Emma and Rachel appeared in the doorway to the living room, surprise on their faces, as Sydney asked, “What’s fuck?”
“Um, I think Syd and I will go see if John and Zanny are home,” Rachel said. “Em, let me have your keys.”
Emma handed them to her without a word. As soon as the door closed, she came into the living room and around the couch. “Trace. When did you get home? What in the Sam Hill is going on here? And why are you yelling at him, Logan?”
“Because he’s a lying cheat. He’s the man I saw at the apartment with Lori the other day.”
Her eyes narrowed as she turned her attention back to Trace. “Is that so?”
Trace was scowling furiously by now. “What the hell do you mean, you saw me at the apartment? What have you been doing, following me?”
He started to stand but Emma stopped him with a growled warning. “If you move your ass off that couch one inch, I’ll be on the phone to your mother before you can get straightened out, asking her why her son is messing around with a married woman.”
Trace sucked in a breath. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Emma leaned in. “Watch me.”
Whatever the relationship with his mother was, he didn’t want Emma to make that call. A blind man could see that. He slowly sank back down, his eyes never leaving hers.
“What do you want?”
“Answer the question. How long have you and Lori been screwing each other?” she asked briskly.
To Logan’s surprise, his cheeks flushed, and he dropped his gaze to his lap. “Since the first damned week I was home. I ran into her in the store and… And it isn’t like what you’re saying. You make it sound nasty.”
At this rate the boy was going to be sniveling into his hankie. Logan gave a disgusted snort and walked away.
“I gather you’ve been following me?” Trace asked. “Why?”
“Because Roger is stalking my sister. Has been since mid-October or thereabouts.” Emma had taken over the interrogation, and since Trace seemed to be responding to her better than he was to them, Logan let her keep at it. “As you can imagine, this has us all a little upset.”
Trace shook his head. “He’s what? You can’t be serious. Roger isn’t smart enough to stalk someone.”
“He’s a hell of a lot smarter than you think.” Emma crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on her sleeve. “So you’ve been seeing each other since September… that’s too convenient. I don’t like the timing. I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“Lori hasn’t said a word about it. Wouldn’t she know if it were Roger? She and Amelia are best friends.”
“Amelia hasn’t told her. She’s been wanting to spare her feelings, to keep her from being too worried,” Logan ground out. “And she’s afraid Lori won’t believe her, will chose to continue seeing only the good in her husband. See, Amelia has been trying to get Lori to leave the scumbag she’s married to. She’s put herself in his crosshairs doing that. And now he’s stalking her. But apparently Lori isn’t too concerned about leaving shithead, because she’s got a fuck toy she’s playing with. What does it matter if Roger hurts Amelia in the meantime, as long as she gets her rocks off with you?”
Trace came up fast at that. Logan was ready for him, had his hands wrapped around Trace’s shirt and had him dancing on his tiptoes in a flash. He gave the younger man a little shake. “If you think for one second that I’m going to stand by and let this continue, you’re delusional. You tell me right now if you know anything about this, or by God, I’ll castrate you where you stand.”
“Not in the living room,” Emma moaned. “Do you know how much of a mess that would create? Let him down, Logan. He’s going to answer. Aren’t you, Trace?”
He managed to squeak out a yes, and Logan slowly lowered him down to stand on his own. If he could have taken a swing at Logan and gotten away with it, he would have. He knew better than to try, though, and he answered the question.
“I don’t know anything. Are you sure it’s Roger?”
Archer nodded. “Oh, absolutely. Amelia saw him.”
“Damn. Is she okay?”
Logan looked to Emma. “She’s out of town right now to try to let him cool off,” she told him. “She’s practically been exiled because of this.”
Trace sighed. “I swear to you, I don’t know anything. I’ll ask Lori the next time I see her.”
“Which is when?” Logan asked.
“Tuesday.”
Emma was suspicious. “You don’t have any way of contacting her?”
“No. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m calling bullshit on that, Trace. You go ahead and tell us that, but I’m betting as soon as your happy ass can get to a phone, you’ll be calling her.” She stepped in closer to him. “You give Lori a message from me. You tell her that the days of the Campbell family trying to protect her from Roger are over. If I have anything to say about it, Amelia will be washing her hands of the whole situation. See, it’s just too convenient that after almost four years, Roger starts stalking Amelia about the same time you and Lori start sharing a bed. Maybe Lori turned him onto Amelia to keep him from looking too closely at her.”
Trace was outraged. “That’s despicable, Emma. You know she’d never do anything like that.”
“The old Lori? No, she wouldn’t. But she’s not the same girl you went with back in high school, Trace. She’s been through hell the last few years. And if she has a chance to grab at some happiness? Desperate people do desperate things.”
He shook his head as though he couldn’t comprehend it. Logan figured he probably couldn’t. “But setting Roger on Amelia?”
Emma shrugged. “Maybe she still blames her for Jimmy’s death.”
Trace shook his head again, and Logan could tell the man was honestly confused. “She never blamed Pip.”
