by Nika Dixon
“I’m sorry.” Lucy sniffled. “I didn’t mean to make you worry to death. I wanted to go shopping with Emma, and you said I could go. We didn’t do anything. Just went to the mall, like I said.”
“Right. And we know that now,” Danny said. “But for the past couple of hours we didn’t know that, because you didn’t tell us. Do you see what I’m saying?”
“I didn’t mean to not tell you.”
“I know. But next time you have to come home first. Promise?”
“Promise.”
Danny knelt down and opened his arms. “Come here, nugget.”
She ran to her father and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll come home first next time, I promise.”
He stood up, lifting her with him.
“Please don’t be mad at Emma,” she said with a sniff. “I told her we could go.”
“I’m not mad at Emma,” he answered, turning to look at the woman standing stone still beside the police car. “I’m very grateful she was with you.”
“So…I’m not grounded?” Lucy asked hopefully.
“Oh, you’re grounded.”
“But Dad!”
He kissed the side of her cheek. “No butts, missy. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” He turned and carried her back to the house.
Hank patted Marshall on the shoulder. “You good?”
“Yep.”
Hank followed Danny and Lucy, leaving Marshall alone with his lie.
He wasn’t good. He wasn’t good, at all.
It turned his stomach to see Emma face off against a man twice her size, all the while willing to do what Maisy had done—take a beating for a child without a single concern to her own safety. Why it was her first reaction left him with a burning urge to track down whoever had made her think that way and teach him a very painful lesson. It was immediately followed by an icy chill that the signs had all been there with Emma, but Marshall had been so blinded by his memories of Michelle he hadn’t connected them.
That Emma hadn’t demanded internet access and a cell phone the moment her eyes opened should have been red flag enough. She’d downed Maggie’s stew like a woman who hadn’t eaten in days, then rabbited the second she’d had a chance. She was traveling with no money and no belongings, and if he was a betting man, he’d lay odds she’d lied about having someone waiting on her in Pikes Falls, too.
Anyone who abused a woman shortened Marshall’s fuse, but the thought of anything happening to Emma tore into him with fervor.
Bailey broke their staring game first. He took a step forward, startling Emma, who jumped to the side with a squeak. He apologized, and she bobbed her head with a stiff jerk. He picked up Lucy’s bag and walked it over to Marshall.
“She knows Danny’s the sheriff, right?” he said softly.
“She knows.”
Bailey scratched at a spot on his shoulder. “Should I find someplace else for her to stay? I could ask the—”
“She stays here.”
No way was he letting her go anywhere. Not now.
Bailey nodded thoughtfully. “Have to say, I was a bit surprised to see her with Lucy. I mean, I wasn’t sure it was her until Lucy called her to come along. I thought the sheriff said she was going back to Pikes Falls?”
“Yeah. Me, too. That was a hell of a job you did tracking them down.”
Bailey shrugged off the compliment. “Actually, you can thank little Addy Weise. He remembered that Charlie got off the bus with Luce. No one else seemed to remember poor Charlie, not even Mertle. She’d had her hands full with the Nelson sisters trying to give little Sally Appleton a haircut and didn’t remember seeing Lucy get off the bus. From there it was just a matter of finding Charlie. I guess she saw Emma up by the Creemore farm and somewhere in there decided to get Charlie Sr. to take them all to the mall.”
“Wait, go back. The Creemore farm?”
“Yeah. Guess she was walking down the road—Emma, not Lucy—so they decided to walk with her.”
Guilt hit Marshall like a punch to the gut.
The only reason she would have been by the Creemore farm would be if she was following Hank’s map back to the ranch. Which meant she’d missed her ride, and instead of reaching out—likely because Marshall had been such a jackass—she’d gone to walking back.
The worry he’d put his brother through, the panicked driving all over the county…it was all Marshall’s fault. Every ounce of it. If he hadn’t abandoned Emma like an inconsiderate ass, he would have known something had happened. He would have known she was still in town. He would have known she needed him.
“Uncle Marsh,” Lucy called out through the screen door. “Can you grab my school bag?”
It took him a moment to find his voice. “Yup. I got it.”
Bailey took a step back. “I should go. Tell Luce I said good night.” He headed back to the car, pausing briefly to say something quiet to Emma before getting into his car.
Long after the glow of the taillights were gone, she still hadn’t moved.
Unable to find any other excuses, Marshall walked slowly toward her. He needed to apologize. He needed to tell her this was his doing, not hers. That she’d done nothing wrong.
But his desires were overruled when Lucy shouted for her things a second time.
Damn it.
He took the stairs two at a time and yanked the screen door open. Hank and Lucy were in the kitchen, talking about how much fun she’d had at the mall with Emma. He tried to pair the girl’s happy emotions with the startling event that had just transpired outside, but they were so disconnected he could almost believe they were connected.
Danny was waiting for him inside the living room. “What the hell was that?” he demanded with a hissed whisper.
