Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  He placed the tray across my thighs. His nails were dark again, his fingers tinged gray and black at the tips. “I did.”

  “Really?”

  “No.” He smirked. “Bonnie dropped by when she heard about you laid up in here. Gave me the evil eye.” He backed away, then dug in his pocket. “Before I forget, here’s the pain pills.” He leaned over and dropped two white, powdery tablets on the edge of the tray. “Eat some first. Those will hit you hard if you don’t.”

  “She didn’t come up to see me?” My closest friend was three hours away scouting dig sites in Tennessee. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to. Someone other than Garrett. But I was heartened by the news that others knew I was here. Maybe Garrett didn’t intend to dismember me after all.

  “Ty would lay into her if she missed the lunch rush.”

  “Rush?” I grabbed my knife and fork. “I’ve never seen more than four people in the diner at a time.”

  “Right. The rush.” He deadpanned and crossed his arms over his chest.

  I laughed despite myself.

  Something softened around his eyes, and I realized what a handsome man he was. The beard and the hair couldn’t hide the man underneath, the one with sharp eyes and a sinful mouth. I forced myself to look away. There was no room for thoughts like that, especially when I wasn’t sure if Garrett could be trusted. I glanced to the marks on my wrists. Definitely can’t be trusted.

  I began cutting my steak. “Thanks for the food.”

  “Don’t get used to it. You’ll be back on my cooking tonight.” His softness left as quickly as it had come.

  “Hey, did you ask the sheriff about my car?”

  “No, I figure he’ll drop by here soon and you can lay all your concerns on him. Your car, your phone, my beard, all that.” He turned to leave. “Take the pills. I’ll check your bandages when I come back for the tray.” He strode out and closed the door.

  I stuffed a spare pillow behind my back and settled into the bed. Getting well enough to continue my investigation was the most important thing. I ate as much of my lunch as I could stomach, then popped the pills.

  The afternoon floated away, and I was only vaguely aware of Garrett cleaning and replacing the gauze along my leg and foot.

  Whenever I drifted to sleep, my dad was there. Sometimes it was a replay of a memory—him waving at me at my high school graduation, him snugging on his Braves hat as he watched a game, him kissing my mom on the mouth after he’d been drinking and showed up at the house uninvited. Sometimes, I found him sitting in his rusted-out car in the woods, smoking a cigarette and watching as I walked around and inspected the damage.

  No matter what sort of dream he appeared to me in, two things were always the same—his shirt was drenched in blood, and he had a smile on his face.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IT TOOK TWO DAYS before I could go to the bathroom without Garrett’s help, then another two days before I could take a bath with my leg draped over the tub. By that time, I couldn’t even bear to sniff my pits, and I found a new admiration for Garrett. He’d been attending to me dutifully and hadn’t commented on my desperate need for a bath.

  I sighed as I lay back and rested my head on the edge of the tub, the warm water swirling around me.

  Garrett had remained distant, only warming to me in rare moments of wry humor. They were so brief and dry that I sometimes wasn’t sure if he was joking or just saying something to shut me up. Any time I’d felt like I gained ground with him, he’d leave abruptly and not return until it was time for one of his terrible meals or one of Bonnie’s delicious ones.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been soaking before I heard the familiar creak.

  “Garrett?”

  Assuming he wouldn’t show up until mealtime, I’d left the door to the bathroom open. The bath was just water, no bubbles to hide my nude form, though I don’t know why I was shy. He’d perused my body plenty as he changed my bandages and carried me to the bathroom. His fingers lingered on my skin longer each time, his hold on me tighter.

  “Elise?” A man’s voice.

  I sat up straighter in the water and cursed myself for not laying my towel closer. “Who’s there?”

  “Sheriff Crow.”

  I relaxed against the porcelain. “Hi. I’m in the tub.”

  “Oh.” The creaking stopped. “Sorry about that.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m happy to see you.” I stared at the door. “Not that I can see you…”

  He laughed. “I know what you mean. How are you recovering? I been meaning to come by sooner, but there was a hunting accident a couple days ago I had to look into. Took up too much of my time. Len—I mean, Mayor Freeman—chewed my ass when he heard I hadn’t made it out here yet.”

  “I’m doing better. But I’d like to have my cell phone.”

  He coughed. “I’ve been in touch with your professor already. He’s glad you’re okay. There wasn’t any other family to notify. He said you didn’t speak about your dad and your mother passed—”

  “Great, but I want my phone.” Frustration seeped into my voice. What else had Professor Stallings told the sheriff? Irritation and petulance mixed as I considered how helpless I was under the Blackwood roof. “I want my phone. It’s mine.”

  He sighed. “I’ll talk to Garrett. I believe he has it. I’m sorry about that, Elise. It’s just that I knew you were in good hands, and I didn’t want anyone thinking less of my county. Len figured you didn’t need the distraction—”

  “No one expects you to control wild boars. And what I choose as a distraction is my business, not Mayor Freeman’s. And you didn’t have to leave me here with…with him.”

  Another creak—he was moving closer. “He hasn’t done anything, has he?”

