“Ian, it’s Miah, uh, Jeremiah. I know this isn’t a great time to ask, but have you gotten a chance to talk to my sister yet about selling? The buyer is coming in on Saturday and if she’s digging in her heels, I want to hold him off for another week. Gimme a call back. You know what, I’m just going to come find you. And uh, hope Gruber is doing okay.”
The phone dropped from Charlee’s hand as the world spun off its axis. Acid washed from her ears downward, scalding her system as it traveled. She closed her eyes, an attempt to block what she’d just heard. But there, in the darkness, the truth was a blinding light. Every emotion she’d suffered when Richard set her up to sell her property flushed into her mind, leaving her dizzy, off-kilter, equilibrium shot. Of course, Miah never knew the details about Richard. But how could he do this? She shook her head, closing her eyes to the truth. Ian and her brother were conspiring to sell her property. The tiniest voice in the back of her head told her to give Ian the benefit of the doubt, but it was such a small little whisper, drowned out by the pain, she wouldn’t give it a moment’s thought.
Her world was trashed. Mr. Gruber. Now Ian. Jeremiah. Charlee backed away from the phone on the floor as if it were the beast of her torture. Her eyes raced around the room. Once again, she thought of the wedding reception. Seeing Ian dancing with Brenna and Brenna’s fiancé with a drink for her. Under normal circumstances, she hardly ever thought about alcohol. But when everything spun out of control and the pain was unbearable, alcohol became her answer. It was life. At times like this, it was her god. Suddenly, calm ran from her head down. She had a plan. She needed to go. Get away. She’d known at the hospital that it was inevitable.
Charlee’s breaths came in longer gusts of air as the plan formed and grew legs in her mind. She could escape all this. She knew how. She could go and no one would find her until she was ready to be found.
Charlee ran from Ian’s cabin, leaving the door wide open. She’d make quick work of it. Stop off at the toolshed, swing by the grocery store in town, hardware store, gas up the Jeep, load her shotgun—just in case and go. She’d need to sneak past her brother, but he was looking for Ian, so that shouldn’t be too hard.
Freedom was waiting for her. And it was only a short distance away.
CHAPTER 14
Ian found his front door wide open. “Hello?” he called as he stepped in. If King Edward or one of the sisters was inside, he didn’t want to frighten them. He glanced around, found no one, and went to the sink to wash up. Movement outside drew his attention and he cut a glance through the kitchen window to find Jeremiah mounting the steps. “Come on in,” he hollered, hands dripping with soapy water.
“You hear from Charlee?” There was concern in Jeremiah’s tone and that caused concern in Ian.
“No. But my cell was almost dead, so I left it here while I worked at Gruber’s.”
“Well, no one’s heard from her.”
“Call her.”
“I have. About ten times, goes straight to voicemail.”
Something unsettling crawled over Ian’s skin.
“Helloooo,” Wynona called from the front door.
Ian motioned her and Wilma in and wiped his hands on a half-clean kitchen towel. “Charlee with you?”
She shook her long white head of hair. “No. We haven’t heard from her, but King Edward thought he saw her pulling in an hour ago. We figured she would freshen up and then let us all know details about Arnold. We were about to head back to the hospital, but it’s not like her to not check in.”
Ian’s heart squeezed. “No one has heard from her at all?”
Wilma stepped past her sister to sit at Ian’s table. “No. And there’s been a problem at the hospital, I’m afraid. Mr. Gruber isn’t seeing anyone. His daughter showed up, but he won’t even see her. And he won’t see any of us. From what the nurse said, it was quite a debacle and Charlee took it very hard. Both Arnold and his daughter blamed her for the fiasco.”
“Oh no.” Ian sank into the kitchen chair. His mind raced, hoping to figure out where Charlee might be. She’d come back here—if Edward was correct—but where was she now?
Jeremiah tapped the table. “She better not run.”
A hand came up to Wilma’s mouth. “Oh good heavens, you don’t think?”
