As if on cue, a message from Corie chimed in.
Train reaching San Luis station. ETA? Right on time!
Her phone was dangerously low on battery. Natalie shut it off and shoved it into her pocket, inhaling the nearness of Corie. She plunged into panic mode. How long were they going to have to live off the generator before the power was fixed?
“Hey,” Nick’s voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room.
Red-hot embarrassment flashed in her cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice as he stood hulking in the doorway. He raised an eyebrow at her organizing system.
She ignored it and sent a warning glance between his dirty work shoes and her clean floor. He stayed put as he reported on his progress, or lack thereof.
“I called the electric company again. They’ll be out tomorrow.”
“Like they said yesterday?” she said with a sigh.
He shifted his weight, eyes dark and unreadable. “The generator works well enough, even if it’s noisy. I’m gonna see what I can do with it, but it needs gas.”
“Awesome,” she said, head nesting in her palms. “Look, I know you’re trying to help, I do. I just really wanted things working when Corie got here. Looks like we’ll still be camping out though.”
“Maybe the hotel—”
“There’s another convention coming in. Plus, your mother will kill you if you don’t go home soon. I can’t be responsible for that.”
“If you’re dead set on staying …” He dragged out his truck keys, lingering. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“You’re leaving me alone?” Her smile spread with the thrill of victory. “For a whole hour?”
“I was thinking you could join—”
He went silent at her halting hand.
“Too much to do around here.” At his stony stare, she exhaled exasperation, continuing, “I think I’ll be safe—there’s been no sign of trouble since we came out here.”
“Speaking of.” He shifted his weight against the doorframe. “Dalton called. Nothing conclusive from the hotel security cameras. A maid remembers seeing a guy who sounds a lot like your parking garage friend though.”
Natalie swallowed that information, feeling sick rather than hungry now. Maybe she should go with him after all.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice called from the front entrance.
Natalie shot to her feet as Nick forgot about his dirty boots and tromped across the plank floor to greet his mother.
Violet giggled at the kiss he planted on her cheek.
“You brought food!” Nick rifled through the basket she carried.
“Of course!” She swatted his hand and turned to Natalie. “For my new neighbor.”
Natalie took the basket and discovered a trove of goodies, including a jar of icy lemonade and three glasses. “My tree’s packed with more lemons than I know what to do with,” Violet explained.
Natalie accepted a glass and drank deep. The sweet, tart drink rejuvenated her body and spirit.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hardaway.”
“Violet. Please.” She frowned at the dusty piles and suggested they eat lunch outside.
Grabbing a quilt from the chair arm, Natalie led the way out the back door toward the twist-trunked oak. With a flick, they spread the patterned blanket over the tall cushion of grass. Dappled sunlight painted the hand-sewn squares as Nick’s mom laid out her goodies under the shade of the live oak.
Violet offered a sandwich. “Veggie with cream cheese?”
Natalie pulled up her knees, sampled a bite.
“How’s it going?” Violet asked.
“I’ve been working in the kitchen, and it’s so clean you could eat off the floor,” Natalie dished.
“And one for me, as well,” Nick spoke around a bite of ham on a Kaiser roll. At Natalie’s squeak, he continued, “My own room. If I’m going to help run this place, I’ve gotta be around. But that’s only if I get the generator running. Electrical panel’s got … problems.”
“I guess if it’s all right with Natalie … Just be a gentleman, you hear?” Violet tossed him a napkin for his poppy-seeded lips. Satisfied, she turned to Natalie.
“If anyone can fix things around here, my Nicky can.” She beamed at her son. “You should have seen him as a kid. Taking apart toasters, telephones—anything mechanical—just to see how things worked. This one time, he was about twelve, supposed to be doing chores outside. I came downstairs and he’d dismantled the lawn mower engine! He had it all over my kitchen table—”
“Mom!”
“Well, it’s true. I’ve missed you, Son. Dad has, too, though he’d never say it.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” Nick licked his fingertips and then dug into the container of watermelon. “Other than power, how’re we doing on your schedule?” he asked Natalie.
“The kitchen and the powder room are done. The water works, thank heaven.”
“Septic system too. Or we’d be sunk.” He thumbed south toward the house and then pointed to the windmill, barely visible over the grassy hill. “There’s a well in the south corner. We might be able to draw power from it.”
Violet folded up her trash and placed it in the basket. “What else have you learned about this old place?”
Nick leaned back on his elbows. “I strolled the fields. Grapes’ll be ready for harvest. Nat and I are discussing putting them up for sale to help pay for the renovation. Think Dad might be interested in brokering a deal?”
Glancing from mother to son, Natalie realized there was a lot of water under their shaky family bridge. Natalie caught Nick’s attention and changed the subject. “Once the generator’s humming, what’s next for our construction project?”
He cocked an eyebrow at Natalie and then turned to his mother with a smile of explanation.
“I’m hotel management,” Natalie said. “But the property? That’s way beyond my bag of tricks. So, Nick’s agreed to be my foreman.”
“So Nick’s staying. For real.” Violet’s eyes were full of love and hope for her son when she turned to Natalie. “You’re really keeping this place?”
