Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

“Hello?” I banged on the door with the side of my fist. A solid thunk of flesh on wood was my only reward.

  I glanced around for a doorbell or a knocker. Nothing.

  The wind picked up again, whistling along the eaves of the house like an unruly ghost.

  I swore under my breath and knocked again. “Is anyone home? I’m Elise Vale from the university. I just have a few questions.”

  No luck. The house remained silent, watching me. Turning, I walked along the front porch, past the rusted swing, and to a set of dusty windows. I bent over to peek inside.

  The interior was so dark that what little sunlight filtered through the surrounding trees was still too much. The gold reflection blinded more than it illuminated. I dropped my note pad onto the swing and cupped my hands on the chilly glass to peer inside.

  When I saw a face only inches away from mine, I shrieked and stumbled backwards, falling on my ass with a thump.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE FRONT DOOR CREAKED OPEN, but not enough for me to enter or the man to come out. Relief flooded my veins. The man I saw through the window wasn’t someone I wanted to meet face to face, not when I was out in the boonies alone.

  I scrambled to my feet and clutched my notebook. The county records indicated the land was still in the Blackwood family, now owned by Garrett Blackwood, thirty-two years old. Could this be the same man? Surely not.

  “Mr. Blackwood?”

  “What do you want?” The voice was low and gruff, scratchy from disuse.

  “I’m Elise Vale from the university.” I brushed off my pants.

  “I’m not deaf, Red.” His voice boomed through the crack in the door. “I heard that part. What do you want?”

  I took a few hesitant steps closer. “I’m working on my Ph.D. in archaeology, and my focus is on Choctaw culture.” Usually that was enough to shake loose a question or an expression of interest from the landowners I spoke with. Not this one. I continued, “The woods and fields here in the Delta are littered with artifacts, and the university has made some great finds over the past few years in several of the areas near here. I was hoping you’d allow me to survey your land and perform a few digs—all with your express permission, of course. I wouldn’t do anything or dig anywhere without first gaining your approval.”

  A few beats went by. I tried to see into the dim interior of the house, but the darkness was all-consuming. Only his voice and the tips of his fingers—the nails dirty and black—along the edge of the door proved that a man stood just inside.

  “Go.” He pushed the door, closing the narrow pathway between us.

  I put my hand out and stopped the door before it closed all the way, only a sliver of space left. “Please. I’m counting on this to finish my Ph.D. Most of the land around here has already been searched and studied. The Blackwood”—I gestured to the skeletal forest encroaching on the house—“is the only untouched site in this part of the eastern Delta.”

  A harsh laugh cut through the air. “Untouched? Nothing here is untouched. Everything is spoiled, ruined. You want to hunt for remains of a murdered civilization? Look around; you’re surrounded by ghosts. No digging necessary.” He pushed the door all the way shut, and the clink of a lock sounded from within the thick wood. “Leave.” His voice barely made it to my ears, though I suspected he leaned against the door when he spoke. It was as if I could feel him through the surface, the fibers separating at microscopic levels to carry his cruel voice to my ears. “Stay off my land or I’ll call the sheriff.”

  My stomach sank. I needed to dig on this property.

  And not just for my Ph.D. project.

  “Please reconsider, Mr. Blackwood. I’ll leave the papers in the letterbox out here if you change your mind.” I opened the rusted letterbox next to the door, the hinges squeaking angrily, then slid the permission documents inside. “My phone number is on the first page, and you can call my thesis advisor, Dr. Stallings, if you have any questions. His number is there, too.”

  “Go!”

  I jumped as the door rattled and boomed. He must have banged his fists on it.

  The sun hid behind the trees as the chill wind picked up again. I turned, disheartened, and trudged down the stairs and back out to my car. After one more glance at the faded mansion in the woods, I backed up and headed down the driveway toward the road. The windows remained empty in my rear view, no sign of life or hope to light any of them.

