save me if he turned out to be a raving lunatic. Our paths met at the silent playground.

I came to ask you what you saw in my apartment, he began.

I told you it was just a mix up, I replied, sitting down in a swing, not really understanding what he was concerned about. I wasn't in his apartment anymore, I hadn't taken anything. What did it matter what I had seen? As far as I was concerned the matter was over.

I need to know what you saw, he demanded.

What was there to see? I didn't really see anything, I replied, staring at the man. Was he crazy?

You must have seen something, he said.

Okay, I replied, closing my eyes. I saw socks on the couch.

Anything else?

I brought the picture back in my mind to satisfy this madman. Deciding to humor him, I said, I saw socks on a brown couch on beige carpet. You have a tacky blue lamp and a picture of a woman and a baby on an end table and something shiny. I opened my eyes and shrugged my shoulders, What was I supposed to see?

Seeming satisfied, he had sat down in the swing next to me.

Nothing, he answered, looking up at the stars.

Well, this is a strange conversation to have about nothing, I retorted.

It's not smart to walk alone here at night. He abruptly changed the subject.

Don't worry, I can take care of myself, I replied.

Before I realized what was happening, he had dumped me out of the swing and was on top of me, pinning both arms to my sides.

No one is invincible, he said calmly.

Oddly, I didn't feel frightened. I suddenly realized why. That shiny thing on his table had been a badge.

Aren't you scared? he asked.

No.

Why not? he asked.

You're a cop, I said smugly.

He grimaced, and muttered under his breath. It was obviously something he didn't want me to know.

He got up, pulling me with him. As he did his hand hit the solid metal at my side. He pulled my .38 caliber pistol from the inside pocket of my jacket.

Have you got a permit for this? he demanded, checking to see if it was loaded.

I do. I always told Skip it wasn't very good protection, but he insisted I carry it anyway.

Your husband lets you roam around alone in the dark?

There's not much he can do to stop me--he's dead, I said bitterly. That stunt of yours reminded me of him; he was a cop too.

The revelation about my husband stopped him cold. He looked at me. As the words sank in, he visibly relaxed.

You can't tell anyone, he said, handing my gun back to me.

What, that my husband's dead?

"No, that I'm a cop. If you blow my cover they'll