Country Nights

by Winter Renshaw

  “Five hundred,” I say. “Five hundred and it’s yours.”

  “The odds of someone walking in wanting to spend that kind of money on a little machine like this are slim to none,” he says. “Nobody in this town cares about fancy iPads or i-whatevers.”

  “Then sell it online. I bet you could get a thousand bucks out of it.”

  “Then why don’t you sell it online if you think you can fetch that much?”

  “Because I need the money now.” My voice quivers. I don’t have the time or the energy to argue with this man. “Forget it. I’ll go down the street to Pawn Shark.”

  “Four seventy-five,” he says, eyeballing me. “Final offer.”

  Sighing, I meet his steely gaze. “If it makes you feel better to pocket that extra twenty-five bucks, then fine. You have yourself a deal.”

  I slap the charger and cover on the counter and he moves to the register, counting out four hundred and seventy-five dollars.

  “Fill this out.” He hands me a form to complete. “You have ninety days to buy it back and then it becomes property of Pickerman’s Pawn and Loan.”

  “Not necessary. I won’t be back.” I shove the cash in my purse and get the hell out of Bonesteel Creek, this time by choice.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Leighton

  One week later…

  “You want some more tea, Grandma?” I take a seat on the edge of her sofa as she shuffles cards for another round of Gin Rummy.

  After making it back to Arizona, I was able to collect my final earnings from Harold, collect the last of my things, hire an attorney to threaten Grant with a restraining order. It wasn’t until after an hour-long heart to heart with Grandma Joyce over the phone that she convinced me to come stay with her for a while.

  “Yes, but I can get it myself.” She rises. “You need to sit down, Leighton. You’ve been flitting around like a busy bee all morning. I’m getting exhausted just watching you.”

  “But at least your kitchen is sparkling and your laundry is all caught up.” I follow her to the kitchen, glasses in hand. I might be busy, but she’s stubborn. “Didn’t the doctor tell you to take it easy from now on? And to accept help when it’s offered?”

  Clucking her tongue, she yanks the fridge door and pulls out a heavy pitcher of freshly brewed iced tea. It shakes in her hand, but sure enough, she refills our glasses without missing a drop.

  “I didn’t fly you here to help me,” she says. “I flew you here because I wanted to spend time with you. Now that you’ve finally seen the light with that Grant asshole …” She shuffles back to the living room, her house slippers scuffing across the linoleum floor. “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out with River. I really liked him.”

  “I did too.” I force a bittersweet smile. “Ready to play?”

  We take our seats, and I try to focus on the game. I haven’t exactly given her all the details as to why River and I parted ways. With her health being so fragile, I didn’t want to cause her any added stress, and I didn’t want the family knowing I was rolling in the proverbial hay with our father’s killer.

  It still makes me sick to my stomach when I think about it … and when I’m not physically ill, I’m heartsick.

  I was starting to fall in love with that man.

  My phone rings in the next room, and I excuse myself while my grandmother mutters something along the lines of, “You kids and your electronics these days …”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m expecting a phone call about a job, or I wouldn’t take it.” The number flashing across the screen is unfamiliar, but I answer anyway on the off chance it’s tied to that coffee shop I applied to the other day. “Hello? Leighton Hart speaking.”

  “Leighton, oh my God, I’m so glad you answered.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Molly,” she says, slightly offended. “Molly Fasthorse.”

  I take a seat at my grandmother’s kitchen table, heart pounding.

  “I stole your number from River’s phone when he wasn’t looking,” she says. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you need to come back here.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “River’s about to turn himself in,” she says.

  “Good.”

  “And he’s going to leave his entire estate to you,” she adds.

  “Tell him I don’t want it.”

  “He’s innocent, Leighton,” she says, her voice breaking.

  I scoff. “He confessed.”

  “Of course he did. He believes he was responsible for what happened, but I’m telling you, this whole thing has Seth written all over it.”

  My nose wrinkles. “What does Seth have to do with this?”

  “Everything,” she says. “Didn’t River tell you the whole story?”

  “I didn’t exactly give him a chance to explain.” I bury my face in my hands. “And he wasn’t exactly saying a whole lot. I think we were both in shock.”

  “Come back,” she says. “Talk to him.”

  “I really don’t want to see him, Molly. I’m sorry. It’s really hard for me right now, and I don’t expect you to understand, but I ask that you respect my—”

  “Well, you’re going to have to tell him you don’t want his estate,” she says. “He’s leaving everything to you … the house, the livestock, the machinery.”

  “Why? So he can haul off to prison with a clean conscience?”

  “Look.” Molly exhales into the phone. “I realize I’m asking the world of you right now, but please. He’s innocent, and I can prove it. Don’t make him spend the rest of his life paying for a crime he didn’t commit while Seth McCray walks around free as a bird.”

  “What am I supposed to do about this?”

  “Come back,” she says. “Talk to River. Convince him not to turn himself in … yet. I need more time, but I’m so close to tracking down the one person who might know the truth.”