  I gripped the steering wheel hard, too hard, and came to a stop at the main road. This had been my chance, my one chance to find the truth. I stared into the woods ahead of me, my headlights barely penetrating the surface of their shaded depths.

  Blackwood had taken the truth away from me, along with so much more. I knew without a doubt those documents would rot in the letterbox, and I would never be allowed to dig on the property.

  I was so close. I looked at my stack of signed permission papers in the passenger seat and chewed my lip. I had to have express approval from each landowner before Dr. Stallings would release funds for my digs. I’d hyped up the Blackwood site so much—too much—that it was pivotal for me. Dr. Stallings warned me that the university wouldn’t pay for me to dig in tracts that had already been surveyed unless I had something fresh to investigate.

  It was Blackwood or nothing. I slapped my palm on the steering wheel, the resulting ache in my hand letting me know I was still alive, still in the game, and still able to continue my search.

  I pulled a copy of the Blackwood permission papers from my stack and took a pen from my bag. Putting pen to paper, the name “Garrett Blackwood” flowed out easily in black ink. His property was expansive. I could dig without him ever knowing, Professor Stallings would have his paperwork, and I would finally be able to discover the truth about my father’s disappearance.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DR. STALLINGS FLIPPED THROUGH my approval papers, his sandy blond eyebrows drawn down as he checked each signature.

  “They’re all there.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to calm my skittering nerves.

  “I see.” He glanced at the last page—Blackwood’s page—then leaned back in his chair. “I see you got the Blackwood permission.”

  “Yes.” I dropped my gaze to my sensible flats. “I think I’ll start there.”

  “I’ve tried for years to get permission to dig out there. No dice.” He gave me a half-smile. “I should have realized all I had to do was send a sexy student to ask.” His light brown eyes scanned me with a cursory sweep. I used to think they were the color of honey, and the man who owned them just as sweet. Not anymore. “Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you on some of the scouting?”

  “And interrupt your classes?” I shook my head. “No. I can handle this.”

  He narrowed his gaze and motioned toward the door, silently telling me to close it. I stood and pushed it shut, even though acid began to rise in my throat. Even though I knew what was coming next.

  “Are you okay?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he asked, the buttons on his light blue dress shirt straining.

  “Yes.” I sank into the leather chair in front of his desk and silently prayed he wouldn’t ask me to chat with him on the couch. I’d heard too many stories about that couch.

  The wrinkles around his eyes tripled as he gave me a look of faux concern. “I wish you’d let me take you to dinner where we could talk quietly.” He glanced at the door. “More privately. I know it’s hard for you to share your feelings in this setting.”

  I had to play this carefully. One wrong move and he’d think I was interested in his advances. A move too far in the other direction and he’d threaten funding for my digs again. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.

  “I’m still not ready. I’m sorry.” I sank into my chair with a sigh.

  He stood and walked around his desk. The skin on the back of my neck crawled as he hovered behind me. “Your mother would want you to be happy.”

  Don’t you dare talk about her. “You’re
right.”

  “I can make you happy.” He slid his hands onto my shoulders, the fingers digging into my flesh like tenterhooks.

  “Doctor—”

  “Call me Frank. You know you can talk to me.”

  I remembered the last time he wanted to “talk.” The memory of his hot breath on my neck made me shudder. “Frank—”

  “Come sit with me.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, the sting of pain keeping me grounded. “I’m fine here.”

  He squeezed my shoulders hard, too hard. “Come on. You’ll feel better.”

  I bit my lip and rose as he released me. He sank onto his couch, one arm slung along the back. He was handsome, his sandy hair and clean-cut features screaming “All-American guy.” I’d never seen him with so much as a shadow along his jaw. Never a hair out of place, his clothes always perfectly pressed. He wore a uniform, a costume designed to lull me into a false sense of security. It failed to hide the fact that he was forty, married, and a known student-fucker.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get close to me. But I’d heard plenty of stories about his conquests, and I wouldn’t be the next. All the same, I had to do this. For Dad. One last gauntlet before I could investigate his disappearance.