“Not that we know. But Roger’s had her for almost four years now. Who knows what kind of indoctrination he’s managed to implant in her brain?” Emma brushed her hair back off her face. “Listen, you tell Lori whatever you want to tell her. She won’t ask Roger about it. She can’t. She’d have to reveal that you two are seeing each other. But you make sure you tell her that Amelia is going to be coming back here soon, and she’s got a mean-ass boyfriend who’s insanely jealous. I don’t care who you tell her it is.”
His eyes flicked to Logan, and Emma’s smile was cold.
“He’s fine. Perfect, in fact. Just make sure you tell her that if he gets a whiff of Roger around my sister, he’ll castrate first and ask questions later. It’s time we turned this little game back on him. We’re done hiding and running. As soon as Pip has had time to catch her breath, she’s coming home. Roger better stay clear, because if I hear one whisper about him coming near her, there’s going to be a lot of collateral damage, and I’m going to start with you. Understand me?”
“Yes. May I go now?” he ground out.
Emma stood back, and Logan slowly followed suit. Trace left the room with long strides, the door slamming behind him. No one spoke for a minute, and then Archer let out a tense sigh.
“Well, I have to say that was probably one of the best good cop, bad cop routines I’ve ever seen. The two of you scared that kid shitless. I thought we were going to have to clean up the couch.”
Logan and Emma both looked at him in consternation. Contrary to his jocular words, his tension showed in his face as he stood and moved to Emma. “You were pretty rough on him, Em. You don’t really believe all that, about Lori being behind the stalking, do you?” he asked as he put a hand on her waist.
She hesitated. “I don’t know. Probably not. But it is an awfully big coincidence, you have to admit.” She leaned against him and Archer embraced her fully.
“Why’s he so afraid of his mother?” Logan asked.
“She was sick earlier this year, and he’s an only child. I figured he wouldn’t want to upset her. Plus, she isn’t afraid to straighten him up if need be. She’s a good woman. She’d box his ears for having an affair with Lori.”
“You were right about one thing,” Logan told her. “She won’t be able to say a word to Roger about the stalking. There’s nowhere else she could come up with to have heard about it. But if she is truly innocent in all this, the guilt is going to be rough on her.”
“I know. Given how many laws we probably broke today, I didn’t want to add stalking to the list, so we had to explain why we were following her. The irony would just be too much.”
Archer kissed her forehead. “At least we got some answers. And who knows? Maybe this will change things for the better. Damned if I know how.” He groaned. “Moving on to other topics. How are we going to get Sydney to unlearn her new word?”
Logan saw Emma smile before she hid her face in his brother’s chest. “Oh, that cat is out of the bag well and truly. All we can hope for now is damage control. Speaking of Sydney, though, I should probably call up to John’s and see if she’s there.” She winked at Logan and headed for the kitchen.
“How are you going to tell Amelia about this?” he asked Archer as they watched her go.
“Hell if I know. I don’t know how she’ll react to Trace being back, and he and Lori… I know she always thought they belonged together but geez, Logan. Not like this.”
“No. Not like this.” Logan had no more tolerance for cheaters than Archer.
Emma came back in then, the cordless phone held to her ear. “Rachel and Sydney are at John’s. Rachel deduced what was going on and called a powwow. They’re getting some food together. You game?”
Archer shrugged. “Sure. Lo?”
He really wanted to head home and crawl back in bed, or to drive to London and see Amelia in person. Those weren’t great options, he knew, so he agreed. “I guess so.”
Later that evening when he got home, he’d decide whether to pick the phone up and call her or not. He had the number now, thanks to caller ID, and the temptation to use it was riding him strong. At the same time, he didn’t want to be the one who told her about Trace and Lori.
“Play it by ear. That’s all you can do right now,” he told himself as he followed Archer and Emma to John’s. “You’ll talk to her soon enough, one way or the other.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dear Logan,
Emma and Archer came down today and brought news. I’m sure you can guess what they told me. From what Archer said, there was quite the drama yesterday afternoon. And I hear that we’re now dating, on the verge of being engaged. You’d better be getting me a big ring, Casanova.
I joke, but otherwise I’d be crying. I did cry this afternoon after they left. I am lost. I have no idea what to think, what to do. Emma has a theory that Lori might be involved in the stalking. I don’t believe that, but I’m not sure my disbelief is because her idea isn’t logical. I am afraid it’s because I don’t want it to be true. I never thought she’d have an affair, either. Not in a million years.
It’s as though someone has spun me into an alternate universe where everything is upside down. I have fallen into the rabbit hole.
On the good-news front, I sent a query letter out to a publishing agent today. That is eyes only, Sarge. I haven’t told anyone in the family about it, and I don’t intend to until I hear from the agent. The last thing I want to be accused of is riding into success on Daddy’s coattails. I even submitted under a pen name. I don’t think Daddy would contact his agent to try to facilitate a deal, but I don’t want to put him in that position. I’ll either get accepted on my own or not.
