Slow Burn (Rabun County Book 1)

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  She kicked away the rubber stopper so that the door to the clinic closed, and headed toward the stairwell when she felt a draft on her bare ass. Looking over her shoulder, she realized that the main back door was ajar. She guessed it hadn’t closed all the way when she and Sutton came in earlier. That explained why it was so frigid in the hall.

  Except… she remembered shutting it. Sutton had asked her to, because he hadn’t wanted Colonel Mustard to get out.

  Maybe she hadn’t done the best job. After all, she’d been distracted. Or maybe it was the type of door that cracked open unless you locked it. Although given how heavy it was, that didn’t seem logical.

  Setting the bags down, Adeline walked to the door and pushed it closed with her hip before turning the key in the deadbolt. It gave her a shock, and Adeline shook her hand out before succumbing to a full-body shudder. Her stomach roiled, and she pitched forward, bracing herself against the door.

  She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ETHAN tried to be home by six most nights, because Caroline liked to serve dinner early, and he believed it was important that they eat together as a family.

  But he wasn’t going to make it tonight.

  He called Caroline’s cell phone, unsurprised when it went to voicemail. Rather than leaving a message that she either wouldn’t check or wouldn’t respond to, Ethan called Harper.

  “Yo, paternal authority figure. What’s up?”

  Ethan’s brows shot up. “Paternal authority figure?”

  There was a beat of silence. “Hi dad.”

  He had no idea what she’d been reading, or more likely watching, to learn that particular term. Despite the various levels of parental controls he’d enacted across all of their technology, she grew more precocious by the day. But he’d have to address that when he got home.

  “Is your mom around?”

  “She’s working out.”

  Ethan should have guessed. She’d become obsessed with weight and fitness lately. “Can you tell her that I won’t be home for dinner, please?”

  “Why not?”

  He didn’t miss the edge of panic in her tone. “Because I have some work that I have to finish before I can be done for the day. Just like you can’t play video games until you finish your homework. Right?”

  “I guess,” she agreed.

  Ethan paused. “Have you finished your homework?”

  “Of course,” she said, with the world-weary air of a fifty-year-old divorcee. “I know the rules, Dad.”

  And knowing the rules was the first step to finding creative ways to break them. He might be a paternal authority figure, but he remembered what it was like to be a kid. “Just make sure you have it done before you go to bed. So that you’re not trying to hide the fact that you’re doing it in the car on the way to school.”

  “You’ll be back before bedtime, though, right?”

  The fact that that was her main concern, rather than him calling her out, made him wonder what exactly was going through her head. But he’d have to deal with it later.

  “Of course,” he repeated her words. “I know the rules, Harper.”

  That earned him a reluctant laugh.

  “Don’t forget to tell your mom. I’ll see you later, kiddo.”

  “’Kay.”

  Ethan ended the call, staring straight ahead for several moments. He didn’t have to be a detective to figure out that Harper was worried about him not coming home. Whether she’d come up with that idea on her own or was getting it from somewhere, he didn’t know, but he did know that he couldn’t let that fear fester. Instability was hard enough as an adult. He didn’t want his child to have to suffer through it if he could avoid it.

  Which was why he was going to ask Caroline to go to counseling.

  Realizing that he was getting caught up in his own problems rather than the reason he was going to be coming home late, Ethan put away his phone and climbed out of his car. Caldwell Mountain Properties closed at five-thirty, and he wanted to make sure he caught Beckett before he left for the day.

  Pulling open the door, he walked inside to find the reception area empty. He approached the front desk, spotting a call bell on the counter. He was just about to ring it when he heard muffled voices coming through a closed door in the back.

  “…idiot.”

  “… don’t… tone with me.”

  “You were supposed to… uncomfortable, not destroy…”

  “… torn down anyway…”

  “Not unless… sell it!”

  “… overreacting.”

  “Oh? And how about… kill her?”

  “… what you’re talking about.”

  “No?”

  “No! You’re crazy, lady. … ask me… favors. I’m done.”

  The door opened, and a man stormed out, headed toward the rear exit. Because he was facing away from Ethan, he couldn’t make out his features, but he wore work boots and a heavy jacket. Coupled with his thicker build and thinning hair, it was easy enough to rule out Beckett.

  A few moments later, a pretty blonde emerged, brushing something off of her form-fitting pink blazer before starting toward the desk. She came to a dead stop when she lifted her head and spotted Ethan.

  “Hello.” Her smile was as artificially enhanced as her hair. “I didn’t realize that anyone was out here. I must not have heard the bell.”

  “I didn’t ring it.”

  “Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to do with his candor. “Well. Can I help you, officer?”

  “Sheriff. And the men and women who work under me are deputies. Officers are restricted to a jurisdiction within city limits, whereas deputy sheriffs police the whole county.”

  “Right.” The smile slipped a notch. “I’m not from around here, so I’m still familiarizing myself with how everything… works in Clayton.”

  “Amazingly enough, it works just like it does in most jurisdictions in the United States. Sheriffs are elected, as it’s a constitutionally-mandated office, and we’re the highest law enforcement official in the land. Well, the county. But land sounds more poetic.” He smiled. “Don’t you think?”

