by Celia Aaron
Chapter Nine
Garrett had been honest about his lack of culinary prowess. I struggled through a breakfast of dry eggs and toast. Garrett disappeared while I ate and only showed back up after I’d been finished for half an hour.
“I have to pee.” I glanced to a door I suspected led to a bathroom.
He bent over and picked up my tray, then set it on the wide dresser. “I was afraid you’d say something like that.”
“What, you never pee?” I fought the awkward, but it began to overwhelm me.
“Sure, but I can do it all by myself unlike certain nosy little girls.” His smirk was back.
“A: I’m a grown woman, not a little girl.” My voice rose, irritation winning out over fear. “B: go fuck yourself. C: if you would let me go, you wouldn’t have this problem.”
“You forgot D.”
I blinked, not sure if he was being forward or obtuse. “D?”
“You really need a D.” He gripped my quilt and yanked it away.
“Hey!” I reached for it, but my leg flared. I leaned back and took a deep breath, fighting away a wave of nausea.
“Can you walk?”
I scowled at him. “Does it look like it?”
“Pete owes me for this.” He leaned over and, with a surprising gentleness, slid one arm under my back and the other under my thighs.
“Who’s Pete?”
“Sheriff Crow.” He lifted me easily and moved toward the bathroom.
I clutched his shirt as my body adjusted to the change, my blood flowing at different speeds, the nerves in my leg alerting me to the damage in new, torturous ways. “I might be sick.”
“God, does he owe me.” He stopped and held me as I clenched my eyes shut and tried to fight away the nausea. “Just breathe. Breathe through it. In… out. Come on, match yours to mine.”
His chest expanded slowly, and I followed, taking a deep breath and letting it out along with him. He stood there, just holding me and breathing for a few moments until I nodded.
I glanced up at him and was surprised to find concern warring with his irritation. “Thank you. I’m better.”
“Welcome.” The word was grudging, as if unwanted on his tongue. “Let’s do this.” He moved slowly, gingerly carrying me through the door and into a small en suite. “I have some of the good shit in my room. Should have already thought of that.” He frowned. “Anyway, once your stomach settles down—probably at lunch—I’ll bring you some pills, all right?”
“Okay.” I didn’t know what he meant by “good shit,” but I would take anything if it would dull my aches.
He lowered me onto the toilet. I held onto his arms, then let go once I felt sure I wasn’t going to topple over.
“Your panties.” He stared at the turquoise fabric along my hip.
“What?” I cocked my head at him.
“Do you need help taking your panties off?” He said it as if it was no big deal to strip a complete stranger.
“No.” I shook my head hard enough to bring back the nausea. “I can do that. Just some privacy, please.”
“Sure.” He backed up, ran into the claw-foot soaking tub, then cleared his throat and left, closing the door behind him.
He’d been kind. Still gruff and unreadable, but kind all the same. I hadn’t expected that. During my research, I’d looked into everyone connected with Blackwood. Of everyone, Garrett was the hardest to figure. His mother had died when he was ten, his dad when Garrett was twenty-four.
The parents had a tidy history. Both of them had grown up in the county and married early, Mr. Blackwood rich and Mrs. Blackwood beautiful. They started a family later in life, their first child born when Mrs. Blackwood was forty years old. Other than being a member of the Blackwood family, they had no connection to my father that I could find, especially considering they were already dead when he went missing.
Their three children were far more interesting. Lillian, Garrett, and Hart had been the pride of the county. Lillian had won every pageant she’d ever entered, Garrett was praised as the scholar of the family, and Hart was a loveable kid. I’d pored over stories about them from the local newspaper, trying to glean any clues I could. How did they know my father, and what part did they play in his death?
Though the puzzle pieces were scattered, some of them faded by time, I still had a good idea of how the completed image would look. Somehow I knew that right in the very center, Lillian Blackwood would be staring out at me with bright green eyes and a mischievous smile.
I spent the rest of the morning in bed. Every time I worked up the nerve to try and swing my legs over the side of the bed, the pain stopped me.
All I could do was watch the fan turn or study the two faded portraits on the walls. The room wasn’t unpleasant, though it needed a good dusting. The light green wallpaper, high ceilings, and dark floors had all the makings of a nice guest room, one that someone had taken time to decorate. I was certain that someone wasn’t Garrett Blackwood.
Though the house showed its age in spots of cracked plaster and faded curtains, it still felt alive. Why was it that some old houses became dry and dead, the roof falling in and the walls crumbling, while others maintained a heartbeat?
The house’s age turned out to be an ally, because the floorboards in the hallway creaked without fail. I had been staring out at the sunny day when the sound alerted me to Garrett’s approach.
“Got your lunch.” He carried a wide plate piled with more food than I could eat in two sittings. Country fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans—all of it hot and setting my taste buds dancing.
“Who made that?” I arched an eyebrow and wriggled up in the bed.
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. Som
etimes 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?”