The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  The knock on the door caused her to sit up with a start. Cal, on the other hand, sat up and pulled a handgun from beneath the love seat, all in one easy, fluid motion.

  Their gazes met for one long moment, and then he climbed to his feet with a wince.

  “Open up Elias,” came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. “It’s me.”

  “Why is Ben looking for you in my room?”

  “Because I’m here.”

  Ainsley shot him a withering glance, but he was moving toward the door and missed it. Obviously, Cal had spoken with Ben at some point last night – after Ainsley passed out – and relayed his intention to stay here. Either that or the deputy who’d dropped them off said something, but Cal didn’t seem the least bit surprised by Ben’s appearance, so she figured her first guess was the correct one.

  Her annoyance returned again.

  She didn’t appreciate them conspiring behind her back.

  Cal looked through the peephole before sliding back the security chain. He stuck the gun in the waistband of his jeans and then swung open the door.

  “You look like hell,” Ben said by way of greeting.

  Cal merely grunted, and then stepped back.

  Ben came inside, shoved a paper bag and a takeout cup of coffee at Cal, and then gave Ainsley a thorough once-over. “You look like hell, too.”

  “It’s a miracle some woman hasn’t snatched you up by now, what with your silver tongue.”

  “You want coffee?”

  “You know how to start an IV?”

  Ben’s mouth kicked up a little as he handed Ainsley the second takeout cup. “I’ll leave the medical maneuvers to Doc over here.”

  That earned a glare from Cal, who paused in the act of digging through the bag. Then he removed some sort of breakfast sandwich, took a bite that could only be described as vicious before holding the bag out to Ainsley.

  The thought of food made Ainsley feel just the tiniest bit sick. “I’ll stick with coffee.”

  “You should eat. You haven’t had anything since lunch yesterday, and not enough time has passed for that codeine to be out of your system. You’ll give yourself a stomach ache.”

  Ainsley stared at him, and then switched her attention to Ben, whose expression bordered on a smirk.

  Ainsley glowered at him and then took the bag from Cal, less graciously than her grandmother – should she be looking down on Ainsley in that moment – might have wished.

  Granny had been a stickler for good manners.

  She wondered what her grandmother would have to say about the fact that she was sitting in bed with her hair and her teeth unbrushed, eating breakfast from a paper bag while a bare-chested man whom she’d only met yesterday sat down on the edge of the bed like he owned it. And her cousin, whom she hadn’t seen in years and who’d engaged in a fistfight with said bare-chested man just yesterday morning, looked on with what could only be described as tacit approval.

  Really, the whole situation just got more bizarre by the moment.

  “You can have the loveseat,” Cal said to Ben. “I never want to see it again.”

  Ben grimaced at Cal’s erstwhile bed and said “I think I’ll stand.” Then he nodded toward Ainsley. “Did you ask her yet?”

  “No. I just woke up.”

  “I told you I would be here by eight.”

  “So my internal alarm clock is off. Sue me.”

  “Ask me what?” Ainsley interrupted.

  Cal swallowed a bite of egg muffin. “If you did something with your phone.”

  “My phone?” she said, trying to make sense of the question. “It’s in the bag of rice you brought me.”

  “No, it’s not.” Cal nodded toward the ice bucket, and Ben snatched it up before tilting it so that Ainsley could see inside. “I looked for it last night – was curious to see if the rice trick worked after all. But it wasn’t in the bag, so I poured the rice out to double check.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “I searched through your purse and your luggage, too. It’s not there.”

  He… “You did what?”

  “Figured you wouldn’t be happy about that,” Cal muttered, while Ben took the conversational baton.

  “You’re sure you didn’t put it somewhere else?” Ben said. “Maybe you took it to your car?”

  “I haven’t been in my car since yesterday morning,” she told him. “Your deputy dropped it off, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. I just thought maybe you’d stuck the phone in the glove box or something so that you wouldn’t forget to take it by the store.”

  “Wait.” Ainsley’s head still ached, and the dots weren’t connecting as quickly as they normally would have. “You’re saying that my phone is missing? Someone took my phone?”

  “Unless you moved it elsewhere yourself, which you’re saying didn’t happen.”

  She stared at Ben. “Why? How? The room was locked, and I had both of the keycards with me.”

  “How could involve any number of possibilities. A housekeeper could have taken it, or someone else got a hold of a housekeeper’s card, for example. And I’ll be looking into that as soon as we’re done here. It’s the why that concerns me. What was on your phone,” he said “that someone here in Dahlonega might find threatening?”

  “Nothing,” Ainsley said, dividing a look between the two men. “I mean, there are the usual texts and emails, but they’re primarily personal ones. I try to use my computer at the office for handling anything work-related – the important stuff, at any rate – as cellphone data can be so easily compromised. I…” she sat the muffin aside and breathed in the smell of the coffee, trying to think. “Computer. My laptop.” She looked up, and then started to leap from the bed before remembering her ankle. Damn it.

  She pointed instead. “I had my laptop on the desk.”

  Both men looked from her to the empty space where her computer had been.

  “Shit,” Cal said. “I didn’t know about the laptop.”

