“Ha!” She shot a grim smile at Sophie. “You’re even more devious than I thought.”
“Mrs. Bishop...” Sophie said, but then seemed at a loss for how to address the manic senior citizen in her yard.
“She’s Dorothy Heyer’s daughter,” his mom said, the words thrown out with the same tone one would declare a man guilty of murder. She’s a murderer. She’s a child abuser. She’s the daughter of...
Whoa.
His mom pointed at Sophie. “Don’t you recognize her? She looks just like her slut of a mother.”
Alex shook his head in shock. Sophie was the daughter of Dorothy Heyer. His dad’s mistress. The woman who’d disappeared with him twenty-five years ago.
Shit.
But he kept his mouth shut and his surprise to himself and tightened his hold on his mom’s elbow. “I don’t give a damn who her mother is, and who I talk to is none of your business. Let’s go.”
This time when he tugged her toward the street, his mom actually came along with him.
He glanced back toward Sophie to find her watching them, but her gaze fell before he could think what to say. The situation was way too fucked up for any kind of intelligent response, so he just led his mother down the sidewalk to her house.
“You think you can manage not to embarrass yourself for a few more feet?” he growled. When she nodded, he let her go and stalked toward her house. Shane stood in the doorway, looking nearly as unhappy as Alex felt.
“Where the hell were you last night?” Shane asked.
“Somewhere sane,” Alex snapped back. “I came for the dedication, not to be on the planning committee. By the way, Mom just called one of her neighbors a whore.”
Shane winced. “Who? Sophie?”
Alex was apparently the only one not in on this joke. “Yes, Sophie. You know who she is?”
“Sure. Everyone knows. I mean...most people don’t care, but you know how it is here. Small town. Long memories.”
“Yeah. I’m sure it doesn’t help anything that the woman down the street treats Sophie like crap.”
His mom brushed past him and Shane. “She should know better than to show her face around me.”
He followed her inside, his surprise and outrage hardening into true anger. “Are you kidding me? She was standing in her own yard! And she seems like a perfectly nice woman.”
“Ha. Until you find out who she really is.”
Alex couldn’t believe this. “This can’t be all about her mother. Sophie was a kid when that happened. Even younger than Shane and I were. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“She’s the one who moved onto my street and threw the past in my face like the hussy she is. Do you know how much it hurts to see her every day? With that red hair just like her mama? And now she’s putting the moves on my son? No, sir. I won’t stand for it.”
“Putting the moves on me? Are you kidding me? We were having a conversation in her garden.”
“You can’t fool me. I saw the way you were looking at her. She’s just like her mother and apparently you’re no different than your father!”
Alex laughed instead of yelling what he really wanted to yell. “Am I supposed to be sorry about that? You’re the one who made him into a saint.”
“He was a saint compared to that home wrecker who lured him away!”
He ground his teeth together. He fisted his hands. The old familiar fury flooded his veins. The wish that she would disappear as thoroughly as his dad had just so they could have some damn peace.
“Nobody needed to lure Dad,” he ground out. “Anyone with a thought in his head would run as far and fast from you as possible.”
She gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth in horror. “Don’t say that,” she cried past her fingers. “You were always so cruel to me. Always.”
“Alex,” Shane said quietly. “Come on. Let’s get outside for a few minutes.”
Shane. Always the peacemaker. Always trying to calm them both down. He was her accomplice just as he’d been all those years ago.
“I don’t need to get outside. I need to get out of town. She’s abusing the neighbors! This is insanity and you’ve been living in it so long you can’t see it anymore.”
Shane ignored that and walked toward the back door. “Come on.”
He almost didn’t follow. He almost spun on his heel and walked out the front door. He knew he’d keep on walking forever. This was it. Whether he left now or stayed for a few more days, this was the end.
He was right back where he’d been as a kid. Frustrated, furious, helpless. And now even more resentful that he’d been forced to deal with her irrational delusions for ten years of his childhood. Even adults couldn’t deal with her, and he’d had to live with her every single day.
It was the end of his family. So he figured he could humor Shane one more time. Then Alex could at least say he’d tried.
“Alex,” his mom started, tears thick in her voice. “You don’t understand. She looks just like her. And she’s a whore just like her. Everyone knows it.”
“Everyone knows because you tell them!” he shouted.
“If I have to!” She broke down into sobs.
Alex shook his head and headed toward the kitchen and the back door. He tried to ignore the piles of boxes leaking papers everywhere. Printouts of every half-assed lead she’d ever pursued. Newspaper articles. Police reports. Scraps with her familiar, frantic handwriting scrawled in different colors. Her life’s work was a swamp of meaningless words and pictures and she was going to drown in it someday.
He stepped out onto the back deck and took a deep breath. The backyard was overgrown and unkempt, but it was relatively clutter-free. Shane leaned against the deck rail and crossed his arms.
“Better?” he asked.
“No.”
Shane blew out a long breath and looked up at the blue sky. “Okay. Everything you said in there was true. This is insanity. She’s out of control. All that. But it’s not true that I can’t see it. Not anymore. That hasn’t been true for a long time.”
