(The Edens 1) Juniper Hill

INDIGORIDGE
Copyright?2021byDevneyPerryLLC
Allrightsreserved.
ISBN:978-1-950692-48-4
Nopartofthisbookmaybereproduced,distributedortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,includingphotocopying,recordingorotherelectronicormechanicalmethods,withoutthepriorwrittenpermissionoftheauthorexceptinthecaseofbriefquotationsinabookreview.
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,placesandincidentsaretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,localesorpersons,livingordead,iscoincidental.
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Cover:
SarahHansen?OkayCreations
www.okaycreations.comOtherTitlesJamisonValleySeries
TheCoppersmithFarmhouse
TheCloverChapel
TheLuckyHeart
TheOutpost
TheBitterrootInn
TheCandlePalaceMaysenJarSeries
TheBirthdayList
LetterstoMollyLarkCoveSeries
Tattered
Timid
Tragic
TinselCliftonForgeSeries
SteelKing
RivenKnight
StonePrincess
NoblePrince
FallenJester
TinQueenRunawaySeries
RunawayRoad
WildHighway
QuarterMiles
ForsakenTrail
DottedLinesTheEdensSeries
ChristmasinQuincy–Prequel
IndigoRidge
JuniperHillCalamityMontanaSeries
WritingasWillaNash
TheBribe
TheBluff
TheBrazen
TheBullyHolidayBrothersSeries
WritingasWillaNash
TheNaughty,TheNiceandTheNanny
ThreeBells,TwoBowsandOneBrother’sBestFriend
APartridgeandaPregnancyContents
Prologue
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Epilogue
JuniperHill
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthorToElizabethNover.
Forallthebooksbefore.
Andallthebookstocome.Prologue
“Thinkyou’llfly,littlebird?”
Avoice,anightmare,whisperedacrossthewind.
Therocksatthebaseofthissablecliffglowedsilverastheycaughtthemoonlight.Adarknesssoblackandinfinitebegantopull,itstetheronmyankle,asItookonesteptowardtheedge.
Wouldithurt,flying?
“Let’sfindout.”ChapterOneWinslow
“CouldIgetanother…”
Thebartenderdidn’tslowashepassedby.
“Drink,”Imuttered,slumpingforward.
Popshadtoldmethatthisbarwaswherethelocalshungout.NotonlywasitwithinwalkingdistanceofmynewhouseincaseIdecidednottodrive,butIwasalocalnow.Asoftoday,IlivedinQuincy,Montana.
I’dtoldthebartenderasmuchwhenI’daskedforhiswinelist.He’draisedonebushywhiteeyebrowabovehisnarrowedgaze,andI’dabandonedmythirstforaglassofcabernet,orderingavodkatonicinstead.Ithadzappedeveryounceofmywillpowernottorequestalemontwist.
TheicecubesinmyglassclinkedtogetherasIswirledaroundmypinkplasticstraw.Thebartenderignoredthatsoundtoo.
MainStreethadtwobars—touristtrapsthistimeofyear,accordingtoPops.ButIregrettednotchoosingoneofthosetocelebratemyfirstnightinQuincy.Givenhisattitude,thebartender,whomusthavethoughtIwasalosttourist,regrettedmydecisiontoo.
Willie’swasadivebarandnotexactlymyscene.
Thebartendersdowntownprobablyacknowledgedtheircustomers,andthepriceswerelistedonamenu,notdeliveredusingthreefingersononewrinkledhand.
Helookedaboutasoldasthisdark,dingybuilding.Likemostsmall-townMontanabars,thewallswereteemingwithbeersignsandneonlights.Shelvesstackedwithliquorbottleslinedthemirroredwallacrossfrommyseat.Theroomwasclutteredwithtables,everychairempty.
Willie’swasallbutdesertedthisSundaynightatnineo’clock.
Thelocalsmustknowofabetterplacetounwind.
Theonlyotherpatronwasamansittingatthefarthestendofthebar,inthelaststooldowntheline.He’dcomeintenminutesafterI’darrivedandchosentheseatasfarfrommeaspossible.Heandthebartenderwerenearlycarboncopiesofoneanother,withthesamewhitehairandscragglybeards.
Twins?Theylookedoldenoughtohaveestablishedthisbar.MaybeoneofthemwasWilliehimself.
Thebartendercaughtmestaring.
Ismiledandrattledtheiceinmyglass.
Hismouthpursedinathinlinebuthemademeanotherdrink.Andlikewiththefirst,hedelivereditwithoutaword,holdingupthesamethreefingers.
Itwistedtoreachintomypurse,fishingoutanotherfivebecauseclearlystartingatabwasoutofthequestion.ButbeforeIcouldpullthebillfrommywallet,adeep,ruggedvoicecaressedtheroom.
“Hey,Willie.”
“Griffin.”Thebartendernodded.
SohewasWillie.Andhecouldspeak.
“Usual?”Willieasked.
“Yep.”Themanwiththeincrediblevoice,Griffin,pulledoutthestooltwodownfrommine.
Ashistall,broadbodyeasedintotheseat,awhiffofhisscentcarriedmyway.Leatherandwindandspicefilledmynose,chasingawaythemustyairfromthebar.Itwasheadyandalluring.
Hewasthetypeofmanwhoturnedawoman’shead.
Oneglimpseathisprofileandthecocktailinfrontofmewasunnecessary.Instead,Idrankthismaninheadtotoe.
ThesleevesofhisblackT-shirtstretchedaroundhishonedbicepsandmoldedtotheplanesofhisshouldersasheleanedhiselbowsonthebar.Hisbrownhairwasfinger-combedandcurledatthenapeofhisneck.Histanforearmsweredustedwiththesamedarkhairandaveinranoverthecordedmusclebeneath.
Evenseated,Icouldtellhislegswerelong,histhighsthickliketheevergreentreetrunksfromtheforestsoutsideoftown.Frayedhemsofhisfadedjeansbrushedagainsthisblackcowboyboots.Andasheshiftedinhisseat,Icaughttheglimmerofasilverandgoldbeltbuckleathiswaist.
Ifhisvoice,hisscentandthatchiseledjawhadn’tbeenenoughtomakemymouthgodry,thatbucklewouldhavedoneit.
Oneofmymom’sfavoritemovieshadbeenLegendsoftheFall.She’dletmewatchitatsixteenandwe’dcriedtogether.WheneverImissedher,I’dputiton.TheDVDwasscratchedandtheclasponthecasewasbrokenbecauseI’dwatchedthatmoviecountlesstimessimplybecauseithadbeenhers.
She’dalwaysswoonedoverBradPittasasexycowboy.
IfshecouldseeGriffin,she’dbedroolingtoo.Thoughhewasmissingthehatandthehorse,thisguywaseverycowboyfantasycometolife.
Liftingmyglasstomymouth,Isippedthecolddrinkandtoremygazefromthehandsomestranger.Thevodkaburnedmythroatandthealcoholrushedtomyhead.Ol’Williemixedhiscocktailsstrong.
Iwasunabashedlystaring.Itwasrudeandobvious.YetwhenIsettheglassdown,mygazeimmediatelyreturnedtoGriffin.
Hispiercingblueeyeswerewaiting.
Mybreathhitched.
WilliesetdownatumblerfulloficeandcaramelliquidinfrontofGriffin,then,withoutgivinghimthefingerstopay,walkedaway.
Griffintookasingleswallowofhisdrink,hisAdam’sapplebobbing.Thenhisattentionwasonmeoncemore.
Theintensityofhisgazewasasintoxicatingasmycocktail.
Hestaredwithouthesitation.Hestaredwithbolddesire.HisgazerakeddownmyblacktanktoptotherippedjeansI’dputonthismorningbeforecheckingoutofmyhotelinBozeman.
I’dspentfourandahalfhoursdrivingtoQuincywithaU-HaultrailerhitchedtomyDodgeDurango.WhenI’darrived,I’dimmediatelyjumpedintounloading,onlybreakingtomeetPopsfordinner.
Iwasamessafteradayofhaulingboxes.MyhairwasinaponytailandwhatevermakeupI’dputonthismorninghadlikelywornoff.YettheappreciationinGriffin’sgazesentawaveofdesirerushingtomycore.
“Hi,”Iblurted.Smooth,Winn.
Hiseyestwinkledliketwoperfectsapphiressetbehindlong,sootylashes.“Hi.”
“I’mWinn.”Iheldoutahandoverthespacebetweenus.
“Griffin.”Themomenthiswarm,callousedpalmgrazedmine,tinglescascadedacrossmyskinlikefireworks.Ashiverrolleddownmyspine.
Holyhell.Therewasenoughelectricitybetweenustopowerthejukeboxinthecorner.
Ifocusedonmydrink,gulpingmorethansipping.Theicedidnothingtocoolmedown.WhenwasthelasttimeI’dbeenthisattractedtoaman?Years.Ithadbeenyears.Eventhen,itpaledincomparisontofiveminutesbesideGriffin.
“Whereareyoufrom?”heasked.LikeWillie,hemusthaveassumedIwasatouristtoo.
“Bozeman.”
Henodded.“IwenttocollegeatMontanaState.”
“GoBobcats.”Iliftedmydrinkinasalute.
Griffinreturnedthegesture,thenputtherimofhisglasstohisfulllowerlip.
Iwasstaringagain,unashamed.Maybeitwastheangularcheekbonesthatsethisfaceapart.Maybeitwasthestraightnosewithaslightbumpatthebridge.Orhisdark,boldbrowbone.Hewasnoordinary,handsomeman.Griffinwasdrop-deadgorgeous.
AndifhewasatWillie’s…alocal.
Localmeantoff-limits.Damn.
Iswallowedmydisappointmentwithanothergulpofvodka.
Thescrapeofstoollegsrangthroughtheroomashemovedtotaketheseatbesidemine.Hisarmsreturnedtothebar,hisdrinkbetweenthemasheleanedforward.Hesatsoclose,hisbodysolarge,thattheheatfromhisskinseepedintomine.
“Winn.Ilikethatname.”
“Thanks.”MyfullnamewasWinslowbutveryfewpeopleevercalledmeanythingotherthanWinnorWinnie.
WilliewalkedbyandnarrowedhiseyesatthesliverofspacebetweenGriffinandme.Thenhejoinedhisdoppelganger.
“Aretheyrelated?”Iasked,droppingmyvoice.
“WillieSeniorisonoursideofthebar.Hissonismixingdrinks.”
“Fatherandson.Huh.Ithoughttwins.DoesWillieSeniorhavethesameglowingpersonalityasWillieJunior?”
“It’sworse.”Griffinchuckled.“EverytimeIcomethroughtown,hegetscrankier.”
Wait.Didthatmean…“Youdon’tliveintown?”
“No.”Heshookhishead,pickinguphisdrink.
Ididthesame,hidingmysmileintheglass.Sohewasn’talocal.Whichmeantflirtingwasharmless.Blessyou,Quincy.
Ahundredpersonalquestionsracedthroughmymind,butIdismissedthemall.Skylerusedtocriticizemeforgoingintointerrogationmodewithintenminutesofmeetingsomeonenew.Oneofmanycritiques.He’dusedhisprofessionasalifecoachasanexcusetotellmeanythingandeverythingI’dbeendoingwronginourrelationship.Inlife.
Meanwhile,he’dbetrayedme,soIwasn’tlisteningtoSkyler’svoiceanymore.
ButIstillwasn’tgoingtobombardthismanwithquestions.Hedidn’tlivehere,andI’dsavemyquestionsforthepeoplewhodid:myconstituents.
Griffinlookedtothefarendoftheroomandtheemptyshuffleboardtable.“Wanttoplayagame?”
“Um…sure?I’veneverplayedbefore.”
“It’seasy.”Heslidoffhisstool,movingwithagracethatmenhissizedidn’tnormallypossess.
Ifollowed,eyesgluedtothebestassIhadeverseen.Andhedidn’tlivehere.Animaginarychoirperchedinthebar’sdustyraftersgaveacollectiveyeehaw
GriffinwenttooneendofthetablewhileIwalkedtotheother.“Okay,Winn.Loserbuysthenextroundofdrinks.”
GoodthingIhadcash.“Okay.”