  Angry more than confused now, Ainsley ran her hands through her hair. “I can’t believe someone burgled my room.”

  “Or someone wants us to think it was just a simple burglary.”

  Ainsley stared at Ben. “I feel compelled to point out that there is no concrete evidence connecting this to either Sabrina’s disappearance or the events of last night.”

  “I feel compelled to point out that despite the lack of concrete evidence, the coincidences are stacking up.”

  “Told ya,” Cal said, and Ben shot him a retiring look before pinning his gaze on Ainsley.

  Did you have anything on your laptop regarding Sabrina?”

  “I had some photos of us from the trip we took to Colorado last year to see my parents, and some from her last visit to Savannah, and Tybee beach, in July. As for my phone, it makes no sense to take it, as it’s easy enough to get phone records. I already told you about that last call from her on the evening she disappeared. How would stealing my phone benefit them?”

  “Maybe whoever took it is concerned that there might be more communications between you two, something that might incriminate them.”

  “Like what?”

  “Are you sure Sabrina hadn’t mentioned being… involved with someone?”

  “No. Nothing serious, anyway. She’d occasionally text something about a cute guy she’d talked to, but nothing with any substance. No I’ve met the most amazing man, or anything like that. Once,” Ainsley searched her memory “I think she sent a photo of a guy she’d seen in the coffee shop, because he looked like this actor she likes. But he didn’t even know she’d taken the picture, so I can’t imagine he broke into my hotel room to confiscate it. And besides that, my texts only have a shelf life of thirty days. After that, my phone automatically deletes them unless I’ve permanently saved them.”

  “Women do that?” Cal asked.

  “Automatically delete texts?”

  No, take photos of unsuspecting men in public to send to their girlfriends?�
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  Ainsley felt herself color a little. “Sometimes. I’m sure men do it, too.”

  “Not this man,” he assured her.

  Ainsley rolled her eyes but returned her attention to Ben. “You have a reason for asking. A specific reason, I mean.”

  He hesitated, but then sighed. “I can’t tell you. Not yet, anyway. There’s a protocol that has to be followed –”

  “I get it,” Ainsley interrupted him. But she immediately digested what he’d said without actually saying it.

  He had some sort of evidence that Sabrina had a lover. One she hadn’t told Ainsley about. “Are you following up on Callum’s lead? I assume you got my message.”

  “Yeah, I got it. And Cal told me about it himself. I’m following up,” he assured her. “And that’s all I can say. In the meantime, can I get your permission to pull your phone records from your carrier? Just in case something pops.”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded. “Thanks. I’m going to talk to the manager, the housekeeping staff. That means there’s going to be some activity in your room here, so you’re going to want to get dressed. We can treat this like a simple theft, but I’m going to say straight off that I don’t imagine this is purely coincidence. Not when someone tried to kill you and Cal last night.”

  Ainsley swallowed, the bite of muffin she’d eaten earlier seeming to lodge in her throat.

  “You really think they were trying to kill us?”

  “Whether it was premeditated or a crime of opportunity, I can’t say for sure yet, but I think that if Elias here hadn’t thought and acted quickly, there’s every chance you would have gone off the road on the other side. And your chances of walking away from that with little more than some bumps and bruises are far less likely.”

  Ainsley darted a glance at Cal, who was studying her over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “I’d like you to come stay at my place,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I can’t sleep on that loveseat again.”

  “I don’t recall asking you to do so.”

  “I’ve got Beau to think of, too,” he added. “So getting a room next to yours is out of the question. I have a security system. I’ve only ever used the one on the shop – quality tools are damned expensive – but the main house is wired as well. Didn’t keep the shed from being busted into, but I didn’t think there was anything in there worth stealing. I have guns,” he added. “And I’m trained to use them.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “More upsetting, alarming, with some pain in the ass mixed in. Someone broke into your hotel room, Ainsley. If I were placing bets, I’d wager they stole your phone and your laptop because they thought they might possibly contain information they’d rather not be shared. Maybe they think you have information they’d rather not be shared.”

  “What information?”

  “I don’t know. Something that Sabrina mentioned, a text or an email or photo or something you haven’t considered yet.”

  “Last night you said you thought maybe they were after you. Because you might have read Carly’s journals.”

  “That could be a possibility, too. I’ll feel safer if you stay at my place to protect me.”

  Ainsley gaped at him, with his messy hair and his week-old beard and slight bruising along his jaw. He was impossibly attractive – and just plain impossible. And crazy to think she’d agree to stay with him, security system or not.

  “You could drive back to Savannah,” he continued. “But your ankle is going to make a trip like that tricky, at least for the next few days.”

  “I have no intention of leaving,” she told him. “The town or the hotel.”

  “Someone’s broken in here once, Ainsley,” Ben said. “I’m sure the manager would be willing to move you to a different room, under a different name. But I can’t say that I like you staying here on your own, particularly since you’re not getting around all that well at the moment. And I can’t invite you to stay at my place, because I’m never home. Especially not now. I’d just be worrying over you, and I can’t afford the distraction.”