Ian’s gaze shot from one to the other, trying to decipher what exactly they meant.
Wynona pressed her hands flat to the table. “If she has, we have to find her. Quickly. Before . . . before any damage is done.”
Ian stood from the table. “Stop. What are you all talking about?”
Knowing gazes shot from one another, leaving him the odd man out. He gritted his teeth. “Someone needs to tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s Charlee, dear.” Wynona pulled a breath before continuing, as if the motion would fill her mouth with all the right words. “When things get too difficult, she runs.”
“Yes, I’ve been told that, but what does it mean?”
Jeremiah rubbed his hands over his face. “She disappeared for three days after our mom died.”
Ian shook his head. “Disappeared?”
“Yeah. We found her in the next town over. Staying with a drug family that graciously took her in off the street and didn’t bother to let the police know they were harboring a runaway.”
Ian’s heart sank. He knew she had a tendency to run, but for days? He’d thought maybe she just stayed away from everyone, locked herself in her cabin or something, but not physically run away, leave town.
“Alcohol is the problem, Ian.” Wynona’s eyes filled with pity.
Okay, this was a bad, bad dream. Worse than any from Afghanistan.
Wynona gave him a moment to digest, then continued. “She uses alcohol to self-medicate; it’s her crutch.”
Now, things were coming into focus. Her telling him at the Neon Moon that they don’t drink in respect to Mr. Gruber. He must have mumbled the name.
“Yes, Mr. Gruber is the textbook recovering alcoholic. I believe his journey began when his wife passed. Heaven knows what that can do to you.” He remembered that Wynona spoke from experience on the losing a spouse front. “They were strong for each other, Charlee and Arnold. Very strong. She hasn’t touched a drop since Richard.”
And now Ian was beginning to understand why Charlee was so reluctant to get involved with him. If things didn’t work out between them, it could quite easily lead to her complete destruction. Another memory entered his mind. The wedding. “Brenna’s loser of a fiancé shoved a drink under her nose, didn’t he? That’s when you all stepped in. Gruber . . . took it from her hand. And . . .”
“And we left. It was time to go. No matter what Charlee thinks, she’s in love with you, Ian. And that means big trouble for her if she loses you.” Hearing Wilma say that should have sent his heart soaring, but it didn’t. It only made him ache because where love was concerned between Charlee and him, there was the risk of failure. He’d failed a lot of people in his life. Ian pushed the thought aside and turned to Jeremiah. “Where would she go?”
Realizing her brother probably had no clue, he turned to the group of artists. “Where would Charlee go? We gotta figure this out, then we have to split up and find her.”
He went to the table to retrieve his phone and practically stepped on it; the toe of his work boot connected and the cell went spinning under the desk. He dug it out, stood, and turned to the group. “She was here. Must have come here first. Man, probably looking for me.” Had he already let her down?
Jeremiah pulled the phone from his pocket and stared down at it, face going pale.
“What?” Ian demanded.
“Is there a message from me?”
Ian opened his phone. “No new messages. One saved.” Which was weird because he had cleared all the messages from his phone a day or two ago and it wasn’t like he had a full social circle
that called. Ian hit the playback button and blanched. His knees almost buckled when he heard Jeremiah talking about a buyer and Charlee selling her property. He cut him a harsh glare, but no words were necessary. Jeremiah already looked like he’d backed over the neighbor’s new kitten. Ian shook his head. “She ran.”
“What are we going to do?” Hopelessness choked Wilma’s words.
They really needed to stop discussing it and put a plan in action. They had a mission. Find Charlee before . . . before she could hurt herself. And to do that, they needed recon. “Okay, I need to know everything about where she’s gone in the past. Any friends she might call on, any detail.”
King Edward put a pot of coffee on as Jeremiah filled them in on the places Charlee had run away to as a kid.
“As far as friends, Charlee knows everyone in town, but we’re her friends. She doesn’t really associate with anyone else.”
