Recluse (Spider Series Book 1)

by Jaycee Ford

  “Wyatt, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” Chloe said, not tearing her eyes away from her task.

  I took a sip of beer and watched the meat sizzle in the pan. “What’s up?”

  She exhaled. “I think you should date mom.”

  I almost spat out my beer.

  “What makes you say that, Chloe?”

  “I see the way she looks at you.” Tears rolled down her face. “You’ve been so good to her, and to me. I know Dad would be okay with it. Sometimes I think he might be the one pushing y’all together anyway.”

  “Aww, Chloe.” I stepped closer and rubbed her back. “Don’t cry.”

  “Oh, it’s just the onions. I’m okay.” She sniffled and quickly moved the chopped pieces into a bowl, pushing them away from her.

  “I don’t know how your mom feels, but it’s nice to know that you would be okay if something were to happen. You’re my first concern.”

  “I’m totally okay with it. I love Dad and I miss Dad, but I know deep down he would want this. He doesn’t want mom to be alone and neither do I. You’re already in our lives and I don’t want mom to be with anyone else.”

  “I love your mother, Chloe.”

  “I know you do, and somewhere under her many layers, I know she loves you, too. I know you’d never try to replace Dad because no one can do that, but I want you here for Mom. I want you here for the both of us.” She teared up again and I knew it wasn’t because of the onions this time.

  “I don’t want to lose either of you, though. These aren’t things you can force. I have to wait for her.”

  Chloe nodded and turned back toward the cutting board. I gave her the space she needed as I silently pushed the ground meat around in the pan and then drained some of the fat into the sink. Chloe tossed the chopped bell pepper and the bowl of onions in with the meat.

  “We have a date for New Year’s Eve,” I said, breaking the silence.

  “I know. She already bought a dress. She’s really excited about it.”

  My ears perked up as I turned toward her. “She is?”

  She nodded, grinning as she threw all of her sadness into the trash along with the scraps.

  “Want to see the dress?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “I’d like to be surprised.”

  Her grin widened and she bounced on her toes. “This makes me so happy.”

  “Would you cut it out?” I rolled my eyes. “She’s going to be home any minute and the lettuce and tomatoes aren’t ready.”

  We dashed around the kitchen, rushing to make the perfect Mexican fiesta for Grace when she came home. Chloe pulled some margarita mix from the freezer. I threw it in the blender with ice, mixed it up, and poured out some out for her before adding tequila to the mix. Chloe connected her phone into a wireless speaker and cranked up the Mariachi music just as Grace’s headlights shone through the front windows when she pulled into the driveway. I knew once she saw my car, she’d run to the door to find out why I was there. Chloe and I glanced at the table and clinked our glasses together. The door opened.

  “Chloe, are you okay? Wyatt?”

  Grace stepped into the kitchen. It was hard to say who had the bigger grin, Chloe or myself, but we made an awesome team. I saw a happy future filled with many surprises for Grace.

  “What the … what are y’all doing?”

  “It’s fiesta time,” Chloe said, gesturing to the table. “Let’s eat. I’m starving!”

  Chloe turned away, ignoring us as she scooped taco salad onto her plate.

  “Why are you here?” Grace whispered.

  “I’ll tell you about it later. I think we should listen to Chloe and dig in because I’m starving too.” I handed Grace her margarita and clinked my glass against hers before taking a sip. She narrowed her eyes at me but I could see the happiness in her eyes as she took a sip. I was glad to be there in that moment, to share in her happiness.

  I stepped up to the table and pulled out a chair for her. With playful eyes, she stared at my gesture. If I were going to let things unfold naturally I had to be true to myself. That meant I would be the gentleman my mama raised me to be.

  She put her glass down just as I sat at the table. “Are you sure you want to sit by me? I smell like hospital.”

  “Are you kidding? I love the smell of antiseptic.” I winked and grabbed my fork, glancing across the table at Chloe concentrating on her salad. I saw the smile cross her face. It struck me again that Mike was the luckiest bastard in the world. I truly hoped Chloe was right and that he would be okay with this.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?” Grace started picking at her salad. “As much as I appreciate the surprise dinner, I don’t think that’s the reason for the visit.”

  Chloe’s eyes landed on mine. I stared at Chloe as Grace’s eyes shifted between us.

  “Well,” I started. “Chloe had a little scare.”

  “What?” Grace dropped her fork and grabbed her napkin.

  “Chloe spotted a hunter coming out of the woods. She got a little spooked. That’s all.”

  “Are you okay now?” Grace turned to Chloe.

  “I’m fine. I shouldn’t have called Wyatt.” She turned to me. “I’m sorry for making you come out here.”

  “Chloe…”

  “You can call me anytime,” I interrupted Grace. “That goes for you too, Grace. I’m always here for both of you. I want to be here … for both of you.”

  Grace looked at me, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. Our eyes met and I couldn’t turn away.

  “Good,” Chloe said, shattering the moment. “Because you make a mean taco salad.”

  “You should taste my lasagna.”

