by Dana Mentink
“If you had known about Junie when Tucker was on parole, would you have told him?” she asked.
His mouth tightened. “I would have suggested to LeeAnn that she tell him.”
“But…”
“I’m glad I didn’t know.”
When they hit a pothole in the road, he returned both hands to the wheel, restoring the distance between them.
She couldn’t rid herself of the image of Mick, racked with grief over the death of a tiny life left untasted, wings never unfolded. What kind of father would Mick have been? She had the sneaking suspicion he’d have been a superb one.
The last leg of the drive took them up into the mountains, forested with a thick stand of pine trees. What would have been a brilliant sunrise was colored by a bank of clouds signaling a spring storm that would arrive shortly. She itched to unpack her camera as she spotted a bald eagle cutting through the sky.
“When can we…?”
He laughed. “I’ll take you to the lake now and we can talk to dad after. How’s that?”
Her nerves tingled with excitement as they took the slope, eventually stopping at a bluff that overlooked a glittering lake below. The trees that fringed the shore were alive with eagles, the air heavily scented with pine and fir.
She flopped belly down on the ground, taking picture after picture, oblivious to anything but the stupendous variety of life unfolding through her lens. When she finally stopped for a moment, she looked up at Mick, who was watching the eagles, a smile of peaceful pleasure on his face.
He was more than a little handsome, she was startled to discover, when he unshuttered his emotions. The brown of his eyes mimicked the rich wood of the pines, and his strong cheekbones emphasized a mouth that looked, at that moment, both tender and prone to good humor as he scanned the glittering expanse.
He realized she was staring at him, and he looked down at his feet. Blushing, she stood and brushed off her jeans. “You were right. This place is amazing for photography.”
“My sister could tell you chapter and verse about the eagles, they’re her favorite. They grow faster than any other bird in North America. The babies can weigh eight pounds by six weeks of age.”
They marveled for a while before driving back to a two-story, well-tended house with a wide front porch. A neat pile of firewood was stacked nearby. Mick held the door as she entered a living room furnished with a Victorian sofa and upholstered chairs. Not what she’d expected.
Perry Hudson wasn’t, either. He was smaller than she’d imagined, soft-spoken, his wire-rimmed glasses magnifying the creases around his eyes. He took her hand with a smile in place. “Ms. Stevens,” he said. “Mick texted me you were coming.”
“Call me Keeley.”
He nodded, smile dimming, hand tightening on hers. “I just want to say that I am extremely sorry about what happened to your sister.”
She hadn’t expected it. A lump formed in her throat as she looked past him to the row of photos on the wall, of Mick and a redhead who must be his sister, Perry and his two children each cradling fuzzy gray eaglets. There was one of Mick in full marine uniform. She knew Perry had known many heartbreaks, including the death of his wife, the abduction of a child on their property, his own son’s retreat into a self-made prison. How had this man tried to comfort his own son, as he was attempting to do now with her? It was too much. She squeezed his warm palm and pulled away as gently as she could. “Thank you.”
He led them into the kitchen where they sat with glasses of iced tea.
Mick got right down to business. “Dad, we need to talk to you about finding someone, and we don’t have much to go on.” Mick showed his father the photo of Ginny on his cell phone.
Perry’s eyebrows shot up. He looked from the cell phone to his son. “This girl? You’re looking for her?”
“Yes.” Mick frowned. “Why? Do you know her?”
“Not until two hours ago.” Perry crossed the kitchen and called up the stairs. “Would you mind coming down here a minute?”
Keeley tried to process what was going on. She did not have time to do so before the woman from the cell phone picture stepped into the kitchen.
TEN
Mick observed the woman. She was slender, probably in her late twenties, a bit older than she appeared in the picture, with dark eyes dulled by the shadows underneath. Her hair was mussed, pulled back in a messy ponytail and fastened with a rubber band. She wore a thin sweat jacket, inadequate for the stormy spring morning. “Are you Ginny?”
