She squares her shoulders and looks Hadley directly in the eye. “That’s right. The door, I can’t remember if it was locked or not when I left home. I was dead tired after a long day at work and my mind is fuzzy about that. I normally triple-check because of what happened to my parents. But it was open when I got back. I looked through the whole house, but no one was there. The only thing disturbed were my clothes.”
“Why didn’t you report the break-in the day it happened?” he asked.
“C’mon, Hadley,” I interrupt. “She was scared. You didn’t exactly lay out the welcome mat the first time, making her think she was seeing things. Jesus Christ.”
“It’s okay. It’s a valid question.” She lifts a shoulder and takes another sip of coffee. “At the time I wasn’t sure it wasn’t me being forgetful. You’re not wrong to assume I’ve had a troubled past, and I was mentally and emotionally unstable for a while after my parents’ deaths, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong about this. I’m as sane as either of you. I know what I saw that night, and I know someone is trying to spook me, or worse, because of it. Now what are you going to do about it?”
“I have to say, that spine of yours is a hell of a turn-on,” I say to Peyton, as I drive her into town to drop her off for work.
“There has to be something I’m missing. Something I saw that night that someone thinks will lead me to them. I wish I knew what it was so this could be over. You may think I’m being strong, but it doesn’t feel that way.”
I glance over at her in the passenger seat. Since my Jeep would be out of commission for the foreseeable future, she’s letting me borrow her snazzy little car to get back to the lodge and check on Lexie. “It could be. Even if you didn’t, when they learned there was a witness, they wouldn’t want to risk it. Are you sure you don’t want to call in and stay with me at the lodge for the next couple days? I’m sure Alice would understand.”
“I would, but I need to keep busy now more than ever or I really will go crazy.”
“You’ll call me if anything happens. I’ll keep my phone on me. If I don’t answer, you call Bradley or the sheriff. Even if you don’t think it’s a big deal. I don’t want you to take any chances.”
Her smile lights up my morning. “I promise I won’t.” She starts to get out of the car, then stops and leans in to give me a kiss. When she’s done and begins to pull away, I tangle my hands in her hair and kiss her longer.
“Let me know when you get off and I’ll come pick you up.”
“I can have Uncle Bradley drive me back,” she offers.
“I know you can, but I’ll feel better if I come and pick you up.”
She rolls her eyes and says, “Okay, if you insist. If Hadley gives you any updates—”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Take it easy today.”
“I will.” She pauses for a second, her eyes meeting mine, then darting away. Waving a little, she backs up, then turns and disappears inside the store.
I pull into the lodge and find Lexie and Nell huddled together behind the front counter. They both giggle when they see me walk through the front door.
“What?” I ask.
“Someone got lucky,” Lexie comments with a mile-wide grin.
“Alexus Collier,” I admonish, as I push around the counter. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.”
“Your uncle’s right, Lexie. His love life is his own business.” Nell’s eyes are dancing when she turns to face me, then grows more serious. “Martha Winfrey, who lives out in the cabin by Alice’s said the sheriff was over visiting this morning. Did you guys run into some more trouble?”
Before I can answer, the doors burst open again and Mercy saunters through like she didn’t abandon her daughter. “I’m back!” she announces.
The smile slides off Lexie’s face and she crosses her arms over her chest.
I straighten and step in front of her, turning to Mercy. “Where the hell have you been?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t get all bent out of shape. I was only gone for a couple of days, and it’s not like she’s a baby. She can practically take care of herself by now, anyway.” Mercy shakes out her hair with one manicured claw and then tosses it over her shoulders.
“An uncle who she barely knows in a strange town. You can’t disappear like that without any notice. She’s your kid, for Christ’s sake. You can’t assume people will always be around to clean up your messes, Mercy. We have lives, too. I’ve got a business to run and a lot of shit to do that can’t be set to the side for your whims.”
“I don’t have to listen to this. I’ve had a long drive and I don’t appreciate your tone. Come on, Lexie. I want you to see what pretty presents I’ve brought back for you.” Mercy skirts around me and beelines for Lexie, who steps out of her reach.
“No, I don’t want to go anywhere with you. You disappeared and didn’t even call me to let me know when you’d be back. I hate you!” she screams, tears running down her cheeks. Mercy takes another tentative step forward, but Lexie spins on her heel and darts down the hallway to my apartment.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Mercy says, and then follows after her daughter.
I scrub a hand over my face and wonder if I should be the one calling into work today. There should be sick days for family obligations, especially when it comes to the female species.
“Give them some time,” Nell advises and pats my arm. When the phone rings, she picks it up, her greeting cheerful. “Bear Lake Lodge, Nell speaking.”
She extends her arm. “It’s for you. It’s Sheriff Hadley.”
I lean a hip against the counter. “Hadley. Now really isn’t a good time, can I call you back later?”
His sigh fills a line. “‘Fraid not. I sent a couple deputies down to the lot where you said you were yesterday. While they were there, some civilians flagged them down. Jesus, Ford. They found the body. She’d been dumped in the ravine down below Windy Point. A couple of daytrippers stumbled across her.”