Griffinspentthenexttenminutesexplainingtherulesanddemonstratinghowtoslidethepucksdownthesand-dustedsurfacetowardthepointlines.Thenweplayed,gameaftergame.Afteronemoreround,webothstoppeddrinking,butneitherofusmadeamovetoleave.
Iwonsomegames.Ilostmost.AndwhenWilliefinallyannouncedthathewasclosingatone,thetwoofuswalkedoutsidetothedarkenedparkinglot.
AdustyblacktruckwasparkedbesidemyDurango.
“Thatwasfun.”
“Itwas.”IsmiledupatGriffin,mycheekspinching.Ihadn’thadthismuchfunopenlyflirtingwithamanin,well…ever.IslowedmystepsbecausethelastplaceIwantedtogowashomealone.
Hemusthavehadthesameideabecausehisbootsstoppedonthepavement.Heinchedcloser.
WinslowCovingtondidn’thaveone-nightstands.I’dbeentoobusywastingyearsonthewrongman.Griffinwasn’ttherightmaneither,butI’dlearnedinmytimeasacopthatsometimesitwasn’taboutchoosingrightfromwrong.Itwaschoosingtherightwrongs.
Griffin.Tonight,IchoseGriffin.
SoIclosedthedistancebetweenusandstoodonmytoes,lettingmyhandssnakeuphishard,flatstomach.
Hewastall,standingtwoorthreeinchesoversixfeet.Atfivenine,itwasrefreshingtobearoundamanwhotoweredoverme.Iliftedahandtohisneck,pullinghimdownuntilhismouthhoveredovermine.
“Isthatyourtruck?”
“Shit.”Icursedattheclock,thenflewintoaction,flingingthecoversoffmynakedbodyandracingforthebathroom.
LatewasnothowIwantedtostartthefirstdayofmynewjob.
Iflippedontheshower,myheadpoundingasIsteppedunderthecoldsprayandletoutayelp.Therewasnotimetowaitforhotwater,soIshampooedmyhairandputinsomeconditionerwhileIscrubbedGriffin’sscentoffmyskin.I’dmournthelossofitlater.
TherewasanachebetweenmylegsthatI’dthinkaboutlatertoo.Lastnighthadbeen…
Mindblowing.Toecurling.ThebestnightI’deverhadwithaman.GriffinknewexactlyhowtousethatpowerfulbodyofhisandI’dbeentheluckyrecipientofthree—orhaditbeenfour?—orgasms.
Ishudderedandrealizedthewaterwashot.“Damnit.”
ShovingthoughtsofGriffinoutofmyhead,Ihurriedoutoftheshower,franticallyswipingonmakeupandwillingtheblowdryertoworkfaster.Withouttimetocurlorstraightenmyhair,Itwisteditintoatightbunatthenapeofmyneck,thendashedtothebedroomtogetdressed.
Themattressrestedonthefloor,thesheetsandblanketsrumpledandstrewneverywhere.Thankfully,beforeI’dheadedtothebarlastnight,I’dsearchedforbeddingintheboxesandlaiditout.WhenI’dfinallygottenhomeafterhoursspentinthebackofGriffin’struck,I’dpracticallyface-plantedintomypillowsandforgottentosetmyalarm
IrefusedtoregretGriffin.KickingoffmynewlifeinQuincywithahotandwildnightseemedalittlebitlikefate.
Serendipity.
Maybeonhisnexttripthroughtown,we’dbumpintoeachother.Butifnot,well…Ididn’thavetimeforthedistractionofaman.
Especiallynottoday.
“Oh,God.Pleasedon’tletmebelate.”Irifledthroughasuitcase,findingapairofdark-washjeans.
Popshadtoldmespecificallynottoshowupatthestationlookingfancy.
Thejeanswereslightlywrinkledbuttherewasnotimetofindwhateverboxhadstolenmyiron.Besides,anironmeantfancy.ThesimplewhiteteeIfoundnextwasalsowrinkled,soIdugformyfavoriteblackblazertohidetheworstoffenders.ThenIhoppedintomyfavoriteblackbootswiththechunkyheelsbeforejoggingforthedoor,swipingupmypursefromwhereI’ddumpeditonthelivingroomfloor.
Thesunwasshining.Theairwasclean.Theskywasblue.AndIhadnotimetoappreciateaminuteofmyfirstQuincy,Montana,morningasIrantotheDurangoparkedinmydriveway.
Islidbehindthewheel,startedtheengineandcursedagainattheclockonthedash.Eight-oh-two.“I’mlate.”
Thankfully,Quincywasn’tBozemanandthedrivefromonesideoftowntothepolicestationontheothertookexactlysixminutes.IpulledintothelotandparkednexttoafamiliarblueBroncoandletmyselftakeasingledeepbreath.
Icandothisjob.
ThenIgotoutofmycarandwalkedtothestation’sfrontdoor,hopingwitheverystepIlookedokay.
OnedisdaininglookfromtheofficerstationedbehindaglasspartitionatthefrontdeskandIknewI’dgottenitwrong.Shit
Hisgrayhairwascutshort,highandtightinamilitarystyle.Helookedmeupanddown,thewrinklesonhisfacedeepeningwithascowl.Thatglarelikelyhadnothingtodowithmyoutfit.
Andeverythingtodowithmylastname.
“Goodmorning.”Iplasteredonabrightsmile,crossingthesmalllobbytohisworkspace.“I’mWinslowCovington.”
“Thenewchief.Iknow,”hemuttered.
Mysmiledidn’tfalter.
I’dwinthemover.Eventually.That’swhatI’dtoldPopslastnightwhenhe’dhadmeoverfordinnerafterI’dreturnedtheU-Haul.I’dwinthemallover,onebyone.
MostpeoplewereboundtothinkthattheonlyreasonI’dgottenthejobastheQuincychiefofpolicewasbecausemygrandfatherwasthemayor.Yes,hewouldbemyboss.Buttherewasn’tanepotismclauseforcityemployees.Probablybecauseinatownthissize,everyonewaslikelyrelatedinsomemanner.Ifyouaddedtoomanyrestrictions,noonewouldbeabletogetajob.
Besides,Popshadn’thiredme.Hecouldhave,butinstead,he’dputtogetherasearchcommitteesothatthere’dbemorethanonevoiceinthedecision.WalterCovingtonwasthefairest,mosthonorablemanI’deverknown.
Andgranddaughterornot,whatmatteredwasmyperformance.He’dtakethecuesfromthecommunity,andthoughmygrandfatherlovedmecompletely,hewouldn’thesitatetofiremeifIscrewedthisup.
He’dtoldmeasmuchthedayhe’dhiredme.He’dremindedmeagainlastnight.
“Themayoriswaitinginyouroffice,”theofficersaid,pushingthebuttontobuzzmeintothedoorbesidehiscubicle.
“Itwasnicetomeetyou”—Iglancedatthesilvernameplateonhisblackuniform—“OfficerSmith.”
Hisresponsewastoignoremecompletely,turninghisattentiontohiscomputerscreen.I’dhavetowinhimoveranotherday.Ormaybehe’dbeopentoanearlyretirement.
Ipushedthroughthedoorthatledintotheheartofthestation.I’dbeenheretwice,bothtimesduringtheinterviewprocess.ButitwasdifferentnowasIwalkedthroughthebullpennolongeraguest.Thiswasmybullpen.Theofficerslookingupfromtheirdeskswereundermycharge.
Mystomachclenched.
Stayingupallnighthavingsexwithastrangerprobablyhadn’tbeenthesmartestwaytoprepareformyfirstday.
“Winnie.”Popscameoutofwhatwouldbemyoffice,hishandextended.Heseemedtallertoday,probablybecausehewasdressedinnicejeansandastarchedshirtinsteadoftherattyT-shirt,baggyjeansandsuspendersI’dseenhiminyesterday.
Popswasfitforhisseventy-oneyearsandthoughhishairwasathicksilver,hissix-threeframewasasstrongasanox.Hewasinbettershapethanmostmenmyage,letalonehis.
Ishookhishand,gladthathehadn’ttriedtohugme.“Morning.SorryI’mlate.”
“Ijustgotheremyself.”Heleanedincloseranddroppedhisvoice.“Youdoingokay?”
“Nervous,”Iwhispered.
Hegavemeasmallsmile.“You’lldogreat.”
Icoulddothisjob.
Iwasthirtyyearsold.Twodecadesbelowthemedianageofapersoninthisposition.Fourdecadesyoungerthanmypredecessorhadbeenwhenhe’dretired.
TheformerchiefofpolicehadworkedinQuincyforhisentirecareer,movinguptheranksandactingaschiefforaslongasI’dbeenalive.ButthatwaswhyPopshadwantedmeinthisposition.HesaidQuincyneededfresheyesandyoungerblood.Thetownwasgrowing,andwithit,theirproblems.Theoldwaysweren’tcuttingit.
Thedepartmentneededtoembracetechnologyandnewprocesses.Whentheformerchiefhadannouncedhisretirement,Popshadencouragedmetotossmynameintothehat.Bysomemiracle,thehiringcommitteehadchosenme.
Yes,Iwasyoung,butImettheminimumqualifications.I’dworkedfortenyearswiththeBozemanPoliceDepartment.Duringthattime,I’dearnedmybachelor’sdegreeandapositionasdetectivewithintheirdepartment.Myrecordwasimpeccable,andI’dneverleftacaseunclosed.
MaybemywelcomewouldhavebeenwarmerifIwereaman,butthathadneverscaredmeanditcertainlywasn’tgoingtotoday.
Icandothisjob.
Iwoulddothisjob.
“LetmeintroduceyoutoJanice.”Henoddedformetofollowhimintomyoffice,wherewespentthemorningwithJanice,mynewassistant.
She’dworkedfortheformerchiefforfifteenyears,andthelongershespoke,themoreIfellinlovewithher.Janicehadspikygrayhairandthecutestpairofred-framedglassesI’deverseen.Sheknewtheinsandoutsofthestation,theschedulesandtheshortcomings.
Asweendedourinitialmeeting,ImadeamentalnotetobringherflowersbecausewithoutJanice,I’dlikelyfallflatonmyface.Wetouredthestation,meetingtheofficersnotoutonpatrol.
OfficerSmith,whowasrarelysentintothefieldbecausehepreferredthedesk,hadbeenoneofthecandidatesforchief,andJanicetoldmethathe’dbeenagrumpyassholesincethedayhe’dbeenrejected.
Everyofficerbesideshimhadbeenpoliteandprofessional,thoughreserved.Nodoubttheyweren’tsurewhattomakeofme,buttodayI’dwonJaniceover—ormaybeshe’dwonme.Iwascallingitavictory.
“You’llmeetmostofthedepartmentthisafternoonatshiftchange,”shetoldmewhenweretreatedbacktothesafetyofmyoffice.
“Iwasplanningonstayinglateoneeveningthisweektomeetthenightshifttoo.”
Thiswasn’talargestation,becauseQuincywasn’talargetown,butintotal,Ihadfifteenofficers,fourdispatchers,twoadministratorsandaJanice.
“Tomorrow,thecountysheriffiscomingintomeetyou,”Janicesaid,readingfromthenotebookshe’dhadwithherallmorning.“Teno’clock.Hisstaffistwicethesizeofoursbuthehasmoregroundtocover.Forthemostpart,theirteamstaysoutofourway,buthe’salwayswillingtostepinifyouneedhelp.”
“Goodtoknow.”Iwouldn’tmindhavingaresourcetobounceideasoffofeither.
“How’syourhead?”Popsasked.
Iputmyhandsbymyearsandmadethesoundofanexplodingbomb.
Helaughed.“You’llcatchon.”
“Yes,youwill,”Janicesaid.
“Thankyouforeverything,”Itoldher.“I’mreallylookingforwardtoworkingwithyou.”
Shesatalittlestraighter.“Likewise.”
“Okay,Winnie.”Popsslappedhishandsonhisknees.“Let’sgograbsomelunch.ThenI’vegottogettomyownoffice,andI’llletyoucomebackhereandsettlein.”
“I’llbeherewhenyougetback.”Janicesqueezedmyarmasweshuffledoutofmyoffice.
Popssimplynodded,maintaininghisdistance.Tonight,whenIwasn’tChiefCovingtonandhewasn’tMayorCovington,I’dheadtohishouseandgetoneofhisbearhugs.
“HowaboutweeatatTheEloise?”hesuggestedaswemadeourwayoutside.