  “Nope. I’m eating my salad and hearing nothing about carbs,” Chloe said, ignoring us while stabbing a tomato like she wanted to kill it.

  “Maybe after New Year’s we can have a cheat day,” Grace said.

  “Thank, God.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to cut back on the carbs,” Grace said.

  “I’m not brilliant all of the time.”

  Grace and I burst out laughing, a feeling of warmth flowing over us. Chloe smiled at our amusement and it felt nothing short of perfect. Once we finished our meal, Chloe conveniently left the kitchen before we could ask her to help with the dishes. Standing at the sink, I began loading the dishwasher.

  “Wyatt, you don’t have to do that.” She stood next to me, sipping her second margarita.

  I waved her off. “I can clean up around here for once. How many times have you cooked me dinner and shooed me away?”

  “But—”

  “Nope. I’m almost done anyway.”

  She sighed with defeat and sat back down at the table.

  “Any new developments on the case today?” she asked. I felt good having her asking me about my day.

  “Caleb and I questioned Jeremy the bartender at Dixie’s. Lara and I questioned Camille Roy.”

  “Lara? Who’s Lara?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Fuck. I’d forgotten to tell her about Lara. I exhaled as I closed the door to the dishwasher. I sat in Chloe’s seat at the table, resting my elbows on my knees.

  “Caleb insisted on hiring a new detective. Lara is my new partner.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth hung at the corners. All of the happiness that once filled her eyes only a moment ago had diminished into sadness.

  “I’m sorry. Today has been so busy and I didn’t even think. That was so stupid of me to forget.” I hung my head, clutching my hands together.

  “No, Wyatt.” She grabbed my hands in hers. I looked up into her eyes. “It had to be done. You know Mike. He would be so mad about you going out there this whole time without having someone to cover your back.”

  “That’s what I have you for. You’ve always got my back.” And my heart. I swallowed down this last sentiment and winked in an attempt to keep things from getting too somber.

  “Of course, I do.
And you’ve got mine.”

  Our simple words held such a deeper meaning below the surface. I looked down at my hands. She was still holding onto them.

  December 29th

  THE CAR HUGGED the curves of the road as we sped up the interstate on our way to Cherokee. Lara sat next to me, scrolling on her phone, researching rules and regulations with Native American reservations. She was completely one hundred percent focused on this case while my mind continued to focus on Grace. Over the years, I’d had plenty of friends who were girls, but not one of them had ever looked at me the same way as Grace did. Even Megan, who I’d been sleeping with for two years, didn’t look at me like that. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I was misinterpreting every look, every touch, and every smile. I kept telling myself that’s all it was, but there was always a nagging suspicion I was just lying to myself. I loved her. I couldn’t deny it or hide it anymore. But how could I replace my best friend? Chloe had told me I couldn’t, and she was absolutely correct, but she also told me I made her mom happy; that somewhere under all those layers, Grace loved me too. Could I take that risk? If I was wrong, I could lose her forever. How could I lose her forever? Hope and guilt split me in two.

  “So, how do we go about this?” I asked Lara, trying to get out of my head. “Are we allowed to question him on the reservation?”

  “Well,” Lara dragged out the word. “He won’t technically be on the reservation when we question him. He’ll be in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Also, we’re only going to see him to inform him of the death of his niece. He is the only living relative after all. It’s not as if we’re interrogating him. We’re just asking a few random questions. We can’t arrest him though. That has to go through the Tribal Counsel or the FBI. I highly doubt it will come to that.”

  “In your gut, do you think he did it?”

  “Nope,” she said without hesitation. “Not one bit.”

  “What makes you say that? I mean, I don’t think he did either, but how did you jump to that conclusion?”

  “The Cherokees are a strong family oriented tribe. Most active tribes are still that way. That’s why they’re still around. Kind of like, for example, the wolves in Twilight.”

  “Do what?”

  Is she serious right now?

  “The wolves in Twilight. They were a part of a Native American tribe.”

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Did you not see the movie?”

  “No. I don’t do sparkly things.”

  “How do you know about Edward sparkling?”

  “I’m around an eleven-year-old enough to know that much.”

  “Did you at least read the book?”

  I stared at her and cocked my eyebrow.

  She shrugged. “I just figured everyone knew Twilight.”

  “I know a little about it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like asking questions about what team you’re on.”

  “Oh, Team Jacob all the way.”

  “Why Jacob?”

  “I don’t do sparkly things either.”

  I laughed. “So, are we going to run into any wolves while we’re up here?”

  “No. I think we should be fine, but my point here is that I just don’t see the Cherokee having any form of hatred toward their own blood, for money or any other reason.” She paused and added, “I think this is the exit we take to get to his store.”

  I jerked the wheel to the left and swerved into the exit lane, pulling quickly off the interstate. I turned onto a two-way street lined with trees. The tips of the trees, like the peaks of the distant mountains, were dusted with snow.

  “The store should be right up here.”

