Now how would he tell Grace everything?
He opened the door and slid out.
Tonight he would confess. He had to. She was safer with knowing the truth.
Chapter Sixteen
Gunnar realized something was wrong the second he walked up the stairs. He listened, but didn’t hear anything, yet knew someone was in his room. He came to a sudden stop in the threshold seeing Grace sitting on the bed, her face as white as a ghost and tears staining her cheeks. The letter from Trace was open on the floor. His chest tightened and he saw that the storm had already come. Why hadn’t he gotten here to tell her the truth in time? Had Branson already been there?
“Grace?”
She brought her chin up, her bottom lip shivering. “Why? Why did you lie to me?” Her shaking voice made the hairs on his neck stand.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know that Trace was gone until I saw the newspaper article on the office bulletin board. And then I lost my head, not sure what to do.” It was the truth and he only hoped she would understand.
“The picture. You kept it.” She touched it.
“It was the only picture I had for all of those months. I know it’s difficult to understand, but your husband—Trace—his words were my lifeline. Then the picture was all I had.” He took a step inside the room, but didn’t get close to her. He needed to gauge her reaction first.
She shook her head, sending tendrils of hair around her rosy cheeks. “I don’t get this…you and Trace…were friends?” She sniffed back tears.
He leaned against the dresser, shoving his hands into his front pockets. “The first week I was in Iraq I received a letter from him. He’d gotten my name from a group who connects military soldiers to people here who are willing to offer friendship. Then the letters came every two weeks, almost to the day. At first I didn’t respond, I guess I didn’t think much of it, but after the fourth or fifth letter, I felt connected to him somehow. I looked forward to the letters, the words of wisdom, and it saw me through some dark days while I was there. In the last letter,” he nodded at the letter still on the floor, “he sent the picture.”
“So you came here to meet Trace?”
Her voice wasn’t shaking as much. “Yes—and you.”
She blinked. “Me?”
“I don’t know why I came really. Something brought me here, something unexplainable. When I first met you, you seemed overwhelmed. Unhappy. All I could think was that I owed Trace for the kindness he showed me while I was overseas.”
“You felt sorry for me? Making love was all because you felt sorry for the widow?”
“No, of course not.” He rubbed his jaw. How could she think that?
She stood, seemed to take a second to get her bearings. “You should have just been honest, told me why you’d come.”
“I thought you’d send me away. I was in shock.”
“I need some time to absorb this.” She started past him, but he caught her by the elbow. She met his gaze and he felt his instincts come to head.
“I need to speak to you about something. It’s important.”
She pulled her arm away and crossed her arms over her waist. “What?”
“It’s about Branson. You might want to sit back down to hear what I have to say.”
“No thank you. Just say it.”
“I believe Sheriff Branson killed your husband.”
****
Grace was in shock.
Not only did she learn Gunnar’s secret, but Cooper could have killed her husband.
She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. Could she trust anything Gunnar said? She realized Cooper had issues. But murder?
Not possible.
Trace and Cooper had been best friends.
If Trace had been worried or suspected anything, wouldn’t he have told her?
Truthfully, she wasn’t sure. Trace had a lot on his mind there at the end and seemed different somehow.
“Mom?” Daxton called from the top of the stairs.
“Yes?” she looked up at him, forcing a smile on her face.
“Is Gunnar back?”
“Yes. Have you taken your shower?”
He nodded. “Yes. It’s raining again.”
“I know.” She went up the stairs and nuzzled his hair. “It’s time for bed. Ready?”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Sure. Anything.”
“I really like Gunnar. I want him to stay. Do you?” Daxton smiled.
A roller coaster of emotion rolled through her. She didn’t—and couldn’t—answer his question. “Let me worry about that, okay Dax?”
He reluctantly nodded. He headed down the hall toward his bedroom and stopped at the doorway, looking back at her. “He likes you a lot.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because he told me.”
She forced a smile and stepped inside of Daxton’s room. “Time for bed, kiddo.”
He got into bed and she pulled up the covers, noticing a red ribbon sticking out from under Daxton’s pillow. She reached for it, pulling the — gold medal free. She recognized it as a military-issued award for bravery. “Where did you get this?”
“Gunnar.”
Grace blinked. “Does he know that you have it?”
Daxton nodded. “He gave it to me. Said he got it for being brave and said it’ll make me brave too. Can I keep it, mom?”
“Why would he give this to you, son?” Her throat constricted.
“I told him I got scared sometimes from my nightmares. He told me to keep this under my pillow and I’d be okay.”
She kissed the top of Daxton’s head. “Why didn’t you tell me about the nightmares?”
“You are always worried. I didn’t want you to worry about something else.”
She stood and pulled the blankets up tight. “Good night, Dax. I love you.”
Once he was tucked in bed, she hurried downstairs to Trace’s office and flipped on the light. She’d only been in here once or twice since he was killed. If Trace had any secrets, it would be here in this room.
But where? She’d already looked in the safe and found only financial papers and old coins.
He wouldn’t put anything in an obvious spot.
