Appalachian Prey

by Debbie Herbert

  He was hurt. Was he...?

  “Oh, God, Harlan! Wake up. Please, wake up!”

  Lilah leaned over and placed a hand over his heart. It beat.

  “Hey, in there? Are y’all hurt?”

  Outside, a man and a woman ran to the car. The man struggled, but managed to open the door on her side. Arms lifted her out of the vehicle. “No,” she protested. She didn’t want to leave Harlan’s side. “Help Harlan. Please.”

  Strong arms placed her carefully on the ground and then the woman loomed overhead, her eyes wide with pity. She pushed a lock of hair from Lilah’s face. “We will, sugar. Don’t you fret now. We called for help.”

  In no time, a siren’s wail erupted and it seemed people were everywhere. She struggled to get a glimpse of Harlan, finally spotting him being helped onto a stretcher and into a waiting ambulance. EMTs brought one to her and she was lifted and placed in the ambulance beside Harlan.

  The shock started to wear off, and self-reproach set in. “What have I done?” she sobbed and turned her head to face Harlan—whose eyes were open.

  He reached out a hand and squeezed hers. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. But you...” Her throat closed up.

  “I’m fine.” He managed a slight smile. “Might have a headache a day or two, but no big deal.”

  She let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh.

  “The baby?” he asked hoarsely. “Everything okay?”

  She squeezed his hand this time. “I think so. They can check at the hospital.”

  Unbidden tears streamed down her cheeks. This was all her fault somehow. It was her car and she’d been driving. “I don’t know what happened. The brakes were fine earlier. I promise.”

  “Don’t cry. I believe you. I suspect someone cut the brake line.”

  “Who? Why?” Damn, she was sick of this nightmare.

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out. I promise you that.”

  “I want it to stop. I want...” She wanted to leave. Pack up and move as far away from here as soon as possible. Mom had been right to run away all those years ago. Ran and never looked back, never returned. Not even for her ex-husband’s funeral.

  Lilah laid a hand over her eyes, remembering all the reasons she’d stayed away from Lavender Mountain. There was nothing for her here but heartbreak.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lilah lay in the early morning darkness, hands over her belly. She stared out the bedroom window, debating her options and her timing as the sun rose, casting violet and purple splashes on the horizon. Nowhere was as hauntingly beautiful or as deadly as home. No matter how long or how far she roamed, this place was forever rooted in her soul.

  The ultrasound had checked out normal—the baby was safe. A small miracle that she intended to honor by taking every precaution possible to avoid danger, no matter the sacrifice. And that meant leaving Lavender Mountain for good, Harlan or no Harlan. Much as she loved him, she couldn’t put their child’s life in danger.

  He tossed in bed beside her, moaning softly. She ran a hand over his back, loving the feel of his smooth lean muscles. Lilah’s heart squeezed at the idea of saying goodbye. How dangerous could it be to wait a few days—make sure he was over the worst of the concussion?

  No. The longer she waited, the harder it would be. If she was lucky, and if Harlan truly loved her, he’d listen to reason and agree to go with her. Start over somewhere safer and with more opportunity for both of them.

  “Harlan?” she whispered.

  He rolled over at once and opened his eyes, instantly alert.

  “Want me to get you a pain pill?”

  He sat halfway up and leaned against a bank of pillows. “No. I need a clear head and have too much to do.”

  “You’re off this week. Remember? Courtesy of J.D. Stay in bed and heal. You’ve got a nasty concussion.”

  “That might also be courtesy of J.D.”

  “Really?” She leaned over him. “It was my car. Seems more likely that whoever did this was after me, not you.”

  “If they hurt you, they hurt me. Either way, it’s a message.”

  “But what message? And who sent it? None of this makes sense.”

  “Could have been J.D. trying to warn or silence me. I came too close to finding out the truth about him and shutting down his gravy train.”

  “Or it could be the Hillside Strangler who believes I have his bracelet and wants it back at any cost,” she countered.

  Harlan flung off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pausing to draw a ragged breath.

  “You’re getting up?”

  “I’m calling Lewis Slidell in the state investigator’s office. Tell him my suspicions about what’s going on up here.”

  “Think he’ll listen?”

  He flashed a wan smile. “I see you share the Tedder faith in law enforcement.”

  “Can hardly blame me for that. Guess while you’re handling your business, I’ll deal with the insurance company about getting my car fixed. My favorite thing to do,” she said with a groan.

  Lilah carefully eased out of bed, wincing at the sore muscles in her back and legs.

  Harlan frowned. “You’re hurting.”

  “A little. No pain pills for me, though. Not even over-the-counter stuff.”

  “You stay in bed and I’ll bring you breakfast.”

  “I’m not the one with a concussion.” He opened his mouth to protest, and she cut him off. “Let’s compromise. We’ll make toast and coffee together.”

  “Deal.” He stood, grimacing for a moment before following her slow progress to the kitchen. She flipped on lights in the hallway and the kitchen.

  “If you’ll start the coffee, I’m going to check the newspaper,” he said. “See if there’s been any press on the so-called accident.”

  “You think there will be?”