  “I… of course,” she agreed, since he really hadn’t given her another choice. She didn’t know how long he’d been there, or what he might have overheard. And while Ethan himself wasn’t sure just what that was, he knew that it made her uncomfortable. When someone was uncomfortable in his presence, he took one of two tactics: talk to them like an everyday Joe, or casually assert his authority.

  Depending on whether he wanted to make them comfortable, or not.

  “Well, Sheriff…”

  “McCloud.”

  “Sheriff McCloud,” she repeated. “What can I do for you?”

  “Is Beckett Caldwell here?”

  “I’m afraid he’s not. Is there a message I can pass on to him?”

  Ethan leaned back, looked through the front windows. “Isn’t that his car parked right out front?”

  She glanced that direction. “It is, yes.”

  “But he’s not here.”

  “As I said, no. He isn’t. He stepped out of the office.”

  “Do you happen to know where he stepped to?”

  She spread her hands, the very picture of sorry to disappoint. “I’m afraid not.”

  Ethan nodded. Glanced at the stairs to the second-floor. Turned a level stare on the woman. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Shelby.”

  “And what is your role here, Shelby?”

  “Currently I’m Mister Caldwell’s assistant, but I’m working on getting my real estate license.”

  “So, you do… what, exactly?”

  She hesitated. “I post property listings, answer phones, file documents, greet clients, co-manage open houses. Among other things.”

  “I see. Well Shelby, if Mister Caldwell returns before you leave for the evening, I’d appreciate it if you told him that I stopped by. Sheriff McC
loud,” he reminded her.

  “Yes. I’m not likely to forget.”

  Ethan suspected that was the most truthful thing she’d said. “You have a good night.”

  “Thank you. You, too.”

  Ethan was almost to the door when he turned around. “Say, are you from Boston?”

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “Do you know Charlotte Parks?”

  “We’ve met.”

  “This firm brokered the sale of The Black Walnut Inn, right?”

  “That was before my time, but yes.”

  “Have you ever been there? The inn?”

  “A few times. But never as an overnight guest.”

  “How about recently?”

  “That depends on what you mean by recent.”

  “Within the last week or so.”

  She hesitated. “No.”

  “How about the Drift Away Spa over in Lakemont. Have you been there?”

  “Are you in the market for a seaweed wrap, Sheriff McCloud?”

  So, she did have a limit on what she was willing to tell him without pushback. “It probably couldn’t hurt.”

  “Then I recommend Brianna.”

  He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Do you know a woman by the name of Julie Harlowe?”

  Her smug expression became an unreadable mask. “I can’t say that I do.”

  They stared at each other for another long moment, until Beckett Caldwell’s assistant finally blinked.

  Ethan gave her a casual salute. “Drive safely going home, Miss Shelby.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SUTTON cracked open an eye, realizing that he must have dozed off. He sat up, listening for any sounds coming from the main living area of the apartment. The only thing he heard was the hum of the refrigerator, so he guessed Adeline was still downstairs. Which meant he couldn’t have been out for very long.

  Yawning, he stretched his arms over his head, which acted as a signal to his stomach that he was awake. It rumbled, and he wondered if it were absolutely necessary to wait for Adeline to bring him the pie. Probably. She’d bought it after all. It would be rude to get started without her.

  “Screw it,” he muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He only had so much willpower, and he’d used most of it up gritting his teeth and lying still while Adeline rode him like a merry-go-round pony. The slow slide up and down, up and down, had driven him to the brink of sweaty insanity. By the time she asked him to take it to the next level, he was ready to explode.

  “I deserve pie,” he assured himself, and looked around for some clothes. He found his jeans, but Adeline had taken his shirt, so he grabbed one from the top of the dirty clothes hamper. After a sniff, he decided it was clean enough, and dragged it on over his head before heading toward the kitchen.

  When he turned on the light, he happened to glance down, and noticed a dark spot on the front of the sweatshirt. So, maybe not as clean as he thought. He brushed his hand against the mark, seeing if it would brush off, and frowned when the residue transferred to his fingers. Rubbing them together, he realized it was oil.

  Where had that come from?

  Maybe some of the equipment he’d worked on downstairs.

  Sutton washed his hands in the sink, and then grabbed a fork from the drawer before opening the fridge. A pastry box sat there with the familiar CLANCY’S logo across the front, and he started salivating like Pavlov’s dog. Setting it on the counter, he lifted the lid and leaned over to inhale all of the apple-custard goodness. He started to sink his fork in before remembering what Adeline said about Shannon being the delivery person. Hopefully she hadn’t spit on it or something.

  Nah. Maybe he wasn’t her favorite person, and maybe she wasn’t even quite as… innocent as he’d always believed her to be, but she wasn’t crazy.

  He plunged the fork into the pie just as someone banged on the door.

  “Shit.” Caught red-handed. He laid the fork down beside the box and closed the lid, hoping he didn’t look too guilty as he went to answer the door. It must have locked when Adeline went out.

  “Back for another… Ethan,” he said, nonplussed by his brother’s presence. “What are you doing here?”

  “Are you missing something?”