“She?” My jaw clenches. It’s irrational, but I imagine Peyton lifeless, skin pale as death, eyes dull and staring into nothingness, and it rocks me to the core.
“Christ, Ford. It’s Lola. She’s dead. I’m gonna need you to come in and talk.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Peyton
“Should I come now?” I ask when I call Ford back after seeing his text at my first break. “I can catch a cab, or I can ask Alice to bring me over.”
“No, you should stay there. I have to go talk to Hadley at the station first. I’ll have Nell bring your car to you, if you wouldn’t mind dropping her back off at her house.”
I want to ask him if he’s sure. More than that, I want to be there because I don’t like the vacant tone in his voice. “That’s fine, if you’re sure. God, I can’t believe it was Lola. Her restaurant was the first place I stopped when I got into town.”
“I have to go,” he says abruptly. “Don’t leave the studio without someone there.”
“I won’t.”
Then the line goes dead.
Dread pools in my stomach. I turn to go into the studio and find Alice locking up, her face snow-white and lips bloodless.
“I’m sorry, Peyton, but we have to close today. My sister—” her voice cuts out and tears spill over her cheeks. She dashes them away with her hands. “I got the call she was found dead. She was supposed to be gone for a conference. I figured that’s why I hadn’t heard from her, but…the police found her. I have to go. I’ll let you know when we plan to reopen.”
She doesn’t give me a moment to offer comfort or share sympathy. For the first time since I began working with her, granted not a long time, she looks harried and distracted. With an attention for detail that could rival Nell’s, Alice is usually so put together it makes me envious. Understandably, not today.
I blow out a breath and dig my phone back out of my pocket. Ford is going to be at the sheriff’s station for a while. I should sp
end time with Uncle Bradley before he goes home—or at least spend time convincing him he should go home. It’ll be a hard sell considering the news, but I don’t need a babysitter, no matter what either of them thinks.
“I’m glad you called me,” Uncle Bradley says, as we take a seat for lunch at the local Mexican joint.
I order a sangria and extra queso from the waitress and he gets a Coke. “Thanks for coming out to lunch with me. I figure we both have some things to talk about.”
His salt-and-pepper beard twitches. “Oh? And what did you want to talk about?”
“In case you haven’t heard, the police have found the body of a woman this morning. If I’m right, it’s going to turn out to be the woman I saw killed at the lake.” Before he can interrupt me, I raise my hand and cut him off. “No, I’m not coming home. I don’t want to keep running away or hiding when things get rough.”
The waitress delivers our drinks and Uncle Bradley takes a careful sip of his before he answers. “You’re being unreasonable. I only want you to be safe.”
I nod. “And I will be, right here.”
“You can’t claim it’s safe here when you’ve got a murderer in your bed.”
“What are you talking about?” Derailed, I place my queso covered chip on my plate. Rage causes my hands to tremble, so I hide them under the table on my lap.
“I’ve read up on your man. Seems he got into some trouble overseas during his last deployment.”
“I’ve heard about that, his niece told me.”
“But did he tell you? Have you looked it up for yourself?”
My appetite evaporates. “What are you saying?”
He begins to speak and immediately I want him to stop. “He killed a teammate, Peyton. Cold-blooded murder. They were attacked, and his teammate was holding them back. He stole morphine from the team medic and injected enough into the wounded Marine to kill a horse. That’s why he was discharged. Of course, they couldn’t prove it, so it wasn’t dishonorable, but the media and the courts had a field day for a couple years.”
“You’re mistaken.” My voice trembles and Uncle Bradley reaches across to squeeze my shoulder.
“I’m not. This morning when I got to my room, I did some research. I know you think it’s ridiculous, but I wasn’t comfortable with you seeing someone when you’re clearly so vulnerable.”
“I’m not vulnerable,” I say slowly, clearly.
“You may think you’re not, but you don’t even know who the person it is that you’re seeing. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
I study the wood grain in the varnished table, my stomach rolling from the scents of cilantro and salt, which had been so appetizing only a few minutes prior. When I’m steady again, I meet my uncle’s gaze.
“I came here to ask you to go home, but now I’m telling you. Go home. Whether or not I’m making a mistake is my business. You don’t know Ford, and whatever happened to him in his past is his to decide how to tell me. Drive safe,” I tell him, then toss a five on the table. “This should pay for the drinks.”
He stops me with a hand on my arm. “Wait.” It’s only the panic in his voice that keeps me from yanking free. He pulls out a knife, a small pocketknife of some kind, and tucks it in my jeans. “You can be mad at me, that’s fine, but I want you to keep this with you at all times. In case of an emergency.”
I walk out on legs as steady as jelly, my world shaken, exactly as Uncle Bradley had intended. Except he figured I’d be the same frightened girl who had hidden when her parents were murdered. I’m not going to hide, I’m not going to run.
Not even from the secrets Ford is keeping.
Thirty minutes later, I climb up the steps to my rental, a cold sweat prickling over my skin. I should have called a cab, should have asked Nell for a ride, but I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, needed the fresh, crisp air to clear my head. I’m tired of letting everyone else dictate my life.