  I shook my head even though the sheriff couldn’t see me. “No.” Had I thought about Garrett doing something to me? Something I might like? Yes. I chalked it up to the meds and my year-long dry spell. “But you don’t have the right to take my phone. And the mayor doesn’t have the right to cut off my communication just because he’s afraid of bad press.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “Damn. Yeah, you’re right. I got carried away. Len’s like Chicken Little, and I didn’t think it through. I’ll make sure Garrett gives your phone back to you. Okay?”

  “Yes. And someone took my car.” I stared at the silver faucet, a slow drip plopping into the clear water at a steady pace.

  “Your car?”

  “Yeah. My car was gone when I walked out of the woods that day.”

  His shoes scuffed along the wood floors, as if he were turning in a circle. “I don’t know anything about that. Gone? Where did you leave it?”

  “There’s a logging road. I think on the county map it’s marked with an L-8. I was parked about seven miles off the main highway.”

  “Huh.” More scuffing sounds. “Sounds like a theft. Maybe some kids came along and jacked it for a joy ride.”

  My memory fired. “Oh, there was a guy! In the woods! He had like, long hair, a scraggly beard, crooked teeth. Tall and sort of, I don’t know… He looked like he could use a good meal.”

  “Danny. Had to be.”

  Another fizzle of memory. “Danny, the crazy one?”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “I heard it on your radio at the diner that morning. Someone called in and said he was yelling about lights in the woods.”

  “That’s him all right. I never took him for a car thief, though.”

  “Maybe he didn’t steal it, but he could have seen who did. I don’t know, but he was there with me. Seems important.”

  He was silent for a beat. “It’s odd. I have to admit. I’ll definitely look into it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Very welcome. Well, I have to get back to it. I just wanted to stop by since I got a breather from the accident investigation.”

  “What happened?” I adjusted my leg upward and moaned at the relief from the blood rushing away from
it and back toward my heart.

  “You all right in there?”

  I pressed my fingers against my forehead. Oh my god. “Yeah, fine. Thanks.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, we aren’t quite sure what happened. One man shot dead with a high-powered hunting rifle. Damnedest thing. A local hunter found him still alive, but bleeding out. Couldn’t even talk to him before he died.”

  Glancing to my leg, I realized how lucky I was. “Poor guy. Someone you knew?”

  “No, that’s the part that’s got us standing here holding our di—err—I mean, scratching our heads. Not from here. No one recognizes him, not even the property owner.”

  “I hope you figure it out.”

  “You and me both. And after what happened to you, I’m trying to decide if I should get some guys together and go on a wild boar hunt.”

  I swished the water back and forth with my palms. “I’ve been eating the hell out of the sausage and bacon that Bonnie sends as payback.”

  He laughed, the sound rolling through the usual stillness of the house. “I like you. I’m glad you’re going to be sticking around. Still planning on doing your surveying and digging?”

  “Definitely. As soon as I can walk well enough, I’ll be back out there.” I was too close to pack up and go home. Asking him about my father’s car was on the tip of my tongue, but my mother’s warning echoed in my mind: Don’t trust any of them. Not a one. I stayed silent.

  He sighed. “Just try to be more careful this time.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.”

  “I can assure you I’ll worry. It’s my job. I’ll try and get back by here to see you in a few days. Keep resting up.”

  I wouldn’t ask about my dad’s car, but the screams were fresh. Maybe Sheriff Crow could help out with the new mystery. “Sheriff?”

  “Yeah?”

  I shifted in the water. “The night I was in the woods, I heard something. I heard…screams.”

  “Huh.” The shuffling noise resumed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. That’s why I came onto the Blackwood property.” A white lie never hurt anyone. “I was looking for the source of the screams.”

  “You find anything?”

  “No.” I rested my chin on the edge of the tub and stared at the empty doorway. “Just the boars. Or I guess they found me.”

  “It could have been an animal. They say panthers and such have screams that sound human. Other animals, too, maybe bobcats. No one else lives out here, you know? And I haven’t had any reports of missing persons. But I’ll take a look, all the same.”

  I knew with unflinching certainty it wasn’t an animal. Maybe it was a good thing Sheriff Crow didn’t seem overly concerned. What were the chances something violent would happen in the same woods so close to where my father died? If they were related in any way, I wanted to be the one to discover the link.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. And please make sure I get my phone.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll talk to Garrett on my way out. I gotta get going, but you keep resting up.”

  “I will. See you later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His footsteps receded.

  If no one was missing, where did the mystery scream come from? I watched the steady drip of the faucet, trying to hypnotize myself into discovering the answer. The water eventually cooled, and I still hadn’t figured it out. But I would, one way or another.

  “WHY ARE YOUR NAILS BLACK SOMETIMES?” I took a bite of the most disgusting chicken salad sandwich I’d ever tasted.

  “Sheriff Crow comes to visit and all of a sudden you’re chatty?” Garrett leaned against my doorframe and watched as I struggled to eat the “mayo with a side of chicken” sandwich.

  “I’ve always been chatty. Now it shows because the drugs have worn off and I’m not in agonizing pain.” I put the sandwich down and focused on the potato chips instead. “You’re the non-chatty one.”

