Her Last Breath: A Chilling Psychological Thriller (Wolf Lake Thriller Book 1)
Page 23
“Come with me,” Thomas said.
He unlocked the guest house and stepped aside, motioning LeVar to enter first. The boy bobbed his head as he took in the interior.
“This is sweet.”
“I stayed here when I was a teenager. This was my uncle’s guest house.”
LeVar stepped beneath the water stain and stared at the ceiling.
“You got a leak in the roof.”
“Not for long.” Thomas leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. “I thought you didn’t know anything about construction.”
“I recognize water damage. We have a permanent stain over the living room. Lady’s sink upstairs leaks all the time. Last week, the damn thing dripped on me while I laid on the couch.”
“Lay on the couch.”
“What?”
“Laid implies you…never mind.” He ruffled his hair. “Someone told me I’m a literal person. I’m trying to change. But you’ll get used to me.”
“You’re a strange one, Deputy Dog. I still don’t get what you’re talking about. You’re not offering me a job, but a way out?”
“Follow me.”
Thomas led LeVar to the window. The teenager feigned disinterest, his chest puffed out, a swagger to his step. Until he saw the view. Then his chin dropped to the floor. A speedboat motored across the lake, churning waves which spread to the shoreline.
“This is your view? How much they pay at the county sheriff’s department? I need to get me some of that.”
“It’s yours, if you want it.”
LeVar glared at Thomas.
“You selling me your guest house?”
“No, I’m offering you a place to stay. No rent, no utilities. All I ask is you help me fix it up, restore it to the way it was. Scratch that. Let’s make it better.”
“Like I told you, I don’t know nothing about construction.”
“I’ll teach you.”
LeVar gave Thomas a side-eyed glare, the stare he’d shoot someone handing him a three-dollar bill.
“It’s an honest trade,” Thomas said. “Help me with the roof and floors, and the house is yours. Purchase your own groceries. There’s no kitchenette, but you’re welcome to use my stove anytime you like. I’ll cut you a spare key.”
LeVar folded his arms over his chest.
“Why are you doing all this for me?”
“You’re not interested?”
“I didn’t say that. No one ever did nothing for us, so why you wanna help?”
Thomas strode to the window and set his hands on his hips. The lake reflected the pristine sky, aqua-blue and full of possibility.
“This is more than a house. It’s a place of healing.” When LeVar narrowed his eyes, Thomas grinned. “This place helped me escape from a dark place. I’d like to do the same for you.”
“Why me?”
“You’re a good person, LeVar. Your sister tells me so. I see how much you care about others, how you dropped everything to help your mother. But there’s one rule you have to follow, if you live here.”
“What’s that?”
“You leave the Kings, and you never go back.”
LeVar took a cautious step forward and stood beside Thomas, peering out at the idyllic view.
“I could get used to this.” He turned to Thomas. “What happens when we finish this project? You kicking me out after?”
“No, this place is yours as long as you need it. But there’s something you need to learn. After I finish a project, I start the next.”
When Thomas exited the guest house with LeVar, he found Naomi and Scout watching from the property line. Naomi cast a skeptic eye at LeVar. Scout set her phone in her lap.
“LeVar Hopkins, these are my neighbors, Naomi and Scout Mourning.” Naomi gave the boy a careful wave. Thomas nodded at LeVar. “LeVar’s sister works for the private investigation firm that helped us track Jeremy Hyde. He’ll be living in the guest house.”
“I’m considering the offer,” LeVar corrected.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Scout said.
“I figured it would be nice to have an extra pair of eyes monitoring the lake,” Thomas said, holding Naomi’s gaze.
Naomi waited a heartbeat before nodding.
“That would make me feel safer. Are you from Wolf Lake, LeVar?”
“From Harmon, actually.”
“I heard your stereo when you drove up,” Scout said. LeVar lifted his chin again, expecting criticism. “That’s the new Freddie Gibbs project.”
LeVar glanced at Thomas in astonishment. Thomas shrugged.
“You listen to Freddie Gibbs?”
“He has the best flow in the rap game. But I’m old school at heart. LL Cool J, Public Enemy, Run DMC. All the classics.”
“What did you say your name was again?”
“Scout.”
Thomas touched his nose to cover a laugh. LeVar would have to get used to it—Scout was full of surprises.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Maggie was on her lunch break when Thomas entered the station. Aguilar had just left. Thomas’s date for the Magnolia Dance had responded to a call on the west side of the lake. Something about a man running over his neighbor’s flower garden with a lawn tractor. Normalcy returned to the village, though the specter of the Erika Windrow murder would be difficult to exorcise.
Inside his office, Gray looked up when the doors swung shut.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Deputy. Not until you clear your evaluation.”
“I left something in my desk.”
The sheriff grunted.
“Come back to my office. Since you’re here, there’s something I need to speak with you about.”
Gray rocked back in his chair, swiveling from side to side, as though searching for the right words.
“Is there a problem, Sheriff?”
“Have you spoken to your father since yesterday?”
“No. Why?”
“He phoned the office this morning. Maggie took the call before I arrived.”
