“Right behind you,” I tell her as I gather the supplies.
We manage to finish the first two parties and are wrapping up the last without any major incidents. Jim watches from the corner and normally it wouldn’t bother me, but there’s something about his eyes that makes me feel off-kilter. I keep my distance as I flit back and forth between the supply room and the party rooms.
He snags me on one such trip and pulls me to the side. His breath is rank, and I fight to keep from shrinking back. Someone has been hitting the liquor cabinet. I try, and fail, at not judging. “Can I help you with something?” I ask. Maybe if I don’t breathe in, I won’t have to smell him.
“I heard you were there; the night Lola was killed. Alice and I used to go out on the boat there all the time.”
I’d had a few people stop and pump me for details so while this wasn’t uncommon, it never failed to make me uncomfortable. “I was, but I have to get back to—”
“If she would have stayed home, this never would have happened. She was always so headstrong. Argumentative. She drove everyone crazy.” I don’t know if it’s the wild look in his eyes or the vise grip he has on my arm, but a cold chill sneaks down my spine.
“I’m sorry?”
But it’s almost like he doesn’t hear me. “I told her not to go, but she didn’t listen. She never listened.”
“Jim? Are you okay? Should I get Alice?”
His eyes focus on me for the first time, then clear. He straightens and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. No, don’t get her. I think I’ll go home and get some rest.”
He stumbles out the door and I stand, stunned, and wonder what the hell happened. My mind races to catch up, but one remark sticks out. He and Alice have a boat. They used to go to Bear Lake all the time.
I grip the shelf next to me, knocking over a ceramic fox someone had painted. It crashes to the ground and all eyes turn to me. I grip the outline of the knife in my pocket for reassurance.
Could Jim have had something to do with the murder? Was he the man I’d seen?
Flabbergasted, I retrieve the broom and dustpan to sweep up the mess before one of the children get hurt. Once I have a spare moment, I sneak off to the break room to tap out a text to Ford.
Call me as soon as you get this.
I don’t know if he’ll answer, but he’s the only person I know to turn to. The sheriff’s department made me feel like I was insane. Going to them without any concrete proof feels like a fool’s errand.
Ten minutes later, I check my phone again, but there was no read receipt. Dammit, Ford. Tears prick the back of my eyes. What am I going to do?
I need to talk to him. Need to hear his voice. I don’t care if that makes me desperate or demanding, dammit.
“Peyton?” Alice calls over the sound of chattering children. From the high-pitched tone of her voice, I can tell her patience with me is wearing as thin as her smile. “Will you get more canvases, please?”
She must not have seen her husband. Understandable, considering what she’s going through. Poor Alice. How the hell am I going to tell her about this?
Mind racing, I tuck my phone back into my pocket. I have to think quickly. Much as I want to say something to Alice, I want to talk it over with Ford first…but if I’m right—and I have to be—we need to come up with a plan to keep her safe. Considering the annoyed looks she sends as soon as I come out with the canvases and tray of party favors, she may not be willing to listen to everything I have to say if I come to her by myself.
“Here we go!” I say with false cheer. “Who’s ready to paint?”
As I pass out more favors, little tin trays filled with watercolor paints, my mind is on my phone burning a hole in my pocket. I leave it in on vibrate in case Ford tries to call back, but he doesn’t, and by the time the party ends an hour later, I’m frantic.
I clean up going double time, making more of a mess in my hurry to finish, but I can’t seem to control my hands.
“All right, now that everyone’s gone, you need to tell me what’s going on. Now, I’ve tried not to buy into any of the nonsense going on around town about Ford and your pasts, but this is business, girl. You’ve got to keep your head on straight or it affects my bottom line. I can’t have that, especially now.”
“I’m sorry, Alice. Truly. I hate to put you in the middle of this and ordinarily, I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble. Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but I haven’t heard from Ford and I’m really worried. Do you mind if I have Carrie come in to cover the rest of the day?”
Alice takes off her glasses, polishing them with a clean end of her apron. “Tell me what’s going on and then we’ll figure out what to do.”
Unable to sit still, I take out a wet wipe and begin washing the kid-sized table of paint splotches, spilled water, and crumbs from leftover cake. “I don’t want to bring you into this. You’ve already done so much for me and you’re right, I shouldn’t bring personal problems into work. Once I finish here, though, I’ll need leave, and I understand if you have to let go me for it.”
I finish wiping the table and begin stacking the miniature chairs upside down in preparation to mop the floors. As soon as I’m done, I’ll drive back to the lodge and hunt Ford down myself. And Lord help him when I do find him. I’m going to personally attach his phone to his body if I have to solder it to his hand myself.
Alice, who’d disappeared once I started mopping, comes back into the room and stops me from resetting the unused supplies from the party. “Let’s go,” she says and jiggles her keys. “I’ll take you to the lodge and we’ll track Ford down.”
I blink at her, not understanding. “No, you don’t have to do that.”
“I insist. You look as nervous as a long-tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs. C’mon now. We’ll worry about this mess tomorrow.” When I can only stare at her, she rolled her eyes and tugs my arm. Unable to protest, I followed her to her big white SUV. “Go on, get in there. We’ll be over to the lodge in a couple minutes and we’ll get this all settled. I have to tell you though, honey, no man is worth worrying yourself over. Especially not one with a temper like that Ford of yours.”
