The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  She continued to stare at him, and Cal got the impression that she was deciding whether or not she could trust him. It shouldn’t matter to him one way or another, but he found that it did. He wanted her to believe in his integrity.

  He stared back, uncowed by the scrutiny.

  “Thank you,” she finally said. “For telling me. And for all of your help earlier.”

  Cal wasn’t sure whether she’d come down on the side of trusting him or not, but he recognized a dismissal when he heard one.

  He climbed to his feet. “Keep that ankle up,” he told her.

  “RICE,” she said with a rueful smile. “I remember.”

  “I’ll show myself out.” But before he reached the door, Cal found himself turning to look over his shoulder. “My gallery is right across the street. It’s called The Mother Lode. I’ll be there until six or so if you need anything.”

  She smiled. “Because art is more valuable than gold?”

  “Something like that.” He hesitated again. “Be cautious.”

  Her smile faded. “Of what? Or whom?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  Cal closed the door behind him.

  AINSLEY frowned at the door through which Callum had just exited after offering those cryptic words. Be cautious with her ankle? Of Ben?

  Of him?

  Although it made little sense for him to offer his assistance and warn her away in the same breath.

  She found it odd that both men had offered essentially the same advice to her upon parting, although her cousin had been far more specific. He’d indicated that Cal had been changed by his military experience – which wasn’t surprising – and wasn’t the same man he’d been.

  Of course, given what Cal admitted about the roots of his conflict with her cousin, she wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing. High school Cal seemed like a bit of a jerk.

  But she knew what Ben was implying. The question was how much she could trust Ben’s impartiality on the subject. But then again, if Cal was… volatile – or knew more about Sabrina’s disappearance than he was saying – then deflecting suspicion away from himself by telling her that story could be a brilliant strategic move.

  Ainsley sighed.

  Cal might not be trying to put her in the middle, but it seemed she’d been thrown into that position anyway, between a cousin she couldn’t quite bring herself to trust yet and a man she’d just met. A man who claimed to care about Sabrina – and to whom Ainsley found herself attracted.

  Ainsley wasn’t entirely sure what she’d pictured for her arrival in Dahlonega, but becoming embroiled in some sort of masculine turf war on her first day certainly wasn’t it.

  Instinctively, Ainsley reached for her phone in order to call Ben – Sabrina was her first priority, after all, and Cal himself had already admitted that he expected her to pass along the information – and then remembered that her phone had died a watery death.

  Cursing under her breath, she climbed carefully to her feet and stuck her phone inside the bag of rice that Cal brought. She doubted it would do much good, but it was worth a shot until she could find the nearest wireless store.

  Setting the bag aside, Ainsley picked up the phone on the desk and placed a call to her cousin.

  “Hey Ben, it’s me,” she said when she got his voicemail. “Callum Elias just left here and he had some information I think you should hear. Call me at the hotel because my cell phone is inoperable at this point.” She hesitated, but then ended the call with a simple “Bye.”

  While she had the phone in her hand, she went ahead and placed a call to her father. He’d probably tried calling or texting her several times by now, and he would be worried if he didn’t hear from her.

  “Where have you been?” he said when he heard her voice on the line.

  “My phone had a little accident,” she told him. “I dropped it in Yahola creek. Or rather, I fell in the creek, and it was in my pocket.”

  He was quiet for several seconds. “Are you okay?”

  Somehow, Ainsley knew that he was asking about more than her physical wellbeing. “Yeah,” she told him. “I needed to see it again, to confront the memory.”

  “Well,” he said, obviously uncomfortable with the topic “make sure you get your phone replaced. I don’t like not being able to get in contact with you. Especially not right now. Have you seen Ben yet?”

  Ainsley noticed that he didn’t ask if she’d seen his sister. “Yes. He… Dad, he apologized. For his part in what happened after Carly’s murder. For believing the worst of Grant. And of me.”

  He was quiet so long this time that Ainsley wasn’t sure he would answer. “I’m glad,” he finally said, although she sensed that he had a lot more to say on the subject. But the sound of her stepmother’s voice in the background meant that he wouldn’t get into it right now. Tyra didn’t know that Ainsley was in Dahlonega, because telling her would only upset her. Needless to say, the whole episode was still a sore point.

  “How’s Tyra?” she asked. Her stepmother had multiple sclerosis, and they’d moved from Savannah to Colorado several years ago in order to legally obtain the medical cannabis that helped control her symptoms far better than the prescription cocktail she’d been on previously. Now, she worked as legal counsel for a medical cannabis advocacy group. But she still had bad days, and she’d had several of those recently.

  “She’s doing great today,” he told her. “It’s Ainsley,” he said in response to the woman in question’s comment. “She says hi Ainsley, and wants me to remind you that grandbabies won’t make themselves.”

  Ainsley rolled her eyes, and then chuckled. Her stepmother had been increasingly less subtle in her efforts on that front, since Grant had already told her quite firmly that he was never having children. Ainsley was her only hope. “Tell her to go to the animal shelter and play with the puppies. Or better yet, you should get her one.”

