by Dana Mentink
She left them there staring at each other. When she passed, Beckett thought he noticed her blinking back tears.
As he went after her, he heard Jude’s low remark, cold and guttural. “Haven’t you hurt her enough?”
Beckett did not acknowledge Jude’s comment. Doing so might crack through the infinitesimally thin sheet of glass that kept him from complete despair. The other barriers had shattered already. He was not sure how his fragile protection would hold up walking back into the cozy dining hall after Laney, but there was no other option. In order to protect her, he’d have to add more pain, and he hated himself for that. The injustice of it smacked him. God had been punishing Beckett since he was that brash seventeen-year-old wrestler, but surely Laney did not deserve to share in it.
He needed to keep her safe from Kenny. The divorce was still the only answer.
TWO
When Beckett pushed through the screen door into the rustic dining hall, he found the place unchanged. He was greeted by dark woods, the enormous stone fireplace and long family-style tables that had been there since Beckett’s father bought the hotel and grounds. He breathed it all in with mixed pain and pleasure, the aroma of the place that used to be home. His eyes sought the wooden shelf he’d built where there had been a silver-framed picture of him and Laney on their wedding day. The photo had been removed. It probably brought Laney a boatload of pain looking at the man who she’d thought had been her life partner. Little did she know he’d be jailed less than two months after their wedding and filing for divorce in four.
A dog with a sausage-shaped body scurried to him, rising up on arthritic hind legs to paw at his shins. He was a weird conglomerate of dachshund, Chihuahua and something fuzzier. Smiling, he took a knee. “Hey, Admiral. Have you been helping your mama?” His mama was and always would be Laney, the primary object of his adoration. He scratched behind the dog’s fox-like ears until the bulging brown eyes glazed and a pink tongue unrolled through the spot where a missing front tooth should be.
He flashed back to the day he’d run into Pete Parson, the town vet, guzzling coffee in the local java joint, grumbling how a visitor through town had taken their ill senior dog to the vet and abandoned him there rather than foot the bill. Pete was already the owner of five dogs and three cats. The softhearted vet was struggling with the decision to euthanize the unwanted animal. Beckett had spoken about it at the hotel, and Laney, a part-time housekeeper, overheard. She promptly burst into tears, phoned the vet and begged him to keep the dog safe until she could earn the money to pay the bill and adopt him. His heart throbbed, remembering how she was halfway through a double shift scrubbing floors at the hotel when Beckett presented her with the dog and a fully paid vet bill.
Laney had again begun to cry and he realized he’d never known such a beautiful woman both inside and out. She’d looked at Beckett like he was a hero, and he’d never forgotten it.
“His new name is Admiral Nelson,” she’d announced later as she carefully applied drops to the dog’s only working eye. “A thirteen-year-old dog should have a dignified name, don’t you think? I was reading about the real admiral’s naval victories in a book Aunt Kitty gave me. The human Admiral Nelson had only one working eye too,” she’d said, kissing the dog on his nose.
Both Beckett and the dog lost their hearts to Laney Holland right around then. He gave the dog a final pat. At least Admiral would never abandon Laney. As he straightened, he noted a middle-aged woman in the corner with a book in her hand, her hair braided into a long dark column down her back.
When she saw he’d noticed her, she dropped her attention back to the open book. There was something odd about her. His instincts prickled. Was she simply curious about a newcomer? Or did she believe the town gossip about who he was...the monster returned to his killing grounds?
Another theory presented itself. A sliver of cold pierced his innards. Had Kenny sent an advance team? Perhaps this woman had been the one to put a snake in the van on Kenny’s orders?
Paranoia or reasonable suspicion? He didn’t know anymore. The sun blazed through the front window, and the old air conditioner fought to keep up. He recalled the day in June when his life exploded. The dining hall had been similarly empty then as well; only a few guests were brave enough to hazard Death Valley in late spring. He’d found the folded note on the bulletin board, pinned there with his name on the front. He’d gotten up earlier than usual that day to surprise Laney with her favorite doughnut from a shop in town. Chocolate old-fashioned. He’d spotted the note on his way into the kitchen.
