The Truth Seeker

by Dee Henderson

  Twenty-two

  “Try this one.” Lisa offered the long stick and the toasted marshmallow.

  Quinn leaned forward and carefully slipped it from the stick. “It’s a good thing I don’t mind the taste of burned marshmallows.”

  “This one came out better.”

  “You get too impatient. Hold the stick higher and turn it more.”

  He licked his fingers of the sticky marshmallow.

  Lisa finished eating hers. It was only a bit charred. “Want another one?”

  “Sure.”

  She reached for the plastic bag of marshmallows, watching Quinn while she did so. Firelight flickered across his face. He was totally relaxed, resting his head back against his saddle, using it for a headrest. She liked that about him, his ability to set aside everything else going on and totally relax. They were having a campout dinner although they were only a half-hour ride from the house. Lisa had insisted that she wanted a real bed for the night so the tour he’d been giving her of the ranch had been cut short to four hours.

  She rubbed the small of her back. It had been about three hours too long. Quinn had said he would show her the south part of the ranch tomorrow, but if this didn’t ease off she was going to have to pass on the invitation.

  “Sore?”

  “You weren’t supposed to notice. My tailbone hurts,” she admitted.

  “You need to ride more often.”

  “I thought you said Annie was docile. I spent the afternoon convincing the mare I did not want to canter.”

  “I said she wouldn’t try to knock you over or toss you off. I didn’t say she was dead. There’s a difference.”

  Lisa tossed her hat at him.

  He grinned as he caught it with one hand, rolled the brim with the other. “A lady should never toss her cowboy hat to a guy.”

  “You’re kidding. Why not?”

  She reached down and tugged at the laces of her left tennis shoe. She swore her feet had swollen while riding during the day. She finally just slipped the shoes off to give herself some relief.

  “It’s kind of like a lady giving a knight of old her colors to wear.”

  “Really?”

  “The hard part is the guy doesn’t get a choice about whether he wants to accept it or not.”

  She slapped his leg. “Give me back my hat.”

  “Nope.”

  He leaned his head back and used her hat to block out the moon. “You got your full moon tonight. It’s bright.”

  “It’s beautiful. Get out of the city and you can actually see the stars.” She skewered two marshmallows and held them out over the fire. “Thanks for giving me an excuse to take an afternoon off.”

  “Even if I had to practically drag you away from the files?”

  “Even if.” She leaned back against her saddle and braced the long stick against her knee to keep it slowly turning over the fire. It was a beautiful expanse of open sky. A quiet Tuesday night. Still. She’d loved the day spent with Quinn. He was so comfortable here on the open land. She loved it too. She could breathe here.

  The fire popped, sending sparks into the air.

  “Lizzy, we need to talk.”

  His voice had become serious. She turned her head to look at him. “About what?”

  “Andy.”

  She wasn’t expecting it, and the memory triggered by the name stole her breath. Every muscle in her back tensed. “No.”

  “You have to trust me at some point.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered, looking back at the fire. She didn’t want to share her secrets. He didn’t have to know.

  He sighed, set her hat on the ground beside him, and interlaced his fingers behind his head as he watched her. “I know what happened.”

  She turned startled eyes toward him. “What?”

  “Kate found out for me.”

  She shoved aside the stick, dropping it into the dust, not caring, as she surged to her feet and strode away. He’d invaded her privacy, gone behind her back, told her family . . . he’d broken her trust.

  “Don’t go far,” he called quietly. The fact that he made no attempt to follow drew her slowly to a halt as she reached the spot where the horses were tethered. She stopped by Annie, resting her hand on the powerful shoulder of the horse. Annie shifted and turned her head, sniffed Lisa’s shirt, and butted her arm to get attention.

  Quinn knew. Kate knew. Kate would have told Marcus.

  Lisa closed her eyes. “How long?”

  She knew he heard her. Sounds carried in this quiet, open land.

  “Since before you got the hummingbird note,” Quinn finally replied.

  Even before she had been staying with Kate. All the late night talks they’d had—Kate had known. Her sister had been pitying her. The anger that swelled inside was incredible.

  She glanced at the horizon, decided the faint area of light on the horizon had to be the ranch house, and started walking.

  The coarse grass, the ground rocky in places, hurt her socked feet, but she kept walking. If she didn’t see Quinn for a month she’d be happy.

  She heard him coming after her and ignored him.

  He held out her shoes and she took them and flung them at him.

  “Would you listen?”

  She kept walking.

  He went back to get her shoes and brought them back again. She considered throwing them at him again, but she was beginning to limp, and it was going to be a long walk. “You can’t just walk away and leave a fire burning. You told me so yourself.”

  He caught her arm, brought her to a stop. “True. Stay right here while I go put it out. Besides, you’re going the wrong way. That light is the town, about ten miles from here, not the ranch house.”

  She didn’t get that confused about directions.

  He took her shoulders and turned her farther to the west. “Over there.”

  He left her there, and she turned to see him walking back to the flickering fire. She took a moment to pull on her shoes and then started walking again.

