by J. P. Oliver
“We’re going over there,” he said. “Jared told Edward flat-out a hundred times he wouldn’t sell. Maybe we’ll be able to catch up with him—maybe he’s still around.”
“Mom,” I said, turning to her. Her eyes were wide, face fraught with concern. “We’re just going to head over to make sure he’s okay.”
“I understand.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll keep the driveway light on for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Thanks for telling us, Ashley. Here.” Curtis came up and handed me my shoes. “Here. Put these on in the car, okay? I’ll drive.”
The fire was still blazing when we pulled up to Jared’s.
Where Curtis’s place was only partially consumed, Jared’s was scorched. It was a high pile of crumbling black beams and wood, the fire licking high into the night sky. When we got there, there were already plenty of folks on the scene: firefighters dousing the flames until they were hissing and pouring smoke and steam, EMTs, police.
“There they are,” Curtis said, voice dark.
He threw the car in park and went ahead as I limped after him. I watched him greet Jared and his little girl, Samantha, where they were both sitting on the edge of an open ambulance, being worked on by an EMT. The EMT was disregarded as Curtis pulled Jared into a hug.
“We’re okay,” I heard Jared say. “We’re okay.”
“Please, have a seat,” the EMT requested.
Reluctantly, Jared listened, putting an arm around Samantha, who was wrapped in a kiddie-sized security blanket. I came up beside Curtis and noticed that, infuriatingly, Sam’s face had a bit of ash on it, and I realized just how crazed Edward really was; we were all adults, but he was out here causing havoc and putting children’s lives on the line. He needed to be stopped.
“God, this is insane,” Curtis sighed.
“I know.” Jared grimaced, glancing at the ball of fire. “We’re lucky we got out so soon. The smoke detectors have always been sensitive.” He huffed, grin wry. “I always used to complain about them, ‘cause they’d go off while I was cooking, but now….”
“You’re grateful,” I finished.
He nodded solemnly, turning back to the fire.
I looked, too, noticing Wyatt pacing, clearly pissed off. He was getting closer and had someone else in tow: Kat Cross. Noticing me, Kat gave a half-hearted wave.
“Rough night,” she said, looking between the four of us. “This is fucked up.”
“You’re telling me,” said Jared.
“Two in a row,” Wyatt muttered.
I followed Wyatt’s gaze, and found it connected with Jared, who was staring back—until they both looked away from one another quickly. There was tension there, unspoken and a total mystery. What might have been teased and explored and gossiped about at a bar on any other night was left alone; it was none of my business, and now wasn’t the time to go poking around.
“Jared, I’m so sorry,” Kat said.
He shrugged. “Thanks, Kat. Nothing for you to apologize for.”
“I just mean—”
“I know what you meant.” He smiled, small but distressed. “Thanks.”
“Daddy?”
We all looked to Sam, who was busy watching the house get doused. Her little body was shaking. She was still dressed in her pajamas—Jared must have pulled her out of bed to safety.
“Samantha?”
“Where’re we going to sleep now?”
The question broke all of our hearts. Wyatt cursed under his breath and turned away, arms crossed as he examined the fire. Jared made a thoughtful noise, betraying he probably didn’t know the answer to that, either.
“Well….”
I was halfway to inviting him to stay in the guest room at my parents’ place, before Kat beat me to the punch:
“You’re staying at the hotel, of course,” she said to both of them. Her voice was optimistic, for Samantha’s sake. “It’s like a little vacation, actually. Did you know everyone in town comes to my hotel just to relax?”
Sam’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
Kat crouched to be at her level and took her little hand. “That’s right. It’s a cute little cottage and everything for you and your dad to stay in—” and she turned to Jared, smiling, “—free of charge, of course—” and then back to Sam, “—until your house is all back to normal.”
“What’s that?”
“What?”
“A cottage. Like the cheese?”
Kat laughed quietly. “No, hon. Not like the cheese. A cottage is like a cute little house. You’ve seen Snow White, right? Or Sleeping Beauty? That’s where they stay: those cute little places in the woods. My hotel’s just like it, except there’s a ton of them. That sound okay with you?”
Judging by Samantha’s face, a place where princesses stay was better than okay. In fact, she looked like she considered it an upgrade from their actual home.
“Yes,” she said. “Daddy, can we—”
“Yes,” Jared confirmed, smiling at Kat. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. We North Creekers look out for each other.”
It was a touching scene—one that shouldn’t have had any reason to happen in the first place. Letting them have their moment, I turned hard on my heel to head for the car.
I only stopped when I heard Curtis’s footsteps coming up behind me.
“Zach. Zach! Wait, stop.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Where are you—”
“Edward is out of control,” I said, looking at him over my shoulder. I felt wild. I felt my temper flaring like the fire in the field. “He needs to be stopped, so don’t try to stop me—”
“I wasn’t,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say, you’re right. I’m coming with you.”
I saw the quiet fury, hot injustice raging in Curtis’s eye.
“Let’s go.”