Ian scrubbed his cheeks; a five o’clock shadow was getting itchy from the sweat he’d accumulated at Mr. Gruber’s place. He’d meant to take a shower as soon as he got home. “Anyone? What about neighboring towns?”
They all shook their heads. And Ian asked the thing he hadn’t wanted to because he hadn’t wanted to hear the words. “Where’d she go after Richard?”
Again, those knowing, annoying glances shot around the table, but wouldn’t make contact with Ian or Jeremiah. Ian leaned forward. “We have to know.”
King Edward dropped into one of the chairs. “Okay. We’re sworn to secrecy, but really, that’s a crock because everyone in town knows Charlee went off the deep end and spent two weeks hanging out in bars one county over.”
The words hit Ian’s heart with enough force to make him feel as though he might vomit.
Wilma raised her hands in defense. “She’s mortified about what she did. Absolutely mortified. I don’t think she’d ever do that again.”
And Ian was sickened by the scenarios shooting through his mind. Charlee. Gorgeous blond, perfectly shaped Charlee getting trashed in dive bars. He drew a couple steadying breaths to keep the lunch in his stomach.
“No, she wouldn’t do that again,” Wynona agreed with her sister. “It was too costly. Too dangerous. Charlee wouldn’t. She swore to us.”
Ian wasn’t a strategist, but he had to take the information given and assimilate it into the probable possibilities. “What about family?” He shot a look to Jeremiah.
He shook his head. “Caleb, Isaiah, and Gabe are all deployed. We have grandparents on my mother’s side, but she’d never go there.”
“You sure about that?” Ian leveled him.
“Positive. She’s looking for a place where she can quietly medicate herself and get rid of her pain. Those people are only more pain. No. It’s not an option.”
“I can check hotels within a hundred-mile radius.” Wilma rose. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
King Edward rose too. “Jeremiah, why don’t you and I go into town and ask around? If she stopped for gas or something . . . maybe she mentioned what direction she was headed.”
Ian could tell Jeremiah wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of running around town with a man in a dress, but for Charlee, he was willing to do it without complaint.
Jeremiah agreed and added, “I’ll go back to the house and see if she was there at all. I ran into town and could have missed her. Maybe we can tell if anything is gone. Suitcase missing, whatever.”
Ian stood and tucked his phone in his pocket. “I’m going to look around the property and see if anything seems strange, out of place. See if she left us any clues.”
Wynona dropped her gaze. “I’ll call the Neon Moon and see if Rayna’s seen her . . . again, a long shot. She’d never stay right here in town. Too easy to find.” She said on a long exhale, “Once they’re open, I’ll call the liquor store.”
There was only one in town.
They split up to scour for any clue as to which way she might go. But after searching through the buildings, Ian had nothing. The only sign was a few paper bags strewn on the kitchen counter in the big building. He headed back to his cabin, but something made him stop. Ian turned and glanced behind him, and tiny hairs prickled on the back of his neck as if someone—some specter—was pressing cold fingers there. He focused on the toolshed. Shook the thought from his head and started toward the cabin. He didn’t even make it a step when the sensation returned. He huffed and changed direction to the shed.
When he opened the door, allowing the light of the compound to illuminate the small room, he found his first real clue. The scent of grease and tools rose in his nose as he scrutinized the empty spot on the far shelf. It was about two feet wide. He searched his mind for what had been there. A tarp? No, but something similar, taller. When he stepped fully in, he noticed another empty space, this one on the floor. He knew the square plastic container that sat there, but didn’t know what it had held. His eyes fell on the tool belt in the corner. What had been in that plastic container? Need your help, Major Mack. Ian had slid the deep green container out of the way a time or two. It was heavy. Why hadn’t he ever opened it? His gaze fell on the tool belt again. I bet if you were here, you could tell me.
A thought struck him. He rushed out of the shed. “I’ll have to get the next best thing.”
