by Christa Wick
I whipped around to stare him down.
"You mean our dry fucking in your mom's library?"
A smirk alighted on his face.
Damn it! I shouldn't have turned, shouldn't have looked at him, and damn well shouldn't have chosen those specific words.
"Don't recall it being dry, Delia."
Forcing a smile, I mentally began to run through the bones in the human body, starting with the foot.
Phalanges
Metatarsals
Lateral cuneiform
Intermediate cuneiform
Navic—
"Are you counting to ten?"
I smiled harder at Emerson.
He shrugged, folded his thick arms across his chest and smiled back. "Let me know when you hit a thousand. We should probably think about getting something to eat then."
I scanned his face, searched for something I had seen before—back in Boston. I couldn't find it. Likely I had imagined it. People did that all the time, thought a friendship existed when it didn't. People felt a connection, but when the line was traced, there was no one at the other end.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Fingers numb, I pulled it out, saw a text from Siobhan.
You need backup, babe?
Hitting NO, I felt the tension drain. Since Ken's death and Emerson's sudden abandonment before that, I had forgotten my own strength. I had lost sight of how I raised a sister without backup, raised a son, too, with little more. I didn't need sweet Siobhan, reckless but meaning well. I didn't need Maddy to understand the emotions I was going through.
And I didn't need this false friend standing in front of me.
"I'm leaving now," I said, passing Emerson on my way to the front door. "I'll stay in Willow Gap this week. That's all."
His hand captured my wrist. Heat sizzled up my arm. I pushed the sensation down.
"What?" I asked.
"Aren't you going to tell me to stay safe?"
I closed my eyes against the vulnerability in his voice. After a deep breath, I tugged my wrist free and looked at him.
"Of course. Stay safe."
Stepping outside, I shut the door and stood on the porch until my vision cleared. Hands pressing hard against my stomach, I tried to forget that the words I had just spoken to Emerson were the last words I said to Ken.
12
Emerson
Alone in the house that had been the backbone of my family for six generations, I stood at a window and watched as Delia left in a cloud of dust. Before her arrival, I had been too tense to do more than wait for her approach. With her gone, I made a slow inspection of the old homestead.
I went first to the mantlepiece lined with silver frames and family pictures. My mother and great aunt Dotty had picked the pictures and frames after restoration was completed on the house a few years back. My father, among other things, had picked the mantlepiece. He never got to see the finished project. More than a year would pass after his death before my brothers and I snuck into the old place in twos and threes to complete his vision.
Mentioning the project over the phone, Dad had spoken of continuity and family history. He wanted me to take a week's vacation from the Boston office and help. I had deferred, promising one date then another.
He warned me about too much ambition. I laughed and said there was no such thing. Two weeks later, he and my sister Dawn were dead.
Moving to the kitchen, I pulled open the double pantry doors and found where my grandparents had recorded my father and uncle's heights as they aged from toddlers to men.
Finding the tallest entry for my father, I stepped close. I had to tilt my head up to find the mark again, one more confirmation that I would never quite measure up to the man he had been.
Brody Turk never would have fallen in love with a married woman. He wouldn't have turned his back on their friendship because he wanted more than he could have. And he wouldn't have buried himself in the job to the exclusion of everything else—especially family.
Phone ringing in my pocket, I shut the pantry door and took the call as I stepped onto the porch. Maddy had a progress report on narrowing down the potential suppliers of the Steel Tide's methamphetamine purchase now that we had the shift in delivery date.
"Did you talk sense into my sister?" she asked, voice dropping low.
I snorted. Delia had been too angry to think rationally. Sense and logic had nothing to do with her acquiescence.
"Are you saying you couldn't?"
"She agreed to wait out the week," I answered, turning to lock the door. "More because she wanted to get away from me than anything."
Maddy didn't say anything for a full minute. She was probably busy trying to compute my tone and words, looking for meaning without knowing that I had been in love with her sister for years.
"Will you be in Willow Gap much longer?"
My fingers grazed the door, the wood over a century-and-a-half old. It had been there to welcome the first Turk bride and many since then.
"No," I answered, pivoting toward where I had parked "Reaper's" motorcycle behind the barn. "I'm finished here."
13
Delia
An agent from the Billings office picked up Caiden's school work for the week and delivered it to Lindy's home. Forever my hero, Sutton sat down with the boy and made sure he finished Monday's work within a few hours. Then they went riding, leaving me twiddling my thumbs and dodging Siobhan's questions.
Maddy's lips were sealed tight on what was happening with the investigation and when. Knowing nothing, hunkered down in someone else's home, every hour felt like a day to me. I looked for something around the house I could help with, but Lindy ran the place like a four-star resort. Everything was always cleaned up, put away, or otherwise done before anyone had a chance to look around and find a mess.
Monday and Tuesday, I walked some of the woods and fields surrounding the house. My stomach got tight down by the lake, especially when I went to where the boats were tied to the pier. Caiden had more than learned his lesson the year prior that he couldn't go out alone. But I knew I would always feel a little sick when I saw the water and boats. The fear I felt when Caiden was missing had been primal. The aftershocks of that fear were easily triggered.