I have to talk to you. Urgent. Come as soon as you can to the creek.—Pauline.
What he’d found at that creek, which had been dry for months, was Pauline Sanderson’s body, throat ringed with bruises, back of her skull oozing blood. He’d tried CPR, called for help and stayed with her. As he sat next to her body, part of him knew nothing would ever be the same. About that, he’d been right.
Why had Pauline left him the note?
Why hadn’t he told his wife where he was going?
He had no answers for the police.
He had no explanations either for how Pauline’s bloody sweater got into the front seat of his vehicle.
The woman sipped her coffee. Avoiding his gaze? It occurred to him just then that it had been a very long time since she’d turned a page. She stood, closing her book, and left.
Was she a threat or an innocent tourist? He simply could not tell.
Figure it out, Beckett. Laney’s life might depend on it.
* * *
Don’t you cry, Laney, do you hear me? Don’t you dare.
Blinking hard, Laney braced her palms on the kitchen counter. At the moment she didn’t care what Beckett had to say, or Jude, or anyone else on the planet. Her only desire was to get through the door, scurry out back to the cottage she’d shared with Beckett for five precious weeks and lock the world away. That plan was squashed when she saw that the tables hadn’t been wiped down after the lunch service. With a sigh, she tied an apron loosely around her waist and headed for the dining room with a rag. She began her work, ignoring Beckett, who was standing near the wide side windows that looked out toward the hot springs. That reminded her of another thing she had to do before she could call it a night: lock the gates that led to the spring to discourage trespassers. There was never a single moment when the to-do list was finished, and most of the time she didn’t mind. Right now, every limb screamed for a nap. She’d whisked two tabletops clean before Beckett found his voice.
“Can you...? I mean...will you sit with me? For a minute?”
She knew him well enough to realize he would not leave until he’d said his piece. Best to get it over with. Her slight nod must have been enough encouragement because he went to “their” table, the old rickety round one in the corner next to a spindly ficus. Nicks and dents marred the surface, but it was the spot where so many precious conversations had taken place, where their friendship had morphed into a love that would last, or so she’d thought.
The ancient rotary phone on the wall rang. It had been such a long time since anyone called the old thing. Most people went through their website for information and booking.
“Hotsprings Hotel,” she said, feigning a cheerfulness she did not feel. There was no reply. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
There was still no answer, but she thought she caught the faintest sound of a presence on the other end of the line. When no one spoke, she hung up.
“Who was that?” Beckett said, standing while she joined him at the table.
“Wrong number, I guess. No one was there.”
His brow furrowed as she took a seat opposite him and hoisted Admiral onto her lap. The dog sported his fall bandanna, decorated with pumpkins. “You are a handsome doggy,” she told him as she stroked his head.
“He looks like he’s doing well.”
She
kept her eyes on the dog. “His heart isn’t strong, Doc Parson says, but I take good care of him.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second. I remember you staying up with him all night long when he got the doggy flu.”
She kissed Admiral and fondled his ears. Beckett watched her, silent until she could stand it no longer. “What do you need to tell me?”
He darted a look around, but there were no patrons occupying the space.
Admiral looked up as Jude entered.
Laney beckoned him over, and he pulled up a chair.
“Snake’s been removed. Animal control will release it in the canyon.”
“Thank you. Beckett was just going to tell me why he’s here. You might as well hear it too.”
Beckett flashed Jude an irritated look. He had probably hoped for a few moments alone with her, but it was the opposite of what she wanted. The only way around Beckett’s determination was to hear him out and send him on his way. Unless he’d decided to keep sole ownership of the hotel after all. The prickle of panic fluttered her nerves.
