by Celia Aaron
With shaking fingers, I snugged the card into the small opening along the left side of the laptop. A file popped open on the screen. I clicked inside and found about twenty folders, each one named by date, which I assumed corresponded with the dates on which the photos were taken.
I opened the first folder and found five images. The first was of the front of the Browerton grocery store, the next four were photos of workers. The next folder had more of the same, but with images of paychecks. I sped through the next few file folders, most of them pertaining to Lillian’s investigation and eventual news article on the discrimination.
The next folder, dated a little over two years ago, held something that I never thought I’d see. Dad lying on a picnic blanket on a sunny patch of grass, a smile on his face and his Braves hat shading his eyes. Three more photos, then a selfie with both of their faces pressed together. Tears threatened as I studied them. My father’s crooked smile, the familiar wrinkles, and the mischief that always sparkled in his eyes. Lillian cut her gaze toward Dad, a smile along her reddened lips. Her long hair cascaded around her shoulders, and I could see why she won every beauty pageant she entered.
Footsteps in the hallway forced me to minimize the window and click on the Internet.
“Why did we agree to this cooking scheme when we could have just had Bonnie keep bringing us food?” Garrett leaned on the doorframe and rubbed his stomach. “I’m certain nothing I can make will beat those grits.”
“I know right?” I answered so quickly all my words ran together.
Garrett cocked his head to the side. “You all right, Red?”
“I’m fine.” I fidgeted, making sure to wince when I moved my leg. “It’s just sore. I think I’ll go get some rest once I’m done with the kitten of the week video.”
He didn’t seem convinced and ran a hand through his dark hair as he held my gaze. “If you say so.”
“Yep.”
“Call when you want to go up, okay? Can’t have you falling down the stairs. Insurance rates, you know?”
I snorted. “Right, insurance rates.”
He shot me a smile, one made of some sort of heart-melting material. “I’ll get back to work, but you can”—He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and inspected his feet—“you can come by if you want, or like I said, just tell me when you want to go up.”
Heart definitely thawing. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.” He walked out, the sound of his footsteps receding as I stared after him.
He had a sweet streak. Who knew? I adjusted myself on the leather couch, the cushions squeaking a little as I lifted my leg onto the ottoman.
I opened the file again and scrolled to where I left off. Instead of getting snared in the picnic photo again, I skipped to the next date.
Woods. I zoomed in on the photos but wasn’t sure what I was looking at other than woods similar to those around Blackwood. I clicked to the next and then the next. Ten photos in, and I couldn’t tell what the hell Lillian thought she’d captured on the photos. But I did find a pic with my father’s hand and wristwatch in the side of the frame. Whatever she’d been looking for, Dad had been with her.
I clicked through the rest, but I saw nothing that would help me figure out what happened. Deciding I had to have missed something, I started over, scrutinizing each photo for any missing clue. Other than a hunter’s mark on a few of the trees—a circle with a squiggly slash through the center done in orange spray paint, I found nothing. Shit. I closed out of the file and pressed my hand to the top of the monitor. I’d almost closed the laptop when a thought hit me.
I clicked on the memory card again. After a right click and changing some settings, I had the computer show me all hidden files.
“Bingo,” I muttered under my breath when a new file emerged, the last date of all the folders. I clicked inside and saw one file.
Click-click. The image filled the screen, and my breath stopped. Another shot of woods, the sun barely peeking between the branches. But this one had much more; a shallow grave filled with what looked like at least three bodies unearthed. To the side of the pit, my father leaned on a shovel and stared just above the camera with a look that turned my blood to ice. The sparkle had left his eyes and in its place—raw horror.
“Red?”
I yelped and slapped the laptop closed.
Garrett threw his hands up. “Damn.” He walked in and sat next to me as I furtively freed the memory card and stowed it in my pocket. “Cat videos getting to you?”
I swallowed and tried to play it off. “Just tired, I think. You scared me; that’s all.”
“You’re acting sort of…” He scrubbed his beard, the rasp reminding me of how it felt against my thighs. “Weird. Even for you.”
“Even for me?” I tittered out a fake laugh and kept my hand on the top of the computer.
“Yeah, especially what you just did right then. That bizarre laugh.” He stared at me. Could he hear my heart beating faster and faster?
He glanced to the computer. “Are you going to share?”
I wanted to trust him. My instincts told me to open the computer and show him what I’d found, but my mind was still on the fence.
I hedged. “Maybe, but not right now.”
“Fine. Keep your secrets.” He stood and sighed.
I took his hand.
He couldn’t have looked more surprised if I’d smacked him.
“Just give me some time, okay? Just some time? Please?”
His demeanor softened, and he squeezed my fingers. “You know I can’t say no when you use that word.”
I smirked up at him. “I play to my strengths.”
“I’ve noticed.” He helped me up and held my waist as I hopped to the stairs.
Fatigue began to weight my limbs, and the stairs seemed impossible. Maybe I should have stayed on the couch.
He scooped me up and smirked down at me. “Ready for this, Red?”