“I don’t know. I thought she was about to give it to you for having Bailey drag them back in a patrol car, but—”
“Yeah.” Danny ran his hand down the side of his face and shook his head.
Marshall quickly relayed what Bailey had said about the kids spotting Emma from the school bus.
“She was coming back here?” Danny narrowed his eyes. “She lied about the ride.”
“No, I heard her talking to Bobby about getting a lift to Pikes Falls with the insurance guy. It was definitely the plan. Something must have happened.”
“I’ll check with Bobby in the morning.” Danny’s frown deepened. “Now I’m beginning to wonder if she really did have someone waiting for her in Pikes Falls.”
“I’m thinking not.”
“There could be a hundred reasons why she reacted that way, but I’m not liking the one in my gut. Hell, even the possibility—I can’t let it go. You know that.”
“I know.”
The boy Maisey had nearly died to protect had been Danny’s best friend and was now his deputy, Sam Mickelson. Being just kids, the three of them hadn’t been able to stop what happened, but it was how Danny had grown into his personal vendetta against anyone with the same abusive gene. The look on Danny’s face now was unarguable. He’d gotten a taste of what Emma might be facing. They both had. There was no way the lady was going to be left to her own devices until they were sure she wasn’t going to end up like Maisey.
“Dad?” Lucy called out from the kitchen. “Did you get my stuff?”
“Be right there,” Danny called back, then he lowered his voice and eyed the front door. “I knew she was jumpy around me but figured it was the uniform. Not everyone can handle the badge and gun. But now…”
“You think there’s more to it?”
“Honestly? I have no idea.” Danny took the school bag from Marshall then backed slowly toward the kitchen. “Go talk to her. Make sure she’s okay. I’d do it myself, but I’m not the person she’s going to want to have come out the door right now.”
Marshall wasn’t so sure he was going to be one of her favorite people, either. But this was his mess, so he was the one who had to make it right.
He stepped out on
to the porch.
Sitting on the top step was a pair of brown sandals, neatly placed side by side.
His heart kicked up with an added beat as he scanned the lane and the area around the front of the house, but there was no one there.
Emma was gone.
Chapter Twenty
Marshall slowed his pickup alongside the barefoot woman speed-walking down the side of the road. “You know, we do have these things called vehicles in Absolution,” he said, keeping his tone light.
She hurriedly swiped at her cheeks with the sleeves of the hoodie.
He strangled the wheel, crushing his fury at whoever had hurt her down to a level he could contain. If he was upset, she’d be upset, and he needed to convince her everything was going to be okay.
He rode the brake, keeping pace with her. “Emma…stop. Please.”
She kept going.
“The tank’s full, so I can keep on driving, and you can keep on walking, but I’m not leaving you out here wandering around in the dark by yourself. So, why don’t you hop in, and I promise you I’ll get you to wherever you need to go, no questions asked.”
She stopped walking but kept her face averted. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a wisp of wind.
“Why what?”
“Why would you help me? You don’t even know me.”
Because I’m an ass? Because tonight was my fault? Because the thought of someone hurting you makes it hard to breathe?
“It’s a small-town thing,” he finally answered.
She sighed with a half laugh, half sob. After a long moment of staring at her toes, she wiped her eyes then climbed into the passenger seat. She closed the door and hugged her side against it.
“Where to?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said with a sad sigh.
“How about we go for a drive?”
She shrugged.
It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. He put the truck into gear and started forward. He followed the empty blacktop, waiting for her to relax, but she continued to clutch the lip of the open window like she was about to throw herself through it.
“Emma, you’re safe here. You’re safe with me. I’m not going to hurt you, or let you be hurt. You understand that, right?”
She glanced at him. “I know. I mean, I think so. I guess. Why?”
“Well, if you get any closer to the door, you’ll be riding on the outside of the truck.”
She jerked her hands away from the window, faced forward, then shifted herself more toward the center of her seat. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
He switched the radio on, hoping some music might ease her worry. With Keith Urban singing about wasted time, he tried to figure out a way to broach the subject of why she’d reacted as she had to Danny, but he couldn’t think of a way to start that wasn’t going to sound like he was accusing her of something. If it had been a man, he’d have simply said it. But women were a whole different breed when it came to conversation.
He owed her an apology, but soothing his own guilt was going to have to wait until after he dug up a few answers. A dozen miles of asphalt passed beneath them. There was no one around, so he didn’t bother keeping to the speed limit, choosing instead to meander along at an in-town pace. Doing his best to make his question sound casual, he asked her what happened with her trip to Pikes Falls.
“The insurance man couldn’t come.”
After a few minutes of quiet, he ventured on. “Who’s in Pikes Falls? Family?”
“No family.”
“No family in Pikes Falls? Or no family, period?”
They traveled several miles before she answered, “No family, period.”
Her confirmation pained him more than he expected. He couldn’t imagine not having family. There were days when the memory of his mother still made his heart hurt and his eyes water. And not having his father, Danny, or Lucy around? “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” There was no sadness in her voice, only a tired resignation, as though it was what it was, and she didn’t expect it to be any different.