  I eased down next to him, but not close enough to touch. “It’s going to take time. I still think about her a lot.”

  “I know.” He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me into his side. “Shh.” He kissed my hair. “I know it hurts.”

  I stared at the door, willing someone to knock. “I think getting out and doing the surveying will help me. Maybe once I get back…” I shrugged and let the carrot dangle in the air.

  He ran his hand through my hair, then down to my waist. “You think you’d be ready to talk about it then?” His thumb stroked the bare patch of skin between my pants and my shirt.

  I swallowed hard. “I think so, yes. Doing the legwork will help me clear my head.”

  “But that will be months.” He sighed and slid his fingers under my shirt.

  I froze. “I know.”

  “I just thought I’d have the chance to help you through your mother’s passing while it’s still fresh. It’s only been a few months. Is being alone really the best thing for you right now?” He inched his fingers along my skin, sliding up my stomach.

  I pulled out my last card. Bursting into tears, I buried my face in his chest. “I just can’t stop thinking about her. Time alone would help me let her go, you know?”

  “Shhh.” He rubbed my back, and I could almost feel him smiling. “I’ve got you.”

  Not even close. I fake cried with hiccupping sobs as he wrapped his other arm around me.

  “I understand.” He kissed my hair. “I can wait. How long will your surveys take? A month?”

  “I’ll need at least three.” I could do it in one, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “Three?” The frown in his voice iced my insides.

  “I want to be thorough, especially since my Ph.D. is riding on this. I hope that’s all right?” I kept my voice meek.

  “Well, I suppose that could work. Three months is a long time, but if that’s what you need to get your head clear so that I can help you, then I can live with it.”

  I nodded and blinked hard so a tear would wet my cheek, then looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  His gaze flicked to my lips. “Once the surveying is done—”

  “I’ll be back.”

  He leaned forward, and I let him brush his lips across mine. Then I buried my face against his shirt again. I hoped my nose would run and leave snot all along the designer check pattern.

  “Good.” He held me close. “I want to help you as soon as I can. I care about you so much.”

  I sniffled. “I know. You’re so good to me, Frank.”

  “That’s my job.” His chest puffed up. “Caring about students and their personal wellbeing is part of it.”

  “Thank you.” I lay my head on his shoulder. “I owe you so much.”

  “My pleasure.” His erection poked against his khaki pants, fanning out the pleats. He seemed to have no qualms about it. “I’ll get the funds all set up this afternoon. The sooner you get the surveying done, the better. Once it’s all laid out, you can come back. We can…talk through it all until you’re feeling better. Then we’ll both go out and oversee the undergrads on the digs.”

  The mental image of him grunting and grinding all over me in a pup tent was a particularly disturbing visual.

  I forced a wan smile. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”

  “Good.” He stood and pulled me up with him. “I have to prepare for class.” He snagged a box of tissues sitting on a side table. Of course he kept tissue next to the love seat.

  “Sure, no problem.” I grabbed my bag and walked to the door.

  Before I could turn the handle, he was behind me, his erection pressing against my ass. “I can’t wait for you to get back.” He dropped a kiss on my shoulder.

  “Me neither.” I let my breath out on a silent sigh as he backed away.

  I pulled the door open and strode down the hall. Once I rounded the corner, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Students passed, completely unaware of the wank session I was certain Dr. Stallings was engaging in just down the hall. Despite the fact that my skin still crawled, and I’d have to shower to get rid of the smell of his overpowering cologne on me, I smiled. I had the funding and the go-ahead to start my search.

  Blackwood’s secrets were mine to discover, and I would find them all before my three months were up.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I SETTLED IN AT the counter of the small-town greasy spoon. Browerton was the closest spot of semi-civilization to the Blackwood Estate. It had a smaller population than my university, but was a big enough town to be the Millwood County seat.