Late Tuesday, I stepped off the marked trail and lost my bearings in the trees. It took me an hour and an extra mile of hiking to find my way back. I slipped into the house just in time to help get dinner on the table. Physically exhausted, I finally slept through the night for the first time in four days.
When I woke Wednesday, I found a note on my door from Caiden. He had done his homework through Thursday's assignments. Sutton was rewarding him with a trip to Great Aunt Dotty's.
Checking the time, I saw that I had slept later than usual. Lindy's kitchen would be in full swing. Instead of putting day clothes on, I slid into a robe and slippers and made my way to breakfast. I heard Siobhan crowing from the other side of the door, followed by the toothless growl of Gamble, Elkhead County's sheriff and Siobhan's boss.
"Remind me who's the head lawman and who's the deputy," I chirped as I came through the door.
"Don't ask me," Lindy laughed, her gaze bouncing between her niece and Gamble. "I'm still trying to figure out why Siobhan's been here so many days in a row—in uniform—for hours on end."
Siobhan's mouth popped open.
Lindy rushed to reassure her. "Not that I don't love the company."
My face flushed hot. I hadn't talked to Lindy about the reason behind our stay at the ranch—had just assumed Lindy knew why her hospitality was required.
"Oh, it's FBI something or other," Lindy said, her gracious smile landing on me. "And I love a full house. Having Leah at school three days a week is tougher than I thought it would be. And, I know it's bad, but I sure do miss getting a little gossip, especially when I know there's some to be had."
She swirled the spoon in her coffee cup. "I think my daughters-in-law are worried I'll disapprove of idle chatter. But Dawn w
as always my gossip girl and all I'm left with now is the whispers of the Women's Planning Committee."
Lindy's smile faded as she mentioned her daughter, dead some three years.
I sat next to the woman and took her hand. "I've got a kettle full of stories from nursing school. These kids, what are they? Gen Z?"
Siobhan sniffed. "Don't ask me. I'm among the much maligned millennials."
"Gen Z," I repeated. "They don't date, but they have…"
My voice dropped low and I looked around to make sure Jake hadn't slipped in with Leah in his arms.
"They have sex…like they're ordering pizza! Sometimes, exactly like ordering a pizza because there's an app for it and it has a menu for what a person is into!"
Lindy giggled, her hand flying up to her mouth. "That sounds just like something Dawn would say!"
I beamed at the woman. Then felt my nose pinching with long-dormant emotions. Could Sutton and his brothers possibly understand what a gift they had in their mother? Lindy was kind and accepting, but it was entirely unlike the acceptance my own mother had offered. My mother would have hugged Charles Manson just as genuinely as she would have hugged Gandhi. It was hard to feel special growing up when the mailman got the same smile from my parents as I received.
"Mama?"
I twisted in my seat. Jake stood in the doorway holding Leah. The five-year-old girl was still in her nightgown. Honey-blond hair trailed over her shoulders and down her back.
Lindy went over to Leah. She brought the back of her hand up to the child's forehead and lightly touched the skin.
"Fever," she pronounced. "I wondered why she wasn't out here yet."
"You said Mama's name."
Lindy nodded. "I was telling Delia how funny your mother could be when she was telling stories."
Leah's gaze moved from Lindy to me. The little girl's lip began to quiver.
"Saw you this morning," she said, her tone unnaturally hollow.
Flesh bumps zipped across my arms and down my back.
"She had a bad dream," Jake explained, coming over to the table. "Probably the fever caused it."
He tried to put Leah down in a chair, but she clung to him.
Siobhan stood and motioned to Jake.
"You sit down, I'll fix plates for both of you."
Leah grabbed the arm of my robe. Like her face, the little girl's hands were delicate. They were strong, too. She clutched the material with all the strength a five-year-old child could gather.
"You were holding him," she said, her voice low and scared. "So was Mama. One on each side. Pulling and pulling until he broke apart…"
Trailing off, Leah released her death grip on the robe then buried her face against Jake's neck.
"Who," Siobhan asked as she brought over a tray loaded with food. "Who broke apart in your dream?"
Leah looked up, the green eyes bright with fresh tears.
"Uncle Emerson."
Appetite annihilated by a child's bad dream, I drifted away from the kitchen. I left through the side door, emerging in a hall I had used no more than a few times previously. Adler, Lindy's oldest son, lived with his wife and baby in this part of the house. They had a master suite, a sitting room and a separate nursery for Dotty Belle, their one-year-old daughter after the oldest Turk still drawing breath. The three of them had flown to Dallas the prior Monday to attend some combination of a trade show with seminars on cattle ranching, followed by a little family vacation sightseeing in the city.
Their absence left the sprawling house too big. It wasn't just Adler, Sage and their baby who were absent. Two of Lindy's other sons were away from home with their wives. Barrett's smokejumper team had flown to California. His wife Quinn served as the team's support coordinator. Walker had contracts to renegotiate with the companies that purchased the raw lumber from his timber business. Like his grandfather before him, he bargained face-to-face. That meant dusting off the family RV and driving a circuit through Washington and Oregon with his wife Ashley.