  Ainsley took a moment to process the fact that Ben seemed to be in favor of her staying with Callum. A man he’d seemingly despised not twenty-four hours ago.

  “Didn’t you just warn me to stay away from him?”

  Ben shrugged. “That was before these new developments.”

  “And so because someone tried to run us off the road last night – which may or may not be connected to someone stealing my cell phone, which may or may not be connected to Sabrina’s disappearance, which may or may not be connected to Carly’s missing journals – you suddenly trust him?”

  “His quick-thinking saved your butt last night. I agree with his conclusions about your missing phone, and I can’t overlook the possibility of those connections. Not when your safety is at stake right along with my sister’s. So in this particular instance…” Ben glanced at Cal, frowned. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

  “I’m touched,” Cal said, taking another bite of biscuit. “Hand me a napkin in case I tear up.”

  Ignoring Cal, Ben put his hands on his hips. “Look, I know you’re used to calling the shots, and I’m going to be the first to admit that short of locking you up, there isn’t a damn thing I can do to make you relocate. But I can ask, as your cousin, that you do me this favor. Sabrina is missing. I’d hate to have to worry over something happening to you, too.”

  Ainsley’s shoulders slumped. “You’re not seriously pulling out the guilt card, are you?”

  “When you have a trump card, you play it. Look, I know we haven’t been as close as we might have been over these past years, but I’d like the opportunity to move past that. I’d like you to give me the chance to be the cousin, the friend I should have been to you. I owe it to you, I owe it to myself.” His voice grew tight. “I owe it to Sabrina. It’s what she’s wanted for ages now. To have our family back together.”

  Ainsley closed her eyes. She could have stood against the two of them if they’d continued acting like the menfolk joining forces to look out for the little woman. But it would be foolish of her – cruel even – to give Ben more cause for worry when his plate was already overflowing with it.

  She opened her eyes and glanced at Cal, who lifted his brows as if to say Well?

  “Fine,” she capitulated.

  “I’m going to call about getting a rental car dropped off here,” Cal said as he snatched his shirt from the desk chair and pulled it on, favoring Ben with a significant look as he did so. “And check in with the vet. I’ll, uh, step into the hall for a minute.”

  Ainsley frowned after him, and then switched her suspicion to Ben. “What’s that all about?”

  Ben sighed. “Something Cal said last night. I dismissed it at first, but then it started niggling at me and… well, at this point I don’t think we can afford to overlook any possibility.”

  Ainsley got a bad feeling. “What?”

  “You haven’t been back here since Carly’s murder. Not really, anyway. I know you came for Granny’s funeral, but that was a day at most, and you and Uncle Thomas didn’t even stay here in town overnight.”

  “It’s not like we felt welcome to stay with your parents.”

  “I know. If I could go back and… try to convince them to handle things differently – to handle myself differently – I wouldn’t hesitate to do so. I think that grieving over the rift in her family sent Granny to her grave earlier than she otherwise might have gone. But I can’t change the past, and I’ve mostly chosen to avoid it. I found a sort of mental rug and swept the whole thing under there. And if I’m not mistaken, you did something of the sort, too.”

  “I had therapy,” Ainsley said. “My dad and my stepmom both insisted. But… yeah.”

  Ben nodded. “What Cal suggested, and what I’m now wondering, is if it’s possible that you… might remember more from that night. The night you saw Carly. And presumably her killer.”


  People often equated shocking words to a verbal slap, but Ainsley had never felt it so viscerally. “You think that I’ve been withholding information? All these years? What… out of spite? When my cousin was murdered?”

  “No.” Ben held up his hands. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean?”

  “If you stop yelling at me for a moment, I’ll explain.”

  “I’m not…” But Ainsley realized that she was yelling. Taking a deep breath, she said in a more reasonable tone. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that maybe you have memories that were suppressed by the trauma. You were a kid when this all went down. And I know your dad kept the police at the time from questioning you in a way that he saw as aggressive – which was his right. If I had a daughter, I’d probably be protective as hell, too.”

  “Ben,” Ainsley said, trying to figure out the best way to put this. “Don’t you think I would have remembered something – if there was something to remember – at some point in the past seventeen years? It was dark that night. I saw Carly climbing out the window.” She swallowed. “And while I did see the… man that she met, he was mostly in shadow. I saw his arm. The back porch light was on, and when Carly went down the steps toward him, he reached out…”

  She lifted her hands and let them fall, then clasped them in her lap to stop them from shaking. “He was Caucasian. That’s all I can say for sure.”

  “There are techniques,” Ben said “for questioning people. For helping them remember things that they don’t realize they saw.”

  “Hypnosis?” Ainsley could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Come on, Ben. You know as well as I do that repressed or recovered memories have been tossed out of court more often than not. In fact, I’d be thrilled if opposing counsel tried that against one of my clients, because it would make it that much easier to discredit them. It’s way too easy for a psychologist to implant false memories, and there are plenty of studies to back that up. People who suffer trauma struggle to forget what happened, not to remember.”

  Ainsley thought of Cal, of what happened when the car backfired. She would bet any amount of money that his memories were far more vivid than he wanted them to be.