  He caught up with her fifteen minutes later, leading the two horses, both now saddled.

  “I don’t want to ride.”

  “Fine. We’ll walk.”

  He’d known something had happened at Knolls Park and he’d had to go find out. “I trusted you,” she said bitterly.

  “I apologize.”

  She nearly told him what he could do with his apology.

  “You’re mad because it’s a painful memory.”

  “Painful?” She turned away, swearing, wanting to hit him. “I see him underwater, dead, floating there, his face distorted and unseeing eyes open. I was seven. And I didn’t need you to know!”

  “Lizzy, I’m sorry.”

  She stumbled on a depression in the ground and slapped his hand away when he tried to help her.

  She wished he’d go away.

  He walked in silence beside her for several minutes. Quinn caught her hand. “Annie knows the way home, she won’t let you get lost.” He handed her the reins.

  She took them because he surprised her. Quinn turned away and swung up on his own horse. He held out her hat to her. “We do need to talk about it.” She took the hat and didn’t bother to say anything. He held something else out to her, and she silently took it as well. His handkerchief. “I’ll see you back at the house.” She grudgingly nodded her head.

  He nudged his horse to a walk and gave her the space she wanted. And Lisa finally felt free to let the pain wash away in tears as she walked.

  She needed the walk. It didn’t matter that her legs burned or that her tears gave her a headache. The walk was time to think.

  She missed Andy. He’d been her best friend. He had a problem with dyslexia. Since her schooling had been choppy at best, she’d been struggling to learn how to read and he understood the frustration. It had been such a happy summer. They spent it working with a tutor the Richards had hired to help them both.

  Andy—glasses, lisp,
and more courage than sense. They’d climbed trees, hunted frogs, dug up worms, snuck flashlights and late-night snacks, had been against the same things and for the same things. He’d been her brother in heart and spirit.

  And in a blink, he was gone.

  She hadn’t cared when she was sent to another foster home. She’d let no one else close for years. Until Kate . . . she’d been the most persistent of the O’Malleys, refusing to go away; Jennifer the kindest; and Rachel . . . as her roommate, Rachel had just ignored that a wall existed and assumed Lisa wanted to know all the details of her day whether she asked or not.

  Lisa had thought about running away from Trevor House to get away from them, had in fact tried to do it one night only to have Marcus catch her in the act and sit her down on the back step. With the conviction of a future big brother he convinced her to change her mind.

  The nightmares about Andy had haunted her during those years. Rachel, sitting cross-legged on her own bed, had always been the one who would sit and talk in the middle of the night when Lisa woke shivering and angry, hating the dream and needing the light on. Rachel had covered for her so many times when the floor mom wanted to know why the light was on. It was always Rachel who said she wanted it on.

  Lisa picked up a clod of dirt and crushed it in her hand. She still woke occasionally, shaken from the nightmare.

  Andy should never have died.

  If Jesus didn’t hear a prayer said in terror, it made no sense to trust Him when times were calm. It was when the chips were down that help mattered the most.

  They’d said it was her fault.

  Maybe it was. She could have talked Andy out of showing off. She knew that. And she hadn’t tried.

  The bitterness was an old memory, deadened by time and tears. She missed Andy; it hurt to talk about him, but it was the past.

  The betrayal was new.

  The last thing she wanted to deal with was her family and the entire subject of Andy. She’d kept it private for years, and now, in one action, Quinn had destroyed what she had protected for so long. She closed her eyes, feeling the fatigue wash over her. There was no way to undo what he had done.

  “Come here, Annie.” She swung up into the saddle, let Annie take her back to the ranch house. What she would say to Quinn . . . she didn’t know.

  Quinn heard the horse coming before he saw it. He didn’t move from his position by the stable door as she appeared from the darkness and came into the light. No matter what she said about her skills, Lisa rode well, was comfortable in the saddle. She came to a stop a few feet away and dismounted. The tears had flowed, then been dried. And that sight hurt.

  “I’ll take her,” he offered quietly, holding out his hand for Annie’s reins. His own horse had already been brushed down and stabled for the night.

  She handed them to him. “We need to talk.”

  “Give me five minutes. I’ll find you.”

  She nodded and walked toward the house.

  He stabled Annie.

  He found Lisa in the study, curled up in the recliner, her shoes kicked off, the late news turned on, but she wasn’t paying attention to it. Her head was lying against the headrest, her eyes were closed.

  Quinn sat down on the couch. “I did what I thought was best. But I never intended to hurt you.”

  “Of everything you could have done, going behind my back was the worst.”

  “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  She wearily opened her eyes. “Apology accepted. But you can’t undo the results. I’ve got to live with them. Did you ever consider there might be a reason I didn’t want the family to know?”

  “I saw what the memory did to you. Burying it was not the right answer.”

  “Stephen’s sister drowned.”

  The news shocked him.

  “It was my choice to decide if the family knew about Andy, not yours.”

  The reality of good intentions . . . it didn’t fix a serious mistake. She’d cleaned his clock, and he deserved it. “I truly am sorry, Lizzy.”