He waited a few minutes before slipping in another question. “Did you tell your friends you weren’t going to make it?”
She twisted sharply toward him. “Friends? What friends?”
“The ones you were meeting up with?” He frowned, unsure why she’d jumped at this topic but not when he’d asked her about family. She’d told Danny last night that she was headed to the coast to meet some friends. Was it just another lie, too?
She rested her elbow on the window and placed her chin in her hand, leaning her head toward the opening. The passing air tugged her hair away from her face. “No friends.”
Her admission angered him at the most basic of levels—not at her, but for her. If she had no family and no friends, what was her plan once she got to Pikes Falls? Did she even have a plan, or was she making it up as she went? And what about money? How did she expect to do anything without the cash to make it happen? Pikes Falls wasn’t a booming metropolis of New York standards, but it was big enough a pretty woman wandering around on her own could find herself in a world of trouble, fast.
While she studied the darkness, he studied her. Drowning in the hoodie, she appeared small and frail, but he sensed she was anything but. Whatever had happened in her life, she’d been brave enough to leave it behind—something many women in bad situations never found the courage to do.
He plunged forward. “Listen, Emma. About what happened between you and Danny…”
Chapter Twenty-One
Emma clutched her fingers together and dropped her hands to her lap. She’d made an ass of herself tonight misreading the situation between the sheriff and his sweet daughter. No, not the sheriff—Danny. He was no longer a lawman to be afraid of, but just a father worried about his little girl.
How stupid she had been! It never occurred to her Lucy wouldn’t have been allowed to go somewhere without permission. Having to ask to do even the smallest task had become her whole world. But Lucy was on the outside, living a life where watchdogs didn’t shadow her every move.
She had falsely projected Alan’s fury onto Danny without cause, but by the time she’d realized her mistake, it was too late. She’d already stepped in it.
She’d misread Danny’s footsteps as anger, when there had only been worry, dismay, and love for his twelve-year-old daughter.
“I need you to know Danny would never hurt Lucy,” Marshall said. “She’s his whole life. She scared about ten years off him when she didn’t turn up by supper time.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make him think—that I thought—I just…” She bit her bottom lip, stopping her stumbling apology before she made herself sound even more pathetic.
“You were worried about Lucy.”
“I should never have stepped in the way,” she rushed out. “It was stupid—”
“No. Not stupid. Brave.” He placed his hand on her arm. Even though the heavy thickness of the sweatshirt material, the heat from his touch warmed her skin.
She was grateful the darkness was hiding the flaming burn scalding her neck and cheeks. Brave? She almost laughed at the preposterous notion. She wasn’t brave. If she were brave, she—well, she wouldn’t have wasted years behind a locked door. She would have run. She would have acted. She would have done something, anything, instead of doing Alan’s bidding like an obedient pet.
No, she wasn’t brave, at all.
She was a coward.
Marshall returned his hand to the wheel. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?”
She shook her head. There was no sense keeping up the charade. He wasn’t a stupid man. He already knew the answer.
“No matter. The room is yours as long as you need it.”
“How can you say that? Your brother can’t possibly want me there. Not now. Not after—”
“Danny would be right here telling you himself, except he wasn’t
so sure you’d be comfortable seeing him at the moment.”
The sheriff of Absolution didn’t want to make her uncomfortable? That was a turnaround. She might have laughed if her rising stomach weren’t choking her. “I’m sorry.”
“Em, you need to stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Oh, but she did. Lying and deceiving Marshall and his wonderful family was a start, but it wasn’t even a dot of ink on the list. She wasn’t a bad person. But the things she had been part off—things Alan pulled her into—they were dark. Evil. Poison.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted softly.
He wrapped her chilled fingers into the warmth of his. “Then stay until you do.”
She sucked in a breath, filling her head with a dizzying sense she was Alice falling into a rabbit hole. She’d gone from an afternoon of art and sunshine to being sucked up in a wonderful whirlwind of a trip to the mall that had ended with a ride in the back of a police car, to all but accusing the local sheriff of child abuse. And now she was riding around in a pickup truck holding hands with a handsome cowboy, calmly discussing the fact that she had no place to go.
She stared down at the contrast of her pale fingers entwined with his tan ones. She couldn’t remember the last time in her life a hand hold wasn’t for etiquette or show. Usually the point of contact would be a brief palm-to-palm touch, with a closed-finger, mitten-style grip you could slip from with a simple pull. But this was a full finger-threaded, knuckle-locking weave—the kind of grip you could crush into and hold on to as though your life depended on it. Yet, she sensed if she did pull back, he would release her without hesitation. It wasn’t a trap or a lock, but a security blanket that was sending warmth all the way up her arm.
She sneaked a sideways peek at the driver. They were polar opposites. He was calm strength and she was—well, she was terrified and had no idea what she was even doing here.
He had a life. Family. Friends. And she had nothing to offer anyone.
She shouldn’t stay. She couldn’t stay.
But, oh, how she wanted to.