“Thehotel?”
Henodded.“Itwouldbegoodforyoutospendsometimethere.GettoknowtheEdens.”
TheEdens.Quincy’sfoundingfamily.
PopshadpromisedthatthefastestwaytoearnfavorwiththecommunitywastowinovertheEdens.Oneoftheirrelativesfromgenerationspasthadfoundedthetownandthefamilyhadbeenthecommunity’scornerstoneeversince.
“Theyownthehotel,remember?”heasked.
“Iremember.Ijustdidn’trealizetherewasarestaurantinthehotelthesedays.”ProbablybecauseIhadn’tspentmuchtimeinQuincylately.
ThesixtripsI’dtakenheretoparticipateintheinterviewprocesshadbeenmyfirsttripstoQuincyinyears.Five,tobeexact.
ButwhenSkylerandIhadfallentopiecesandPopshadpitchedthejobaschief,I’ddecideditwastimeforachange.AndQuincy,well…Quincyhadalwaysheldaspecialplaceinmyheart.
“TheEdensstartedthehotel’srestaurantaboutfouryearsago,”Popssaid.“It’sthebestplaceintown,inmyopinion.”
“Thenlet’seat.”Iunlockedmycar.“Meetyouthere.”
IfollowedhisBroncofromthestationtoMainStreet,takingintheplethoraofout-of-statecarsparkeddowntown.Touristseasonwasinfullswingandnearlyeveryspacewasfull.
PopsparkedtwoblocksawayfromMainonasidestreet,andsidebyside,westrolledtoTheEloiseInn.
Thetown’siconichotelwasthetallestbuildinginQuincy,standingproudlyagainstthemountainbackdropinthedistance.I’dalwayswantedtospendanightatTheEloise.MaybeonedayI’dbookmyselfaroom,justforfun.
Thelobbysmelledoflemonsandrosemary.Thefrontdeskwasanislandinthegrand,openspace,andayoungwomanwithasweetfacestoodbehindthecounter,checkinginaguest.WhenshespottedPops,shetossedhimawink.
“Who’sthat?”Iasked.
“EloiseEden.Shetookoverasmanagerthispastwinter.”
Popswavedather,thenwalkedpastthefrontdesktowardanopendoorway.Theclatterofforksonplatesandthedullmurmurofconversationgreetedmeasweenteredthehotel’srestaurant.
Thediningroomwasspaciousandtheceilingsastallasthoseinthelobby.Itwastheperfectplaceforentertaining.Almostaballroombutfilledwithtablesofvaryingsizes,italsoworkedwellasarestaurant.
“Theyjustputinthosewindows.”Popspointedatthefarwallwhereblack-panedwindowscutintoared-brickwall.“LasttimeItalkedtoHarrison,hesaidthisfallthey’llberemodelingthiswholespace.”
HarrisonEden.Thefamily’spatriarch.He’dbeenonthehiringcommittee,andIlikedtobelieveI’dmadeagoodimpression.AccordingtoPops,ifIhadn’t,therewasnowayI’dhavegottenmyjob.
Ahostessgreeteduswithawidesmileandledustoasquaretableinthecenteroftheroom.
“WhichoftheEdensrunstherestaurant?”Iaskedaswebrowsedthemenucard.
“Knox.He’sHarrisonandAnne’ssecondoldestson.Eloiseistheiryoungestdaughter.”
HarrisonandAnne,theparents.Knox,ason.Eloise,adaughter.TherewerelikelymanymoreEdenstomeet.
DownMain,theEdennamewassplashedonnumerousstorefronts,includingthecoffeeshopIwishedI’dhadtimetostopbythismorning.Lastnight’santicswerecatchinguptome,andIhidayawnwithmymenu.
“They’regoodpeople,”Popssaid.“You’vemetHarrison.Anne’sasweetheart.Theiropinioncarriesalotofweightaroundhere.SodoesGriffin’s.”
Griffin.DidhesayGriffin?
Mystomachdropped.
No.Thiscouldn’tbehappening.Ithadtobeamistake.TherehadtobeanotherGriffin,onewhodidn’tliveinQuincy.I’dspecificallyaskedhimlastnightifhelivedintownandhe’dsaidno.Hadn’the?
“Hey,Covie.”
Sobusyhavingmymentalfreak-outthatI’dsleptwithnotonlyalocalman,butoneIneededtoseemeasaprofessionalandnotabackseathookup,Ididn’tnoticethetwomenstandingbesideourtableuntilitwastoolate.
HarrisonEdensmiled.
Griffin,whowasjustashandsomeashehadbeenlastnight,didnot.
HadheknownwhoIwaslastnight?Hadthatbeensomesortoftestortrick?Doubtful.HelookedassurprisedtoseemeasIwastoseehim.
“Hey,Harrison.”Popsstoodtoshakehishand,thenwavedatme.“Youremembermygranddaughter,Winslow.”
“Ofcourse.”HarrisontookmyhandasIstood,shakingitwithafirmgrip.“Welcome.We’regladtohaveyouasournewchiefofpolice.”
“Thankyou.”Myvoicewassurprisinglysteadyconsideringmyheartwasattemptingtodiveoutofmychestandhideunderthetable.“I’mgladtobehere.”
“Wouldyouliketojoinus?”Popsoffered,noddingtotheemptychairsatourtable.
“No,”Griffinsaidatthesametimehisfathersaid,“We’dloveto.”
NeitherPopsnorHarrisonseemedtonoticethetensionrollingoffGriffin’sbodyastheytooktheirchairs,leavingGriffinandmetointroduceourselves.
Iswallowedhard,thenextendedahand.“Hello.”
ThatsharpjawI’dtracedwithmytonguelastnightclenchedsotightthatIheardthecrackofhismolars.Heglaredatmyhandbeforecapturingitinhislargepalm.“Griffin.”
GriffinEden.
Myone-nightstand.
Somuchforserendipity.ChapterTwoGriffin
Winn.She’dtoldmehernamewasWinn.
Winn,thesexywomanwithsilkydarkhair,deepblueeyesandlegsfordays.Winn,theladywithBozemanlicenseplates.Winn,thetouristwithfrecklesacrosshernose.
Ithappenedsometimes,thatatouristwouldstumbleuponWillie’sforadrink.ItannoyedthefuckoutofWillie—JuniorandSenior—becauseneitherlikedoutsidersintheirbar.I’dconsideredmyselfoneluckybastardthatI’dmadethelast-minutedecisiontoswinginforadrinkandpullupastoolbesideWinn.
Exceptshewasn’tWinn
ShewasWinslowCovington,anameIsureashellwouldhaverecognized.Dadhadbeentalkingaboutherforweekssincethehiringcommitteehadselectedherasthenewchiefofpolice.
Notatourist.Definitelynotatourist.
Shewassupposedtobeagoddamntourist.
“Fuck,”ImutteredasthetruckbumpedandrolleddownthegravelroadtowardMomandDad’splace.
“Youokay,Griff?”Conoraskedfromthepassengerseatinmytruck.
Igrunted.
“Okay,”hedrawled,turninghisattentiontothegreenpastureouthiswindow.
Whatafuckingmess.IthadbeentwodayssincelunchatTheEloiseandIwasstillpissedatmyself.
WinslowCovington.
NotsomeoneIshouldhavefuckedinthebackseat.
MaybeIshouldhaveputittogether.MaybeIshouldhavetiedWinntoWinslow.ButDadhadspokensohighlyofherandherexperiencethatI’dpicturedanentirelydifferentwomaninmymind.Someoneolder.Someoneharder.Someonerougher.
Winnwasnothingbutsmoothedgesandunrivaleddesire.
TwodaysandIwasstillstrugglingtofitWinntoWinslow.
Thosepreconceivednotionswereabitchtoerase.
DadhadtakenhisroleonthesearchcommitteeasseriouslyashehadanyjobI’dseenhimtackle,includingmanagingtheEdenranch.Hewasthekindofmanwhotookeveryresponsibilitytoheart,nomatterhowbigorsmall.Itwasatraithe’dpassedtome.
Thoughthewayhe’djumpedintothesearchcommitteehadbeenborderlinezealous.Momblamedboredomforhisenthusiasmforanonpayingposition.SinceDadhadretiredandhandedmethereinsfortheranchthreeyearsago,he’dbeenspinninghiswheels.
Therewereotherfamilybusinessesthatstillrequiredhisattention,likethehotel.Butthosemostlyranonautopilotthesedays.Thetimecommitmentwasnothinglikeitwasfortheranch.Thislandhadbeenhispriorityfordecades,secondonlytohisfamily.Uskidsweregrown.Theranchwasmine.
He’dneededthatsearchcommitteealmostasmuchastheyhadneededhim.
Ihadtogivemyfathercredit.Alotoffarmersandranchersstruggledtopassthebatontothenextgeneration.Ihadfriendsfromcollegewho’dabandonedtheirfamily’soperationstoworkadeskjobsimplybecausetheirparentsrefusedtostepaway.
Notmydad.Afterhisretirement,hehadn’tgivenmeasinglepieceofunsolicitedadvice.Ifahiredhandaskedhimforinput,Dadwouldsendthemantome.He’dpitchinwheneverIasked,butbesidesafewslipsthatfirstyear,he’dstoppedgivingorderstoeveryone,includingme.TherewerenocritiqueswhenIintroducedanewidea.NomutteredcensureswhenImadeamistake.NoguilttripswhenIstoppeddoingsomethinghisway.
Ilovedmyfather.Irespectedhimaboveanyothermanonearth.Butforfuck’ssake,couldn’thehavementioned,justonce,thatWinslowCovingtonwasabeautiful,vivaciouswomanwhowasgoingtoturnahellofalotmoreheadsthanjustmine?
Instead,he’dpraisedherenergy.He’dsaidtwicethatshe’doutshinedtheothercandidates.Shewassharp.Shehadthetenacitytotakethepolicedepartmentintothefuture.
Inmymind,I’dpicturedabrawnywomanwithamasculinehaircutandnarrownoselikehergrandfather’s.Certainlynotthebombshellwho’dbeensittingatWillie’s.
I’dbeenblindedbyWinn’slooks,thatsmileandherwit.I’dcomeinforonedrinkandthought,whatthehell?WhenwasthelasttimeI’dseensuchastunningwoman?
IpreferredtohookupwithtouristsbecausetheirtimeinQuincywastemporary.Ifshehadbrushedmeoffornotshownanyinterest,Iwouldhavewalkedaway.Butthedesireinhergazehadmatchedmyown,andI’djust…hadtohaveher.
ThatwasthemosteroticnightI’dhadinyears.Maybeever.
Iclenchedmyjawandtightenedmygriponthesteeringwheeltokeepmyselffromglancingatthebackseat.Winn’sscentwasgonebutithadtakenallofyesterdayforhersweetcitrustovanish.
NowitreekedlikeConor.
Blessthatkidandhissweatglands.
He’dstartedworkingforusinhighschool,stackinghaybalesanddoingoddjobsaroundtheranch.He’dtriedcollegeinMissoulaforayear,butafterflunkingout,he’dcomehometoQuincy.Conorwastheyoungestfull-timeemployeeattheranchandthiskidmovednonstop.
Thereweren’tmanymenwhocouldkeepupwithmystamina.Atthirty-one,IfeltjustasfitasIhadadecadeago.Buttheten-yearagegapbetweenConorandme,combinedwithhisworkethic,meanthecouldrunmeintotheground.
He’dspentthemorningcleaningoutthebarnbymyplace,andwhatnormallytookmethreehours,hedidinhalfthattime.Sweatringedhisplaidshirtandthebrimofhisbaseballcap.Thehatwasassun-bleachedasmyown,theblackfabrichavingfadedtobrown.TheEdenranchbrand—anEwithacurveintheshapeofarockingchair’srunnerbeneath—hadoncebeenwhitestitchingandwasnowadirtygray.
Conorwasagoodkid.Butdamn,didhestink.
IhatedthatImissedWinn’sperfume.
“Niceday,”hesaid.
“Itis.”Inodded.
Raysofpuresunlightstreamedthroughthecloudlessbluesky.Theheathadalreadymeltedawaythemorningdew,andaswedrove,Icouldpracticallyseethegrassgrowing.Itwassummerdayslikethiswhen,asateenager,Iusedtofindanopenfield,liedownandtakeapowernap.