  “I dream about Andy. I can never remember what he looked like alive; he’s always dead.”

  “Do you have a picture of him?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “In one of the scrapbooks that burned.”

  Quinn rested his head in his hands. “I’m going to shut my mouth now; I’ve done enough damage for one night.”

  “Quinn?”

  He looked over at her.

  “You did it because you cared. We’re okay. I just don’t want to talk about Andy. There’s nothing more that needs to be said.”

  “There’s one thing. What the Richards did was wrong.”

  “No it wasn’t. They lost their son. Had I stayed, I would have tried to replace him . . . and that would have destroyed me.”

  There was wisdom in her quiet words.

  She pushed herself to her feet and walked over to where he sat. Her fingers brushed his shoulder. “At least there are no more big secrets. Good night, Quinn.”

  “’Night, Lisa,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand. She was wrong; there was one big secret remaining. He was falling in love with her. And it was going to be his secret for a lifetime the way things were going. She was never going to accept the Resurrection with this in her past.

  Just friends. He wanted a freedom he didn’t have to make it something more.

  “Show me where your father was killed.”

  Quinn turned in the saddle to look at Lisa. After asking her to face Andy last night, he couldn’t deny her right to the tough memories of his own. “Are you sure?”

  “I need to see the scene. If it is somehow related to Amy . . . ”

  He nodded, accepting that it was necessary. “It’s farther south.”

  “Quinn—”

  “It’s okay. I’ve been back here many times.”

  “Actually, I was going to ask if we could walk for a while.”

  He reined in his horse and laughed. “Sure.”

  She slid from the horse with a sigh of relief and rested her head against Annie’s neck. Quinn frowned at the realization that this was more than just too much time in the saddle and quickly swung off his mount to join her. “Lizzy?”

  “I think I’m getting motion sickness,” she muttered, frustrated.

  He rubbed her back. “You’re serious.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  He wrapped her in his arms, hugging her, trying not to laugh because it was obvious she was feeling awful. “I am so sorry.”

  With her head buried against his shirt, her words were muffled. “Sure you are.”

  “I really am.”

  “Good, because you’re about to get a blister in those boots.”

  “You don’t want to head back to the house?”

  She shook her head and took a step back. “I want to see the area. Marcus said it was near the bluffs?”

  “Let me call my foreman, have him come out with a truck. There’s no need for us to walk.”

  “Quinn—I’m fine. And if you’re going to fuss, I’m going to get annoyed.”

  He moved over to his horse, opened the saddlebag, and retrieved two bottles of juice. “Okay. We’ll walk.” He uncapped one and handed it to her. “Let’s head over to that crest. It will be downhill from there.”

  It was a quiet twenty-minute walk. November had arrived and the land was changing to reflect the coming winter, grass becoming dormant.

  The bluffs were visible once they reached the rise in the land. Lisa stopped to look over the area. “It’s an awesome vista. Water cut out the bluffs and the ravines?”

  “See the streambed? This tributary runs down to the Ledds River. When the flash floods come, they tear through this land and reshape it.”

  “There are caves in the bluffs?”

  “Dozens.”

  “I would love to explore them someday.”

  “Someday,” Quinn agreed quietly. “We can walk down to the streambed. We’ll have to ride from there, but it’s not far
.”

  The stream had dried to a trickle during the hot summer. They remounted the horses, crossed the stream, and Quinn led the way toward the bluffs.

  “I found him here.”

  Lisa got down from Annie and retrieved the juice bottle. “You came from there?” She pointed back to the crest they had walked over.

  “Yes.”

  She slowly turned in a full circle.

  “He was shot in the back. From close range?”

  “The sheriff figured about ten feet.”

  “So he knew the man who killed him, or at least had no reason to be uncomfortable at the idea of turning his back.”

  “Agreed.”

  “We’re closer to the bluffs than I had assumed. Could a truck come back this far?”

  “When my father was killed, the ravine we crossed had water flowing through it from a flash flood the week before. A vehicle would have had to come up from the south to reach here.”

  “What’s out that way?”

  “Besides rough terrain? About five miles of pasture, woods, and deep ravines.”

  She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. It was her sketch of the circled names and links they had suspected and proven. Lisa sat down on the ground and reached for her pen.

  He recognized the slightly unfocused look on her face. “Have an idea?”

  She nodded. “Come here.”

  Curious, he dismounted to join her.

  “Why did someone kill your father?”

  “We have no idea. Possibly because he stumbled across something he shouldn’t have.”

  He stood at her shoulder, watched her darken the circle around Rita. “We also think she was really killed because she stumbled on proof of Amy’s death.”

  Lisa leaned her head back against his knee, squinting against the sun as she looked up at him. “Stumbled on something.” She looked down and darkened the circle around his father. And then she darkened the two lines that flowed into it. One beginning with Grant that ran through Rita to Amy to his father, and the other that began from Christopher and flowed to Rita to Amy and ended at his father. “See it?”

  She looked back up at him. “If we can’t prove Amy returned to Chicago, can we prove Chicago came to Amy?”