“What do y—”
I gasped as he bounded up the steps two at a time. Strengthening my grip around his neck, I pulled myself closer to him.
“I’ve got you, Scarlett.” He laughed when he reached the top of the stairs and carried me into my room.
“I told you no Rhett Butler shenanigans!” I laughed through the scolding.
“I couldn’t resist.” He laid me on the bed and ran his hands up my forearms, keeping my hands latched around his neck. “If it bothered you, you could always have called black.”
He was so close that my mind seemed to scramble. “I wasn’t afraid.”
“No?” He pulled my arms free and laid them next to me. Hovering above me, his mouth curving wickedly, he was every bit the villain—one who scorched me to my core. “You should be.”
Chapter Seventeen
“No, that’s sugar.” I laughed as Garrett stared at the measuring scoop in his hand with a confused expression.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I pointed to the next large jar on the counter. “That’s the flour.”
He plucked the red lid off and stared down into the contents. “This looks just like the one I picked.”
“No it doesn’t. Flour is powdery. Sugar is grainy. All in the consistency. Did you never take a home economics class or even watch your mom cook?” I flipped the eggs and eyed the crisping bacon.
It was our fourth morning together after Bonnie brought groceries. Teaching Garrett how to cook had proven more difficult than I’d first thought, but he’d learned how to make an omelet, broil meat until it was done, and whip up a decent chicken salad.
“No. I was busy.”
“Doing what?” I scooped the bacon onto a plate covered with paper towels.
“Chasing girls, I guess.” He shrugged.
I arched an eyebrow as he leveled a scoop of flour and dumped it into a mixing bowl. “Literally or figuratively?”
He smiled. “A little of both.”
The more time we spent together, the more I saw the vers
ion of him that existed before Joan, before Lillian, and before everything that seemed to trap him at Blackwood. It scared me how much I liked him, the real him. He hadn’t slept with me again after that first night. I didn’t ask, though I wanted to keep trying to break down his walls. As he cracked an egg into the flour and started digging out the pieces of shell, I realized I was breaking them down. Cooking with Garrett seemed an impossibility only a week ago. Now we worked in the kitchen like a team, easy with each other in a way that should have seemed peculiar but didn’t.
“You get all the shell?” I peeked around him as he flicked a jagged piece into the sink.
“Think so. What now?”
“Buttermilk.” I pulled open the fridge and handed him the carton.
“How much?”
“Pour. I’ll say when.”
He opened the container, his large hands making quick work of the cardboard. I let my eyes wander up his sinewy forearms to the ink at his elbow. Other than some looks that could melt a glacier, he hadn’t touched me or made a move. The tension built, invisible but so thick it was almost tangible. I had to force myself to stay in my room at night instead of creeping to his.
My leg had healed since my run, the wounds sewing together faster the second time. My limp was all but gone, and I intended to restart my investigation in the next few days.
“That much?”
I snapped out of my gawking at his arms and looked in the bowl. He’d poured almost all the buttermilk because I hadn’t said “when.”
“When!” I put my hand on his wrist. “My bad.”
“Daydreaming over there?”
“No, I was, um… Just stir the batter and add another cup of flour. That should sort it out.” I returned to the stove and slid the eggs onto a plate.
We wound up making enough pancakes to feed all of Browerton, but the food was good, and we enjoyed each other’s company as we ate.
When I’d cleaned my plate and rubbed the food baby growing in my stomach, a grating noise from outside caught my attention. I turned to stare out the dusty dining room window. “What was that?”
He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and rose. “Special delivery.”
“Of what?”
“Come and see.” He smiled and held out his hand.
I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. In all the time I’d been at Blackwood, only Bonnie or the sheriff ever visited. I couldn’t imagine what a “special delivery” entailed.
We walked down the middle hallway and out the front door into a bright, cold morning. A large white truck idled in the driveway, a flatbed trailer attached to the back. Two red ATVs sat on the trailer, their new chrome shining in the sun.
Garrett hopped down the front steps as a man opened the truck door and stepped out.
I peered at the trailer. “What’s that?”
“What’s it look like?” Garrett called over his shoulder.
I slid on my sneakers and walked out behind Garrett. My t-shirt and jeans did nothing to keep the chill at bay, but my curiosity overcame the temperature.
“Mr. Blackwood?” The man tipped his camouflage ball cap at Garrett.
“That’s me. You Gene?”
“Yes, sir.” He paused for a second, then continued, “This may sound odd, but man, nice beard. I been trying to grow mine out.” Gene rubbed his graying patches of scruff.
“Thanks, I’ve had it for about two years. Low maintenance.” Garrett shot me a sly smile. “Most women seem to like it.”
The beard had grown on me, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Garrett, so I said nothing and walked past to look at the ATVs. They had every bell and whistle imaginable, and I could cover a lot of ground on one of them.
“If the missus saw you, she’d be all for the beard. Me, though.” Gene shook his head and shrugged. “I’ll probably be back to shaving in a few days. Anyway, these are the ones you paid for. Top of the line, brand new, and fast as lightning. I just need your John Hancock.”