  I take a deep breath, holding it in my chest until it hurts.

  Returning to Bonesteel Creek is the last thing I want to do.

  But I miss him.

  I hate him. And I miss him. And I never knew those two feelings could coexist, but they do, and I can’t deny either of them no matter how hard I try.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  River

  The police have been called. My attorney’s going to meet me at the Bonesteel County Sheriff’s office. He spent the last week drafting documents that would leave everything I own to Leighton. She may not want any of it, but there’s no one else I could imagine giving it to, and in a roundabout way, I took this from her.

  At least now, I can give it back.

  I place my phone face down on the table and take one final look around at the house that once held the happiest moments I’ve ever known.

  The police should be here soon, and they’ll take me in for questioning.

  I’ll never step foot in here again after they book me.

  Life, as I’ve known it, is officially over, and while I’m facing the possibility of decades behind bars as a prisoner, my soul will finally be free because there’s freedom in the truth.

  The knock at my door comes sooner than I expected, but I’m ready. Pushing myself up, I make my way to the door, only the person standing on the other side isn’t dressed in a uniform.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Can I come in?” Leighton tightens her grip on the strap over her shoulder, her posture stiff and uncomfortable.

  “Of course.” I pull the door open and stand back.

  “I’m only here to tell you I don’t want your farm,” she says, exhaling. “All of my memories … all those moments that belong to this house … to this place … they’re all ruined now. Tarnished. I don’t want this farm. I don’t want any of it.”

  “Fine,” I say. “I’ll donate it to charity. Is that why you came here? You could’ve just called.”

  I’m angry.

  Angry at the situation.

  Ang
ry at this shitty excuse for a life I’ve been given.

  Angry at having to stare at the one woman I was starting to fall in love with and knowing she’s never going to look at me the way she did before.

  “Molly seems to think you’re innocent,” she says.

  “Molly sent you.” It makes sense now. Molly’s the queen of persuasion, with nagging persistence as her trump card.

  “Molly didn’t send me. She asked me to come. I came on my own accord,” she says.

  “So you came all the way here to tell me in person that you don’t want the farm. Okay.”

  Her face pinches and she looks like she’s halfway between slapping me and jumping my bones, and I’m really fucking confused right now.

  “Molly says you didn’t do it,” she says. “I just wanted to ask you one more time … for the truth.” She swallows, her eyes searching mine. “Give me a reason not to hate you, River. Give me a reason not to hate the man I was beginning to fall in love with.”

  Her words sting, and I wish I could tell her what she wants to hear, but I can’t.

  “I wish I could.”

  Her eyes water and her lip trembles. “It’s not fair.”

  Tell me about it.

  She steps closer. “I waited twelve years to put a face to this crime, to look into the eyes of the man who killed my father. Why’d it have to be you?”

  I don’t speak, wishing I could absorb her pain, take it all away.

  “Why?” She cries, tears streaming down her pretty face.

  Leighton pounds on my chest, but I feel nothing. I let her hit me. I stand there and take it. And when she’s almost out of strength, struggling to stand, I take her in my arms.

  Her body shakes and shudders as she cries into my shirt.

  “I’m sorry, Leighton,” I whisper into her ear, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo and feeling her silky strands on my cheek one final time. But there’s something more I need to say … something I’ll never have another chance to tell her as long as I live. “I love you.”

  Pushing herself away from me, she gives me a wild-eyed glare. “Why? Why would you say that right now?”

  My brows angle. “Because it’s the truth.”

  “Don’t you think this is already hard enough? Why would you hurt me like that?”

  “Hurt you? By telling you I fucking love you?”

  Her arms fold. “Yes!”

  “Forgive me.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” she asks, brushing tears from her cheeks.

  “Don’t get what?”

  “You’re making it hard for me to hate you,” she says, head tilted and shoulders falling. “And I really need to hate you right now.”

  “Then hate me. I deserve it.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t hate you and love you at the same time.”

  Something comes over me, something I can’t control. Maybe those rosebud lips of hers don’t belong to me anymore, maybe her heart will never be mine again, but I need to feel her one last time.

  Crushing her mouth with a kiss, I commit one last crime against the woman I’ve come to love.

  And it’ll be the last time I ever hurt her.

  Police lights flash outside the window.

  It’s time.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  River

  My head pounds.

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been in this interrogation room—hours, I’m guessing.

  I’ve gone over my story—at least what I remember—frontwards and backwards dozens of times. Every time they send in someone new, I have to start at the beginning. I know they have to check for inconsistencies, but this is fucking ridiculous.

  I’m alone now, and any minute they’re going to send in someone new, and I’m going to have to rehash that night all over again.

  The door lock clicks and a plain-clothed detective steps in. “River, you’re free to go.”

  “What?”

