Take My Hand

by Missouri Vaun

  Fuck.

  She stood looking at the spot where the four paintings had been for several minutes, her temperature rising with each moment that passed.

  Clay dug in her pocket for her phone and hit River’s number.

  * * *

  River’s phone rang and she reached to grab it.

  “Hello, River? It’s Natalie Payne.”

  “Hi, Natalie.”

  “Listen, we got an offer on the house this morning.”

  River’s phone buzzed. She had a second call. She held the screen up to see that it was from Clay. She’d much rather talk to Clay than Natalie but decided to let Clay’s call go to voice mail. She’d call her back, or better yet, run by the shop and see Clay in person.

  “River? Did I lose you?”

  “No, I’m here, sorry. I just had a second call coming in.”

  “I’d like to bring the paperwork over later so that you can review the offer. What time works for you?”

  River considered her schedule for the rest of the day. At the top of her agenda was Clay, so if she took care of things with Natalie sooner rather than later, then she’d be free for other things.

  “You know, I’m at the house now if you want to bring them by anytime in the next hour or so. Would that work for you?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you shortly.”

  River clicked off and was just about to check voice mail when her phone rang again. Her brother was finally calling her back. If he was in the mood to chat, she’d better take it. She’d left him two messages already, and it had taken until now for him to return her calls.

  * * *

  River’s voice mail picked up, and Clay silently contemplated leaving a message. But what she needed to say to River she should say in person. She was too angry right now anyway. She stormed out of the warehouse, revved the bike, and zoomed back to work. She was so pissed she almost ran a stop sign and had to check herself. Get her head out of her ass. She pulled to the curb, removed her helmet, and took several slow, deep breaths.

  Would River be so ruthless as to take the paintings without asking? She couldn’t quite picture it, and yet, who else would have done it? Who else?

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was River. She tried to slow her speeding heart as she answered the call.

  “Clay?”

  “Yeah.” Fuck, she was pissed. Mostly at herself.

  “Are you all right? You sound…different.”

  “Look, you got what you wanted, so let’s just call it even.”

  “What? What are you talking about.”

  “Just go back to New York and leave me the fuck alone.”

  “Clay—”

  She ended the call. She stared at the dark screen for a moment then switched her phone completely off and shoved it in her pocket. Whatever excuse River was going to give, she didn’t want to hear it.

  Back at the garage, she poured a cup of leftover morning coffee and didn’t bother with milk to soften its bitterness. A faint line marked her lame rinse job from earlier, a stain halfway up the inside, like a watermark of bad choices. For all the times in her life she’d been wrong. Wrong about friends, wrong about lovers, just plain wrong.

  Clay looked up as a squad car pulled toward the garage bay door. At first, she thought it was Grace but then realized it was Jamie, Grace’s new deputy. Eddie didn’t seem to be around so she walked out to talk to Jamie.

  “Can I help you with something?” She tried not to sound as angry as she felt, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded. Jamie didn’t really know her well enough to know the difference.

  “Yeah, Grace said I should bring the car in for an oil change.” Jamie stood in the open door of the car. “Say, do you mind if I let Petunia out for a minute?”

  “No, there’s nothing she can hurt around here, as long as she doesn’t go toward the road.” Clay reached down and patted the fluffy pooch.

  “She’s trained to stay close. Petunia, sit.” Petunia sat on her fluffy haunches next to Clay’s feet.

  “Pull the car in and center it over that lift in the floor.” Clay knelt beside Petunia sinking her fingers into her scruffy fur while Jamie positioned the car inside the garage.

  Eddie could do the oil change as soon as he was back from delivering Mrs. Eldridge’s car that now had four brand new tires, minus one road-weary tube sock. Of course, Bo could do the oil change, but sometime around lunch he’d slunk off and not returned. Clay ducked into the office to get the paperwork for Jamie to sign. She handed Jamie the clipboard at about the same moment Petunia barked from somewhere in the garage.

  “Petunia only barks if she’s found something.” Jamie looked over her shoulder toward the corner of the garage.

  “You mean, like a mouse?” Clay took the paperwork back from Jamie.

  Jamie gave her an odd look. “No, usually something else.”

  Clay followed Jamie toward the sound of Petunia’s barks. The dog was in the storage room. Clay switched on the light. Petunia was wagging her tail and barking at an old metal toolbox under a shelf in a darkened corner, half hidden behind a large metal bucket.

  “Does this toolbox belong to you?”

  “It’s my grandfather’s garage. All the tools, just about everything belongs to the business.”

  “Then I have your permission to open it?”

  “Go ahead.” Clay was curious to see what set the dog off.

  Jamie used a flathead screwdriver from a nearby workbench to release the latch and open the lid, careful not to touch it. Once the lid was open, Petunia sat back and panted cheerfully. Clay leaned in for a closer look.

  Inside the box were small clear bags of what looked like pills.

  “What the hell? Those don’t belong to Grandpa or me.”

  “Prescription drugs.” Jamie poked around the toolbox, moving some of the bags aside to look underneath. “Looks like codeine, fentanyl, oxycodone, and probably hydrocodone.”