Scanning the walls, the furniture, the book shelf…ahh…the bookshelf. The books were uneven. Anyone just looking wouldn’t notice, but she would because she knew how anal Trace had been. Everything needed to be in its place. And someone had been looking…
Hurrying over, she started pulling out book after book onto the floor and there she found something odd. Situated behind a thick war book was a red tin box.
Taking it to the desk, she sat in the leather chair and stared for a good two minutes. It was locked so she couldn’t open it. In the desk drawer, she brushed through the contents—staples, rubber bands, stamps, the stationary, and then she saw a small key—buried underneath a pile of papers. Inhaling sharply, she made a silent wish then slid the key into the lock. A click made her breath hitch. It actually worked!
Inside she found the letters from Gunnar, not many but a few. She touched his choppy penmanship and tears filled her eyes. She believed in miracles—in fate. Gunnar came here for a reason. He’d helped her in many ways besides just working as a handyman. He’d taught her to love again and to let go of the guilt.
Picking up the envelopes, she brought them to her face, inhaling the rich scent. Putting them on the desk, she wanted to read them—needed to read them to understand Trace and Gunnar’s connection. A glint caught her eye and she looked at the bottom of the box. A flash drive. She’d never seen it before, but not shocking since Trace had hidden it.
Turning on the computer, the screen came alive with a picture of she and Daxton hugging. Her eyes filled with another round of tears, but she blinked them away. She had to stay focused. Sticking the drive into the port, she waited for the files to load. There was only one file, labeled with a date that was six months before his dea
th.
Clicking the mouse, several pictures popped up. Cooper, in his uniform, taken from a distance in a wooded area. He was standing by his patrol car. She clicked on the next. The same. The third, Cooper standing next to Darcy. Then the next one popped up on screen and Grace jerked in response. Cooper had his hands around Darcy’s neck and fear loomed in her expression. The raw anger she saw on his face made Grace sick. The next, Darcy was spread on the car, in a provocative position, her shorts and panties pulled down to her ankles The pictures became more sickening, and more obvious that Cooper was forcing Darcy into having sex. Grace slung back in the swivel chair. Her heart racing. Her head swarming. How had she not known? Why hadn’t Trace told her?
Did Cooper kill Trace to keep him quiet?
There was only one person who could answer the question of what happened in the pictures.
She reached for the phone, picked it up, and dialed the number to the diner. Darcy answered. Grace didn’t have time for civility. “I need to know something. Why did Trace take pictures of you and Cooper having sex?”
The phone line was quiet for the longest time. Grace thought the woman had hung up, but then in a quiet voice, she said, “Trace was helping me. I had nowhere else to go, no one else I trusted.”
“Helping you? How?” Grace squeezed the plastic until she heard it crack.
A long sigh was heard. “Hang on a second.” The phone muffled and a second later, still in a lowered voice, Darcy continued, “Cooper had helped my brother out of some trouble last year. Donnie got out of a jail term and I didn’t mind helping Cooper out, if you know what I mean. At first, I liked him, but little did I know that I had made a deal with the devil. He changed and threatened that if I didn’t have sex with him, he’d throw Donnie in prison. I went along with the pressure, hoping eventually he’d move on to someone else. But it didn’t stop, and it was getting rougher on the violent side. I had the bruises to prove it. I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t just pack up and leave town because Donnie had to stay here due to his parole. I knew Cooper would make Donnie pay if I left.”
“Oh, Darcy.” Grace rubbed her forehead.
“I went to the church and I told Trace everything. I didn’t know if he’d believe me because he was friends with Cooper. I knew it was risky, but what choice did I have? I showed Trace the text messages from Cooper. Trace couldn’t deny his friend was an asshole, but I didn’t know if he’d be able to help. I mean, it’s me against the law.”
“So he came up with a scheme to catch Cooper by taking the pictures?”
“Yeah…he knew we needed the visual proof, otherwise Cooper would deny it or say it was consensual sex. I feared for my life.”
“Do you know if Trace spoke with Cooper about this?” Grace was revolted by what she was hearing.
“I don’t think so. He didn’t say he had, and then the robbery.” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t believe Trace was gone.”
“Darcy, has Cooper still been coming to you, demanding sex?”
“No. he stopped after Trace’s funeral.”
Grace glanced at the vulgar pictures on the screen and she clicked it off. She couldn’t bear to look at them any longer. “Do you think there’s any way Cooper could have killed Trace over this?”
Three seconds ticked by. “I don’t know, but be careful Grace. Cooper is dangerous. I thought he’d kill me, but I’m no longer his muse. He has his eye on you and he doesn’t like it one bit that you have Gunnar living there. I’m sorry I got Trace involved in this. If he’s dead because of me…”
“It’s not your fault. Cooper is a sick man and Trace wanted to do what was right.”
“He was a wonderful man. I envied you.”
“Envied me?”
Darcy chuckled. “You didn’t realize how lucky I thought you were? He loved you, nothing like what he’d felt for me.”
Grace inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Darcy, we will talk later. I promise.” She then hung up, grabbed the drive out of the computer and hurried out of the office. She needed to speak to Gunnar right away. He needed to know what she’d found. It was enough to put Cooper away where he belonged.