If that happened, she’d find another way to support herself. She’d never been afraid of hard work.
Beckett cleared his throat. “Pauline Sanderson’s brother Kenny had his buddies deliver a message to me in jail.”
Jude arched an eyebrow. “That why your face is busted up?”
“Yeah.” He sucked in a breath and let it out. “He’s threatened to kill me for what he thinks I did to his sister.”
Her mouth fell open. “He arranged to have you beaten up in jail? He got away with that?”
“That’s not the point. If he comes after me, I’ll handle it.” He shifted. “He’s threatened to kill you too, Laney.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. “And that’s why you came back? To tell me?”
He nodded.
She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t it. The murder, his jail time and all that had happened since then, the divorce papers and now some other threat. All of a sudden, she was desperate to get away from it all. “All right. Thank you for letting me know. I need to go lie down.” She rose.
“You don’t understand,” he blurted, reaching for her hand. His fingers were warm and calloused, but his touch felt strange, as if her skin did not recognize the feel of him anymore. “It’s serious. This guy is dangerous. The snake, the phone-call hang up... It could be him. You have to listen to me.”
“No, I don’t.” She hated the quiver in her own voice. “I listened to you once.”
His gaze flickered. “Please,” he said, low and soft.
Now her stomach was in full-on rebellion. She breathed through her nose, fighting for calm. To her dismay, Jude gestured for her to stay. Cradling Admiral, she once more perched uneasily in the chair.
“Kenny Sanderson is a bad dude, no question. We looked at him as a possible suspect after Pauline was murdered,” Jude said.
Beckett cocked his head. “Thought you closed the case when you decided I’d done it.”
Jude ignored the gibe. “Like I said, we investigated. Kenny was out on parole for assault at the time Pauline was killed, and he was wearing an ankle bracelet, so he had an alibi. They apparently had a close relationship, so we concluded we were barking up the wrong tree. And, of course, we had a suspect with Pauline’s bloody sweater in his car.”
Beckett’s mouth was bracketed by deep lines. He looked more exhausted than she was. “Do you know where Kenny is now?”
Jude got up. “I’ll make a phone call. Be right back.”
Laney did not want to sit at the table with Beckett staring at her, so she excused herself to the kitchen and drank some water. Patting her neck with a moistened towel restored her somewhat. Beckett had to be wrong about Kenny Sanderson targeting her. She’d had nothing to do with his sister’s murder. She saw on her cell phone that she’d missed a call. That would just have to wait until she’d managed to convince Beckett to leave.
When Jude returned to the table, she rejoined them.
“Kenny’s in Beatty,” Jude said, grimly.
Her breath caught. The tiny town of Beatty was settled, like Furnace Falls, on the Nevada side of Death Valley. “That’s only twenty minutes from here.”
“I don’t want you to worry. He’s been checking in with his parole officer as directed, hasn’t missed an appointment.” Jude studied Beckett for a moment. “There’s no proof that he orchestrated your prison attack.”
Beckett rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t make this all up.”
“Are you sure?”
Beckett and Jude stared at each other.
“What are you really doing here, Beck?” Jude said finally.
“What do you mean? I just told you.”
“Showing up now, pretending you need to protect Laney. Why?”
A vein jumped in his jaw. “Not pretending anything. She’s in danger.”
“Is that something you’re telling yourself so you can justify coming back to Furnace Falls?”
“No.” He slapped both palms on the tabletop. “I’m not making it up. I wouldn’t do that.”
Jude’s expression hardened. “You’re not going to get your home back. This town believes you killed Pauline Sanderson, and that’s never going to change, so if this is a ploy...”
“Is that what you think, Jude?” Admiral looked up at Beckett’s harsh tone, and Laney rubbed the dog’s ears to soothe him as Beckett continued. “We’re cousins. Our dads grew up together and so did we. You know me. We went all the way from first grade through high school together.”
“I knew you. You were competitive, wanted to win at any cost.”