  That made her think of Beaumont and his ridiculous little sweater, which in turn made her think of Cal. Followed by thoughts of reproduction – or at least the activity required to reproduce. Giving herself a mental shake, she returned her attention to her father.

  “Be sure to let me know the minute you hear something,” he told her, referring to Sabrina. Then in a quieter tone, so that Tyra didn’t overhear him: “As much ill will as I still bear Denise, I wouldn’t wish this on her. I hope to God Bree comes back safe and sound.”

  “So do I,” Ainsley agreed fervently. As she had many times over the intervening years, Ainsley wished that she’d said something that night. That she’d called out the window to Carly, asked her where she was going. But Carly had been her cousin, not her sister, and Ainsley had been ever so slightly intimidated by her sunny blonde beauty and by what she’d seen as teenage popularity. She would never have done anything so gauche as preventing her pretty, popular cousin from sneaking out.

  And now Carly was dead, and her family seemed irrevocably divided. Ainsley felt a stab of pity for Aunt Denise, who not only didn’t have her brother to turn to for comfort, but she’d lost her husband, too.

  Wanting to end the conversation on a positive note, Ainsley told her father that she’d run into one of his old classmates.

  “Cindy?” he said after she’d told him, clearly trying to place the name. “I think she was a couple years behind me. She would have been in Denise’s class.”

  “Apparently she had a crush on you,” Ainsley teased, wondering if Ms. Becker was still friends with Aunt Denise, and would mention that Ainsley was in town.

  “Clearly she has good taste. Listen, I have to go. I have an appointment with a client in ten minutes. You be careful, okay sweetie?”

  It seemed to be her day to be cautioned. “I will, Dad. Love you.”

  After she hung up Ainsley looked around the room. She could watch TV, she guessed. Read the new novel she’d brought with her. Take a nap. Wait for Ben to call her back.

  But she wasn’t used to being idle, parti
cularly not when someone she loved was missing. Her courtroom experience meant that she was used to having a basic outline of what would come next, a plan of attack and counter attack. But she could hardly file a motion to suppress reality. And the reality of the situation was that she had no idea what to do.

  She glared at her medical boot in disgust.

  Restless, she took her laptop from her luggage, set it up on the desk.

  And then did a quick Google search for The Mother Lode.

  The gallery showcased local artisans, with an emphasis on functional beauty as opposed to simply art for art’s sake, although there was certainly some of the latter. From pottery to handcrafted iron light fixtures to paintings of local attractions to Cal’s woodworking. Curious, Ainsley enlarged an image of a custom newel post that had been carved to resemble a rearing horse, its mane spreading out behind it to form part of the handrail.

  “Okay, wow.” The man had talent. Serious talent. She scrolled through a few more photos before one of Sabrina stopped her cold.

  Her cousin was bent over a piece of her jewelry, using some kind of tool to bend a piece of metal. Her face was hidden, but Ainsley would recognize that hair anywhere.

  She’d always been envious of both the color and the curls.

  Another lump formed in her throat, and she slammed her fist down on the desk. This could not be happening to her family again. It simply couldn’t.

  “To hell with this.”

  Ainsley shut down her laptop and then hobbled toward the bathroom in order to dry her hair, put on some makeup. Cal mentioned a Cajun restaurant next to the hotel, hadn’t he? Might as well grab a late lunch and do a little digging while she was at it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  BEN Paulson steeled himself before pushing open the door to Paulson’s Dry Goods, the general store that had been in his family for five generations. Six, if he counted himself, which he had no intention of doing. His mother hinted and outright cajoled – especially since his father’s death several years ago – reminding him that the store had been run by a Paulson ever since it opened. He, in turn, reminded her that Sabrina was a Paulson, and that the retail business was much more in line with her interests than it was with his.

  That usually caused her to look like she needed to cough up a hairball. His mother and his youngest sister had never quite seen eye-to-eye, and the thought of them working together probably didn’t hold much appeal for either one. And aside from that, Bree was much better at doing her own thing without apologizing to anyone. That left him to bear the brunt of his mother’s guilt trips. As usual.

  Sometimes it didn’t pay to be the favored child.

  Ben expelled a frustrated breath, nodding at a couple of tourists panning for gems in the mining display that occupied one corner of the store before going in search of his mother. He had to warn her that Ainsley was in town before she heard it from someone else. Ainsley, whose presence here was stirring the sediment from the bottom of their family pond whether she intended it to or not.

  He was going to wring Sabrina’s neck when he found her. And he would find her. Alive. He wasn’t willing to even entertain the thought of the alternative.

  Yet.

  Pushing the nasty little voice of doubt from his mind, he spotted his mom near the back of the store, restocking a display of souvenir Tshirts.

  “Mom?”

  She turned around, brightening when she saw him. Blonde and trim, she was still a pretty woman, although the strain of the past several days had made the lines in her face more noticeable. She and Sabrina might not see eye-to-eye, but she was still her mother. A mother who’d already lived through the nightmare of losing a child. It seemed horribly unfair to Ben that she might be forced to repeat it.