A knock on the door stopped her. Assuming it was Gunnar, she flung open the door and dread filled every inch of her. Cooper stood on the step. His hair was wet and his shirt clung to him as if he’d been standing there awhile before he knocked. Subtly, she took a step back, easily lowering the flash drive into her back pocket.
Forcing a smile to her lips, she hoped she could appear calm. “Cooper? What are you doing here?”
He jerked his hand through his hair, his jaw was tense and his eyes full of cold, ruthless anger. Her heart raced as sweat beaded on her forehead. Instantly she realized how dangerous he could be. Thinking of her son, she knew what she had to do. She clicked the lock on the inside of the knob as she moved out onto the porch, closing the door behind her.
“I’ve been worried about you,” he mumbled. He hadn’t shaven in a few days and looked bedraggled.
“It’s late and I was getting ready to turn in.”
“Looked like you were getting ready to go out. A fuck with the handyman?”
She swallowed, flicking a glance toward the greenhouse and the small apartment with the light on. “No, Cooper.”
He nervously scrubbed his jaw. “I know what you and that bastard have been doing. It’s a sin to screw around like a whore. What is it with beautiful women? Using their fucking big tits and pussy to control men, make us weak.” His words were ice cold and said with slow exaggeration. “Oh, but you thought you were too good for me, didn’t you, bitch?”
“Cooper, you’re in a bad place. Let’s sit and talk.”
He was on her before she could move, pressing her against the cold siding of the house, his burly body against her. His face was within inches and she got a strong whiff of whiskey and something else. Cigars? “I would have given you the world, sweetheart. If you wanted a fuck I would have gladly fucked you so hard that you couldn’t see straight.” He brought up a clammy hand and smoothed his palm down her cheek. She pressed further against the wall. She was stuck, caged between him and hell.
“Why are you doing this, Cooper?”
“You know why.” His hand dropped to his side.
“I don’t. Tell me,” she urged.
“I didn’t want to do it, Grace. I didn’t want to end his life.” His shoulders slumped and he took a step back, but Grace stayed against the wall. “I almost shot you too, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Hearing the words, the cold confession, she wanted to sink to her knees and cry, but she had to stay strong. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt him. You need help. I can get you the help you need.”
His chin came up, his dark eyes steely in the dim light. His lips thinned and he sniffed loudly. “It’s done. It’s time I finally rid myself of the evil.”
Fearing that he would kill her, and possibly hurt Daxton, she scrambled for something to say, to do. “No one will know what you did. I will keep quiet.”
He chuckled and it made the hairs stand on her arms. “That bastard Gunnar knows. He told you. I know he did. I saw the light on in Trace’s office, you sitting at the computer. You wouldn’t go in there unless you were looking for something.”
“No, I was cleaning.”
“Bull shit.”
Grace again looked toward the greenhouse office. Cooper snickered. “He won’t save you.”
“Then just shoot me, Cooper. I can’t let you hurt anyone else that I love.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gunnar changed his shirt and then pulled on his boots. His chest was tight and his gut ached after seeing the disappointed expression on Grace’s face when she realized he had been keeping a secret from her.
He’d left Ohio feeling lost without direction or purpose and, here in Buttermilk Valley, on the farm, life seemed complete. All because of Grace and her son. That was until earlier when he’d felt the dark cloud looming and al
l hell came down upon him. He was to blame. He should have told her from the start.
Pacing by his feet was Jessa.
“You should go back home, girl. You have a family.”
Gunnar rubbed his forehead, realizing that Grace might send him away tomorrow after she had time to think over his lie. Thunder rolled in the sky, shaking the frame of the house. He went to the window and looked out just as lightning struck.
He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.
He didn’t trust the sheriff, even if Grace didn’t believe Gunnar.
His mind drifted back to how big of a fool that he’d been by not coming clean with Grace. He couldn’t excuse himself, even if he’d only meant well. He had made a mistake—a big one, and now he’d pay the price. His life was unraveling, thinking that Grace would push him away. That hurt deep in his gut, a place that had been void of emotion for so long.
They’d grown so close over the last few days. He’d never known a sweeter woman and how she’d made him feel with each caress.
Yet Cooper wouldn’t let things rest. While he was a free man, no one here in town was safe.
The dog growled and headed to the door, pawing at the wood.
“What’s wrong, girl?”
The first thing a Marine did was learn to follow his gut. Something wasn’t right. Going to his bed, he brought out the knife he kept under his pillow and slipped it into his back pocket. “Jessa, you stay.” He could move faster and quieter alone.
Gunnar moved through the darkness quietly, and then he came upon the house. Grace was sitting on the porch, alone. Maybe his instincts had led him astray. Would she speak to him if he approached? “Grace?” He stepped upon the porch. She looked at him, eyes wide and he could practically see her pulse beating in her neck. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Gunnar.” Her bottom lip trembled.
“For what?” In that instant he heard soft footsteps and turned in time to see Branson step out of the shadows, a gun aimed at Gunnar. The Ruger. Gunnar could see the veins protruding in the man’s neck and the red color to his face. The wild look in Branson’s eyes warned Gunnar that the man had come to take care of business.
Unexpected Hero (Buttermilk Valley Book 1) Page 16