  I slowed the car through the turn and pulled into a gravel parking lot alongside an outpost. The gravel slowly popped under the tires as I rolled to a stop. We stepped out of the car and walked toward a small store that was basically a cabin in the middle of nowhere. The wrap around front porch held several rocking chairs that continued around the side of the cabin. I followed the porch until it opened up, looking out over the mountain range. In the summer, the view would be obscured behind all of the leaves on the trees, but in winter, the barren trees gave way to a breathtaking view. I had seen these mountains all my life, but I never tired from the wonder of this snow-capped range.

  “Wyatt,” Lara called from the front of the outpost. I blinked myself alert and turned to walk back to the front. An open sign hung on a screen door. Lara pulled the handle, the squeak of the hinges announcing our arrival. The smell of wood and earth surrounded me. I breathed in and felt instantly calm. It was the first time I’d felt calm all week. The store was filled with nostalgic candy, dream catchers, local maps, an old drink vending machine, and paintings depicting spectacular landscapes and Cherokee heritage.

  We heard a door being pulled closed at the back of the cabin. Lara and I stepped toward the counter as a man came toward us. He stopped about ten feet from us and stared at us. His skin was darkly tanned and he kept his jet-black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a simple button-down shirt and jeans.

  “Can I help you?” he asked slowly and quietly as if not to disturb the world that surrounded us.

  “Are you Dakotah Gunter?” Lara asked.

  “I am.” He came a few steps closer and placed his hands on the counter. His scrutinizing gaze shifted from Lara to me as he asked, “What’s this about?”

  “Do you have a niece by the name of Erica Gunter?”

  He stilled. “Is something wrong?”

  “Mr. Gunter,” Lara started. “I’m sorry to inform you, but your niece was found murdered the morning of the twenty-seventh.”

  “No. That can’t be.” His face paled as he absorbed the news.

  “When was the last time you saw Erica?” I asked.

  “It was here in this shop … on the twenty-sixth.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

  “Mr. Gunter, where were you the night of the twenty-sixth?” Lara asked.

  He hung his head and slowly shook it back and forth. “That can’t be. I just saw her.”

  “Mr. Gunter, did Erica visit you often?”

  “All the time. We were the only family we had left.”

  Lara and I exchanged glances.

  “She wanted to go to nursing school. We were working through the forms to apply for one of those Native American scholarships. The inheritance her grandmother left her could help to provide for her, but it wasn’t enough to pay for school.”

  “Were you bitter she received the inheritance?” Lara asked.

  He was taken back. “What? No. I told my mother to give it to her. She had no one else. Why would I be bitter? I gave her money too. She’s all I’ve got left and that asgina who called himself her father wasn’t much of a man. I wanted a better life for her. She got angry with me for wanting her to marry within the tribe, said she was interested in some bartender. A bartender!” He shook his head, wiped his eyes and stared into nothing. “I loved her like my own daughter. I only wanted what was best for her. I asked her to come and live with me on the reservation to save the money so she wouldn’t have to struggle so hard, but she refused. After my mother died, I tried so hard to be everything she needed.” His lip quivered and he couldn’t hold back the tears. “And now she’s gone. Everything she went through … How? How did she die?”

  Lara and I looked at each other, a silent debate over who was going to tell him the truth.

  “Her throat was slit,” I told him. I didn’t go into the details of how she was found, knowing it would be too much for the grieving Mr. Gunter to deal with at that moment.

  He uttered a string of words in his native language. I couldn’t decipher anything he said.

  “Mr. Gunter, where were you the night of the twenty-sixth?” Lara repeated her initial question, reeling him back to the task at hand.

  “I was here having drinks with a few of my people. Since it’s illegal on the reservation, we meet here somet
imes to partake.” He shook his head again in disbelief. “She was the light in my life. After my wife died, Erica was the only thing that kept me going.” He breathed out, calmed himself, and then eyed us closely. “You don’t look like Federal agents. Am I a suspect?”

  “No, sir. You’re not a suspect,” Lara answered. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  He met our stares, nodded, and pushed himself away from the counter. We watched him walk back toward the door he’d entered through. The door opened with a slight creak and closed softly behind him.

  Lara spun on her heel and headed for the front door. I lingered a while longer, waiting to see if the man returned. Once I felt positive he was never coming back, I made a quick exit and met up with Lara at the car. We pulled out of the gravel parking lot, our brains in overdrive. The tires met the pavement and smoothly moved along an eerie, cold road.

  “If Erica and her uncle were so close, why wouldn’t she mention him to anyone?” Lara pondered, drawing me in to share her puzzlement.

  “So, the errand Erica told Camille she was running that morning was a discreet trip up the mountain to see her uncle. Why would she keep their relationship a secret? Do you think she was ashamed of her heritage in some way?”

  “Maybe it was the opposite and she didn’t know how to share it with people,” Lara replied. “We’re white people, Wyatt. We don’t exactly know anything about Native familial politics, or what it’s like to actually live on a reservation. We live in a world where if someone doesn’t look or act the same as everyone else, they’re automatically labeled outsiders and are treated like second-class citizens. You only have to mention the term Native American to people and inevitably someone will mention casinos or some old cowboy western.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but don’t hate on cowboys.”