  Not going to think that way, he reminded himself.

  Yet.

  “Ben,” she said, warmth in her voice despite the pallor of her complexion. She dropped the T-shirt she’d been holding back into the box and stepped forward to kiss his cheek. “What a lovely surprise.”

  He could tell by the way her tone rose in pitch at the end, almost making the statement a question, that she was terribly afraid he was bringing bad news. He was, to a certain degree, but not the news she feared.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute? In the office? It’s not about Sabrina,” he added quickly. Not directly, anyway.

  “Of course,” she said, her smile slipping a little. She pushed her chin-length hair behind her ears and led the way to the back of the building. The office was located next to the stairs which led to the storage area on the second floor.

  They went inside and after gesturing his mom to a chair, Ben closed the door.

  Despite his assurance, fear flickered behind his mother’s eyes.

  “Ainsley’s here,” he said, not wanting to beat around the bush, and not having time, even if he wanted to. He had to run the prints he’d lifted from the shed under Elias’s watchful eye. But at least the man hadn’t been a total asshole and demanded that he come back with a warrant.

  It wasn’t a simple hairball his mom looked like she’d swallowed this time. More of a drain clog.

  “Well,” she said faintly. “She has some nerve. But then I guess I shouldn’t expect her to have developed empathy or consideration in the past seventeen years. Not considering her home environment. The apple, as they say, doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Ben stifled a sigh. And resisted pointing out that that logic could be used to apply to herself and Sabrina as well, if the child necessarily mirrors the parent. Regardless, he found her antipathy toward both Ainsley and his aunt and uncle to be misplaced, but he wouldn’t belabor the point right now. In her fragile emotional state she’d just accuse Ben of turning against her, and he didn’t need either the guilt trip or the drama.

  “I wanted to let you know before someone else told you. Or you bumped into her. She’s staying on the square.”

  Her lips thinned even further. “You’re a good, considerate boy,” she said, reaching out to pat his arm “for thinking of my feelings. The only one of my children who ever has.”

  It took immense fortitude not to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He could feel a headache brewing.

  “I have to be going,” he said instead. And paused. “We’re doing everything we can to find Sabrina.”

  “I know you are.” She smiled – or rather she stretched her lips in a pathetic approximation of one. “Wicked girl, taking off like that and making us all suffer. I thought she’d finally outgrown that phase, but…”

  She didn’t finish the thought, and Ben didn’t disabuse her of the idea that Bree had simply taken off again of her own volition. She’d fled. Or had been abducted. And he suspected his mother knew that very well, but wasn’t quite ready to face the implications.

  Ben could relate. Although he had to at least consider the implications, or he risked overlooking clues and evidence. That didn’t mean he had to give up hope, though.

  Not yet.

  After kissing his mother on the cheek, he exited the store, nodding to one of the clerks as he did so. His phone beeped, letting him know that he’d missed a call when he was in the office with his mother, and he started to unclip it from his belt just as he looked up and into a familiar face.

  Callum Elias.

  It both pleased and chagrined him to note the slight bruise darkening the man’s jaw.

  “Paulson,” the other man said. “You have a minute?”

  It would be easy to say no. After all, he had a call he likely needed to return and a thousand other things to do. But he looked at the bruise again and chagrin won out. He wasn’t the type of cop who abused his position, and he didn’t condone police brutality. Letting his temper get the best of him was more unprofessional than he cared to admit.

  “Sure,” he said instead. “But just barely.”

  Elias nodded toward a table in front of the pastry shop next door, which was tucked into a relatively quiet cor
ner.

  “I’d like to apologize,” Cal said as soon as they were both sitting. “My choice of phrasing today was deliberately insensitive, particularly given the circumstances. I don’t blame you for hitting me.”

  Ben considered that. “You expected me to hit you. But you didn’t hit back.”

  The man looked uncomfortable, but his gaze was direct. “I’ve felt bad,” he admitted “for a lot of years. For the things I said about Carly. And for what happened… afterward. I figured I deserved one more good punch.”

  “Just one?”

  “One is all I’m allowing. If you hit me again, I’ll hit back.”

  “Threatening an officer of the law is considered a felony.”

  “I’m not threatening. I’m stating.”

  The old anger snarled, but Ben found that it had lost some of its teeth. Not that he trusted Elias – he didn’t. But a cool head would serve him better in their dealings.

  “I appreciate you turning over the photo albums without making me get a warrant.”

  “I’d already offered them to Sabrina. They belong to your family.”

  “And you’re sure you can’t tell me what was in the journals.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t read them. Only enough to realize that they’d belonged to Carly. After that, I… didn’t feel comfortable doing so.”

  “Afraid you’d come across something she’d said about you? Maybe she’d reviewed your performance and found it inadequate?”

  The man didn’t bother to answer, and Ben couldn’t blame him. It was a cheap shot. He slowly climbed to his feet. “I have to be going.”

  “I’m sorry about Sabrina.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Meaning that it has to be difficult on your family, not knowing where she is. And difficult on you to be heading the investigation.”