Icoulduseoneofthosenapstodayafterwakingupatfour,hardandachingforthewomanwho’dinvadedmydreams.Sleepwasrisky,soI’dsettledforacoldshowerandmyfistbeforeretreatingtomyhomeoffice.Paperworkhadbeenadecentdistraction.Sohadworkinthebarn.Butitwasmomentslikethis,whentheworldwasquieter,thatshecreptuponmeagain.
TryasImight,therewasnoshovingWinnoutofmymind.
Hertightbody.Hersweetlips.Herlong,darkhairthathadbrushedovermybarechestasshe’dstraddledmylapandsunkdownonmycock.
Hell.NowIwasgettinghardagain.
Arelationshipwithheroranywomanwasoutofthequestion,hencemystreakofone-nightstandsoverthepastyear.Myfocuswasmyfamilyandtheranch.Bythetimemostdaysended,Ibarelyhadtimeforashowerbeforemyheadhitthepillow.Thebachelorlifestylesuitedmejustfine.Iansweredtonoonebuttheland.IfIneededcompany,Ihadfivesiblingstocall.AwomanwouldrequireenergyIjustdidn’thavetospare.
Touristsdidn’taskforcommitment.
Exceptshewasn’tatourist.
HadsheknownwhoIwasatWillie’s?Noway.She’dlookedasshockedtomeetmeatlunchtheotherdayasI’dbeentoseeher.Whatever.Noneofitmattered.IhadnointentionofrepeatingSundaynight.
Winslowwasanoutsider,andthoughtempting,I’dkeepmydistance.
Therewasworktobedone.
“I’mgoingtodropyouoffattheshop,”ItoldConor.“YoucantakethefencingtruckandheadouttothemeadowthatrunsalongtheroadtoIndigoRidge.We’llbeturningoutcattleintothatpastureinthenextfewweeksandInoticedsomespotsthatneedfixingwhenIwasdrivingouttheretheotherday.”
“Surething.”Conornodded,hiselbowstickingouttheopenwindow.“HowfarshouldIgo?”
“Asfarasyoucan.ByFriday,I’dliketohavethatwholeareafinished.”
RanchheadquartersremainedbyMomandDad’sloghouse.Thoughmyplacesawmoreandmoreactivityeveryyear,themainshopandthestableswouldprobablyalwaysbehere,whereDadhadbuiltthem.
“Callmeifyouneedanything,”Isaid,parkingbesideMom’sCadillac.
“Willdo.”Conorhoppedout,thenjoggedacrossthewide,openlotthatseparatedmychildhoodhomefromtheranchbuildings.
Momwalkedoutofherfrontdoorasmybootshitthegravel.“Hi,Conor.”
Heslowed,spinningtotiphishat.“Ma’am.”
“Thatboyisadear.Hasbeensincehewasindiapers.”ShesmiledatmeasIclimbedthestepstothewraparoundporch.
“Hi,Mom.”
“Hello,son.Gottimeforcoffeeorareyoualreadyofftothenextthing?”
“Ineedtokeepmoving,butIwouldn’tsaynotoatravelmug.”
“Ijustbrewedafreshpot.”Shewavedmeinsideandheadedstraightforthekitchen.
Dadsatattheislandwiththenewspaperspreadacrossthegranitecountertop
TheQuincyGazettecameonceaweek,everyWednesday.WhenI’dbeenakid,thoseweeklypaperswouldhavegonemostlyunreadbecauseneitherMomnorDadhadhadtimetoreadthem.Mostly,we’dusedthemtostartfiresinthewoodstove.ButnowthatDadwasretired,hespenthoursporingovereveryprintedword.
“Hi,Dad.”
“Hithere.”Hestraightened,takinghisglassesoff.“What’sgoingontoday?”
Therewasaneagernesstohisvoicelikehewaswaitingformetoextendaninvitationforaproject.AsmuchasIenjoyedtimewithmyfather,today,Ineededsometimealone.Timetogetmyheadstraightandoffacertainwoman.
Butmaybehecouldsavemeatriptotown.Goinganywherenearcitylimitsseemedriskytoday.
“IwashopingyoumighthavetimetorunintotownandpickupabundleofsteelfencepostsattheFarmandFeed,”Isaid.
“Sure.”Henodded.“I’lldoitwhenI’mdonewiththepaper.”
“He’sonlyreadittwicealready.”Momrolledhereyesfromthecoffeepot.
“JusttheonearticleaboutWinslow,”heargued.“TheNelsensdidapiss-poorjobonthisone.”
Isteppedclosertotheisland,leaningintoreadoverhisshoulder.Mygazelandedonherprettyface.Thephototookuphalfthefrontpage.Winnwasdressedinablackuniformshirt,thetopbuttonchokingherslimneck.Herhairwaspulledbackintoaslickknot.Herexpressionwasthedefinitionofneutral.
Thephotohadtobetenyearsold.Maybeonetakenattheacademy.
“Theymightaswellhavecalledherachild.”Dadhuffedandpushedthepapermyway.
Ifthepictureweren’tbadenough,thearticlecertainlydidn’thelp.Belowtheheadline—QUINCYCHIEFOFPOLICE—wasacolumnthatreadmorelikeanexposéonsmall-townpoliticsandfavoritism.
Nosurprise,giventhereporterlistedwasEmilyNelsen.
Shelovedtostirupdrama.Andwhenitcametothewomenintownwho’dmadeittheirmissiontochaseme,Emilywastheleaderofthepack.Goodthingshedidn’tknowI’dhookedupwithWinn.Thearticlewasbadenoughalready.
Emily’sparentsownedthepaperandthedisdainforWalterCovingtonwasasclearastheblack-and-whiteinkoneachpage.
“Areyoureallysurprised?”IaskedDad.“YouknowtheNelsenshavealwayshatedCovie.Eversincethatsquabbleatthebasketballgameovertheairhorns.”
“Thatwassevenyearsago.”
“Doesitmatter?Itcouldhavebeenseventyandthey’dstillholdagrudge.”
TheNelsenshadbroughttwoairhornstoahighschoolbasketballgame.MyyoungerbrotherMateohadbeenplayingasasophomoreonthejuniorvarsityteamalongwiththeNelsens’son.They’drunthosegoddamnairhornsinthegymnasiumforanhourstraight.Finally,Walterhadaskedthemtopipedown.
Ourmayorhadtakenthehitforeveryoneinthebleachersthatday.Thearticlesprintedsincehadn’tbeenkindtoCovie.IguesstheNelsenshadnoplanstobekindtoWinneither.
Thearticleleftoutmostofherexperience,thoughheragehadbeenmentionedthreetimes.Alongwiththewordpreferential
Thirtywasyoungforachiefofpolice.HadDadnotbeenonthehiringcommittee,Iwouldhavecalleditfavoritismtoo.
WhatkindofexperiencecouldWinnhavethisfarintohercareer?Ifsomethingdisastroushappened,Ididn’twantthechiefdroppingtheoarsinthewaterwhenwe’dneedasteadycaptainatthehelm.Maybe,despiteashittydelivery,EmilyNelsenhadapoint.
ButsinceIwasn’tinthemoodtoarguewithmyfather,ItookmycoffeemugfromMomandkissedhercheek.“Thanksfortherefill.”
“Ofcourse.”Shesqueezedmyhand.“Dinnertonight?Knoxisn’tworkingattherestaurantandMateodoesn’thaveashiftatthehotel.LylaandTaliabothsaidtheycouldcomeoveraroundsix.”
“WhataboutEloise?”
“She’scomingoverafterthenightclerkarrivesatthehotel,probablyaroundseven.”
Itwasharderandhardertogetusallunderherroofandatthesametablethesedays.Momlivedfortherareoccasionwhenshecouldfeedallsixofherchildren.
“I’lldomybest.”Thiswasabusytimeontheranchandtheideaofafamilydinneralreadymademetired.ButIdidn’twanttodisappointMom.“Seeyoulater.Thanksagainforpickingupthoseposts,Dad.”
Heraisedhisowncoffeemug,hisattentionraptonthepaperandascowlfixedonhisface.
AcalicocatdartedacrosstheporchwhenIsteppedoutside.Itduckedbeneaththebottomstair,andwhenIreachedtheground,Ibenttoseehertuckedintoacorner,nurturingachorusoftinymeows.
Kittens.I’dhavetotakeafewofthemtomybarnwhentheywereweaned.Momhadatleasttencatsalready.Butsincetheykeptthemiceaway,noneofushadevermindedgrabbingtheoccasionalbagofdrycatfood.
Isetoutacrossthegravel,headingfortheshop.Themammothsteelbuildingwasthelargestontheranch.Withthebarnandstablesatonecornerofthelot,MomandDad’shomeattheother,theshopwasthethirdcornerofthetriangle.
Ourhiredhandscameheretoclockinandoutoftheirshifts.Myofficemanagerandbookkeepereachhadadeskhere,thoughtheybothpreferredtoworkattheofficespacewekeptintown.
MybootsechoedontheconcretefloorasIwalkedintothecavernousspace.Oneoftheswatherswasparkedjustinsidetheslidingdoors.
“Hiya,Griff.”Mycousin,whoworkedforusasamechanic,pokedhisheadoutfrombeneaththemachine.
“Hey.How’sitcoming?”
“Oh,I’llgetitfixed.”
“Goodnews.”I’dalreadyboughttwonewtractorsthisspring.I’dprefertobumpanothermajorequipmentexpensetothewinter.
Ikeptwalkingashewentbacktoworkonthemachine.Therewasamountainofofficeworkformetodotoday,eitherhereorathome.WewereshortamanforthesummerseasonandIwasaweeklateongettinganadintotheclassifiedswiththepaper.AvoidingEmilywasthereason,butIcouldn’tkeepputtingitoff.ExceptoneglanceatmydarkenedofficeandIturnedaroundforthedoor.
Intotal,theranchconsistedofninetythousandacres.Mostdays,Iwasmoreofabusinessmanagerthananactualrancher.IstillworemybootsandthebeltbuckleI’dwonfromabarebackrideatahighschoolrodeo.ButthebusinessdegreeI’dearnedwasputtousemoreoftenthanmyfencingpliers.
Nottoday.
JunewasabeautifulmonthinMontanaandtheblueskybeckoned.Therewasacoolbreezecomingoffthemountains,carryingthescentofpinetreesandmeltingsnowintothevalley.
Sunshineandsweatwoulddomyheadalotofgood.Ineededadayofhard,manuallabor.MaybeifIexhaustedmyself,I’dsleepwithoutdreamingofWinn.
I’djustreachedthetoolbench,readytoloaduponafreshrollofbarbedwireandgalvanizedpostclips,whenmyphoneranginmyjeanspocket.
“Hey,Conor,”Ianswered.
“Griffin.”
Myheartstoppedatthepanicinhisvoice,butmyfeetwerealreadymoving,joggingtowardtheshopdoor.“What’swrong?Areyouhurt?”
“It’s…”
“It’swhat?Talktome.”
“IstartedatIndigoRidge.Thatcornerpost.”
“Yeah.”WhenIhitthegravelpastthedoor,Iwasrunning.Hemightbeyoung,butConordidn’tgetspooked.“Conor,tellmewhathappened?”
Asobescapedhismouth.
“I’monmyway,”Isaidbutdidn’tendthecall.Instead,Igotintomytruck,letmyphoneconnecttotheBluetoothandkeptConoronthelinewithmeasIdrove.
“Breathe,Conor.”
Awhooshedbreathescapedhislungs.MyfootdugintothegaspedalasIracedtotheturnoff.
“I’mjustpullingoffthegravelroad,”Itoldhim,takingthetwo-trackpaththatranalongthefenceline.
Hedidn’trespondotherthantocontinuethoseheartbreaking,muffledsobs.
Thetruckrattledsohardmybonesfeltliketheywereshakingloose.Theseroadsweren’tpavedorsmooth,justwornfromthetimeswedrovethroughthefields.Thetrackswerespottedwithholesandrocksanddips.Theyweren’tmeantforanythingmorethanfivemilesperhour.Iwasgoingtwenty.
Mystomachtwistedwitheverypassingminute.God,don’tlethimbehurt.Ifhe’dcuthishandorarmorlegandwasbleeding,itwouldtakeustimetogettothehospital.Toomuchtime.AndI’dsentConortooneofthefarthestendsoftheranch.