Alex walked to the far side of the deck and looked out at the lodgepole pines that towered over the neighbor’s house.
“I know you don’t believe me,” Shane said, stating the obvious. “You don’t have any reason to, but the minute you left, I saw how bad it had gotten. I saw what I’d done, Alex. Not just her, but me. I just...” He blew out another long breath. “Jesus. I wanted it all to be true. That Dad was still around. That he’d come back. That we could find him. I needed it to be true.”
“Yeah. I know.” He did know. Even as a kid, he’d seen it, but that had only made him feel more enraged.
“What I wanted blinded me to what you needed. I should’ve taken care of you, and I didn’t. If I—”
“I get it,” Alex snapped.
“No, you don’t. You think I’ve been playing this game with Mom the whole time, but I haven’t. I distanced myself. I changed my name. I moved on.”
Alex finally met his eyes. “Why’d you do that?” he asked, even though he told himself he didn’t care.
“I was done with it. The fantasy of Dad coming back. Mom’s obsession. Dad’s whole damn family and how they treated us after Dad disappeared. As soon as you left, I saw what really mattered. But it was too late to get you back, so my only option was to cut them off.”
Alex nodded, shocked that his brother had changed so dramatically that long ago.
“Alex,” he sighed, “I swear I wouldn’t have brought you back for this if she hadn’t improved. I wouldn’t have gone along with this dedication at all. But now...I think we just have to get through it. Fuck, I don’t know.”
Alex ran a hand over his head, scrubbing at the rough stubble until he could think. “Fine. But what the hell do you want fr
om me?”
Shane distractedly went through the same motion, rubbing both hands through his hair. “Her psychiatrist thought this would help. It’s obviously making it worse, but if we call the whole thing off, God only knows what will happen. She’ll go off. Concoct some giant conspiracy theory. Raise hell.”
Alex grimaced. Yeah. She’d definitely do that. And considering her feral reaction to Sophie, that poor woman was likely to bear the brunt of it.
“Just help, all right?” Shane asked. “You left. I get why. You needed to. But you left me here to deal with her, and I’ve done it. I’ve dealt with her for sixteen years alone, and I’d like a little damn help now, Alex. She’s sick.”
The old resentments were back in full force at that. His brother pretending things weren’t as bad as they were, trying to explain away their mom’s behavior. As a kid, it had made Alex feel like the crazy one. “Is that why you got me back here? To take over carrying her shit?”
“No,” Shane snapped. “This isn’t a fucking trick. I’m asking you for help. You can run away and live your life like you’ve never had a family, but we still exist. You still have a brother. I’m right here and I’m asking you to help me, even if you think I don’t deserve it. Even if you hate my guts.”
They glared at each other for a long time. Both of them through their father’s eyes. Pale blue and distant and hard to read. Alex finally felt some of his anger leave. “I don’t hate you.”
Shane shrugged, but Alex could see the relief on his face. “Maybe you should. But I’m glad if you don’t.”
Alex rolled his own shoulders and tried to let go of the tension bunching his muscles into knots.
“It’s only a few more days. Just put in a little time. Ignore Mom if you can. And that’ll be the end of it.”
He nodded and paced back to the far corner of the deck. It was what he’d told himself he’d do. He could handle it. He wasn’t a kid anymore, even if being around her filled him with those same old emotions.
“Okay.” He nudged a pot full of dirt and one dead plant with his boot. A gray kitten darted out. Alex blinked in shock, but the cat disappeared beneath the deck. “Is Mom working or anything?”
“No. She started on disability this year.”
“Maybe that’s bad for her.”
“Maybe. She’s certainly gone downhill in the past few weeks.”
Alex nodded. “What was she doing before that?”
“Cashier, clerk, bowling alley attendant, cleaning crew. Same things she always did. Her bosses always liked her fine until she’d skip town to chase after Dad’s ghost. That died down a few years ago when she couldn’t afford a car anymore.”
“How’d she get this place?”
“It’s one of Jackson’s affordable housing rentals.”
Alex stared at the trees and let out a deep breath. Shane had been dealing with the reality of this for a long time, and Alex had never let it worry him for a second. “All right,” he finally said, “I’ll try to help.”
“Great. Can we sit down for a little while? Figure out the logistics?”
The trees were too thick to see any farther than the house next door. Even if they weren’t there, he probably wouldn’t be able to see Sophie’s place. Considering his mom’s vitriol, that was a good thing.
“Sure. Let’s get this over with.” He shrugged off his jacket and followed Shane inside. He could check on Sophie later. Or maybe he should just stay away. That’s what she’d been trying to tell him, after all. That’s why it was bad for both of them. But somehow he wanted to make her say it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE’D WAITED AN hour, pacing and sweating and berating herself for what she’d done. She’d jumped at every small sound, expecting that it was Alex’s boot on her front step or his hand opening the storm door so he could knock.
Eventually she’d worn herself down into exhaustion and given up the vigil to make herself a cup of tea. He wasn’t coming back. He’d learned the truth and he’d decided Sophie wasn’t worth speaking to again.