  “Like… what the hell?” he said, when the box in Ethan’s hands started hissing.

  “Mom’s cat was outside, walking down the sidewalk. I’m not even going to tell you what I had to go through to catch the little bastard. Here.” He shoved the box into Sutton’s hands.

  “How did he get out?”

  “How should I know?”

  Sutton looked past his brother, into the hallway. Aside from his apartment door, there was the door leading down to the clinic, the rear elevator door for the defunct shoe store, and an outside door that acted as both a fire escape and an entrance for deliveries and whatnot. In the clinic, there was a front and a back entrance, and both of those were locked. Or, they should be locked. He remembered asking Adeline to shut the back door so that the cat didn’t escape. Unless she’d opened it again for some reason, and he’d gotten past her?

  “You didn’t see Adeline outside, did you?”

  “No. Of course, the only time I’ve met the woman, she was sitting in her wrecked car, in shock. I can’t guarantee we’d recognize one another.”

  Sutton shot him a look. “I was planning on introducing you soon.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, shut up.” The box shook, and Sutton set it down. “Come in for a second,” he told Ethan “and shut the door.”

  “I don’t want to be trapped in there when you release the Kracken.”

  “He’s not that… crap.”

  “Told ya.”

  Sutton shook the sting from the fresh claw marks on his hand as Colonel Mustard shot toward the bedroom. He turned his glare on his brother.

  “Don’t blame me,” Ethan said. “I’m not the one who volunteered to pet sit.” He looked past him. “Is that a Clancy’s box on the counter?”

  Sutton waved a hand in front of his face. “That is not the pie you’re looking for.”

  “Okay Obi-Wan. I’ll just tell Mom that you lost her cat.”

  “Fine,” Sutton said, mostly because he was distracted. He must have been asleep longer than he realized. He hoped Adeline wasn’t outside, wandering around in search of Colonel Mustard. She still didn’t have a phone, so there was no way to contact her to tell her that the animal was here. “Help yourself,” he told Ethan. “I’m going to go see if Adeline is downstairs.”

  Since his boots were in the bedroom, he slipped on a pair of flipflops that he’d left by the door.

  The hallway was dark except for the red glow from the exit signs. He hit the light switch, but nothing happened. The bulb must have gone out. He’d have to get maintenance to replace it.

  The light was similarly out in the stairwell. Maybe a breaker had tripped.

  There was just enough light from the downstairs exit sign to ensure he didn’t fall and break a leg, but he moved cautiously anyway, since flip-flops weren’t the most reliable footwear. Coming into the rear hall, he noted that the door to the clinic was closed, while the rear door was slightly ajar. The clinic door locked automatically from this side, and Adeline didn’t have the code to the keypad, so unless she’d decided to hang out in the breakroom for some reason, he doubted she was in there. She said she was coming to get her glasses, but maybe she’d gone outside to get something out of his truck, and noticed the cat followed. And it wasn’t like the little shit was going to just come when she called him, even if he did seem to like her more than most other people.

  Sutton opened the back door, cursing the freezing air. This preview of winter couldn’t go away fast enough.

  “Adeline,” he called, hoping she was somewhere in the immediate vicinity. A high fence surrounded the gravel lot behind the building – a necessary concession to having dogs as patients – so his visibility was limited. He yelled for her a cou
ple more times before conceding that she must be out of earshot. Of course, she had trouble hearing, and especially with determining the directionality of sound, but he figured she was logical enough to realize it was him calling her name.

  He debated whether he should go outside the fence and look for her, or just return to the apartment and wait, when it dawned on him that his truck wasn’t where he’d left it. He’d opened the gate so that he could back it right up to the building and haul out the salvaged beam. But it was nowhere to be seen.

  What the hell?

  Sutton patted his pockets, trying to remember what he’d done with his keys. He’d handed them to Adeline…

  The breakroom table. He was pretty sure he remembered seeing them beside her duffel bag and purse. Maybe she’d taken his truck to look for…

  When he heard something crunch, he lifted his foot, staring at the glasses he’d just stepped on. The frames were green, the same as Adeline’s backup pair.

  His head jerked up, and his heart began pounding.

  Whoever had driven his truck away, it wasn’t Adeline.

  THE pain in Adeline’s head was the worst she’d experienced in a long while, the vertigo making her feel like she was on a bumpy boat ride. When she actually bounced, banging her head against something hard, she tried to lift a hand to rub it but her arm wouldn’t work.

  Stupid shoulder. She must have pushed herself too hard.

  Cracking open an eye, she found everything blurry. She wasn’t sure if it was a function of the headache, or not wearing her glasses. Weirder still, she didn’t seem to be wearing pants.

  Coming more fully awake, Adeline tried to make sense of the situation. Another bump jostled her, sending a sharp pain through her arm, and she realized that she couldn’t move it because her hands were tied behind her back.

  Frozen, she fought to identify her surroundings, while instinct warned not to give herself away. Stomach twisting, a familiar sensation crawled across her skin, and she rolled her head a fraction of an inch toward the smooth coldness she could sense. Glass. Window glass. Coupled with the fact that she could both hear and feel a steady vibration, she gathered she was in a car.