  “I think we’ve got all we need.” He stands aside. “Your ride is waiting in the lobby. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

  I’m really fucking confused, but I don’t argue, and when I get to the lobby, I find Molly and Guy seated in the corner wearing exhaustion and sipping coffees. It’s dark outside now, not a single car cruising down the highway outside the window. While I’ve been holed up in an interrogation room, the rest of Bonesteel Creek has retreated to their hum-drum lives.

  “River.” Molly wraps her arms around my shoulders. “Oh my god.”

  “They said I could go,” I say, wincing. “Why are they letting me go?”

  “Because I found the guy,” she says, grinning ear to ear.

  “What guy?”

  “The military friend of Seth’s,” she says. “His name is Brandt Hallifax. Seth was friends with him on Facebook. Super easy to track him down, though it took him a few days to respond. He says he’s not online that often anymore. I convinced him to come forward. He said that night had been weighing heavy on his mind too. He said he didn’t know they’d even hit anyone until years later, and at that point, Seth had threatened him into keeping his mouth shut. I guess he had some dirt on him and he was afraid of being dishonorably discharged from the army. Anyway, Brandt was passed out when it happened, woke up to find Seth moving you into the driver’s seat and telling him to help push the truck out of the ditch. He didn’t see Leighton’s dad’s truck because it was dark and it was upside down.”

  “So I didn’t …?”

  “No, River. You didn’t. You’re not responsible for what happened.” Molly stands on her toes, cupping my face in her hands.

  Exhaling, I find the nearest chair and sink into it. I need to catch my breath and wrap my head around this.

  “When you’re ready, Guy can drive you home,” she says. “I drove separate. Got to get back home to the boys.”

  Dumbstruck and still deep in shock, I look over at her. “Thank you.”

  “You should’ve believed me the first time I told you you were innocent.” She winks. “Would’ve saved you a world of hassle.”

  Molly tosses her bag over her shoulder and heads out of the county sheriff’s office, and Guy and I head out to his truck a few minutes later.

  All I can think about is Leighton.

  I need to know if she’ll ever be able to look at me the way she once did, if she’ll be willing to look at me again at all.

  When Guy pulls into my drive, the house is pitch black. A couple utility lights paint the sidewalk and the dog greets me with a lick on my hand.

  But Leighton’s car is gone.

  She didn’t stick around.

  And that tells me everything I need to know.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Leighton

  “They cleared him!” Molly rushes into the house at half past eleven that night. After the police took River in for questioning, Molly asked if I’d stay at her house with the boys for a few hours while they handled some business.

  A part of me wasn’t ready to leave, as angry as I was with River. A part of me was holding out hope that he was innocent, that Molly was right.

  I shush her. “The boys are sleeping.”

  “I don’t care. I’m going to shout it from the rooftops. River is a free man. He didn’t do it!”

  “What do you mean? Are you sure? Is there proof? How do they know?” I rise from her sofa, tossing a throw blanket off my lap. I’m wide awake now.

  “The night of the accident, there was another man there. I tracked him down and he came forward,” she says. “They’re launching a new investigation, focusing on Seth now. At least that’s what they told Brandt.”

  “So it was Seth all along?”

  Molly nods. “The guys were coming home after a night of drinking. Seth was drunk and hit your father’s truck, moved River to the driver’s seat, and they fled the scene. He had River believing it was him all these years.”

  I lift my fingertips to my mouth, relieved yet still craving j
ustice. “Do you think they’ll charge Seth? It’s been so long and at this point, it’s his word against theirs.”

  “I don’t know, Leighton.” Molly sighs. “For now, I’m choosing to believe that asshole’s going to get what’s coming to him.”

  Yawning, I rake my fingers through my hair. “I really want to see River. You think he’s home yet?”

  “He should be. Guy was going to drop him off. They left shortly after me.”

  “He’s probably exhausted. Maybe I should wait until morning?”

  “Are you insane? Go. To. Him,” she says. “Now.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  River

  I’m not ready to go inside just yet.

  Guy’s red taillights fade to black under a blanket of midnight, but I’m sitting on the front steps, listening to the howls of the coyotes and the chirp of the crickets. Growing up, they always made me feel less alone on nights when all I had was myself.

  The other side of that door represents a life I was prepared to leave behind today. Reclaiming it feels like it’d be kind of bittersweet, and I’m too exhausted to feel anything that intense again today.

  Two headlights roll up from over the hill, and the car slows at the top of my drive before turning in.

  Standing, I begin walking down the path to meet the car and see who the hell’s paying me a visit this time of night.

  The car parks, shuts off the engine, and the lights go dim. A second later, the door opens and out steps Leighton. The second our eyes lock from across the yard, she runs to me. I scoop her into my arms, holding her tighter than I’ve ever held anyone in my life.

  “You didn’t do it,” she says.

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “You’re innocent.” Leighton begins to cry, burying her face into my neck.

  “I’m innocent.”

  Taking her face in my hands, I kiss her sweet lips and wipe away her happy tears.

  “You still love me?” she asks, her mouth grazing mine.