Because she wasn’t.
With the history between their two families, he’d never have gone out with her if he’d known whose daughter she was. But Sophie had taken that choice from him. She was awful, and she hadn’t even been able to hide it this time. His mother had gotten it right for once.
“First time for everything,” Sophie murmured into her tea.
God. At first Rose Bishop hadn’t been part of the story for Sophie. The only story had been that Sophie’s mother was gone. Missing. Kidnapped. An accident victim. Nobody knew. She was just gone. The biggest void in the longest night that Sophie could ever have imagined.
That night had gone on endlessly. It had stretched out over weeks. Her mother had disappeared in the summertime. No school. No friends nearby. Just her father, wandering the house like a ghost when he wasn’t working himself to the bone. And her brother, too young to know anything except that he needed taking care of. And the neighbors, eventually.
If her mom had died, they would’ve been there in droves with warm arms open for a scared little girl. But instead, they’d come awkwardly, in whispering pairs, not sure if they should help or disapprove.
Was it a tragedy or just something someone had done wrong? Eventually, they’d settled on the latter. Everyone had.
Especially Rose Bishop.
Not at first, though. At first she hadn’t been involved. The story of Sophie’s mother had sustained itself. Long through those first months back at school. Long past the point when Sophie had finally figured out the threads of the story. It had taken a full year for interest to die down, and that was when Rose had risen to the challenge. No one was allowed to forget her husband. And no one was allowed to forget that Dorothy Heyer had been the cause of the trouble. Whatever Wyatt Bishop had done—run off, disappeared, been injured, been killed—it had been at Dorothy’s instigation. Her jezebel temptations. Her lies and whoring ways.
It had never been Wyatt’s fault. Always Dorothy’s. Dorothy was a devil in female form. And Sophie had looked just like her.
Not that the good folks of Jackson were that gullible. They understood that it took two to tango. But really...men ran off. It happened. But what kind of woman walked away from her little babies?
So they tutted. And whispered. Their eyes had gleamed with excitement over the tragedy that had infiltrated every single second of her childhood. And they all watched Sophie like she might show signs of becoming her mother any day. Rose had made sure they did.
Sophie pressed a hand to her turning stomach. The tea wasn’t helping.
It was only 2:00 p.m., yet she couldn’t imagine doing anything productive for the rest of the day. But if she gave in to her desire to crawl into bed and comfort herself with a terrible movie, that would hardly be penance for what she’d done to Alex, would it?
Then again, she hadn’t really harmed him. Nobody knew about it, and he’d had a good time.
“Well,” she muttered into her tea, “I had a good time.” He hadn’t even gotten off. God, she was the worst kind of lying slut there was. No movie and cozy bed for her. Maybe she should drive out to her dad’s house and wash her brother’s laundry. That would be punishment.
She was still staring into her teacup when the doorbell rang. The sound startled her so much it took her a moment to realize who it probably was.
“Oh, God,” she groaned. Despite that she’d been waiting for him, she’d decided he wasn’t coming and now the idea of talking to him terrified her. But maybe if she got up and answered the door and faced his justified anger, she could call that punishment enough. The thought of hiding in bed for the rest of the day was exactly the incentive she needed to push to her feet. But she still jumped like a little chicken when his fist hit her door in a booming knock.
She
tiptoed over, but then made herself take a deep breath and stand tall before she answered. She hoped he didn’t notice the way she stepped back when she caught sight of his angry face.
She’d meant what she’d said earlier. That he wasn’t handsome until he smiled. He wasn’t. He was stark and masculine and intimidating. And right now? With his jaw tight and his brow low and that almost-sneer on his mouth? He was gorgeous.
“Damn it, Sophie,” he snarled.
“I’m sorry.”
He did notice when she stepped back that time, and he apparently took it as an invitation to come in, because he slipped past her arm and closed the door behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
God, his voice was a rumbling menace. Her skin prickled with nervousness, but despite her alarm—or maybe because of it—her nipples went tight, too.
“I meant to,” she said. “Last night.”
“Jesus.” He scrubbed both hands over his head, his bare arms flexing with the movement. He looked dangerous inside her small living room. Dangerous and strong, the deep colors of the tattoos rippling as he moved. And those big hands.
Sophie could no longer separate fear from arousal. She swallowed hard and tried not to think of those blunt fingers shoving into her.
“Sophie,” he finally sighed. “You should have told me.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to say it. And then I’d waited too long. You must be so angry—”
“You’re damn right I am. That’s why you didn’t want to be seen with me, right?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “People would talk. It’s all bad enough right now with the memorial and your mom and...”
“If you’d told me, I never would’ve exposed you to that.”
“You...” Sophie paused and blinked several times to try to clear her thoughts. “What?”
“I’m sorry. She’s obviously made your life difficult. I wouldn’t have pursued you that way if I’d known. I wouldn’t have teased you.”
Sophie pressed a hand to her thundering heart and tried to think past her shock. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who let you take that risk. Of people talking. Of dredging everything up.”
Looking for Trouble Page 7