“What did he want?”
Gray tapped his hand against the desk.
“Your father is quite philanthropic, Thomas. No one has donated more to the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department since I held your position.”
This was news to Thomas.
“I never knew he supported the department.”
“I’m sure it’s a writeoff for Shepherd Systems, but it isn’t chump change. His donations bought us a fleet of cruisers two years ago.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Gray set his hat on the desk.
“Your father implied the donations would stop, if we didn’t make certain personnel changes inside the department.”
So this was Mason Shepherd’s angle.
“Did he tell you to fire me?”
Sheriff Gray held up a hand.
“Not in so many words.” Gray eyed the memo pad. Thomas recognized his father’s number scribbled on the paper. “I’m to call your father back before five o’clock with an answer.”
“What will you tell him?”
Gray sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“That the county appreciates everything he’s done for the department, and we’d like him to reconsider.”
“And if he demands you cut his son from the payroll?”
The sheriff straightened his shoulders and met Thomas’s eyes.
“Then I’ll tell him to pound salt. Nobody tells Stewart Gray how to run his department.”
* * *
Thomas shielded his eyes from the dusty wind and crossed the parking lot to his truck. He called his mother’s cell. No answer. This was the third consecutive time he’d reached her voice-mail. The silent treatment was straight out of Lindsey Shepherd’s playbook. Until he knocked on their front door and agreed to resign as deputy, she would ignore him.
A car door closed, and he swung around to find Chelsey strutting toward the building. She wore her leather jacket
unzipped, the sun washing orange highlights through her hair. Chelsey pulled up when she spotted him.
“I didn’t expect you to be here today.”
“Technically, I’m not. What are those?” Thomas asked, tilting his chin at the papers in her hand.
“Notes from the Erika Windrow case. Gray needs my statement. Hey, Raven told me you invited her brother to stay with you while he searches for a new place.”
“In the guest house, yes.”
“That’s kind of you. LeVar needs people on his side, especially after I accused him of murder. Guess you fixed my mess…I always make a mess of things.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and in that quiet, Thomas sought words to bridge the gap. The right words remained elusive, like catching will-o-wisps in the darkness. He shuffled his feet. She stood a healthy distance away, her eyes shifting to her sneakers as she spoke.
“About last night,” she said. “I laid too much on you, and I’m sorry.”
“We waited a long time to voice our feelings. You need not apologize.”
She looked toward the building, the parking lot reflected in the windows.
“I lost control of my emotions. That’s something I’m working on. I’m afraid I gave you the wrong impression, and for that, I can’t forgive myself.”
He squinted into the sunlight, his throat tightening. Had he the courage to speak from the heart, he would have invited her to the house, told Chelsey he wanted her in his life. Instead, he held his tongue as she erected another wall between them.
“I want you to know…I ended things with Ray. Why I was with that meat head in the first place, I don’t understand. But after the way he acted at the dance, and how he treated you, I didn’t want him around.”
“A wise move.”
Something unsaid hid behind her lips. Chelsey straightened her jacket and brushed her hair back.
“Well, I better get inside before Gray sends a cruiser to my house. Be well, Thomas. I hope we cross paths again someday.”
She strode into the sun and disappeared through the doors. He swallowed the burn in his throat and slipped his hands into his pockets. Alone in the parking lot, the wind blowing the remnants of last autumn’s leaves around his ankles, he found the words he’d longed to say.
“I can’t live without you, Chelsey.”
***
Thank you for being a loyal reader!
Ready to read the sequel, Fatal Mercy?
Read the new Wolf Lake thriller by clicking here: Read Now
Join my VIP Reader Group!
I’m a pretty nice guy once you look past the grisly images in my head. Most of all, I love connecting with awesome readers like you.
Join my VIP Reader Group and get a FREE screen background by clicking below.
Let’s Rock
Show Your Support for Indie Thriller Authors
Did you enjoy this book? If so, please let other thriller fans know by leaving a short review. Positive reviews help spread the word about independent authors and their novels. Thank you.
Copyright Information
Published by Dan Padavona
Visit my website at www.danpadavona.com
Copyright © 2020 by Dan Padavona
Artwork copyright © 2020 by Dan Padavona
Cover Design by Caroline Teagle Johnson
All Rights Reserved
Although some of the locations in this book are actual places, the characters and setting are wholly of the author's imagination. Any resemblance between the people in this book and people in the real world is purely coincidental and unintended.
About the Author
Dan Padavona is the author of the The Darkwater Cove series, The Scarlett Bell thriller series, Severity, The Dark Vanishings series, Camp Slasher, Quilt, Crawlspace, The Face of Midnight, Storberry, Shadow Witch, and the horror anthology, The Island. He lives in upstate New York with his beautiful wife, Terri, and their children, Joe, and Julia. Dan is a meteorologist with NOAA’s National Weather Service. Besides writing, he enjoys visiting amusement parks, beach vacations, Renaissance fairs, gardening, playing with the family dogs, and eating too much ice cream.
Visit Dan at: www.danpadavona.com