Sipping up the dregs of her lemonade with the straw, Natalie set the Mason jar down. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t try.”
“Mrs. Valence would want it running again, I think.” Violet looked to the house. “She stayed here, even after her husband was—well, after he died. She wouldn’t have wanted it to go up for sale.”
Natalie had been trying to figure out how to bring up her bizarre family tree. Now was her chance. “Did you know the Valences well?”
“Well enough. I brought her meals once a week. I was the one who found her, you know.”
“You called 9-1-1?”
“Yes. I didn’t tell you?”
Nick shook his head. “No, but it sounds like you two have lots to talk about. Could you stay? Help Natalie for an hour or so?”
Nick set off toward the garage with a wave, not waiting for a response.
Realizing she’d been played, Natalie cried, “I don’t need a babysitter!”
“How about a friend?” Violet grinned as she gathered the remains of their picnic.
Natalie smiled back—her hand playing over the wedding ring pattern of the quilt. Had Marie made this? She folded the blanket into a tight square and tucked it under her elbow.
“Nick’s determined I not be alone.”
“Saying he worries about you doesn’t even cover it.” Violet stood, basket in hand. She powered through any sadness with determination. “I may have come here armed with lunch, but I was planning on staying to help anyway. I’ve always wanted to clear out this musty old house.”
They spent the next hour inspecting rooms and finally selected the suite of adjoining doors at the end of the upstairs hall for Natalie’s residence.
“It’s perfect for you.” Violet dragged the heavy velvet drapes back and pointed to the tiny white cottage in the distance. “It’s even got a view of my place.”
Natalie coughed a
t the dust and Violet gave a motherly rub between her shoulder blades. “I think I saw an old beater in that storage closet.”
After Natalie fetched the beater, the two dragged the floor-length curtains to the balcony rail and took turns whacking puffs of dust out of the fabric until they ended in fits of delirious laughter. Natalie knuckled away happy tears and leaned against the rail as Violet did the same. Even through her giggles, Natalie spied a hot fiber of sadness in the woman.
How deep must Violet’s grief be after losing her only daughter? And in such a vicious way? How does one broach a sadness so deep? Should she even try?
A few minutes later, they went back to work.
In some way, spending time selecting rooms and discussing decorating plans with Violet was a surrogate for her own mother, not due from her mission trip for another thirty days. Even though she was used to going months without anything but letters, there was nothing like a mom to help you set things to rights.
She had never dealt with so much on her own. Mom and Dad’s return in September couldn’t come soon enough.
Wiping cobwebby hands over her jeans, Natalie paused to survey the afternoon’s work. “That about does it.”
“Three rooms all a stone’s throw away from each other.” Violet fisted her hips. “Nick’ll like that. He gets anxious when he can’t keep an eye on you.” A smile of satisfaction dusted her sun-lined features. “I’d say we put in a good day’s work.”
“I can’t wait to do the laundry. Who’d have ever thought that?” Natalie exhaled a lengthy sigh at the piles of musty bedding.
“Why don’t we dart over to my place? We can throw those, and anything else you need, in the wash.”
“I don’t—”
“Sure you do,” Violet said, not one to take no for an answer. “We can take the shortcut through the fields. I’ll show you.”
Their steps echoed as they crossed through the foyer and across its grapevine mosaic floor. The enormity of the house, the remaining work, all but swallowed her.
Natalie spun in a slow circle, eyes trained on the chandelier with its missing and shattered crystals gaping like a skeleton’s jaw.
So much left to do. To fix.
What would Mom and Dad say when they called this weekend? She wouldn’t be able to sugarcoat the truth. Could they get it ready by fall?
Nick’s mother dipped her gaze from cobweb-covered chandelier to Natalie. “It’s a lot, but you can do it, kiddo.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I knew the Valences well enough.” She shrugged and headed to the front door, speaking over her shoulder. “You have their Amanda’s look. That same grit. Determination.”
“I do?”
“Yes, but different. You’ve got style. Purpose. That’s what she lacked, poor kid.” Violet knee-pushed the side door open and headed toward a path that ran between their properties before she spoke again. “Amanda Valence may have wandered from the straight and narrow, but she didn’t start out that way.”
Natalie stared after Nick’s mother. Realizing that the treasure trove of information she sought might not be in the house after all, she hurried after Violet with the basket of laundry on her hip.
Leaving the picnic, Nick angled straight for the outbuilding that housed the generator behind the B&B. He stomped past Natalie’s little Volkswagen, still parked where she’d left it when they arrived that morning.
That ridiculous bright yellow Bug. It’d be impossible to keep her hidden with that flare of a vehicle driving around town.
He ran his hands over the tools, selected a wrench, and set to work. All the while, his thoughts hooked on her sweet voice; her trusting, innocent eyes as she sat beside him; her hands held out in prayer.
She had no idea what she’d done to him that night, almost leveling him on the spot with her bare trust. All he had to do was reach through it and take her mouth, her body, and claim her as his.
But he wanted so much more than that.
He switched the wrench out for a Phillips head screwdriver and loosened a panel on the gray-skinned generator.