Garrett took a clipboard from Gene and signed a sweeping signature.
I leaned forward on the trailer and stared at the nearest vehicle, disbelief almost overwhelming the gratitude that welled up inside me. Had he really done this for me?
“You like them?” Garrett walked up to my side, our arms touching lightly.
I stared into his eyes, their blue tinted lighter by the bright sky. “Are they for me?”
“Well, one of them is, but you can have both if you want to get greedy.”
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate on my lips.
He didn’t seem to notice the shortcoming, because he smiled, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy. “You’re welcome.”
“No, I mean it.” I covered his hand with mine.
He looked at my hand, then locked eyes with me again. “It’s my pleasure.”
“This is too much.”
Gene unfolded the back of the trailer with a clank and rolled the ATVs down onto the driveway.
“I don’t want the liability of you falling in the woods or getting attacked by wild boars again.” Garrett ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Insurance rates and all that could be a real pain with you wandering around the property. That’s why I got these.”
“That’s the only reason? Liability?” I walked over to the nearest ATV and tried to fight back my smile. The smile won.
“Give her a try.” Gene patted the ATV. “Key’s in the ignition.”
I threw a leg over and settled onto the black leather seat. “It’s really big.”
“I’ll be sure and tell the missus you said that.” Gene winked and lifted the back gate of the trailer into place.
The rumble of an engine filtered through the trees. I glanced to Garrett, but his eyes searched the expanse of woods around the driveway.
“Something else?” I followed his stare.
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, I’ll be off then.” Gene tipped his hat at me. “Keys are there, and if you have any issues, you know where to find me.” Gene shook Garrett’s hand and gave me a smile before climbing into the truck.
He cranked the engine and pulled to the back of the house to turn around. The source of the other engine noise appeared on the driveway—a muddy SUV emblazoned with the sheriff’s logo.
“Whoa.” I stood and watched as my car approached behind the SUV. It looked none the worse for wear. How did he find it?
“What is it?” Garrett kicked the tires on the other ATV.
“They found my car.”
Sheriff Crow pulled into the grass as Gene passed and waved. A deputy parked my car behind the SUV and got out. I hurried over, ignoring the chill that started to set in despite the bright sun.
“Where did you find it?” I leaned inside and put my knee on the driver’s seat. Everything seemed untouched. Popping open the glove compartment, I found my gun just where it should have been.
“It was on a logging road, the L-8.” The red-headed deputy, who couldn’t have been older than I was, watched as I looked around.
Not possible. “That’s where I left it. When I went back, it wasn’t there.”
“We rode up on it this morning, found a spare key under the floor mat, and cranked it right up.” The redhead smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Deputy Fields, by the way.”
I shook his hand but stared at my car. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you from Bonnie and the sheriff. I’ve been looking forward to making your acquaintance.”
“Thanks.”
“Little Rory Fields.” Garrett walked to the passenger side and leaned over the roof of the car. “Last time I saw you, you had a mouthful of braces and a real body odor problem.”
Rory narrowed his eyes. “That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, I see the braces are gone.” Garrett sniffed the air. “Not so sure about that other issue.”
I glared at Garrett, who gave me a shit-eating grin and shrugged. “What? It’s
all true.”
“Mr. Blackwood, I don’t apprecia—”
Sheriff Crow put a hand on Rory’s shoulder and pointed his hat at me. “I told you we’d find it.”
Rory bit back whatever tirade he was about to start.
Garrett opened the passenger side door. “Anything stolen?”
“No, it’s all here. But I don’t understand how.” I shook my head, trying to figure out what the hell it meant. “You found it on the L-8?”
“Yeah.” Sheriff Crow patted the hood. “About seven miles off the highway, just like you said.”
“But it wasn’t there.” I stared at the car, wondering if I was losing my mind.
Rory hitched a thumb into his belt right next to his gun. “Maybe when you walked out of the woods, you were disoriented about what part of the road you were on?”
I wanted to tell him that wasn’t possible. My compass and my memory were just fine. But then again, if they found it on the road, maybe I’d missed it somehow?
“It’s just that I walked down the road for a good quarter of a mile. I should have seen it.” I crossed my arms over my chest as goose bumps from the frigid air or the ghost car raced across my skin.
“I don’t know.” Sheriff Crow snugged his hat on his head again. “But it’s here now. I guess that’s the most important thing.”
“Yes. Sorry. I should be thanking you for finding it.” I nodded at him. “I really appreciate it.”
“Just doing my job. Sorry it took so long. I been dealing with that hunting accident for days. Anyway, how’s the leg?”
“Much better. Garrett’s taking good care of me.”
“That’s what I want to hear. Maybe Bonnie will stop chewing my ass about letting you stay out here now.” Sheriff Crow grinned. “Then again, I like it when she gets onto me in front of Ty. I think the jealousy spices up their marriage, and it certainly inflates my ego.”
“Honesty from an elected official?” I laughed. “What reality are we living in?”