I plan to call Ford, maybe work on some art, but first I need the restroom. I’m finishing up my business when I hear a door jiggle and then open. I can’t tell if it’s the front or the back, and I don’t know which is worse.
I pause with my pants still somewhere around my ankles. At first, I figure the trepidation that curls around the back of my neck is embarrassment and the responding vulnerability at being caught using the bathroom, but the alarm is all too swift and familiar.
There’s someone else in the house.
All I can think is No, not again.
Adrenaline spurts through my body and everything speeds up and slows down at the same time. I freeze in the action of pulling my pants up, afraid to make any sound for fear whoever came inside will realize I’m here. It could be Nell checking on me at Ford’s request, but the lengthy pauses between footsteps indicate the person inside is being careful not to draw any attention to themselves.
They don’t want to be caught.
If it was someone I knew, they would have let me know they were coming. Or they would have knocked. I almost have a hard time trusting my own instincts. It wouldn’t be the first time that I imagined something along these lines. Someone in the house, stalking me, waiting for me. Things misplaced, scents in the air that weren’t there. It was enough to drive a girl crazy.
Maybe I am. Sometimes it feels like it.
Focus.
As the footsteps grow closer, I wrap my arms around myself to stem the shaking that threatens to overtake me. Then I remember there’s no car in the drive. Whoever it is should have left when they realized there was no one home.
Either way, I’m stuck in a house with a person who shouldn’t be here. Or confined with my own demons.
I’m not sure which is worse.
Their footsteps stop at the bathroom door and tears slip down my cheeks and spill onto my naked lap. If they chance opening the door, I’m screwed. I glance around, but there’s nothing in my immediate vicinity that I can use to defend myself. Even worse, my legs are starting to go numb from sitting for too long. The helplessness is paralyzing. And here I’d thought I’d be able to confront the monsters in the dark if I ever came face-to-face with one again.
But I’m anything but brave like I’d insisted to Uncle Bradley.
In fact, instead of staying to fight, my first response is to flee. The window to my left is too small for me to wiggle my way through, but I latch onto it anyway. Carefully, as I hear the footsteps move on from outside the bathroom to other parts of the living area, I get back to my feet and finish pulling up my pants and zipping them as quietly as possible. I give a passing thought to locking the bathroom door, but I’m afraid even that small sound will give me away.
The bathroom window is maybe ten inches across, if that. Even if it wasn’t painted shut and I could fit through it, there’s a fence underneath that bisects the yard between my house and the forest next to it. Sweat pops out on my skin, my hands grow damp, and my heart races more as the feeling of the walls closing in around me increases.
I know this only ends one of a couple ways. The person will find what they’re looking for and leave, which is the least likely. They’ll get spooked and light out at the first sound, or they’ll find me in their search and do God only knows what to me.
As I think it, their footsteps recede away, and I let out a long, silent breath. Maybe today is my lucky day. I could be wrong and its only Nell or my uncle coming to check on me, and it’s my overactive imagination running wild again. I almost open the door to call out to them, until I hear the footsteps heading toward the back of the house, which isn’t visible to the bathroom door.
I decide I’ll make a dash for the living room where I left my phone. I’ll grab it and then haul ass to the front door and call the police as soon as I’m out in the street around people. No one thinks they’ll get robbed or have their house broken into in the middle of the day. There’s something about the reassuring presence of sunlight that belies the danger, but that’s what makes it all the more terrifying.
I whip around the corner, my eyes on the hallway leading to the backdoor, but no one’s there. Three careful steps, then I’m in the living room. My phone is a couple feet away and that’s where I should be going. And I take a step in the direction of sensibility—to the coffee table where my phone lies in wait—and contemplate my next move.
This isn’t going to happen to me again. I won’t let it. I complete the distance, dialing 9-1-1 before I can second-guess myself. I know what I heard. There’s someone in the house who shouldn’t be there. They answer on the second ring.
I don’t give them time to ask the questions I know are coming. I give my address. “There’s an intruder in the house. I’m alone.” Then I hang up the phone and continue to the hall. They said a cruiser was five minutes away, but that could be five minutes too late.
Three years ago, I waited…and it cost me everything.
My therapist would say my reckless behavior is self-destructive. My therapist is an idiot, I decide, and tiptoe to the kitchen.
Whoever was in the house could be the person who tampered with our brakes. I can’t let them get away without at least trying to determine who it is—and what they want. I pull out the knife Uncle Bradley had given me and flip it open with shaky hands.
I’m two steps from the kitchen when I hear it. A loud, unmistakable thump, but in the direction of my room. I twist and leap in one bound and land hard in the hallway, skidding into the wall opposite with a crash. I pause, trying to discern their response, but all I hear is my own heartbeat. They must know they aren’t alone now.
I put my back to the bathroom and consider the two closed doors, the possibilities. The spare room or mine. I choose the spare, but no one is there, then sprint for my bedroom. I swing open the door, heart galloping in my chest.
And find another empty room.
The side window had been smashed out—that must have been the crash I heard. Broken glass litters the floor and a chilly breeze washes over my face, drawing my attention to the cold sweat clinging to my brow. I double-check the closet, under the bed, behind the door, but it’s pointless.
Traitor (Last to Leave Book 1) Page 14