“He’s doesn’t have a temper, he’s…moody.”
The engine roars to life and I put on my seat belt automatically, torn between social convention and guilt. If Jim had killed Lola, and I was pretty sure he did, Alice would be devastated. I hate the thought of watching another family ripped apart like mine had been, but Lola deserved justice, no matter what happened after. If I could have found the person responsible for my parents’ deaths, I would have. Now I have a chance to serve up redemption for someone who lost their life violently, and I’ll see it through, no matter what.
“Thank you for taking me,” I say when I get my voice back.
“Not a problem.”
The air from the vents blows out freezing and I shiver, or maybe it’s the nerves. Ford spends most of his day at the lodge. There’s no reason why he couldn’t answer his phone. The thought occurs to me that Nell might know where he is, so I call the lodge as Alice navigates through traffic.
Nell answers with a cheerful trill, “Bear Lake Lodge, this is Nell. How may I help you today?”
If I weren’t sitting, my knees would have buckled from the intense relief at her familiar voice. “Nell, thank goodness.”
“Peyton, that you? What’s wrong? You sound dreadful.”
“Nothing. I mean, I’m fine. Is Ford there? Can I talk to him?”
There’s a pause and for a moment I think she’s passing him the phone, followed by static and then, “No, honey, I’m sorry. He went out with Mercy and Lexie for a while. Something the matter?”
My stomach sinks. “Oh, okay. No, everything is fine.” My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth at the lie, as it’s gone desperately dry with renewed panic. “If you see him before I get there will you have him call me, please?”
“Sure thing, doll. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
<
br /> “Yes. Thanks, Nell,” I say, and then hang up before her Southern hospitality can pull the truth from my lips.
“We’re almost there,” Alice says. “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s going on that’s got you so frazzled. You’re scaring me.”
“I’ve already caused you enough trouble,” I say and bite my tongue. And I’m going to cause so much more.
“Is this about Lola?” she asks.
I want to reach over and shove my own foot on the gas. I know everything moves slower in the South and Alice is driving the speed limit, but everything inside me is screaming at her to go faster.
“I’m not sure yet,” I edge, trying to keep my voice level.
“C’mon now, Peyton. We’re friends, aren’t we? If it’s about Lola, I think I deserve to know.”
At the hurt tone in her voice, I relent a little. She’s been nothing but kind to me and I’m treating her like she’s the criminal—instead of Jim. “I think—” I have to clear my throat when my voice breaks. “Jim mentioned the two of you had a boat. That he likes to go fishing.”
“Yes, of course. We have a house on the lake. It’s a family house but we share it when we can. It’s been in my father’s family for generations. Why? What’s this about?”
“Do you—do you know what he was doing the night she went missing?”
Alice gives me a sidelong glance as she turns down the road leading to the lodge. “Why are you asking me that?”
“When I was talking to him now, he mentioned trying to talk Lola out of leaving. That they may have argued. He talked about how the two of you used to go fishing out on the lake all the time.” I hate to be the one to tell anyone this sort of news, but she has to know. Panic grips my insides. It didn’t occur to me before, but Alice could be in danger from Jim once she knows. “Alice, I think Jim may have had something to do with her death. I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you.”
She slams on the brakes and a terrified squawk squeezes from my chest as the safety belt bites into my flesh. Her hand grips my elbow, the long red-painted nails digging in so deep I swear I can feel them drawing blood.
“Why would you say something like that, after all I’ve done for you?”
I grip her wrist, but she’s stronger than she looks. My stomach rolls and my fingers go cold.
“I’m sorry. I’m probably wrong. What do I know?” I babble. Anything to get her to calm down the crazy look she’s giving me. We’re so close to the lodge. Once I get there and find Ford, I’ll be safe. He’ll keep me safe. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
For one long, tense moment, Alice’s eyes rove over my face and I try to clear my expression. Finally, she takes her foot off the brake and we inch forward. “I’m sure rest is all you need,” she says. “Let me get you back to Ford’s.”
I let my head fall back against the headrest and allow my eyes to shut for a moment. “Thank you, Alice. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t think anything of it,” she says.
Ford, please be there.
We hit a huge bump and my stomach jolts. My eyes shoot open and I realize she’d taken the fork that leads away from the lodge. “Alice, you’re going the wrong way. The right fork goes to the lodge.”
She doesn’t answer, and I sit straight up in my seat and for a second, I’m back in the basement, stuck in a confined space with the man who killed my parents…except this time there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
“Alice? Did you hear me? You’re going the wrong way.” I try to modulate my response, but it comes out shaky.
She turns off onto a side road—in the opposite direction of the lodge. My legs flex in anticipation to run, but there’s nowhere to go. Breath heaves out of me like I’ve finished a marathon.
“Alice?”
“Stop talking,” she bites out. “Christ, you’ve got the biggest mouth this side of the Mason-Dixon. I thought keeping you close—where I could keep an eye on you—would be smart, but Lord if you aren’t a pest.”