She nodded.
“Got a last name?”
She stared at him. “Ginny’s okay for now.”
Perry stood and pulled out a chair for her and looked at Mick. “Cooper spotted her about six miles down the mountain when he was on his way up here to get his laptop. She said she was coming here to visit the sanctuary, but her motorbike was out of gas, so Cooper filled the tank for her and brought her up. She seemed exhausted, so I suggested she rest for a while. When I looked in on her she was sound asleep.”
“Sorry. I guess I got overtired.” Ginny drummed ragged fingernails on the tabletop. “Haven’t had much sleep lately.”
“Why were you on your way here?” Mick asked.
Ginny shrugged without looking at him. “I heard about the sanctuary. I wanted to see it.”
Mick shook his head. “Try the truth. We know you were recently in the company of Tucker Rivendale.”
Keeley stiffened at the name, but kept her lips clamped tightly together.
Ginny turned dark eyes on him now. “So? He’s my friend.”
Incredible. “He’s a fugitive, a killer.”
“No,” she said, slapping a palm on the table. “He was framed.”
Mick almost laughed, torn between bitterness and pity that the girl apparently believed what she said. “Framed? How convenient. And what a coincidence, because just about everyone in prison has been framed for something.”
Ginny folded her arms across her chest and fired a look at Mick. “You were his parole officer, weren’t you? You knew him better than anyone else and you told the parole board your opinions. Did you think he was capable of killing a woman?”
Fury and shame circled in his mind. He wanted to shout at her but he kept his voice down. “No, I didn’t. And I was wrong.”
“You weren’t,” she said. “That’s what I came here to tell you. I knew this was your family’s place and your dad could get you the message. Tucker is innocent of murder.”
Keeley shook her head.
Mick let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll play. Just for the sake of argument, if Tucker didn’t kill LeeAnn, how did her body find its way into the trunk of his car?”
The color drained out of Ginny’s face. “I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Fear sparked in her eyes. “Listen, I came to deliver that message and I did. That’s all I’m going to talk about. I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Or me?” Keeley said. Her face blazed with intense emotion. Mick’s heart tripped.
“Do you know who I am?” Keeley demanded.
Ginny’s glance flicked to the floor. “The sister.”
“Not ‘the sister.’ I am LeeAnn’s sister. Tucker killed her and stuffed her into the trunk of his car like a bag of garbage. I know you want to believe he’s innocent because you think you love him or something. Well, you know what? My sister loved him, too, and she believed in him and now she’s dead.”
“I’m sorry about that, but it wasn’t Tucker. I’m telling you.”
Keeley leaned forward, her tone pleading. “Listen to me. He’s charming, he’s charismatic and he’s made you believe his lies, but you’ve got to wake up before you get hurt.”
Ginny chewed on her thumbnail, avoiding Keeley’s gaze. “Tucker isn’t the one who’s going to hurt me.”
“Did he send you here?” Mick said.
“No. He doesn’t know I came. I’m helping him. I have to, after what I’ve
done.”
Keeley quirked an eyebrow. “What you’ve done?”
“If he had guts,” Mick said, “he’d have come to me himself.”
“Guts?” Ginny glared. “He’s been shot at and blackmailed at every turn. Why should he trust you?”
Mick frowned. “Blackmailed? How?”
Ginny’s face blanched. “Never mind. He told me you’d never believe a single word that came out of his mouth.”
And he’s right about that.
“The important thing is he wants to meet his kid…”
Keeley stood, her chair scraping the floor. “Don’t say another word. Junie will never be his child. I can’t sit here and listen to this.” She slammed through the door and outside.
Mick fought the urge to bolt after her.
Ginny stared at the door, which bumped in the wind, creaking on worn hinges that Mick had oiled more times that he could count.
“Ginny, you need to tell me where Tucker is. Where is he staying?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know and I wouldn’t tell you anyway because you’d hand him right over to the cops.”