Finally,twentyminuteslater,Ispottedthefencingtruckinthedistance.Themountainsloomedonthehorizon.
“I’mhere,”Isaid,thenendedthecall.Mytiresskiddedtoastop.AcloudofdustbillowedfromtheroadasIshotoutofthetruckandjoggedtowardConor.
Hewasseatedagainstatire,hiskneespulledupandhisheadhangingbetweenthem.Onearmhungloosebesidehim.Theotherhadthephonepressedtohisear.
“Conor.”Iputmyhandonhisshoulder,doingaquickscan.Noblood.Noapparentbrokenbones.Alltenfingers.Twoearsandtwobootedfeet.
Helookedup,hisphonedroppingtothegrass.Teartracksstainedhistannedface.“It’sLily.”
“Lily…”
“G-green,”hechokedout.“LilyGreen.”
Green.OneofthenursesatthenursinghomewheremygrandmotherhadlivedbeforeshepassedwasaGreen.“WhataboutLilyGreen?”
AnotherteardrippeddownConor’sface.“Overthere.”
“Over…”Itrailedoffandmystomachfoundanewbottom.
No.Notagain.
Iswallowedhardandstood,knowingwithoutaskingwhatIwasgoingtofind.
Onleadenfeet,Iwalkedthroughthetallgrasstothecornerpostandclimbedthefence.MybootsfollowedthesameroughlytroddenpaththatConormusthavetaken.
Aboveme,thetowerofIndigoRidgeroseintothebluesky.Itsboldrockfacecaughtthesun.Thisplacewasasintimidatingasitwasbeautiful.Asolidwallofrockthatcutthroughthefieldsinsuchaharshlinethatitwaslikethemountainhadbeencleavedfromtoptotoe.Therocksatitsbasewereasblackandharshasthecliff’sface.
IclimbedtowardtherocksI’davoidedforages.Ihadn’tbeenonthissideofthefenceinyears.NotsinceI’dfoundthebody.
Thelastbody.
Mygazelandedonastreakofblondhair.Onawhitedress.Onmangledlimbs.Onariverofblood.
OnLilyGreen.ChapterThreeWinslow
“I’mgoingtorunhomeandgrabanewshirt,”ItoldJanice,frowningatthemessI’dmadeofmywhiteblouse.
Mysleeve,stainedwithblackcoffee,wasasmuchofadisasterasmydesk.Folders,reportsandstickynotesclutteredthebrownwoodensurface.Orwasitgray?Ihadn’tseenitintwodays.
Iwasofficiallyburied.
WhenJanicehadcomeintotellmethatitwastimefortheweeklystaffmeetingwiththeadministrationcrew—anunofficialstandingmeetingthathadn’tbeenonmycalendar—I’dbeeninsucharushtojointhemthatwhenI’dgonetograbmycoffeemug,ablobhadleaptoutofthecupandsplatteredmyshirt.
“Willyoucallmeifanythingcomesup?”Iasked.
“Ofcourse.”Shesmiledandwalkedforthedoor,pausingatthethreshold.“You’redoinggreat,Winslow.”
“AmI?BecauseIfeellikeI’mdrowning.”SomethingI’donlyadmittoJanice.Shewasmyoneandonlyallyatthestation.WinningpeopleoverwasgoingslowerthanI’dexpected.Muchslower.
Itwasmyage.NoonehadoutwardlyadmittedthattheythoughtIwastooyoung—nottomyface.Butthesidewayslookshadheldunspokenwords.Doubts.
Icandothisjob.
MaybetheothersdoubtedmebutIwasn’tabouttodoubtmyself.Much.
“You’redrinkingfromafirehoserightnow,butitwillgeteasier,”Janicepromised.“Andthefolksherewillcomearound.Giveittime.”
Isighed.“Thankyou.”
Shegavemeasurenod,thenslippedawayforherspotlessdesk.
Takingmypursefromthebottomdrawer,Iscannedthepilesofreportstoreviewandofficerrésuméstoread.Tonight,I’dtakeanotherstackhomeandreadoverthemlikeIhadlastnight.Iwasinlearningmode,tryingtofamiliarizemyselfwiththestaff.I’dalsohadJanicepulleverycasefilefromthepastthreemonthssoIcouldgleanwhattypeofcrimeshappenedinQuincy.
Sofar,ithadbeennothingmorethanfourdrunkendrivers,abustedhighschoolkegger,onebarfightandadomesticdisturbance.JanicehadwarnedmethattherewasametharresthiddeninthemixbutIhadn’treachedthatfileyet.
Overall,theofficerfileswerethin,toothin.Thereportswereshort,tooshort.Andeverythingwashandwrittenonpapertemplates.
Popshadn’tbeenkiddingwhenhe’dtoldmethattheQuincyPoliceDepartmentneededashoveintothefuture.Thoughshoveseemedtoogentleaword.Whatweneededwasabulldozer.
Iwasthatbulldozer.
Walkingthroughthebullpen,IwavedatAllen,oneoftheday-shiftofficers.
Henodded,hiseyesdartingtomysleeve.Thecornerofhismouthturnedup.
Ishrugged.“Coffeeattackedme.”
“That’swhyI’mpartialtoourblackshirtsandpants.Hidesthespills.”
“Myuniformorderissupposedtogetintoday.ThenI’llbestickingtoblackshirtstoo.”Ismiledandheadedforthedoor.
Okay,thatwasnice.Allenhadn’tavoidedeyecontact.Progress,right?
IwavedatOfficerSmithwhenIpassedhimforthelobby,hopingforanod.“I’mgoingtorunhomequickly.Wouldyoupleasecallmeifanythingcomesup?”
Heignoredme,likehehadforthepasttwodays.Evenwhenwe’dbumpedintoeachotherinthebreakroomyesterday,he’dactedlikeIhadn’tevenbeenthere.TheheatfromhisglareburneddownmyspineasIwalkedoutthedoor.
Earlyretirement.Weweredefinitelygoingtodiscussanearlyretirementifhedidn’tchangehisattitude.
Ipluckedmysunglassesfrommypurse,usingthemtoshieldmyeyesfromtheglareandcoverupthedarkcirclesundermyeyes—sleephadn’tbeeneasythisweek.MyDurangowasparkedbesideAllen’scruiser.Theleatherseatswerewarmandtheairstuffy.Icrackedmywindow,drawinginthescentofsummersunshine.
LocatedintheheartofwesternMontana,QuincywasaboutanhourfromGlacierNationalPark.Thetownwassituatedinavalleysurroundedbysnowcappedmountains,theirslopescoveredbyadenseevergreenforest.TheClarkForkRivercutapaththroughthetreesandprovidedanaturalborderononesideforthecitylimits.
PopswouldtakeuscampingalongtheriverwhenIwasakid.Myfamilywouldspendafewprecioussummerweekendsathisfavoritesites,wherewe’dfishandhikeandroasts’mores.
Ateveryturn,Quincyheldamemory.
VisitingPopshadalwaysfeltlikeanadventure.Myfatherhadgrownuphere,andforhim,Quincywashome.MomandDadwouldhavelovedtoseemelivinghere.TheyprobablywouldhavefollowedmefromBozeman.
Thoughiftheyhadn’tdied,IdoubtedIwouldhavemovedtoQuincy.
Iftheyhadn’tdied,alotwouldbedifferent.
Ateveryturn,Quincyheldamemory.
Ihadyettodecideifthatwasgoodorbad.
Pushingthepastaside,ItookinthetouristsmeanderingdownthesidewalksonMain.BecauseofourproximitytoGlacier,Quincywouldbebustlinguntilfallwithout-of-townvisitors.
Asthemayor,Popslovedtheinfluxofcashtohissmalltown.Asaresident,thetouriststendedtograteonhisnerves.Theabundanceofvisitorswasthereasonhelovedwhiskingusawaytothemountainsforsummercampouts.
Ithadbeenduringthefallandwintervisitsthatwe’dactuallystayedinQuincytoexplore.Notmuchhadchangedsincemychildhood.Therewascomfortinthefamiliar.
AsinmostsmallMontanatowns,MainStreetwasasegmentofthehighwaythatledinandoutoftown.EverythingbranchedawayfromQuincy’sdowntown,likearteriesfromathrivingheart.Butthebulkofthecommercewasrighthere,allclusteredtogetherinthetown’score.
Restaurants,barsandretailshopsweretheprimaryappealforourseasonalvisitors.Officesandbanksfilledthegapsinbetween.Mom’sfavoritestophadalwaysbeentheantiqueshop.Dad’s,thehardwarestore.ThegrocerystoreandtwogasstationsactedasthebookendtoonesideofMain.QuincyFarmandFeedwastheother.
Thecommunitytookprideinthisstreet.Thewindowdisplayswereartfulandcharming.Flowerbasketshungfromlamppostsinsummer,holidaygarlandsandtwinklelightsinwinter.
Ilovedthistown.
Mytown.
Ithadn’tquitesunkinyetthatQuincywasmine.
MaybebecauseIfeltmoreakintothetouriststhanthelocals.
Islowedatacrosswalk,waitingforacoupletonavigatetheintersection.Betweenthemwasalittlegirlwearingayellowjumperandanadorablesmile.Herparentsswungherbetweenthemaftereverycountofone-two-three-yippee
Onceuponatime,I’dbeenthatlittlegirl.
“Whatiswrongwithmetoday?”Ishookmyhead,snappingmyselfoutofthepast,thenItookthenextsidestreetonmyroutetohome.
MomandDadhadbeenaconstantonmymindthesepasttwodays.ProbablybecauseIwasinQuincy.Probablybecausesomuchhadchangedinjustaweek.
Anewhouse.Anewjob.
Movingwastherightdecision,butthathadn’tmadeiteasy.ImissedmyfriendsinBozeman.Imissedmyolddepartmentandmycoworkers.
Sure,IhadPops,anditwaswonderfultoseehimeveryday.Intime,I’dfitinhere.Butatthemoment,beingnewfeltalotlikebeingalone.
WasthatwhyI’dsleptwithGriffinonSunday?
Icringedforthehundredthtimejustthinkingabouthisfaceattherestaurant.
PopsandHarrisonEdenhadchattedthroughtheentiremeal,carryingtheconversation.Griffinhadbarelyutteredaword.He’dsimplysatthere,gloweringathisplate,whileI’dforcedasmileanddonemybesttomakesmalltalkwithhisfather.
ThetensionradiatingoffofGriffin’sshouldershadgrownexponentiallyoverthemeal.RegrethadbeensoplainlywrittenonhishandsomefacethatI’dnearlyfakedastomachachetoescape.
Thankfully,he’dboltedfirst.Themomenthe’dfinishedhisclubsandwich,he’dexcusedhimselffromthetable.
Iwasstillmadatmyselfforcheckingouthisassashe’dwalkedaway.
Withanyluck,afewmonthswouldpassbeforewebumpedintoeachotheragain.MaybebythenI’dstopthinkingabouthisnakedbodyinthebackseatofhistruck.
GriffinEdenwasaone-timemistake,andwithanyluck,notasoulinQuincywouldfindoutI’dscrewedhimmyfirstnightintown.
Myhousewasasingle-storyCraftsmanpainteddovegraywithwhiteshutters.Iparkedinthedrivewayandmademywayupthebrickporchstepstotheredfrontdoor.
ThedoorwasthereasonI’dboughtthishouse—thatandbecausetherehadonlybeenthreeplacesonthemarket.
Thistwo-bedroom,one-bathroomhousewastheperfectsizeformysimplelife.Ididn’tneedalargeyard.TheextrabedroomwouldbecomemyofficebecauseIdidn’tneedaguestbedroom—Irarelyhadguests.
Ihurriedinsideandignoredthedisasterthatwasthelivingroom.Boxescrowdedthecouchinthecenteroftheroom.They’dgoneuntouchedsinceSundaybecauseI’dspenteveryeveningsincereviewingcasefiles.
Mybedroomwasinthesamestate—maybeworse.
Ononesideoftheroom,threesuitcaseswereopen,theircontentsspillingontothehardwoodfloors.Somewhereunderthisrooftherewerehangers,Ijusthadyettofindthem.Idugthroughtheclosestpileofclothes,findinganewshirt,thenstrippedoffmystainedblouse,tossingitintothegrowingpileoflaundry.