“What high school boy doesn’t want to win?”
“Yeah, but you wanted it so much that you almost killed Dan. He was a good guy. He’s still a good guy, in spite of what you did to him. He’s made a life for himself without his vision.”
Laney wanted to cover her ears. The pain that had rippled out from that decades-old accident had shipwrecked not only Dan’s life but Beckett’s too. “Jude...”
Jude ignored her. “My job is to keep order in this town and to help Laney when I can since you left her high and dry.”
Beckett jerked to his feet, earning a startled yip from Admiral. “All right. You’ll never believe me that I’m innocent. I understand that. But this isn’t about me anymore. It’s not a ploy—it’s real. Kenny is going to come here to hurt her.”
Jude crossed his arms. “I will look into it.”
Beckett let out a grunt. “Will you? Why doesn’t that comfort me?”
Jude leveled a stare at Beckett. “I’ll look into it because I’m a cop, and if there is a threat, Laney deserves protection, but it shouldn’t come from you. You’ve done enough. Get on out of here, Beckett. This isn’t your home anymore.”
Now she really did feel the burn of tears behind her lids. Not his home. She wasn’t sure it was hers anymore either. Would there ever be a person she’d want to make a home with? Could she ever stake everything on another man who pledged faithfulness in sickness and in health? She caught her lip between her teeth and closed her eyes against the sudden dizziness.
Beckett tensed. “What’s wrong, Laney? Are you sick?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re so pale...” Beckett started.
“I said I’m fine.” She hurried off. It took every ounce of her strength to push her way across the floor. She had to keep going. There was no other choice. Snuggling Admiral under her chin, she rushed out of the dining room before either man could say another word.
THREE
Beckett wasn’t sure what to do with himself, but he was certain as the sunrise that he couldn’t leave until he was reasonably confident Kenny or any of his henchmen weren’t in the vicinity. Plus, he had another nagging concern that Laney was not i
n good health. She was the kind of person who never admitted when she was feeling poorly anyway. He recalled her completing a double shift at the hotel before she had consented to seeing a doctor for an undisclosed ailment, which turned out to be an appendix about to rupture.
She’d disappeared somewhere, and he couldn’t very well do a room-to-room search.
He figured he might as well make himself useful while he waited for her to reemerge, so he repaired a broken shutter in the recreation room and a couple of missing shingles to the roof. In spite of the heat baking down on him, he surveyed the property from his bird’s-eye view. The camping area, a flat acreage with trailer hookups and platform tents, was nearly deserted. The swimming pool and cabana area was empty, as was the horseshoe pit. There were only one or two cars in the front lot, indicating a mere handful of guests were staying in the main house. Fall was usually gearing up for prime visitor time. Not now.
Perhaps the new resort, complete with all the modern trimmings, that had opened up fifteen miles away was luring away customers. His gut told him the real reason. A murdered woman on the property, the owner jailed for the crime? Not exactly the ideal ambience for a family vacation. His release was now public knowledge, which would further dissuade patrons. If the hotel failed, what would Laney live on? Fifteen acres of sun-blasted ground unsuitable for pretty much anything? He climbed down from the roof, steeped in new worry. The hotel was all he had to give to Laney, and it had to survive to support her.
Wiping the sweat from under the brim of his old fire-department baseball cap, he put his tools back in the shed and strolled past the empty picnic tables that hugged the late-afternoon shade. Sooner or later Laney would have to show up for the dinner service. He made sure to keep an eye out, popping into the kitchen to lend a hand. Herm was there like he’d been since shortly after Beckett’s father took ownership. He glanced up from filling a hefty platter with sliced brisket.
“Beckett,” he said. His grin revealed one missing front tooth, which he told everyone was from a Vietnam War injury but Beckett knew was the result of slipping on a sandy sidewalk. “Good to see you.” He clasped Beckett in a wiry hug before he went back to his slotted spoon.