We patrolled the roads all night. We swung by every popular stop and hidden corner in North Creek, hoping to catch a glimpse of his crooked smile in the dark or word that he might have passed through someplace. Prior to disappearing, he was camped out in a motel outside of North Creek, about a thirty-minute drive from Jared’s property. The police had checked it a dozen times, and obviously he wasn’t around, but we needed to see for ourselves anyway, just to be able to check it off our lists.
It was about as grimy a place as he was: just a handful of rooms with darkened, stained doors and flickering porch lights and a buzzing, sputtering ice machine by the parking lot.
We pulled up to it and checked with the concierge, an older woman who seemed mighty pissed to be asked about Edward Morris again.
“I already told the cops everything,” she huffed. “What are you two, detectives? Let me see the badges—”
“We’re not detectives, ma’am,” Curtis assured. “We just want to see his room.”
“Is it still vacant?”
“Of course it is,” she said, grabbing the key ring off the wall. “The police searched everything. Technically, it’s not a ‘crime scene’ or anything anymore—not that that shit happened here.”
She passed over the key, the tag decorated with a funky little ‘6,’ disinterested.
“Thank you,” Curtis signed.
“Ten minutes,” she warned. “Then you’re outta there.”
Room 6: our next stop.
Curtis pressed his face against the glass, trying to get a glimpse through the sheer blue curtains.
“I can’t see anything.”
I unlocked it and grabbed the door handle.
“Be careful,” he said, drawing my gaze. “We don’t know if he has something; if he’s waiting for us.”
I raised a brow. “They’ve staked this place out and the woman said—”
“He’s crafty, Zach. He broke into my house without me hearing a thing.” Curtis looked at me seriously, his face betraying his exhaustion. Over the tree line, the morning sun was rising, early and baby p
ink. “He could easily jimmy some shit motel’s lock.”
It was the dangerous truth of confronting a man as unhinged as Edward. But it had to be done. One more night, and he could hurt another person. Who would be next? And would they be as lucky as us or as Jared and his girl; would they survive another attack?
I gave him a curt not. Curtis returned it, bracing.
I threw the door open, preparing to be shot at or attacked or—something.
But nothing ever came.
Slowly, I entered, gesturing for Curtis to stay outside. He didn’t listen. When we came in, the room was perfectly lived in—half-made bed, clothes stuffed in the dresser, a cheap suit hanging on the bathroom door—and perfectly empty.
Edward Morris was gone.
18
Curtis
Several days later, Edward was still MIA.
As you can imagine, in a place small as talkative as North Creek, the news of the second fire spread like wildfire, as had news of his disappearance. I heard about it from everyone who came in through my clinic; news of my own house fire wasn’t as widely known as Jared’s, but as the first victim of Edward, everyone who did know asked about it and told me how sorry they were. I appreciated it.
And I was happy to be at work. It was nice to have a place to be and things to busy myself—I’d always been a worker. I would have come back the day after Sara cleared me, but Zach was being a mama bear and refused to let me out of his sight. I indulged him; it was nice to know he cared, and I liked that protective side of him. It made me feel safe—especially with Edward still on the loose. There was no telling what that crazy son of a bitch would do next.
I woke up that morning, tucked beneath the sheets, and kissed him awake. Felt his strong, bare arm come around my waist and drag me closer. I wanted to have a little morning sex, and, by the tent in his pajama bottoms, I was sure he wanted that, too, but we didn’t have the time. I was opening the clinic to give Sara a break.
“Later,” I promised, stopping his wandering hands from getting me riled up. “I have to open the clinic.”
Zach sighed, kissing my neck. “Do you have to?”
“Yes,” I groaned, eyes fluttering shut. “I promised Sara. She’s been doing so good there, she deserves a little break—mmm….”
His teeth grazed just below my ear.
“Zach….” It was both a praise and chastising.
“You sure we don’t have enough time?”
“Later,” I laughed. “Later.”
We made out a little in bed, ate breakfast, and went our separate ways. I had patients to care for and Zach was going to check in with Wyatt, who was busy with the county sheriff’s office searching for Edward.
The day floated by easily. It was a routine I was familiar with and happy to find myself in again. And, best of all, I had something to look forward to later.
It was strange to not take the usual route home after work, but as I pulled up to the Savage guest house’s driveway, I felt a second sense of home. It wasn’t the place I’d moved into or built my adult life in, but it was home all the same. I’d spent countless hours here as a kid and teenager. I never would have guessed I’d be back again, living there with Zach.
Tonight, we were having a private dinner, just the two of us.
I came in with a bottle of wine to find him cooking. It was the same scene as the night of Jared’s fire, but there would hopefully be no more intrusions, at least for tonight.
“Hey,” I greeted, kissing him on the cheek.
He turned into it but didn’t kiss me on the lips like he typically would.
Weird.
But I chalked it up to him being focused on cooking: two steaks and homemade baked potato with the works. The man certainly knew the way to my heart was through a well-cooked hunk of meat; it was my favorite meal.
“How was your day?” I asked as I moved into the bathroom, washing my hands.
“Fine,” he said. “I just went and saw Wyatt.”
“And?”