  “I gave a statement to the police. Told them what to look for in the car.” He gave a sly grin. “And it’s entirely possible that the reporter from the local paper was in hearing range when I said it.”

  “Nice,” she said with an answering smile. “They’ll know you’re onto them.”

  She measured out coffee grinds and was about to pour them in the pot when Harlan slammed the door and marched into the kitchen waving the newspaper like a machete. “J.D. sure didn’t waste any time kicking me to the curb.”

  He unfurled the rolled-up paper and handed it to her.

  Sheriff J.D. Bentley endorses Officer Alvin Lee in Upcoming Election.

  Lilah’s mouth opened in a round o of astonishment. “How could he?” She burned with indignation on Harlan’s behalf.

  He flung the paper in the wastebasket. “If Alvin gets elected, I have a feeling it’s just going to be more of the same here in Elmore County. He’s a miniature J.D.”

  She gave a long sigh. “Bet you’re sorry now I ever came back here.”

  “Course not, Lilah. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me getting too close to J.D.’s illegal crap.”

  “You know, this might be a good thing,” she said slowly.

  “The hell?” Harlan scowled, the stitches in his forehead twisting ominously, looking ready to come undone.

  “If you don’t run for sheriff—”

  “Oh, I’m running,” he cut in, the muscles in his jaw twitched.

  “Forget the race.”

  His incredulous gaze almost undermined her courage. “Look, I wasn’t going to say anything for a few days. Was going to make sure you were okay first, get a rental car and—”

  “I’m fine and you can use my car or we can get you a rental today. So whatever it is, spit it out.”

  “Fine,” she snapped. “That’s what I was trying to do.”

  Harlan folded
his arms and sat down at the table. “I have a feeling this is bad news. Go ahead.”

  The man wasn’t going to make this easy. Best to spill it all at once.

  “I’m leaving,” she announced.

  “Leaving...what?” His mulish stance was replaced with a look of confusion.

  “This place.”

  “You’re leaving me?”

  “Lavender Mountain. Not you.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It’s not. Don’t you see? Maybe this was meant to be. We can make a break and leave together. What’s to stop us?” Doubt assailed her. “That is...if you still want me.”

  “I want you,” he insisted.

  “Really? You once let a scumbag like J.D. ruin everything because of your ambition. Sounds to me like you’re doing the same thing again by staying here instead of leaving with me.”

  “That’s not fair. You know why I want to be sheriff.”

  “How bad do you want that career advancement, Harlan? More than you want me and the baby?”

  There she’d said it. What she’d promised herself she would never ever do. She’d just forced Harlan’s hand to choose between her and his career.

  “Don’t back me into a corner.”

  “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” she retorted. This wasn’t how she imagined this discussion going down. If she wanted a calm exchange, it had to start with her. Lilah sat down at the opposite end of the table.

  “I was going to wait before I brought this up, but now that it’s out, let’s see it through. I don’t want my baby—”

  “Our baby.”

  “Okay, I don’t want to raise our baby here. I don’t want Lavon anywhere near my—I mean, our—child. I don’t want our kid growing up alongside moonshiners, alcoholics and drug dealers.”

  “Be reasonable, Lilah. Drugs are everywhere.”

  She ignored that. “I’m going to raise him—or her—somewhere less violent. A town where his name won’t be associated with crime. I grew up with that stigma and I don’t want our kid to go through the same.”

  “The kid won’t have your name, he’ll have mine.”

  As if that mattered. Everyone knew everyone here, along with everyone’s family history. “And I won’t let Uncle Thad and my cousins set a poor example of how to live.”

  “Thought you loved your family.”

  “I do. But I want better for our child. I won’t have one of mine going through what I’ve been through with two close family members murdered.”

  “I’ll protect you both.”

  “You can’t. I think the car wreck proved that.”

  “Don’t you see? That’s why I want to be sheriff, to end all the liquor and drug running and violence. I can do it, too.”

  “Good luck with that,” she scoffed.

  “Have a little faith in me.”

  “Lavender Mountain has a way of corrupting even the best of folks.”

  “Not me. You were born and raised here and you turned out just fine.”

  “Have I?”

  “What kind of a dumb question is that?”

  Wrong thing to say. He could have said, I think you’re wonderful. Or, I love you. Or better, Let’s go down to the justice of the peace right now and get married.

  But he hadn’t, and she had her answer. No matter that she’d gone to college and had managed her life as a decent law-abiding and tax-paying citizen—once a Tedder, always a Tedder. Deep down, Harlan didn’t believe she was good enough to be his wife.

  Her face flamed. Uncle Jasper was right. This was playing house and she was done with childhood games.

  She slowly rose from the table. “I think we’re done here.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked as she sauntered out of the room and down the hall. “We haven’t finished talking this out yet.”

  Lilah went to the bedroom and dragged the suitcase out from under the bed. First, she dumped the contents of her lingerie drawer in it and then opened the second drawer of the dresser.

  “You’re leaving me? Now?”

  “Yes,” she answered, not looking at him. “Maybe without me dragging you down, you’ll win your precious election.”

  “Look at me, Lilah.”