“Why was he on that rooftop? What’s his interest there?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did you meet him? Did you work at the Quick Stop garage together?”
Her mouth fell open and then she recovered. “I don’t know that place.”
“Yes, you do. You were wearing a T-shirt with their logo when you bought the snack cakes.”
“Maybe I got it at a secondhand store.”
“And maybe you didn’t.” Mick stood, temper rising. “You have to tell me what’s going on and where I can find Tucker before he hurts you or Keeley, just like he did to LeeAnn.”
Ginny leaped to her feet. “He’s not gonna hurt me. He didn’t hurt anyone. He’s in danger.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “That’s all I’m saying. I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have called or sent a letter or something. I always make stupid choices.” Her cries turned into full-blown sobs. “I’ve messed up all the important things in my life.”
His anger turned to pity. Me, too, he thought. Still, he did not offer comfort. That softness inside him was the reason he’d made the colossal mistake about Tucker in the first place. Instead he retrieved a tissue box from the sideboard and nudged it over to her.
Perry touched her gently on the shoulder. “Let’s take a moment to calm down. Son, go look after Keeley while I fix something for Ginny to eat. I can hear her stomach growling. A grilled-cheese sandwich. It’s early for lunch, but I’m thinking you probably didn’t have breakfast.”
“Or dinner last night,” Ginny said as she sank down again on the chair, head propped in her hands while Perry fetched bread and cheese. “I haven’t been feeling well. I think I might be running a fever.”
Mick went outside, sucking in some deep breaths of cool mountain air. A bank of dark clouds ribboned the sky as the morning gave way to noon, the air crisp and clean with the promise of rain. Keeley sat on a rough-hewn log that served as a bench for people waiting to take a tour of the sanctuary. She was hugging herself, cold probably, and he grabbed a blanket from the porch.
She looked up when he draped it over her shoulders. “I guess that wasn’t the way to handle an interrogation. I’m not usually prone to outbursts,” she said. “I didn’t want to hear her say that Tucker was coming for Junie, to defend him as if he was some kind of misunderstood hero.”
He sat next to her. “No problem.”
“Did you get any information out of her?”
“Not much. My dad is feeding her at the moment.” He sighed. “Dad’s answer to any crisis is grilled cheese.” He recalled the night he’d gotten word about LeeAnn’s murder, how he’d sat numb with horror as his father had prepared him a grilled-cheese sandwich. To the present day he still could not stomach eating one. “We’ll start up again when she’s calmer.”
Keeley worried her lower lip between her teeth. Tiny freckles spangled her cheeks against creamy white skin. He had the sudden desire to wrap her in an embrace that would press away the pain, wanting to feel her silken hair against his cheek again, the warmth of her breath on his neck.
You brought the pain, Mick. Remember that.
He cleared his throat. “Do you… Is there anything I can do to help you right now?”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t stand it, hearing her talk about Tucker as if he is a good person, as if he has the right to step in and meet his daughter.” Tears squeezed through her fringe of lashes. “I want to move on and take care of Junie, but I can’t do that until he’s out of our lives.”
“We’ll make it happen.” Big words, and he hoped with all his might he could make them come true.
“Sometimes I wonder if he will ever be gone. I mean, even if he’s in prison, will he always be on my mind? I pray to let it go, but it seems like we’ll never be free of him. I don’t understand why God doesn’t take this away, do you?”
Though he knew she wasn’t really asking him, he struggled to find something comforting. “I don’t ask God for things anymore.”
She cocked her head, hair framing her face and such softness in her eyes that it tore him up. “You don’t believe in God?”
“I believe, but I won’t accept.”
“Accept what?”
He didn’t want to say it. “Forgiveness.”
She reached out her hand and slowly twined her fingers in his, hers small and slender against his calloused ones. “Because you don’t think you deserve it?”
He didn’t answer, squeezing the satin of her skin, feeling the pulse dancing like a tiny bird where their wrists pressed together. The words wouldn’t come, only the feeling of guilt, and shame, and sorrow.
