Cut and Died

by Jeff Shelby

  He clearly didn’t believe a word Mack had said.

  This didn’t surprise me, but I also realized that I didn’t care.

  I was alive. Mack was alive. Tim’s name had been cleared, and the mystery had been solved.

  I’d probably have nightmares for weeks, maybe months, to come, but at least I had a chance at living those days. They weren't going to find my body rotting in a buried shipping container in the woods.

  Mack cleared his throat. “Now that this is all cleared up, I’m hoping we can move on to other matters.”

  The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “Other matters? You have other crimes that need investigating?” He glanced at me. “Anything that involves her?”

  I rolled my eyes and Mack ignored his question. “Yes, other matters. Important matters.” He cleared his throat again. “When can I get my car back?”

  FORTY NINE

  I’d never been happier to hold a glass of wine.

  It was two hours later and I was sitting on the couch in my living room, freshly showered, a glass of my favorite merlot in my hand. I’d contemplated finishing off the bottle of whiskey Mack favored, but I wanted something I could savor, something that would go down easy and not have me choking and sputtering as I forced it down.

  I wanted to relax.

  I needed to after the day I’d just had.

  Mack was due to drop by any minute. Once we trekked out of the woods, he’d gone with the sheriff to retrieve his car and I’d driven with Margaret, in search of where she’d left her own vehicle.

  During our drive, she told me how she’d ended up at my car and how Mack had found her a little while later, frustrated and angry that I wasn’t picking up my phone. He’d basically forced her out of the car, demanding she lead him to the last place she’d seen me, which ultimately led to them finding the bunker. I’d been surprised they’d found it, but Margaret said all they had to do was follow my prints.

  So much for Mack not being a tracker.

  We parted ways, and I’d come straight home and showered, intent on washing away the stress and fear that had enveloped me over the last several hours.

  It hadn’t really worked.

  There was a knock on the front door and I stood. I knew Mack wouldn’t be staying long; he was anxious to get back to DC.

  I didn’t blame him.

  But Mack wasn’t at the door.

  Declan was.

  His eyes were filled with worry, which soon gave way to relief. “Rainy,” he said, “You’re okay.”

  Icy air blasted me and I motioned him inside, eager to shut out the cold.

  “I heard what happened,” he said, a little breathlessly.

  “How?” I asked, frowning.

  His cheeks colored a little. “I have a police scanner I sometimes listen to,” he admitted.

  “You do?” This was new information to me.

  Declan nodded. “I heard the sheriff call Teddy. Something about a golf tournament and seeing if he could go investigate a crime scene. Your name was mentioned and, well, I listened in to the details and put two and two together.” His eyes studied me. “You’re okay?”

  It was my turn to nod. “Yes, I’m okay.” I hoped I sounded more convincing about this than I actually felt.

  He sighed, a sigh that sounded an awful lot like one of relief. “I was worried,” he said, his voice soft.

  I’d been worried, too. Terrified. But I pasted on a smile and said, “Everything turned out fine. I’m okay.”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I know you probably have a lot on your mind, especially after what you’ve been through. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. To talk to if you need it. I’ll listen.” He swallowed. “And we don’t have to talk about anything else. Not until you’re ready. If and when you’re ready, I mean.” His voice was picking up speed and I could tell where we were heading.

  I held up a hand. “Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. I appreciated his words. “I do want to talk. About what happened today, and about other things, too.” I tried for a smile, but I was too tired, too worn out. “I just don’t think I can do it tonight.”

  He nodded, his cheeks blazing red. “Oh, of course. You need time. Of course you need time.” He took a step back toward the door. “Okay, then. I’ll...I’ll go. And you can come to me. When you’re ready to, of course. No pressure.”

  I took a step toward him and threw my arms around his neck. I did it to shut him up, but I also did it because I needed a hug. I needed the physical comfort of arms wrapped around me, affirming my presence in this world, letting me know that I was here and safe and someone would hold me.

  Not just someone. Declan.

  Because I knew he cared about me, knew that he had been worried and that he was relieved I was okay.

  “We’ll talk,” I said, my breath against his neck. “Soon. I promise.”

  He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

  His words felt loaded, like he was talking about something other than waiting for me to share details of my near-death experience, but I didn’t let myself acknowledge this. I just held on to him for a minute longer, soaking in his warmth and the comfort of his arms wrapped around me.

  I sagged against the door after he left, my eyes closed, my arms hanging limply by my sides,

  I’d given a lot of thought to what had happened to me in that underground bunker, despite my attempts to squelch all of those thoughts. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that my life had flashed before my eyes...all of the people I loved and the things I’d done had run through my mind at lightning speed.

  But so had all the things I hadn’t done. And the decisions I hadn’t made.

  I’d thought a lot about Declan.

  I’d thought a lot about Gunnar.

  And I’d come to a conclusion, a conclusion I was finally willing to admit.

  I loved them both.

  Each in different ways, and each for different reasons.

  But I knew that I couldn’t keep myself in limbo any longer, because it wasn’t fair to me and it wasn’t fair to them.

  I had to make a decision—about what I wanted in life, and who I wanted to spend it with.

  Footsteps sounded on the front porch and I knew from the sound of those feet hitting the floorboards that it was Mack.

  I was right.

  He’d changed out of his borrowed jeans and flannel, and the jacket that had been donated by the ladies from St. Simon. He was dressed in khakis and a pale pink button down, with a fitted gray sweater over it. He wore black leather driving gloves that matched the shiny black loafers on his feet. His hair was perfectly styled, his curls gelled into submission, and he’d even managed to find the time to shave the stubble from his chin.

  He looked like the Mack Mercy I knew, the Mack Mercy who managed to charm me and drive me crazy, all at the same time.

  The Mack Mercy I loved like a brother.

  The Mack Mercy I was glad to see, despite the havoc he’d brought to my life over the past couple of days and despite the fact that he’d almost gotten me killed.

  “I saw your priest guy leave just now,” he said with a grin.

  I moved away from the door to let him inside.

  “Declan,” I said, supplying his name. “And he’s a pastor, not a priest.”

  “Same difference.”

  “No, it isn’t the same at all.” I remembered with vivid clarity what Declan had told me the morning I’d woken up in his bed.

  Mack spun his car key on his index finger. “So does this mean you’ve made a decision?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes widened. “Really? I thought for sure you’d pick the neighbor dude.”

  “I’ve made a decision for me,” I told him firmly.

  He frowned. “What does that mean? Does that mean you didn’t pick the priest?”

  “Pastor,” I corrected.

  He rolled his eyes. “
Fine. Pastor. So you didn’t pick him?”

  I shook my head. “I picked myself.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What the heck does that mean?”

  I didn’t know exactly. But it was a conclusion I’d just come to, the minute I’d stepped away from the hug I’d given Declan.

  I had to choose me. I needed to focus on what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be.

  And right now, that was Latney. This house. This town. These people.

  As for everything else? The potential relationships and love interests?

  Those would have to fall in line with the choices I’d already made.

  “It means I choose me,” I told him.

  Because, ultimately, it was my life.

  And I had to be happy with the decisions I made and the decisions I allowed others to make.

  Only Declan could decide whether he was going to Brazil.

  But I knew one thing.

  I was staying here.

  THE END

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