  She lifted her chin and leveled a stare. Harlan leaned against the doorjamb looking strong and as sexy as ever. The stitches on his forehead did nothing to detract from his appeal. If anything, it added a devastating touch of vulnerability.

  “So you expect me to drive you to your apartment? Aid and abet you in this mess?” he asked with a cool trace of amusement in his tone. “Seeing as you don’t have a car right now.”

  Oh, yeah. She’d forgotten about that little matter. Lilah cleared her throat, gathering her dignity. “A ride to the rent-a-car place will suffice. But if that’s too much trouble, I can call Uncle Jasper.”

  He strolled over and placed a hand on the small of her back, just above her hips. “Lilah,” he said softly. “Don’t go.”

  “Why should I stay?” Lilah’s voice was tiny and wobbly, even to her own ears. Even more to her chagrin, she was near tears. She’d cried more these past few weeks than she’d cried in her entire life and it frustrated her. Those pregnancy hormones were doing a real number on her emotions.

  “Because I want you,” Harlan said. “Hell, because I need you. At least stay here until I catch the killer. If not for me, for the baby.”

  She dropped the T-shirt she’d been folding. “Not fair to spring the baby on me.”

  “Whatever it takes to get you to stay.”

  “I should be okay at my apartment.”

  He quirked a brow. “After your neighbor reported seeing a man creeping around there? Doesn’t sound safe to me.”

  “Oh, all right,” she conceded ungraciously. “I’ll stay, with one stipulation.”

  “Anything.”

  “I go back to the spare bedroom.”

  He sucked in his breath, as if she’d dealt him a low blow. “Why? Still mad at me?”

  Not angry—she was hurt. Because Harlan didn’t love her. He found her lacking as a suitable wife. Prolonging their affair would only make it harder to bear once it was over. Lilah bit her tongue, though. She wouldn’t let him know how much that hurt.

  “Damn right, I’m still mad at you,” she lied.

  He took her hand. “C’mon, time for a truce. We’ll eat breakfast and I’ll drink my morning cup of coffee. We’re both sore from the wreck and grouchy as bears this morning.”

  She took the olive branch. It would make life easier to be on amicable terms with Harlan for the remainder of her stay.

  “I won’t say no to a couple pieces of toast.”

  “Toast? I’m going to make us a real breakfast—biscuits, gravy, bacon and eggs. You go on back to bed and I’ll wake you when it’s ready.”

  She eyed the bed longingly. “I am tired,” she admitted. She’d gotten up too early, still tense over the car wreck. They both could have been killed so easily. She gave an involuntary shudder.

  Harlan returned her suitcase under the bed and folded down the bedspread. She slipped back into the warm cotton that smelled of Harlan’s masculine scent, and he pulled the sheets over her, tucking her in like a child.

  “Sweet dreams, honey,” he said, planting a swift kiss on her forehead.

  Lilah closed her eyes and curled against the pillows. Small wonder she loved him. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

  Chapter Fifteen

  This was going to be awkward.

  Harlan tucked the padded envelope under his right arm and squared his shoulders. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Resolutely, he pushed open the door to the sheriff’s office and entered.

  Sammy rose from his desk at once and came to greet him. “Hey, Harlan. Man, you’re gonna be left with
an ugly scar on your forehead. Got something for us?”

  He followed Sammy into his old office, past the gaze of curious, but still friendly, former coworkers. Only Alvin turned a cold shoulder. No surprise there.

  “You sure J.D. is out for the day?” Harlan asked, closing the door.

  “Positive. That psychological profile training is scheduled for two days. It’ll be late by the time he drives back from Atlanta tomorrow evening.” Sammy nodded at the package. “Picked that up from the mechanics?”

  “Yep. One cut brake line. Got his expert opinion on that recorded on a signed statement. Said no one else had touched the auto part but him.”

  “Knew you’d cross your t’s and dot your i’s,” Sammy said. “You always do. Everyone here knows it, too.”

  “Except Alvin,” Harlan muttered. But he appreciated the show of support.

  “Alvin’s an ass.”

  “Not going to argue about that. Do you have a copy of the old Ernest Tedder hunting accident?”

  Sammy slid a few papers across the desk. “Already printed it out in case J.D. made a bitch move and disabled your computer access. Not much in that old report that I can see. Back then, you basically just had a coroner’s report and an officer statement.”

  Harlan scanned the thin account. Ernest Tedder was shot once in the back with his own rifle. His son Jasper had borrowed the gun to go hunting, and had mistakenly shot Ernest only a quarter mile from their family home early one January morning. Witnesses stated that Jasper, then only sixteen years old, was devastated. The family filed no charges, and the coroner’s report stated that Ernest died almost immediately when the lone bullet pierced his heart and lungs.

  “Shot in the back just like Chauncey and Darla,” Harlan mused aloud.

  “You still trying to find a connection between the three Tedder murders?” Sammy asked. “Maybe you could argue the last two are, but you’re stretching with this old one.”

  “Surprised I never heard of this before about Jasper accidentally shooting his father.”

  “Eh, well, it’s ancient history. Poor kid. He must have felt awful. No wonder he grew up to be such a crackpot.”