My mouth goes dry and my mind goes blank. “What are you saying?”
She snorts. “You know for someone who thinks they know everything, you’re as dumb as a rock. Jim didn’t kill Lola, you idiot. I did.”
I don’t have a moment to fight back because as soon as I look over, she strikes out and my head explodes with darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ford
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little while longer? I didn’t mean for you to move out.”
Mercy looks up from the box she’s carrying, and wipes sweat from her forehead. “No, you were right. I haven’t been doing right by Lexie. She deserves a nice home, a stable life. Just because I had her when I was young doesn’t mean she should pay for my mistakes.”
“Look at you acting all grown-up.”
Mercy hip checks me as we drop off our load in the living room of the small rental she’d found the day before. “Watch it, baby brother.”
“Hey, Uncle Ford,” Lexie says, as she bounds in the door carrying her suitcase and a box. “This one has your name on it.”
I give Mercy a sidelong glance. “Trying to steal some of my stuff.”
She holds up her hands. “I plead the Fifth. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna grab another load.”
Lexie scampers off to her room and I investigate the box. It’s a small one from the post office. I vaguely remember seeing it a couple weeks ago, before everything went down. It has my name on it.
And Tate’s.
It’s from Tate’s mother.
Jesus Christ.
I have to sit on the corner of Mercy’s bargain basement couch as I hold the box away from me like it’s a live grenade. There’s no telling what’s inside it. I’m not even sure I want to know.
It can’t be anything good.
I’m saved from figuring it out when Mercy comes back in. “Help me with this?” she asks. I set the package by my keys to remember to take it home later and grab the top box from her stack.
She puts hers down on the kitchen counter and turns to me with a serious look on her face. “I want to apologize,” she begins. I start to wave her away, but she catches my wrist. “No, I mean it. I’m sorry. For being such a bitch and not considering how you’d react if I showed up with no warning. I shouldn’t have left Lexi with you the way I did. I guess the both of us can be real jerks sometimes.”
Pulling her into a hug, I kiss the top of her head. “You were already forgiven, short stuff. But what do you mean both of us?”
She smirks up at me. “Peyton, you jackass. You haven’t exactly been fair to her.”
I don’t know what I’d rather not talk or think about more: what’s in that package or Peyton. “I don’t want to get into this,” I say.
“That’s the point. We’ve buried everything for so long, it’s gotten to be routine to ignore the important shit. You like her. Hell, you may even love her. Don’t push her away now like you’ve done everyone else.”
She won’t give it up and I haven’t talked to or seen Peyton since I left her place the week before. Not knowing if she’s okay has been slowly killing me.
“Since we’re sharing, the truth is, I think I fucked up. I haven’t told her the horrible shit that happened to me. I didn’t want the same thing to happen again. I pushed her away so I wouldn’t lose her. How fucked up is that?”
Mercy chuckles. “That’s the thing about us, Ford. When we find people we care about, we hurt them.” Mercy’s eyes are on Lexie, who reclines on the loveseat with her face in her iPad. “I think it’s about time we made some changes before it’s too late.”
“I doubt she’d have me back after what I did. But I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.”
“You were telling me the truth, and like you, I didn’t want to hear it. But I’ll do better. The question is…what are you going to do?”
Damn, if it wasn’t hot as hell on the lake. It nearly made me smile to realize I’d gon
e from one scorching hot climate to another. But this time, I have someone to come home to, someone who looked forward to seeing me at the end of the day.
Somehow it made all the difference. Or it would have, if I hadn’t thrown it all away.
A fine day for fishing, despite the heat, I had to admit. A damn fine day.
The only sounds were the slosh of water against the sides of the boat, the swish and plop of the fishing line and lure with each toss, and the occasional hum from the trolling motor as we skimmed the prime spots of Bear Lake.
Paul Hadley, who looks as relaxed as a man can be, fixes his line with a new worm and gives it a good toss, then settles back with a fresh beer. “Man, I needed this today. Thanks for inviting me out.”
“Can’t say I didn’t have ulterior motives, Paul.”
He takes a deep drink from his beer. “They didn’t make me sheriff for nothing. I figured you were wondering about Lola, considering I heard you and Ms. Peyton are getting serious.”
“I know you can’t talk about an ongoing investigation,” I say.
His aviators wink under the glare of the sun as he focuses his gaze in my direction. “I can’t, but hypothetically, if we were to talk about the investigation, you’d be interested to learn the DNA from under Lola’s fingernails wasn’t male. It was female. Strictly off the record of course.”
“No one to hear you but me and the fishes,” I tell him. “Female?” I repeat after a minute of contemplation. Peyton had been so sure it was a man. It must have been a tall woman. Or someone in really tall boots.
“I’m about ready to put this mess to rest, let me tell you.” He sighs, adjusts his sunglasses, and twitches his fishing rod while he waits for a bite.
I make a sound of agreement as I reel in my line. My thoughts are rolling as slow as molasses, until it hits. “Jesus H. Christ!” I shout.
“Well, what the hell is that about?” Paul says indignantly. “You ‘bout scared all the fish from here to Tennessee.”
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