MynewwasheranddryerwerearrivingonFriday.TherestofthefurnitureI’dorderedhadbeendelayed,sofornow,mymattresswasonthefloorwithmywardrobe.
MaybetonightI’dsearchforthehangers.Maybenot.
Dressedandnolongersmellinglikestalecoffee,IhurriedoutsideandintotheDurango,reversingontothestreet.ThenIretreatedthewayI’dcometowardMain.
Iwasslowingattheintersectionwhenaflashofredandbluestreakedby,thewailofasirensplittingtheair.
ThatwasAllen’scruiser.
Ipulledmyphonefromtheconsole,seeingnothingonthescreen.He’dbeendoingpaperworktoday,notoutonpatrol,sowherewashegoing?Somethinghadhappened.Whyhadn’tanyonecalledme?
Insteadoftakingtheleftthatwouldleadmetothestation,Iturnedright,followingAllendownMain.Whenhehittheedgeoftown,hepunchedthegasandshotdowntheroad.
MyhearthammeredasIhurriedtokeeppace,drivingwithonehandwhiledialingintothestationwiththeother.
“QuincyPoliceDepartment,”OfficerSmithanswered.
“Hi,it’sWinslow.”
Hegrunted.
“I’mfollowingAllenoutoftown.Canyoutellmewherehe’sgoing?”
“Therewasacallfromoutoftown.Emergencyinthemountains.”
“Okay.”Iwaitedformoreofanexplanation.Hedidn’tgivemeone.“Whatemergency?”
“SomeonefoundabodyatthebaseofIndigoRidge.”
Igasped.“W-what?Whydidn’tyoucallme?”
“Slippedmymind.”
Asshole.“OfficerSmith,youandIwillbehavingaconversationwhenIreturntothestation.”
Withthat,Iendedthecall,tossingmyphoneasidesoIcouldconcentrateoncatchingAllen.
Hisbrakelightsglowedasheslowedforaturnoff.Therewasnoroadsignormarker,butIfollowedhistrailofdustdownthegravelroad,themountainsgrowingcloserwitheveryminute.Onecliffstoodoutfromtherest,itsverticalfacedauntingasittoweredabovethetreesandmeadowsbelow.
Threetruckswereclusteredtogetherinthegrassahead,parkedontheothersideofthefence.Allenslowedwhenheapproached,easingthecruisertowardtheditch.
Iparkedbehindhim,snaggingmyphoneandshovingitinapocket.ThenIrifledthroughmypurseforasmallnotepadandpenbeforeclimbingout.
“Chief.”Allenstoodonthesideoftheroad,waitingformetojoinhim.
“What’sgoingon?”OfficerSmith’sshortexplanationhadbeenlackingatbest.
“OneoftheranchhandsfortheEdensstumbledacrossabodythismorning.”
“ThisistheEdenranch?”
Itwasastupidquestion.WhenIfollowedAllen’sgazetothemenstandingbesidethetrucks,IspottedGriffininstantly.
Hislegswereplantedwideashestoodbesidethatfamiliarblacktruck.Hishandswerefistedathiships.Thewordsgoawaymightaswellhavebeenetchedonthebrimofhisfadedblackhat.
Isteeledmyspine.“Leadtheway,Allen.”
“Yes,ma’am.”Hesetoffthroughthetallgrass,walkingtothefour-rowbarbed-wirefencepasttheditch.Withonehandpullingupthesecondwireandabootedfootpressingdownthethird,heopenedagapformetoduckandslidethrough.
Itookhisplace,holdingthewiresforhim,thenitwasmyturntolead,walkingtowardGriffin.
“Winslow.”Hisvoicewasflat.Unreadable.
“Griffin.”Myvoicesoundedmuchthesame.Ihadajobtodo.“Canyoushowusthebody?”
Henoddedforustofollowhimpastthelineoftrucks.
Ayoungermanwassittingagainstthetireofthelastpickupintherow.Besidehimcrouchedanotherman,older,withahandlebarmustacheandatancowboyhat.
Thekidonthegroundlookedpale.Teartracksstainedhischeeks.Hemusthavebeentheonetofindthebody.I’dseenenoughfaceslikehistoknowwhowasthefirstonthescene.
“Conorfoundthegirl,”Griffinsaid,keepinghisvoicelowaswewalkedtowardthecornerofthefence.Beyondit,rocksclusteredatthebaseofthecliff.
“I’llhavetoquestionhimlater.”
“Sure.”Henodded.“Heworksforus.Isenthimoutheretofixfence.”
“Whattimewasthat?”
“Aroundten.Weworkedinthebarnfirstthingthismorningforacoupleofhours.”
“Didhetouchthebody?”
“Probably.”Hesighed,thenledthewayoverthefence.
Thepostswerewoodenhere,thewirestootighttostretch,soIplantedabootonthebottombraceandswungmylegsover.ThenIsetofftowardthecliff,walkingslowlytotakeitallin.
Atrailofbrokengrasshadbeenmade,probablyfromConorandGriffin.Otherwise,theareaseemeduntouched.
GriffinandAllenstayedclosebehindasIsetthepacetotherocks,movingasmethodicallyuptheirsteepfaceasIhadthroughtheflatmeadow.WeclimbeduntilIreachedalandingspot.
Andabrokenbody.
Iflippedofftheswitchinmymindthatpanickedattheblood.Ishutdowntheemotionsthatcamewithagruesomedeath.Iswallowedhard—Ididmyjob—andsurveyedthescene.
Thebodywasofayoungwoman,facedown.Afewerrantstrandsofblondhairblewinthebreeze.Deathblackenedtheareabeneathhersmashedskinandbones.
Mostofthebloodhaddriedandhardenedinstickypoolsandtricklesfromwhereithadflowed.Sheworeawhitedress,theskirtmostlyunharmedwhereitbrushedherankles.Thebodicewouldneverbecleanagain.
Herarmsweresplayedtothesides.Onelegwasbentatanunnaturalangle.Onlyafewpatchesofsmooth,grayingskinremainedonhercalves.Otherwise,boneprotrudedfromthesurfaceofherlimbs.
“Anotherone,”Allenwhispered.
Ilookedovermyshoulder.“Anotherwhat?”
Hepointedtotheridgeaboveus.
Therewasatrailcutintotherockabouthalfwaybetweenusandthecliff’spinnacle.Ihadn’tnoticeditonthedrive.Thepathdisappearedaroundabend,probablywhereitdescendeddownthehillside,buttheendwasdirectlyaboveus.
Hadthisgirlbeenpushed?Hadshejumped?
“WhatamIlookingat,Allen?”
“Suicide,”heexplained.
Damn.“Whydoyousaythat?”
AllenandGriffinsharedalook.
“What?WhatamImissing?”
“You’renewhere.”Griffinspokethewordnewwithsuchscornitwaslikehe’dtakenthosethreelettersandthrowntheminmyface.“Thisisn’tthefirstbodyfoundatthebaseofIndigoRidge.”
“Howmanyothershavetherebeenbefore?”
“Two.”
Two.Thismadethree.Holy.Shit.Whatthehellwasgoingon?WhathadIjustwalkedinto?
“We’vehadastringofsuicidesinthepasttenyears.”
Iblinked.“Astringofsuicides.”
“Seventotal.”
“Seven?”Myjawnearlydropped.“That’salmostoneayear.”
Allen’sshouldersslumped.“It’sbeenlikethisdominoeffect.Onekiddoesit.Anotherdecidestodoittoo.”
Ipointedtotheridge.“Andthisiswheretheycome?”
“Notalways,”Griffinsaid.
Itookinthegirl’sbarefeet.Thesmockedsundress.Hadshebeeninshortsorjeans,Imighthavethoughtthishadbeenahikingaccident.
“Doweknowwhothisis?”Iasked.
“LilyGreen,”Griffinanswered.“Conorthoughtso,atleast.Theyareaboutthesameage.Ithinktheywerefriends.”
Therewasnothingleftofthegirl’sface.SohowhadConorrecognizedher?Maybefromthebluebutterflytattooonherwrist.
“Allen,areyougoodtotakephotosofthescene?”
“Yes.Iwas,um…Iwashereforthelastone.”
Thelastone.Mystomachrolled.“Allright.I’llcallthestationandgetthemedicalexamineroutheresowecangetthebodymoved.Thesoonerwecanidentifyher,thesoonerwecannotifynextofkin.”
“Yougotit,Chief.”
“I’llneedtotalktoyouremployeenow,”ItoldGriffin.
Heansweredbyretreatingdowntherocks.
MyheadwasspinningasIfollowed.
Sevensuicidesintenyears.Thatwascrazy.Thatwastoomany.Suiciderateswerehigherinruralareasthancities,butsevensuicidesintenyears…thatwastoomany.
Iknewithappenedwithyoungkids.AndAllenwasright,sometimesitcouldbecomethisdominoeffect.We’dhadthesamethinghappenatthehighschoolinBozemanforafewyears.Threekidshadattemptedsuicide,twohaddied.
Theprincipalandteachershadjumpedalloveritaftertheseconddeath,makingsuretheywerewatchingthekidsmorecloselyandprovidingoutletsforotherstudentstoreportfriendswhomightbeatrisk.
Sevensuicides.
Inthistinycommunity.
HowhadInotknownaboutthis?Whyhadn’tPopstoldme?Whyhadn’tthisbeenbroughtupduringmyinterviews?I’daskedplentyofquestionsaboutpastcriminalcases.Thoughmaybetheyhadn’tconsideredthesecrimes.Hadtheseatleastbeendocumented?
ThequestionsrolledthroughmymindasIfollowedGriffintothefenceandclimbedover.ThenIputthemallawaywhenwejoinedtheothertwomenatthetrucks.
“Conor,thisisWinslowCovington.”Griffincrouchedbesidetheyoungman.“She’sthenewchiefofpoliceandshe’sgoingtoaskyousomequestions.”
Thekidlookedupfromhisspotontheground,hisfaceetchedinsheerheartacheandterror.
Ibentsohewouldn’thavetostand.“Hi,Conor.”
“Ma’am.”Hesniffledanddraggedaforearmacrosshisnose.
“MindifIaskyousomequestions?”
Heshookhishead.
ThemanwiththemustacheclappedConorontheshoulder,thenstoodandwalkedtothetruck’stailgate,givingussomespace.
Griffinstood,buthisfeetdidn’tmove.HetoweredoverusasIaskedmyquestionsandtookmynotes.
Itwasfairlystraightforward.ConorhadcomeouttofixthefenceperGriffin’sorders.He’dcaughtsightofLily’sdressontherocksandrushedtothebody.Hehadn’ttriedtomoveherbuthe’dpickedupherhandtocheckforapulse.Thetattoo,asI’dsuspected,hadgivenheridentityaway.Fromthere,he’dclimbeddownandcalledGriffin.
“Thankyou,Conor.”Igavehimasadsmile.“I’llprobablyhaveafewfollow-upquestionsforyou.”
“Okay.”Atearstreakeddownhischeek.“Wewenttohighschooltogether.Lilyandme.Wedatedourjunioryear.Brokeupbutshewasalways…”
Thetearscamefaster.
Findingadeadbodywasnevereasy.Findingsomeoneyouloved…thiswouldhaunthim.“I’msosorry.”
“Metoo.”Hischinquivered.“Wishshehadtalkedtome.WishIhadtalkedtoher.”
“Thisisn’tyourfault.”Griffin’stallbodydroppedbesidemine.“YouheadonoutwithJim,okay?”
“Whataboutthefencingtruck?”
“I’lltakecareofit.”
Conorshovedtohisfeet,hisbalanceunsteady.
GriffinstoodandclampedahandaroundConor’sarm,escortinghimtowhereJimwaswaiting.
Ifollowedatadistance,watchingasGriffinhuggedthekidandhelpedhimintothepassengerseatofawhitetruck.ThedoorwasmarkedwithanEandunderscoredwithaU-shapedbarbeneath—theEdenranchemblem.
GriffinspoketoJimforamomentbeforetheoldermannodded,thenwenttothedriver’sside.
“WillhestaywithConor?”IaskedGriffinasJimandConorpulledaway,rollingdownatwo-tiretrack.
“Hewill.”
“IneedtokeepthisquietforalittlebitsoIcanensurewehavetherightidentity,thennotifynextofkin.”