The other night, with hands on Natalie’s small, delicate fingers, he voiced prayers for their mission: to find the creep with no regard for human life. But on the inside? He’d fought for restraint.
He prayed for that clean heart he so desperately wanted. That he didn’t deserve.
No matter how many times he felt washed clean, the memories of the past ripped at his present. The memories of skin and heat, the jagged core of lust that just wouldn’t leave him. He’d sampled the fruit, and he knew just what he was missing. But he also knew how hollow it really was.
He set the screwdriver down, made a nest for the screws.
God, where is she? The one who’ll be my helpmate, my partner, my lover, who will understand me and love me anyway.
Could it be Natalie? He blew a long, stuttering breath at the thought of her tangle of curls, her wide, trusting eyes.
Not for me, he thought, running a hand across the wires. She was bright, sassy, and full of life. Unspoiled, obviously. New, like he longed to be. No way he deserved someone like her.
Nick dragged a hand across his neck. Natalie innocently lured him in a direction he had no right to go.
The man he used to be would have found his way to lying alongside her in that hotel room bed. Stroked her back until she awoke with a smile. Pressed kisses to her neck and into that mass of night-tangled blonde hair until she sighed against him in willing acceptance.
He forced his thoughts from that vision to the generator, taking out his frustration on the metal beast. He twisted frayed wires back together, wound black tape, and adjusted settings.
He wasn’t that man anymore, the man who would take advantage of her ripe beauty and the fresh blossom of her innocence for no other reason than to quench his own desires.
The man he once was would have left as soon as her mystery faded. He’d have moved on to the next woman. Burdened, wanting, and never fulfilled.
Nick poured gas into the tank, maneuvered the switches, and attempted to fire it to no avail. He gave it a kick for good measure.
The generator sat in mocking silence.
What? You think you’ll win her over by turning the lights on? Giving her a power outlet for her stinkin’ hair dryer?
Wrench in hand, he ignored the enemy’s voice. He’d heard it all before, but now he knew the oily truth of where the doubts came from. Rattled, he set to work tightening bolts while his head rang with the leathery taunts of his personal demons.
She thinks you’re a Christian man. Someone she can trust. Once she finds out who you really are and what you’ve done, she’ll kick you out and bolt the door.
Fist tight against his forehead, Nick exhaled the lies. He repeated the prayer Philip taught him, years before: “Greater. Is. He.”
Feeling stronger, he worked the wrench, praying out loud through gritted teeth. “Greater is He that is in me, than he who is in the world.”
If he believed that, then he must also believe he was made new. Worthy of Natalie’s affection. Worthy to love someone bright and innocent, worthy to be loved in return.
Nick continued to repeat the phrase, frustration fading with every turn of the wrench until he felt almost human again—until a new guilt popped up. Guilt for not telling Natalie what he’d found in the power box.
The wiring wasn’t old and burned out as he suspected when he came out here, but freshly and purposefully cut.
Was that what brought the old lady out of bed that fateful night? A sudden power outage?
Still, what made her crash into the rail and fall down the stairs? An intruder? Had someone pushed her?
He kneaded the ache in his back and called Dalton. His brother said he’d stop by to check the power box and run it for prints. As much as he longed for it, Nick wasn’t hopeful this would be the clue to set them on the right trail.
For years, all they’d done was sit behind the eight ball. Re
act, wait for the perp to strike while other families were ripped to shreds. Look for evidence and come up empty. Daughters, sisters, wives torn from the world far too soon.
Missing.
Murdered.
Lord, with your help, let me get this guy. Get Becky justice ….
With shaking hands, he tried the red starter button one last time. The generator started with a slow, sputtering chug. At last, it coughed, caught, and hummed to life.
Above, lights flickered, buzzed, and brightened. A few bulbs went white hot. Too bright, he watched as they flashed and went dark with a vaporous pop.
Nick laughed at his jumping reaction and then rifled through cabinets until he found spare bulbs. The generator would run until the power company showed up tomorrow.
Now, to see about the propane tank.
This far off the grid, gas was brought in by truck and stored in a large tank just outside the barn. He knelt down and checked the dials. Gave it a tap to see if it’d rise. When it didn’t, he blew out a breath.
He’d have to schedule a delivery in the next couple of days, but for now, it should be enough to give them hot water and fuel for the stove.
He pulled out his phone to put a reminder on his calendar, but his gaze went to the anniversary date of Rebecca’s disappearance. It was next week.
Their family was wrenched apart that day, but the worst was what came after.
He knew too much of the horror Rebecca went through, the brutal way she’d left this life. Fresh agony spiked in his chest as if it had happened yesterday instead of ten years ago.
Once Dalton had started homicide, he’d gone over every inch of Becky’s crime scene. When Nick begged to see, Dalton showed him the photos. He’d wanted—needed—to know just what the killer had done to her, just like Dalton had. But the pictures still haunted him.
Now, all he wanted was to see her the way she was. Smiling. Happy. Laughing.
Her skeletal images haunted his dreams. Since Natalie’s arrival they’d been following him into waking hours too. Becky’s blank, blind stare. Colorless skin. Mouth open in an eternal scream.
His stomach dropped with fresh dread.
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