So much emptiness, I thought, my fingers trailing over one of the hallway's closed doors.
The door moved at my touch, opening just enough for me to see a rainbow of colors splashed across a small couch. I pushed the door open some more. Balls of yarn in wicker baskets rested on the love seat and atop the oval coffee table in front of it. Two big chairs to the side were empty.
I knew Lindy knitted a lot. If she wasn't cleaning or cooking, she was usually knitting. She knitted her way through the meetings of the Women's Planning Committee. Told the ladies that it was her version of doodling so she could concentrate better on what they were saying.
Stepping into the room, I felt a sliver of my dark mood slough off.
The surroundings were mismatched and homey. The furniture had survived years of being abused by rambunctious boys who later grew into towering men. Now it was here, surrounded by color and soft yarn, a sort of graceful, well-deserved retirement after so many years of steadfast service.
The sight was lovely, until my dark mood wrapped its arms around me and squeezed. Sliding onto one of the chairs, I started to weep.
"Are you okay, dear?"
I swiped at my eyes before turning to face Lindy.
"I brushed against the door and it opened."
Lindy shook her head. "I didn't ask how you got in here, dear. Are you okay?"
I nodded.
Lindy let the answer slide for a few seconds. Coming into the room, she cleared the baskets of yarn from the love seat, sat down and patted the cushion next to her.
"Just so you know, that wasn't at all convincing."
"You have enough on your mind," I said.
Lindy's brows shot up. "Do I?"
"I mean…" I gestured around the room, then at the door, brain scrounging for something to back up my statement instead of confessing the very real danger her youngest son was in.
Lindy patted the cushion again. I slid over, arms protectively ringing my stomach. "I'm worried about school, having to miss a week, maybe more."
I wasn't being honest. I was worried about school in some abstract way, at the back of my head in some small recess of my mind. But it was Leah's dream that had driven me out of the kitchen, pushed me down onto the chair and squeezed the tears from my eyes.
Lindy slid closer and put an arm around my shoulder. "I still don't know what this is about, but Maddy and Emerson will do their best to make sure you get back in. You're doing a civic duty the way it was explained to me. You could have had the man arrested, but that would have exposed that they were tracking him."
I nodded. It sounded like the kind of cover Emerson would have provided his curious mother. And it was close to the truth. It just left out the part about him being deep undercover and risking his life to stay that way.
"It's not all about school, is it?"
Before I could stop myself, I shook my head.
"I mean…" I stumbled for something to say. Then it all came spilling out. Not about the op, and not about Emerson, but something buried down so deep that I hadn't realized it was there.
"I'm not sure I can handle the job," I confessed. "I'm fine on the academics. It's the consequences I'm talking about. I fell apart last year when Caiden needed me. If I hadn't lost control of things after Ken's death, we would still be in Boston. And now with what happened Friday—"
Veering dangerously close to the topic I was supposed to be avoiding, I tried to brush away my words.
"If Emerson and Maddy didn't have that man under investigation, I know I wouldn't have been able to handle that emergency, either."
Shoulders shaking violently, I buried my face in my hands. I hadn't worried about my ability to handle the job before, now it filled my mind, crowded out some of the pent-up worry over Emerson's safety and the shame I felt for succumbing to his touch in the library.
"That's a tall stack of cow patties you have yourself worked up over."
Spreading my fingers, I peeked at Lindy through them.
/> "Not that those weren't terrible things," Lindy clarified. "It's the idea of you not being able to handle emergencies that is the pile of complete bullpucky."
I pulled my hands from my face, my lips parting in protest. Lindy silenced me with a raised finger.
"Yes, you were distraught when Caiden first went missing. But you listened to reason and put your son's safety first after that brief, initial panic. You pitched in, too. When the searchers came in with sprains and cuts, you took care of all their injuries like a pro. Your hands were steady as a rock when you had them on a patient."
I offered a reluctant nod. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."
Lindy smiled, but I saw worry tremble at the corners of the woman's mouth. I wrapped my hands around hers.
"Is Emerson undercover?" she asked.
The question surprised me. I tried to shape a denial or feign ignorance. My lips pulled wide and flat, their edges pressed together as I bit at them. When I blinked, fat tears splashed my cheeks.
I couldn't tell Lindy the truth, and Lindy couldn't take back the question. The stare-off lasted maybe a minute before we collapsed against one another, a long, tight hug the only honest answer I could offer.
14
Emerson
Hearing footsteps in the hall, I rolled off Delia's bed and onto my feet. I braced for the possibility it was my mother bringing fresh linen or maybe Caiden looking for Delia. But, when the door opened, I was treated to the sight of blond curls and luscious curves only half camouflaged by an oversized terrycloth robe.
Delia's mouth dropped open, slammed shut. Then she sucked in a deep breath and shook her head as if she could make me vanish just by denying the possibility I was there.
"Sorry to surprise you," I said in hushed tones.
She finally exhaled.
"What are you doing in here? Your mom—"
"Doesn't know I'm visiting," I agreed. "I don't have time, or the emotional bandwidth, to see her right now."