Jeremiah and King Edward had returned from town with little info and that wore on Ian as the day dragged. Yes, Charlee stopped to get gas at the station in the late morning hours and the guy was fairly certain she’d gone into the hardware store next door, but couldn’t guarantee it. The hardware store was across the street from the ice cream shop and Ian was headed there next to question Rodney because of something he’d said when they had their little man-to-man talk.
Ian collected Jeremiah and pulled the string on the light inside the shed. “Look around. Something’s missing.”
Jeremiah nodded. “Dad said he organized all this when he was here visiting.”
Ian waited while Jeremiah took his time examining the spot. “Why don’t you just ask the artists what sits here?”
Ian’s brows shot up. “Dude, they didn’t even know where Charlee kept the spare lightbulbs. They don’t come in here. What would your dad put there?” He then turned and pointed to the spot on the floor. “And what would he put there?”
Jeremiah stepped to the spot.
“It was a deep green plastic container, you know like the ones you get at Walmart.”
Jeremiah knelt down. “Look at the ring beside it.”
Until it was pointed out, Ian hadn’t noticed the perfectly round ring where the dust had settled. Jeremiah slid out a bucket beside the empty spot. He held up a package, a smile on his face. “Wicks for a lantern.”
“A tent! That’s what was there on the shelf; I was thinking a tarp, but no. It was a tent.”
Jeremiah nodded. “My dad always kept our camping gear in a big plastic container. That’s what was sitting there. That’s what she took, and a tent and lantern.”
King Edward interrupted them, pausing at the door. “And her shotgun.”
Ian spun on him. “What?” Frozen spikes of fear shot through him.
Jeremiah put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. Dad told her to never go into the woods without her gun. Shotgun, rifle, handgun.”
Ian crunched his face. “She has all those?”
“Guess you don’t know everything about my sister.”
“No. In fact, it’s starting to look like I don’t know anything about her.”
Jeremiah lifted his hand then brought it down with a smack on Ian’s back. “Good job. You figured this out. She’s in the woods. Now what?”
“Since you and I are trained in all types of environments, I say we split up and start searching.”
“What about us?” King Edward asked.
Jeremiah gave him a quick look. Edward—and his devotion
to Charlee—must have melted Jeremiah’s heart a little. He was actually warming up to the kilt-wearing guy, evidenced by the light smile of his face. “You all should stay here in case she comes back. There’s a bad storm moving in. I wouldn’t want you guys out there.”
He raised his brows in Ian’s direction. Yeah, Ian didn’t want the artists out in the woods either; one of them might get distracted by a colorful butterfly and wander off a cliff. “He’s right, Edward. You guys hang here. At least for now, then we can regroup.”
Edward sighed, and for a man who worked so hard to get out of manual labor, he seemed bitterly disappointed he’d not be tromping through the woods.
Jeremiah patted him on the shoulder. “Besides, the worst sticker bushes are just about . . .” he raised a flat hand hip level near Edward, “. . . this high. It’d be murder on your . . . skirt.”
Edward sucked a deep breath and pivoted his ankle out as if protecting his attributes. “We’ll stay here,” he said and they all left in their respective directions. Jeremiah was headed to Four Rivers, where their dad had taken them camping as kids, and Ian was headed to town. It was already five in the evening by the time he got to the ice cream shop. He drove the old work truck with only one thing on his mind. Find Charlee.
Rod was cleaning the awning when Ian got there. He lowered the bucket and scrub brush when he saw him.
“Hey, Ian.” But as soon as he said it, Ian watched his demeanor change. Rod knew something was wrong.
“Charlee’s missing.”
Rod swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes shot left and right as if she’d be right there in his periphery. “What happened?”
“Something about Gruber at the hospital blaming her for . . .” Ian threw his hands up. “I don’t even know what. I just have to find her.”
Along the Broken Road (The Roads to River Rock Book 1) Page 22