My birthday is coming up next week and as usual, they’re predicting snow. When I was a little girl, I told Mom and Daddy that I was going to start celebrating it in July so I could have a real party. I can count on one hand the number of years it hasn’t been blizzard-like. I hope this coming weekend is clear, but I’m betting it won’t be.
Caleb and I went out bowling last night. He’s a hoot. There’s a very sweet girl who works at the veterinary clinic as a receptionist that I’d love to set him up with. If I’m here long enough, I may, despite his resistance. When he puts his mind to it, he’s nearly as stubborn as a Gibson. (Unlike us Campbells, who aren’t stubborn at all.)
I suppose I’ll sign off. Thanks for letting me ramble. And thanks for what you did yesterday. Archer said you and Emma impressed the hell out of him, and he was being serious when he said that. Hopefully the effort will yield some positive results. I’m going to wait to see if I hear from Lori. At this point I truly don’t know what to say to her. I tried writing her several times this evening but eventually I gave up. I alternate between anger and concern. Emma said something that resonated, and that’s the notion that one person can’t carry a relationship, whether romantic or friendship. She thinks I’ve carried this one too much by myself recently. Maybe she’s right. I don’t know. And right now, I’m going to let her judgment stand in for mine.
Take care,
Amelia
Logan folded the letter carefully and slid it back in the envelope. He didn’t lay it aside, but kept it in his hand as though trying to absorb the words into his skin.
It was Tuesday evening. He hadn’t called Amelia after the powwow with her family, as he knew Archer and Emma were going down to see her Sunday. But it had taken every bit of his patience and willpower to not pick up the phone. That willpower was shattered now. It was still early, only seven o’clock, so he picked up the phone and dialed. An older lady answered.
“Is Amelia available?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, who?”
Logan realized she probably had no way of knowing who he was. “This is Logan. Logan Gibson. Is this Eliza?”
She gave a soft laugh. “It is. How are you doing, young man?”
“I’m well, thanks. You?”
“Oh, fine as feathers. I hope you realize why I couldn’t just hand the phone over, as my granddaughter is officially in Georgia.”
Logan chuckled. “I figured as much. How is she?”
Eliza sighed. “Hurt. She hasn’t stopped cleaning for two days. Today was especially hard, since it’s the day she usually goes to visit Lori. We finally got her to go upstairs for a nice, long bath. That’s where she is now.”
“Oh. Then would it be all right if I call back later? I don’t want to bother you all.”
“Logan, you call back any time. I think it would cheer her up to hear from you. Give her about an hour or so tonight, and she should be nice and relaxed. Or as close as she’s going to get to it, anyhow.”
“Thank you.” He said his good-byes and hung up, then got up to pace the small apartment. He didn’t know what to do with himself for the next hour. Needing to feel some fresh air, he headed out to the screened-in porch on the back of the apartment. The concrete-and-brick building sat farther back on the lot than most of the other houses along the river, affording him considerable privacy. A sheer rock face formed the mountain on the opposite side of the river, causing the sound of the water bouncing off the hard surface to reach his ears.
Amelia had been correct about the weather if the way his hip and shoulder were aching was any indication. Though it was warm now, in the mid-fifties, a cold front was pushing through and would be bringing frigid air and wintry conditions to the region. The forecasters were predicting up to a foot of snow in the valleys, with more expected for higher elevations, starting with freezing rain tomorrow morning. Since the temperatures were then supposed to drop into the low twenties for daytime highs, whatever precipitation they got wouldn’t be melting for a while. The forecast had come with such a high percentage of likelihood, school had been put on a two-hour delay the next morning, just in case. If the weath
er turned as expected, it would be cancelled.
Thinking a hot bath sounded like a good idea, he headed inside. He stopped to grab the phone on his way, having learned the hard way a few months earlier that he might end up in the tub and not be able to get out. Though his muscles weren’t aching quite as severely as they had the night he and Amelia had gone for the run, they were most definitely protesting the incoming cold front.
He’d been in the tub five minutes when the phone rang. A glance at the caller ID made his heart race. Amelia.
“Hey.”
“Hey, back. Nonny said you’d called. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to check on you. I got your letter.”
“I’m okay.” She let out a breath. “You busy?”
He shifted to get more comfortable. “No. I’m taking a page from your book, getting a hot bath. Looks like you’re going to have a white birthday, I hate to say.”
“I’m used to it. So a bath, huh? Does that mean you’re naked?” She lowered her voice to emphasize the last two words dramatically.
Logan grinned. “As the day I was born.”
She gave an exaggerated gasp. “I don’t know if my little heart can take the idea of it. Naked, wet, ohhh my.” She ruined the effect by laughing.
“Gee, you’ll give me a complex,” Logan teased, enjoying the back and forth. “I didn’t think I was that hideous.”
“Hideous is not a word I’d come close to using to describe you, soldier boy. Wounds acting up on you?”
“A little. I guess they’re something of an early-warning system for weather fronts. Hopefully that will fade with time. So how long will it take for you to hear something back from the literary agent?”
“Could be weeks, could be months, could be never. It depends on whether my query interests them or not.”
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