“Lily’smomisanurseatthenursinghome.Allencangetyouherinformation.”
“Whatifit’snotLily?”
“It’sher,Winslow.Weknowourownpeople.”
Asin,Iwasn’toneofthem.Ouch
Anewtrailofdustfollowedavehicledownthemaingravelroad.Hopefullyitwasthemedicalexaminer.
“Thisisyourproperty,correct?”Iasked.
“Yes.”
“Isthisroadeverclosed?Withagateatnightorsomething?”
“No.”Heshookhishead.“Thepropertyontheothersideoftheroadusedtobelongtoanotherranch,butIboughtittwoyearsago.ThisisallEdenpropertynow.There’snoreasontogateitoffotherthantosegmentpasturesforcattle.”
“Doyoueverhavepeopledriveouthere?”
“Notreally.It’sprivateproperty.”Hefistedhishandsonhiships.“Why?”
“Haveyouseenanystrangevehiclescomingandgoingthisweek?”
“Thisisahugeranch.It’simpossibletokeeptrackoftraffic.”Hisjawclenched.“Whyareyouasking?”
Ilookedupanddownthegravelroad.Therewasn’tavehicleinsightthatmighthavebelongedtothegirl.She’dbeenbarefoot.Wherewerehershoes?
“I’msimplyaskingquestions.”That’swhyIwashere.
“Thatgirljumpedtoherdeath.Hermotherisprobablyworriedsickabouther.Howaboutyoustopaskingquestionsandstartprovidinganswers?”
“HowaboutIleavetheranchingtoyou?Andyouleaveinvestigationstome?I’mjustdoingmyjob.”
Hescoffed.“Youwanttodoyourjob,gotellLily’smother.Anythingelseisawasteoffuckingtime.”
Withoutanotherword,hestormedaway,marchingtohistruck.Heleftmestandinginafield,watchinghistaillightsdisappear.
“Thatwentwell,”Imuttered.“Shit.”
Itippedmyheadtothesky.
Maybethiswasn’thowthepreviouschiefwouldhavehandledit.Maybehewouldhavetakenonelookatthatpoorgirlandknownitwassuicide.But…
“I’mthechiefnow.”Andwe’ddothingsmyway.
WhetherGriffinEdenlikeditornot.ChapterFourGriffin
Theice-coldbeerbottlehadbarelyskimmedmylipswhenthedoorbellrang.
“Christ,”Igrumbled.“Nowwhat?”
IthadbeenahellofalongdayandIwasn’tinthemoodforvisitors.Butitwasprobablyanemployee—themembersofmyfamilydidn’tknowhowtoringdoorbells—soignoringmyguestwasn’tanoption.
Withmybeerbottleinhand,Ipaddeddownthehallwaytothedoorinmybarefeet.IfIwaslucky,arareoccurrence,Iwouldn’thavetoputmybootsbackonforwhateverthisvisitentailed.
Thereweretimeswhenitwouldbenicetoputsomespacebetweenhomeandwork.ToliveofftheranchwhereIwasn’taseasilyaccessible—tothestafformyfamily.Buttherewasn’taplaceonearthI’dratherbethanonthisranch.Evenwhenpeopleshowedupatmydoorstepunannounced.
Ipulledthedooropen,expecting,well…anyoneelsebesidesWinslow.
Hereyes,thecolorofripeblueberries,seemedbluerinthefadingeveninglight.Onelookatherbeautifulface,andforamoment,Iforgottobreathe.
“Hi,”shesaid.
Itippedthebottletomylips.ThenIchugged.
Drinkingseemednecessaryaroundthiswoman.
ProbablynotabrilliantdecisionconsideringalcoholwasthereasonI’dgottenintothismesswithherinthefirstplace,butonelookatthoseeyesandthatsilkyhairandmycocktwitchedbeneathmyjeans.
Whythefuckcouldn’tIcontrolmyselfaroundher?
HerprettygazenarrowedasIgulpedhalfmybeer.“Thirsty?”
Iforcedthebottleawayfrommylips.“Somethinglikethat.”
TherewasnoneedtoaskherhowsheknewwhereIlived.Notonlycouldshelookitupinherdatabaseatthestation,butanyoneinQuincycouldgiveherdirections.Hell,threeminutesonMainandshe’dlikelybumpintoarelative.FindinganEdeninthistownwasaboutaseasyaslookingforleavesonatreeinJune.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iasked.
“YouneveransweredmyquestionsonWednesday.”
Wednesday.AdayIwouldliketoforget.I’dbeeninashitmoodforthepasttwodays.I’dbarkedateveryonethewayI’dbarkedatheratthescene.Inmydefense,thathadbeenthesecondtimeI’dfoundadeadwomanonmyproperty
“Soyoucametomyhouse?”
“WouldyouhavecomedowntothestationifI’dasked?”
“No.”
“That’swhatIfigured.”Sheraisedherchin,herfeetplantedfirm.Winnwasn’tgoingtoleaveuntilItalkedtoher,andthistime,Icouldn’texactlywalkaway.
Isighedandstoodaside,jerkingmychinforhertocomeinside.
Shesteppedpastmeandhersweetcitrusscentwrappedaroundmelikeavine.
Mybodyreactedinstantly,tighteninginallthewrongplaces.Itookanotherpullfrommybeer.Theonlyrationalexplanationforthisinfuriatingdesirehadtobelust.I’dgonetoolongwithoutsex,andnowIwasactinglikearandyteenager.
Lust.Definitelylust.
Andthosefrecklesonhernose.Goddamnit,theydiditforme.
Iwastoobusytobestudyingherfreckles.
“DidyouknowwhoIwas?”Iblurted.
“Pardon?”
“AtWillie’s.DidyouknowwhoIwas?”
“No.Yousaidyoucamethroughtown.Iassumedyoudidn’tlivehere.”
“YousaidBozeman.Ithoughtyouwereatourist.”
“Youreallydidn’tknowwhoIwas?”
“Iwouldn’thavefuckedyouinmytruckhadIknown.Asageneralrule,Idon’tdohookupswithlocals.GetsmessywhenwomenrealizeI’mnotinterestedinarelationship.I’mtoobusy.”
“Ah.Thenyou’reinluckbecauseIhavenodesireforarelationship.AndasfarasI’mconcerned,itneverhappened.”
Likefuckithadneverhappened.Thatnightwasburnedintomybrain.Butifshewantedtopretendithadn’thappened,thatwasfinebyme.NooneinQuincyneededtoknowI’dgiventhechiefofpolicethreeorgasms.
“Backtothereasonformyvisit.I’dliketoknowmoreaboutthatroadtoIndigoRidge.”Shewasallbusinesstonight,hershoulderssquareandherexpressionstoic.JustlikeithadbeenWednesday.Notaghostofhermesmerizingsmilegracedhersoftlips.
Probablysafestthatway.“Wantabeer?”
“No,thanks.”
“Onduty?”
“That’swhyI’mhere.”
Ifinishedmybottle,makingherstandthereandwatch,thenIretreatedtothekitchenforbeernumbertwo.MaybetwoBudLightswoulddullmysensesenoughsoIwouldn’thavearagingerectionwhileshewasinmyhouse.Atthemoment,mydickwasreadytosayfuckitandcarryhertomybedroom.
Wehadn’thadalotofroomtomaneuverinthebackseatofmytruck.Onaking-sizedmattress,WinnandIcouldhavesomefun.
Jesus.IscrubbedahandovermyfaceasIopenedtherefrigerator.Whatwaswrongwithme?
Winnwasheretotalkaboutadeadgirl,andIwasthinkingofsex.ThementalimageofLilyGreen’ssmashedbodywassobering,andIclosedthefridge,forgoingthebeer.
“DidyoutalktoLily’smother?”
“Idid.”Awaveofsadnessbrokeherneutralcomposure.“Itdidn’ttakelongtoconfirmLily’sidentitythroughfingerprints.IspoketohermotheronWednesdayevening.”
“Haveyoueverdonethatbefore?Notifiedaparentthattheirchildwasdead?”
Shegavemeasinglenod.“It’stheworstpartofthisjob.”
“Sorry.”
“MymentorattheBozemanPDusedtotellmethatitwasourdutyandourresponsibilitytoeasetheburdenanywaywecould.Thatweneverknowhowwe’llchangetheliveswetouchwiththisjob.Heoncehadtotellawomanthatherhusbandhadbeenkilledinaliquorstorerobbery.Yearslater,hebumpedintoher.Theystarteddatingandthey’remarriednow.He’dalwaysremindmethateventhedarkdayspass.Thatwehealfromourlosses.Idon’tknowifthat’struewhenyouloseachild.ButIhope,forLily’smother’ssake,thatintime,shefindscomfort.AndIhopethatIwasabletosoftentheblow,asmuchasthatwaspossible.”
Istudiedherasshespoke,gentlehonestyandvulnerabilityinherwords.Ifshe’dspokentoLily’smotherlikethis,withsuchtruthandcompassion,thenyes,she’dsoftenedthatblow.Asmuchasthatwaspossible.
ThenewsofLily’ssuicidehadtraveledquicklythroughQuincy,asexpected.I’dgoneintotownthismorningtoplaceaclassifiedatthepaperandtheNelsenshadbeenbuzzingwiththenews.Nodoubtitwouldbenextweek’sheadline.Emilyhadfishedformoreinformationand,whenI’dstayedquiet,hadmadeanot-so-subtleoffertotradesexforsecrets.
I’ddecidedtopostmyhelp-wantedadonlineinsteadofinthepaper.
Emilyhadbeenaone-nightmistakelastyear.AmistakeIwasstillpayingfor.
IhopedWinslowwouldn’tturnouttobethesame.
“Wasthereanote?”Iasked.“FromLily?”
Sheignoredmyquestionsandaskedoneofherown.“CanyoutellmemoreabouttheroadtoIndigoRidge?”
“It’sagravelroad.There’snotmuchelsetotell.”
“There’satrailgoinguptheridge.Iwalkedityesterday.Howoftendoyouorstaffmembersofyourranchuseit?”
“Whydoesitmatter?”
“Becausethisisanongoinginvestigation.”
“Intoasuicide.”
“Intoayoungwoman’sdeath.”ShespokelikeLilycouldhavebeenmurdered
“Don’tdragthisoutlookingforsomethingthat’snotthere.You’llonlymakeitworse.”
Herfistsclenched.“I’maskingquestionsbecauseIoweittothatgirlandtohermothertodomyjob.”
“Youranswerswouldhavecomewithasuicidenote.”
Winndidn’tevenblink.
“Sotherewasnonote.”
Shecrossedherarmsoverherchest.“Istoppedbyyourparents’placebeforecominghere.Yourdadsaidyou’vetakenovermanagementoftheranch.I’dprefertotalkwithyoubecausehesaidyouweretheonewho’dknowmostoftheday-to-dayroutines.ButifIshouldheadbackthereandaskthemthesequestions—”
“No.”Damnit.ThiswasnotatopicI’dputonDad.
ThefirstsuicideoffIndigoRidgehadbeenyearsago.He’dfoundthebodyandtakenitreallyhard.Tothisday,heavoidedthatroadatallcosts.Iwouldn’tmakehimrelivethat,evenifitmeantrelivingitmyself.“Let’stalkinthelivingroom.”
Myhousewasn’tnearlyasbigasmyparents’six-thousand-square-foothome,buthalfthatsizesuitedmejustfine.Theopenconceptandvaultedceilingsgavemyranchercharacterandanopenfeel.Withthreebedroomsandanoffice,itwasplentyforme.Ididn’thavesixkidstowrangle,unlikeMomandDad,who’dneededtoaddontwicetofitusall.
IwalkedtothecouchandtookaseatasWinslowwenttotheoppositesideofthecoffeetable,sinkingintoaleatherchair.
Sheglancedattheframedphotoontheendtable.“Yoursiblings?”
“Allsixofus.I’mtheoldest.ThenKnox.LylaandTalia,thetwins.Thenthere’sEloise,whomanagestheinn.”
“PopsintroducedmetoherafterlunchonMonday.”
Thatawful,tenselunch.“Mateoistheyoungest.He’sworkinghereontheranchandattheinnuntilhedecideswhathewantstodo.”