  He tossed my phone onto the bed. “Maybe that’s for a reason, Red.”

  “What reason?” I picked it up and swiped across the screen. No service. Shit.

  “I told you when you got here that I wanted you out.” He sighed. “That hasn’t changed.”

  I dropped the phone with a grimace and picked at my sandwich. “Okay. And I told you that I can’t wait to leave, so we’re on the same page. Why would those facts keep you from telling me why your fingernails are covered in filth sometimes?”

  “It’s not filth.” He shook his head. “While you’re lying around eating my delicious food all day without lifting a finger, I’m working.”

  “On what?” In all the research I’d done, I never found Garrett to have any real source of income other than timber and oil royalties on the Blackwood property.

  “Why do you care?” He crossed his arms over his chest, the rolled up sleeves of his shirt revealing some dark ink snaking across his skin.

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  I crunched the salty chips. “It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t so stubborn about not wanting to tell me. Now I have to know.”

  “You’re calling me stubborn?” He arched a dark eyebrow.

  “I see your hearing is working fine.” I plucked out another chip.

  His lip twitched, a smile trying to form but failing. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know you can’t cook for shit.” I ticked off my fingers as I went. “You avoid me if possible. You have a secret pastime that turns your nails black. You are secretly kind. And you desperately need a haircut.”

  “That’s all?”

  “And a shave.” I drew my legs up under the blankets, happy to be able to move them without searing pain.

  “Want to know what I know about you?” He walked in and sat on the spot my feet had just vacated.

  “Sure.”

  “You forged my signature on permission documents. You trespassed on my land. You almost got killed by wild boars.” His smirk began to surface. “You are eternally grateful to me for saving your life. And you have some major daddy issues.”

  I stopped mid-chew. “What?”

  “That’s right.” He snagged a chip from my plate and ate it. “You talk in your sleep. Most of the time it’s nonsense, but every so often you say ‘dad’.”

  “You watched me sleep?”

  He glanced away. “Sometimes when you were on the pills, you’d be sleeping when I came in with food.”

  I didn’t buy his excuse, but I was more worried that I said something to give myself away. “So what kind of daddy issues do you suspect?” I tried to keep my tone playful.

  “I’m not sure, but there’s something about the way you say his name.” He pinned me with an inscrutable look. “It seems like you’re sad. Like…”

  My appetite dried up. “What? Like what?”

  “It’s like you’re lost and you’re desperately trying to find him. Like if you could only get to him, everything would be okay.” He shrugged. “It makes me hope you find him. That’s why I never wake you up.”

  I studied the strong line of his jaw, the messy locks of hair, and looked deeper. The man underneath wasn’t so easily discerned. For the first time since I’d shown up on his doorstep, I finally saw Garrett Blackwood.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “WHAT’S GOING ON?” I leaned against the doorframe and tried not to sound as exhausted as I felt.

  Garrett didn’t turn around. “If you were trying to surprise me, maybe you shouldn’t have come down the stairs sounding like a wounded elephant.”

  I stared at the library. Books lined the walls and only stopped for a window or a door. The turret along the front of the house spiraled up in the corner and let in plenty of light despite the encroaching trees.

  “I’m proud of myself enough for the both of us.” My left leg had healed to the point it could bear my weight without too much pain. The bone was fine, but the skin itched and stretched where the stitches ran along my calf. I only hoped th
e scars wouldn’t be too noticeable.

  “Color me completely unsurprised.” He sat at a wide work desk and looked through a lighted magnifying glass.

  I hobbled into the room and rested on the arm of a threadbare sofa. This part of the house seemed fresher, more well-used than my dusty guest room. “What are you doing?”

  He took a deep breath and leaned back. “I was working.”

  “On what?” I took a few more steps until I stood behind him.

  He waved his hands at the desk. An antique book lay open in front of him. The page on the left had crisp black ink on parchment. The right hand side was faded, the letters almost indistinguishable. Small pots of ink dotted the desk, and a wide selection of quills and fountain pens sat in a coffee cup to the side. A couple of books, their bindings frayed and worn, were stacked on the edge, as if waiting for their turn under the magnifying glass.

  “This is why your fingers are black.” Ink.

  “Give the lady a prize.” He glanced up at me. “What did you suspect?”

  “I had two theories, really.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mechanic or casual murderer who likes to dig the graves by hand.”

  He laughed and shook his head, his shaggy hair giving off a clean shampoo scent. “Both excellent guesses.”

  Something about his laughter sent my heart into a quicker rhythm. “So, you restore books?”

  He nodded. “Collectors send me their treasures, and I get them back into good shape.”

  “Seems really, um, tedious.” I scooted around him and sat on the edge of the desk. My leg needed a break.

  “It is, but I enjoy it.” He leaned back and stared up at me, his face reverting to the usual look of serious disdain.

  “You must have a lot of patience.”

  He smirked and gave me a pointed look. “So it would seem.”

  “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  His gaze traveled down my body, and I wondered for the hundredth time what he was thinking. I wore a college t-shirt and shorts. Nothing fancy, but the way he looked at me made me feel as if I were wearing nothing more than skimpy lingerie.