  “Fucking hell.” Clay was already feeling pretty angry. Discovering someone was stashing drugs in her grandpa’s garage was like throwing gasoline on a flame.

  “Chances are someone started using these themselves and then started selling small quantities in order to keep their own supply up. All of these are highly addictive opioids.”

  “Well, they don’t belong to me, or my grandpa, or Eddie…but I have a pretty good idea who put them there.”

  “Best not to assume anything until we dust this for prints.” Jamie walked back toward the squad car and Clay followed her. “I’m going to call this in.”

  Jamie radioed Grace while Clay paced. This was the last thing she needed today. She’d made her pacing circuit only three times when Trip’s double axel truck swung into a parking spot in front of the office. Trip gave Jamie a look as she walked toward Clay, but they didn’t acknowledge each other. Still, it seemed like something was up. It didn’t matter. Clay was too inside her own head at the moment to deal with anyone else’s drama.

  “What’s going on?” Trip was still looking in Jamie’s direction when she reached Clay’s side.

  “Petunia found a toolbox full of drugs in the storage room.”

  “No shit.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” Clay crossed her arms and glared at the large, dark opening of the bay door. “Jamie is calling it in.”

  “Oh.” Trip seemed nervous.

  “What’s up with you and Jamie?”

  Trip gave her a funny look. “Nothing.”

  Whatever. If Trip didn’t want to talk about it Clay wasn’t in the mood to tease it out of her right now. She resumed her pacing.

  “What’s up with you? You’re as tense as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” Trip was trying to joke, but Clay was not in the mood for humor.

  “You mean besides finding a bunch of prescription drugs in the garage?” Clay wasn’t ready to get into anything else with Trip. Especially with Grace likely to show up any minute.

  Clay was about to say something else, but jus
t then, Bo’s truck appeared on the roadway. He slowed and turned in. He was still in the truck when Clay yelled at him.

  “Hey, I need to talk to you.” She took a few long strides toward him.

  Recognition seemed to dawn on his stupid, scruffy face. His eyes darted toward Jamie as she got out of the squad car. He threw the truck in reverse, roared back, barely missing one of the gas pumps, and then spun gravel as his giant off-road tires bounced back up onto the paved road and took off.

  “Asshole!” Clay looked back at Jamie. “I know those drugs belong to him.”

  “Who’s him?” Jamie asked.

  “Bo Mathis. He works here…barely.”

  “Listen, I can see you’ve got a lot going on here.” Trip casually shifted her stance. “I just wanted to come by and tell you I picked up the paintings.”

  “What did you say?” Clay slowly turned. It was as if time screeched to a halt.

  “I swung by your place this morning and picked up those four canvases. You told me a few weeks ago that I could hang them in the clinic.”

  “You…what?” Clay’s brain was struggling to catch up.

  “I swung by your place this morning and picked up those paintings. You told me a few months ago that I could hang them in the clinic. I tried to call, but I think your phone is off, or dead.”

  “I am such an asshole.” Clay covered her face with her hands.

  “I knew that already.” Trip gave her shoulder a friendly punch. “But seriously, buddy, what is going on with you?”

  “I’ll explain, but first I need to make a quick call.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  River sank into the chair near her aunt’s desk in the gallery. Clay was angry about something and she had no idea what. Surely she didn’t mean what she’d said. After the night they’d spent together how could Clay talk to her that way?

  After Clay hung up on her, she’d considered driving over to the garage and confronting her, but that would be the second time she’d chased after Clay. Not this time. Whatever was going on with Clay, River was going to wait for Clay to come to her. Maybe her initial assessment of Clay’s status had been accurate. Maybe Clay wasn’t emotionally available after all. Clearly, she wasn’t getting past what had happened in New York. It was better that River knew the truth now, before she became more invested in where this might lead.

  The paperwork Natalie had dropped off was on the desk in front of her. She scanned the offer again. Why had she hesitated to sign it? Didn’t she want to be rid of this place? She could barely take care of the gallery in New York, much less a second gallery in Georgia.

  River set the paper aside and scanned the space. She could see the whole place coming together if she stayed. She’d almost allowed herself to imagine it. Daydreams were swarming in her head when she heard the bell over the door chime. She must have forgotten to lock it after Natalie left. She couldn’t see the door from where she was sitting in the gallery’s small office.

  The figure standing in the large, open front area was backlit by the windows.

  “I’m sorry, we’re not open right now.”

  “Not here to look at no art.”

  The man’s voice sounded familiar. It wasn’t until she was standing far too close that she realized the man was Bo Mathis.

  “Hi, can I help you with something?” River tried for neutral, despite the fact that Bo’s presence put her on edge.

  “We’re taking a drive. Get the keys to that truck and bring your phone.”

  “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not going anywhere with you.” She took a step back. “You need to leave now before I call the police.”

  “I saw the police already. Now, get them keys.” He pulled a small revolver from behind his back and pointed at her.

  River’s heart rate spiked. She started to move away from him slowly, but he lunged for her, capturing her wrist.

  “Let me go!” She tried to jerk away from his grasp, but instead he yanked her forward. He spoke close to her face.