No response. I undid the first couple buttons, poking my head out. Zach looked deep in thought as he pushed around the steaks.
“Zach?”
“Hm?” His head snapped up to me. “Yeah?”
“How was your thing with Wyatt?”
“Oh. It was all right. They’re having trouble tracking Edward down. They know that he was seen at the motel that morning, but after that, he sort of drops off the map. There were reports, apparently, of some cashier seeing him at a gas station near town, but when they interviewed the kid, he was high. So.”
I grimaced, flipped the light off, and came over to him. Wrapped my arms around his waist and let my cheek rest on his back as he cooked. It was nice to be like this: just hear his heartbeat through him and feel the tiny movements of his muscles.
Just knowing he was here—that was all that I needed.
“I missed you today,” I murmured. “I think I got used to being around you all day thanks to my little vacation.”
I heard the short rumble of his laugh as he shut off the burner.
“Dinner’s ready.”
“Mm.” I kept him there.
“Curtis….”
I didn’t want to let go of him. His mood was off; he clearly had something on his mind. It was probably because of Edward Morris, but something in me feared it was deeper—that it had to do with the two of us, specifically. But maybe I was just being paranoid.
He sighed affectionately. “C’mon. It’s gonna get cold.”
I let go of him with a sigh. “Fine, fine.”
I got two wine glasses while he plated, and we took up space at the tiny wooden table. This guest house was really built for just two people.
I glanced around, sipping at my wine. “This place feels like home.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I grinned at him. “I was thinking about that on the drive over. About how weird it was to drive a different way home, but… this has always been home, in a funny way. I mean, I used to hang out here when we were younger all the time, too, and now it’s like I’m back.”
Zach looked me over silently.
I wrinkled my nose. A streak of insecurity bolted in my chest. “Is that weird?”
“No,” he said, and he sounded like he meant it. “No.”
I raised a brow. “...but?”
With a sigh, he set his fork down. This was serious.
“I can’t stay here.”
I swallowed, fought against the very sudden desire to cry a little. But the anger and hurt—that was all still there, unchecked and boiling to the forefront.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked quietly.
“I have six months left in Virginia,” he began to explain. “That’s six more months before I can retire. My leave is almost up, Curtis—”
“And then what?” I snapped.
He looked at me, wide-eyed and tense. That shut him up really quick.
“That’s six whole months—”
“And then I’ll retire.”
“How should I know what you’re going to do?” I asked. I could feel my heart breaking—again. How could he do this to me twice? “There’s no guarantee you’ll come back—”
“It’s just for the six months,” he said, frowning. “I’m not deserting you—”
“But you are.”
The silence was deafening. You could have heard a cricket ten miles away.
I sighed. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I hadn’t made up my mind, but—”
“What? You’ve suddenly made it up now?”
I thought of the ring I was planning to propose with. I hadn’t told him about it, because it must have gotten lost in the fire and I hadn’t been able to find it since, but maybe that was for the best. I wouldn’t be needing it now anyway.
“Yes—”
“If you’re going back, you’re leaving me, Zach,” I snapped, emotion pouring ou
t. I ran a hand over my face. “Fuck. Fuck—I knew this would happen. Why not say something from the beginning?”
“I did—”
“No, what you said was ‘you’re my future.’ Does that make it sound like you’re leaving or staying, Zach?”
“That’s not fair. I never said what I was doing—”
“Exactly!” I let my hand come down on the table. “That’s exactly my point, Zach. You kept whatever your decision was a secret up until the end of your leave, and—what? Either way, I’d just have to deal with it because you wouldn’t be around?”
“That’s not what I was trying to do,” he snapped back, frustrated. “You’re not fucking listening.”
“You’ve been stringing me along!”
“I haven’t!”
I scoffed. “Zach, you’ve been keeping the truth from me while being with me and making it seem like you were sticking around when that clearly wasn’t the truth—that’s the definition of stringing someone along—”
A sweet chiming noise interrupted our conversation. I looked over at my phone on the counter: a text message. Zach looked at me, incredulous, as I stood and plucked it up.
“Seriously?” he asked. “You’re fucking texting right now?”
It was from Sara: ‘Can you come? It’s an emergency at the clinic.’
I grabbed my keys and jacket, pocketing my phone in a huff. I felt his eyes all over me as I grabbed my shoes, deciding I’d put them on once I was in the car.
“Where’re you going?” he asked, standing.
“I’m just going. It’s fine,” I huffed. “You’ll go back to Virginia and keep living your life and I’ll keep living mine, and we’ll just have to pretend this never happened, because being let down twice isn’t something I can live with, Zach.”
“Curtis,” he tried. “Just let me explain—I’m not planning on leaving after this, I just need to final out and I won’t be reenlisting—”
“But you are leaving,” I cut.
I saw the desperation in his face, the hurt. If he was hurting, well, that made two of us. I’d heard every word of it, but I just couldn’t deal with it right now. Maybe he wanted that, maybe he’d be back for good at the end of those six months, but there was no way to know for sure. I’d be betting on a wild dream—one I’d stupidly fallen for the first time.