  I’d spent a week back at school getting everything prepared and avoiding any more run-ins with Dr. Stallings. I was prepared to spend my entire three months at Blackwood, flying under Garrett Blackwood’s radar the entire time.

  “Usual?” Bonnie sidled up and poured me a cup of coffee.

  “Please.”

  She turned and shouted through the window to the kitchen. “Ty, two over easy, side of bacon extra crispy, and cheese grits.”

  “Heard.” A male voice called back, though I’d never actually laid eyes on “Ty,” and I’d eaten at the diner three times.

  I turned my head to the left and studied the cork board at the end of the counter. Livestock for sale, work at a lumber mill, and several faded missing persons’ posters. My father could have been up there, a staple through his description and zero chance of being found.

  “So, where you been?” Bonnie leaned on the counter and watched the county road outside through the wide windows. Farm trucks bumped along on the potholes under her curious gaze.

  She looked about forty and had a friendly demeanor. I suspected she and Ty were married. Her Southern lilt had more of a twangy tinge to it than I was used to, but I found it familiar and enjoyable all the same. Sometimes I wondered if she’d known my father. I never asked. Stirring up the past too soon would lead to disaster.

  “I had to go back to school and get all my permits and funding lined up.” I sipped my coffee, singeing my tongue as the caffeine worked its way into me.

  “You think you’ll find anything out there in the woods?”

  The sizzle of bacon and the smell of grease and butter wafted in the air. I warmed my cool hands around the coffee cup and looked up into her thoughtful brown eyes.

  “I hope so.”

  “Aren’t you scared to be out there all alone? What if something gets you? You know there was this kid from the county high school that swears he’s seen Bigfoot tracks out in the woods. He makes these plaster cast things—”

  The door behind me opened, and Bonnie straightened, throwing her shoulders back to maximize her curves. “Sheriff Crow.”

  “Mor
nin’, Bonnie.” The sheriff sauntered in and dropped his hat on the counter next to me before sliding onto the stool to my left. “Mornin’, miss.”

  “Hi.” I glanced into his light blue eyes. Intelligence sparkled in them, and I hated the feeling of a pink blush creeping into my cheeks.

  He gave me a friendly smile. “I’m going to go ahead and hazard a guess that you’re the girl, I mean woman—” He shook his head at himself. “Sensitivity training clearly didn’t take, sorry about that—from the university looking for Choctaw artifacts?”

  “That’s me.” I tucked a lock of brown hair behind my ear. “How’d you know?”

  He arranged a napkin in his lap as Bonnie poured his coffee. “Everybody talks in a small place like this. A mosquito can’t sneeze on one end of town without me hearing a ‘bless you’ on the other.”

  “I see.” I had the irrational fear he’d ask to see my permission papers and somehow know I’d forged Garrett Blackwood’s signature. My stomach churned, suddenly angry at my order of coffee with a side of subterfuge.

  “Where you from?” He held up his hand to stop Bonnie’s steady pour of sugar into his cup. “That’s good, thanks.”

  “Stewartville.”

  “Up near Tupelo?”

  “That’s right.” I pressed my hands against my cup so hard I feared it would break. Revealing too much about myself wasn’t an option, but lying to the sheriff wasn’t high up on my list of priorities, either.

  “And getting a degree in something?”

  “Ph.D. in archaeology.” I nodded.

  “Makes me wish I’d gone to get some actual schooling.” He gave me a wistful look.

  “And leave us here with old Sheriff Pennington?” Bonnie crossed her arms over her chest. “God forbid.”

  “He wasn’t so bad.” The sheriff shrugged.

  “Yeah, back when he was a younger man, he was fine. But when he got the fits those last few years.” She shuddered. “That was a mess. We were lucky you were here to carry on his duties, even though you were just a deputy.”

  He grinned. “You’re just trying to flatter me into a bigger tip.”