“No one deserves it,” Keeley said, voice barely above a whisper. “But if you want it, it’s yours. That’s what LeeAnn used to say.”
He gazed into the blue of her eyes, pools of sky that mirrored his shame back at him. He reached up and traced a finger along the curve of her cheek. She was so lovely, the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. “I can’t take what I don’t deserve,” he said.
“That’s why it’s called grace.” She captured his hand and turned it so her lips skimmed his palm. He felt as if his heart expanded so much it was going to erupt through his chest.
He moved closer, his mouth inches from hers.
What are you doing, Mick?
He got up and headed for the house, the feel of her skin still tingling on his own.
*
The rain began to fall some thirty minutes later. Keeley clutched her camera, carefully bagged, and started along the path.
Mick hadn’t questioned the logic of a picture-taking adventure in inclement weather when she’d gone into the house to retrieve her camera. She suspected he knew that she could not bring herself to stay and listen to Ginny defend Tucker. Perry had informed them that Ginny was lying down on the upstairs bed for a while, pleading a headache. Her shivering indicated she was actually feverish, and Perry administered Tylenol and bundled her with blankets. Mick paced the kitchen, waiting to start the questioning again.
She was grateful, too, to distance herself from Mick. I can’t take what I don’t deserve. While she wanted to classify him as the hardened-cop type who was only a temporary fixture in her life, the hopelessness in his words struck at her. Did he deserve forgiveness for freeing Tucker to kill LeeAnn? She realized that in her mind he did. The agony in his eyes pleaded for it, even when he couldn’t bring himself to ask the Lord. Where there had been anger in her heart before, rage even, toward Mick, there wasn’t any. She had forgiven him, and it pained her that he would not accept it from her, nor God.
His choice, Keeley.
But what about Tucker? Was he worthy of forgiveness? Keeley sped up, crunching over the wet pine needles as the path steepened. God could forgive Tucker, but she could not. He had not asked for it, not grieved the terrible choi
ce he’d made, not repented for taking away the sweetest thing in her life.
“He’s sorry for how he acted about the pregnancy,” LeeAnn had said. “I forgive him, sis. When the time is right, I’m going to tell him about Junie.”
But LeeAnn had been wrong, fatally mistaken, and now it was Keeley’s job to keep Tucker away from Junie. To keep everyone away and out of their lives. She thought about the gun pointed at Mick, and the feel of his finger tracing her cheek, and her stomach quivered. She did not want him on her conscience, or in her heart.
“Find Tucker and end this,” she muttered. “Time to start life again with Junie, just the two of us.” She climbed on, up the slope and down a side path that eventually became engulfed by a wild tangle of thorny blackberry bushes. She turned back, finding herself disoriented. Even so, she got several nice shots of kestrels and a red-tailed hawk flitting through the dripping canopy above her. Calculating the fee she might be paid for the photos cheered her. She would provide for June. She must.
Turning around she headed back down the path. The rain increased, thundering down in sheets that soaked her in spite of her windbreaker. She stopped to shelter beneath a tree as the day seemed to turn to night. Chiding herself for not paying closer attention to her route, she pressed herself to continue on a downward sloping path that looked promising.
It led to an embankment, which paralleled a gravel path. Some six feet below, a rushing river of water careened along. She took cover under the spreading boughs of a pine tree, rough bark pressed into her back.
Her stomach twisted into a tight knot as she sheltered her phone with one hand. Should she text Mick? How completely ridiculous that she should become lost in the woods like a child. He would not ridicule her, but she stowed the phone anyway. Best to wait out the rain and follow the gravel path, which she suspected connected to the main road at some point. She’d allow a half hour to orient herself and if no results came of it, she’d swallow her pride and call Mick.
In the distance, through the dripping branches, she noticed a flash of movement. Instinctively, she reached for her camera, ready to capture a deer or bobcat. It was not a raptor she saw through the lens, but a different kind of animal.