  “Tell me where the damn keys are.”

  “They’re on the counter, in the kitchen.” He smelled of cigarettes and sweat and bad ideas.

  Bo dragged her through the house to the kitchen and wedged her body between his and the counter until she relented and reached for the keys with her free hand.

  “Now, where’s your phone?”

  Instinctively, she looked toward the coffee table. He let go of her to pick up the phone, and she bolted for the door. But he was faster than he looked. He pinned her against the door, breathing, talking very close to her ear.

  “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that.” He wheeled her around. “Now, play nice and let’s go for a drive. We’ll call your girlfriend on the way.”

  This was about Clay. River’s heart seized. Clay didn’t care about her; why would Clay have anything to do with this?

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “That’s not the way it looked to me.” He held her wrist tightly as he shoved her toward Clay’s truck. He opened the passenger door. “Get in and then slide over. You’re driving.”

  River reached down and slipped her shoe off.

  “What are you doin’?”

  “I can’t drive in heels.” She tossed first one and then the second shoe onto the seat with her free hand. It was broad daylight, but no one was around.

  Bo jabbed the nose of the revolver into her ribs. “Get in, quit stalling.”

  Her mind raced. What were her options if he had a gun pointed at her?

  “Why are you doing this? I don’t even know you.”

  “Not everything is about you.” He turned to look through the back window as she cranked the truck. “Back out and go that way.” He pointed with the gun.

  River did as she was told. It only took a few minutes for her to realize they were heading away from town, not toward it. Nausea washed over her, but she tamped it down. Keep it together. Think. Bo seemed nervous, on edge. He kept looking back as if he expected someone to be following them.

  River’s phone was on the seat between them, and when it rang, she jumped. Bo got to it first and answered it.

  “Well now, I was just about to call you.”

  * * *

  Clay’s heart rate spiked at the sound of Bo’s voice. Wide-eyed, she spun to face Grace who was standing nearby talking to Jamie.

  “What is it?” Grace took a step toward her.

  “Bo, why are you answering River’s phone?”

  Grace froze.

  “Cause me and your girl are taking a little drive.” There was static or wind noise in the background. “Let’s just say you’ve got something I need and I’ve got something you want.”

  “Bo, if you hurt one hair on her head I swear—”

  Grace touched Clay’s arm; she was shaking her head.

  “I know you and that dog cop found my stuff. Bring it and you can have your girlfriend back.”

  “Where? Where are you?”

  “Meet me at the old mill, just past the bridge.” Bo paused. “And don’t bring none of your lezzie friends, especially the cop.”

  “I won’t. Just relax, Bo. I’ll bring your shit. It’s not like I want it here at the garage anyway. But you better not hurt River.”

  “She’s pretty. Why would I want to hurt something so pretty?”

  “Bo—”

  He clicked off.

  “Where is he?” Grace was all business, snapping into cop mode.

  “He’s got River. He wants me to bring his drugs and meet him at the mill in trade for River.” Clay stomped around, dust flying up from her boot falls. “Damn it all to hell.” She stopped and looked at Grace. “I’m going.”

  “No, you’re not.” Grace was firm.

  “He said for me to come by myself. He specifically told me not to bring you. So, I’m going.” She squared off in front of Grace.

  “No, you’re not. You’re gonna stay here with Jamie who’s gonna call this in. She l
ooked at Jamie. “Tell them we have a hostage situation underway and that drugs are involved. Who knows if Bo is under the influence of something himself.”

  “It would explain a lot.” Clay swept her fingers through her hair. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

  Trip rested her hand on Clay’s shoulder. It was small comfort. All Clay could think about was getting River back. And then beating Bo to a pulp with her bare hands. Grace started to get into her squad car.

  “He’ll see you and he’ll do something stupid. He said no cops.”

  “Clay, I’ve got this.” Grace’s voice was steady, even. “He’s not going to hurt River. He’ll take the Mill Road, that’s the fastest route and the most secluded. Trust me, he’ll never see me coming. I’ll approach on foot. Now, let me do my job.”

  “Aren’t you going to wait for backup or something? Isn’t that how this works?”

  “I think I can handle one redneck.” Grace closed the door and backed the car away from where Clay was standing. Dust swirled in little sideways tornados as she whipped the cruiser onto the paved road and sped off.

  For a second, Clay just stood there, then she turned and looked at Trip.

  “What?”

  “Give me your keys.” Clay held out her hand to Trip.

  “No way. You can’t just go charging in there.” Trip shook her head and backed away from Clay.

  “Give me your damn keys. I’m not gonna let Grace go in there by herself, and I’m not taking any chances of losing River, not now, not ever.” Her outstretched hand hovered in the air between them, and Trip just stared at her for what seemed like forever, but in reality, was probably only seconds.

  “I’m driving.” Trip turned and strode toward her truck. “You’re all wound up and in no condition to drive.”

  Clay followed her, with Jamie shouting after them.

  “Hey, where are you going?” She half stood in the door of the squad car, the radio mic in her hand, and Petunia sitting nearby, panting, with a smile on her shaggy face. But it was too late to respond.