He’dprobablytakeoverafamilybusinessorstartoneofhisown.That’swhattherestofushaddone.Myparentshadinstilledtheirentrepreneurialspiritinusall.AndtheirloveforQuincy.
Eachofushadmovedawayforcollege.KnoxandTaliahadstayedawaythelongest,buteventually,thepullofQuincyandfamilyhadbroughtthemhometoo.
Winslowstudiedthephoto,memorizingourfaces.Plentyofpeoplehadahardtimetellingmeandmysiblingsapart,especiallywhenwe’dbeenyoung.Ourageswereclose.KnoxandIhadthesamebuild,thoughhistattoossethimapart.Thegirlswereundeniablysisters.
ButIsuspectedWinslowwouldn’thaveanytroublerecognizingmysiblings.Shewassmart.Focused.
Goodqualitiesinacop.
“Okay,Chief.”Ileanedmyelbowsontomyknees.“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”
Sheshifted,retrievingasmallnotepadandpenfromthebackpocketofherjeans.Itwasthesameoneshe’dhadonWednesday.Sheflippeditopenandtheballpointpenhoveredabovethepaper.“ThetrailupIndigoRidge.What’situsedfor?”
“Nothingthesedays.Beforeweboughttheneighboringplace,weusedthattrailtomovecattleupthemountain.Eventhenitwasrare.We’donlytakeitifwewerehavingadroughtandwereshortongrass.There’sacutoffthatwindstothebacksideoftheridgewherewe’vegotabouttwohundredacres.”
Herpenflewoverthepaper.“IthinkIsawthatcutoffwhenIwasupthere.”
“It’sprettyovergrownnow.AfterIboughttheneighboringplace,itgaveusadirectroadtothemountain.Wehaven’tmovedcattleonthattrailsince.”PartofthereasonthatI’dpushedsohardtobuytheneighboringpropertywasbecauseIhatedmovingcattleupthattrail.Itwassteepandrequiredwegosinglefile,followingthecattlebyhorse.
“IbelieveIsawthatroadtoo.Thoughroadisprobablyagenerousterm.Itwasmoreliketwotracksthroughthetrees.”
“That’stheone.”
“Doesanyonegoupthere?Orisitstrictlyforcattle?”
“Myuncle.Helivestherenow.AfterIboughttheneighbor’splace,hebuiltacabininthemountains.It’srightontheborderwiththeforestservice.He’sbeenthereforaboutayear.”
Herpenscratchedonthepaperasshemadeanote.“Andwouldhehaverecalledseeinganyonecomingupordownthetrail?”
“No.Hisplaceisn’tanywherenearthattrail.”AndBriggswasstrugglingwhenitcametorecollectionthesedays.
“Dopeoplecomeouttheretogohiking?”
“Notwithoutpermission.Andeventhen,Iwouldn’tgiveit.”NottoIndigoRidge.
“Sonooneevergoesoutthere.”
“Kidssometimes,”Iadmitted.“Curiouskidswhoknowthat’swheretwogirlscommittedsuicide.Icaughtagroupofthemlastfall.Haven’tseenanyoneuptheresince.”
“WasLilywiththatgroupofkids?”
“No,theywereyounger.Inhighschool.”
Herpenscratchedanothernote.“ThemedicalexaminerdeterminedthatthetimeofdeathwaslikelylateSundaynight,intoearlyMondaymorning.Wouldanyofyouremployeeshavebeenintheareaatthattime?Orperhapsyouruncle?”
“Youwantalibis.”
“Callitalibisifyou’dlike.I’mtryingtodetermineifanyonewouldhaveseenhergoupthereandifshewasreallyalone.Wefoundhercarparkedoffthehighway.Fromwhereitwasparkedtotheplacewhereshewouldhavejumped,it’ssevenmiles.Iwalkedityesterday,andittookmealmostthreehours.I’mwonderingifsomeonemighthaveseenherduringthattime.”
“Noonewhoworksforme.”
“Ifitwasatnight,shewouldhavehadtohaveaflashlight.Wedidn’tfindoneonthetrailorbyherbody.Wealsodidn’tfindshoes.”
“Whatareyougettingat?”
“Wherearehershoes?Ifshewalkeditwithoutthem,herfeetwouldhavelookedlikegroundmeat.Herfeethadsomescratchesbutnotsevenmiles’worth.Howdidshegetupthereinthedark?Byelevenit’spitchblack.”
“YousaidthemedicalexaminersuspecteditcouldhavebeenMondaymorning.”
“Attheverylatest.Butagain,that’stimeofdeath.”
“Maybeshewentupduringtheday.Stayedthereforawhile.Idon’tknow.”
Winnflippedtoanewsheetonthenotepad.“WouldanyonehavebeenaroundearlyMondaymorningtoseesomeoneleavetheridge?”
“Youthinksomeonewentuptherewithher.”
“Possibly.”
“Andwhat?Killedher?”Ishookmyheadandsighed.“It’sasuicide,Chief.Justliketheothergirlswhojumpedoffthatridge.Idon’tknowwhytheydidit.Myheartachesfortheirfamilies.Butit’sexactlythesameastheothertwotimes.IknowbecauseIwasthereforallthree.”
Sheblinked.
“Didn’tknowthat,didyou?”Imuttered.“Dadfoundthefirstbody.Ifoundthesecond.”
“AndnowLilyGreen.”
Inodded.“It’sawful.Trulyawful.Whatweneedaremoreresourcesintownforthesegirls,nottogolookingforakillerwhenthereisn’tone.Whichyou’dunderstandifyouwerefromhere.Butyou’renot.”
Sheopenedhermouth,thencloseditbeforespeaking.Hernostrilsflared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”Shesatalittlestraighter.“Isthereanythingelseyoucantellmeabouttheothergirls?”
“It’llallbeinareport,I’msure.”
“Yes,I’msure.ButI’maskinganyway.”
“ThegirlIfoundwastwoyearsago.ShewasoneofEloise’sfriends.Itshookusallup.Eloiseknewshewashavingahardtimebutdidn’tthinkitwouldgothisfar.”Sonowmysistercarriedthatguilt.Wealldid.“ThegirlDadfoundwasfiveyearsago.She’dbeenfriendswithLyla.”
“I’msorry.Thathadtobehardonyourfamily.”
“Itwas.”
Winslowclosedhernotebook,thenstood.“Thankyouforyourtime.”
“That’sit?”
“Fornow.I’llshowmyselfout.”Withoutanotherword,shestrodeoutofthelivingroom.
Thesmartthingtodowouldbetolethergo.Keepsomedistance.LetherwalkoutthedoorwhileIstayedrighthereonthiscouch.ButIstood,themannersmymotherhadingrainedinusfromanearlyagenagging.Weescortedguestsoutandthankedthemforstoppingby.
IcaughtuptoWinnjustasshewasabouttoreachforthehandle.Istretchedpasther,crowdingwaytooclose,andopenedthedoor.Anothermanner.Menhelddoorsforwomen.
Sheglancedupatme,herbreathcatching.Onceagain,thatsweetscentofhersfilledmynose.Hermouthpartedbutotherwiseshedidn’tmove.
Aninch,maybetwo,separatedourbodies.Thattinygapcrackled,theelectricitybetweenusjustasstrongasithadbeenatWillie’s.ShewasmorebeautifulthanI’drealizedsittinginthatdark,mustybar.
Winn’sblueeyesbrokefrommine,andthemomenthergazedroppedtomymouth,Iwasdonefor.
Ileanedcloser.
“Whatareyoudoing?”shewhispered.
“Ihavenofuckingclue.”Thenmylipswereonhers.
Onesweepofmytongueagainstherlowerlipandweweren’tstandingbymydoor.WewereatWillie’s,lockedinmytruck.Ourclotheswerestrippedandstrewnonthefloor.Ourmouthswerefusedasshestraddledmylap.
DayslaterandIcouldstillfeelthewayshe’dmovedoverme,rockingherhipsupanddownandupanddown.Thefingernailmarksshe’dleftonmyshouldershadfaded,anddamnit,Iwantedthemback.
IletgoofthedoortowrapWinninmyarms,pullingherflushagainstmychest.
Shecamewillingly,hertonguetanglingwithmineasIsavoredhersweetness.Herlipsweresoft,yetfrantic.HerhandsgrippedmyT-shirt,ballingitinherfistsasIslantedmymouthoverhersforadeeperdive.
Mypulsethrobbedinmyveins.Myarousalwaslikesteel,ashardasthegunholsteredonherhip.Iwasasecondawayfromkickingthedoorclosedandcarryinghertomybedroomwhenthesoundofahorse’swhinnybrokeusapart.
Winslowtoreherlipsfrommine,ourbreathsmingling.Hereyeswidenedasshesteppedoutofmyarms.
MychestheavedasIworkedtoregainmybreath,andbeforethehazeofdesirehadcleared,shewasgone.Shewalkedawaywithoutabackwardglance.
Istoodinthethreshold,armscrossedovermychest,andwatchedherclimbintoherSUVandteardownthegravelroad,disappearingintothegroveoftreesthatsurroundedmyproperty.
“Shit.”Irubbedherkissfrommylips,thenwentinsideforthatsecondbeer.
Anythingtogetherintoxicatingtasteoffmytongue.
Thesecondbottledidn’twork.Neitherdidthethird.ChapterFiveWinslow
WhyhadIkissedhim?Overthepastthreedays,thatquestionhadboundedthroughmymindlikeasugared-upkidonatrampoline.
I’dlivedinQuincyforeightdaysandI’dkissedGriffinattwoofourfourencounters.Questioningmydecisiontomove—questioningmysanity—hadbecomearegularpartofmydailyroutine.Andnightly,sincesleepinghadbeendifficult.Thismorningwhilebrushingmyteeth,I’dconsideredforasplitsecondgoinghometoBozeman.
Excepttherewasnohome.
Andquittingwasn’tinmynature.
Time.WhatIneededwastime.I’dsurvivethesecondweeklikeI’dsurvivedthefirst.IfIcouldmakeitthroughthenexteightdayswithoutkissingGriffinEden,maybeI’dbeabletogetthatmanoutofmyhead.
Workdemandedmyfullattention.Myfocuswasonbuildinganykindofpositiverapportwiththeofficers.Sofar,thingsatthestationwere…strained.Eventuallythestaffwouldwarmuptome,right?
“Goodmorning.”Iwalkedintothebreakroomandconversationstopped.
Thethreeofficersstandingaroundthecoffeepotscattered,eachnoddingastheypassedmeontheirwaytothebullpen.
Iswallowedagroanandrefilledmymugbeforeretreatingtomyoffice,closingthedoorbehindme.ThenIsaggedagainstitsface.“I’mnotquitting.”
Theattitudeinthestationhadgrowncolder.EvenJanicehadgivenmeafewsidewayslookswhenI’dstartedaskingquestionsaboutLilyGreen,IndigoRidgeandtheabundanceofsuicidesinthelastdecade.
Apparentlyitwasano-touchtopic.Everyonelookedatmelikethiswasano-touchsubject.MaybeGriffinwasright.MaybeIneededtoletitgoandacceptitatfacevalue.Ididn’twanttodrudgeuppainfulmemoriesandmakeitworseforfamiliesandfriends.
Butitjustfelt…off.
ThebestcopIknewhadoncetoldmetoalwaysfollowmyinstincts.
Fileswerescatteredoverthesurfaceofmydeskagain,despitethehourI’dspentorganizinglastnight.Istillhadn’tmadeitthroughthepastthreemonths’worthofcases,butI’daskedJanicetopullanotherthreeanyway,expandingmywindowtosixmonths.
Janicehaddeliveredthismorning.OntopofthemwerethefilesofeachsuicideinQuincy.
Sevendeaths.
I’dreadthrougheachreportthreetimesalready,hopingthatitwouldsquashthisuneasyfeeling.Ithadn’t.WhatwasImissing?Something,right?
Ishovedoffthedoorandwalkedtomychair,settingmycoffeeaside.ThenIpickedupthephoneanddialedthenumberI’dbeenmeaningtocallforaweek.
“ColeGoodman,”heanswered.
Ismiledathiswarmvoice.“Hey.”
“Whoisthis?”
“Funny,”Ideadpanned.“Youbetternothaveforgottenaboutmealready.”
Hechuckled.“Never.Isthisyournewworknumber?”
“Yep.Ithinkmypersonalphonewasswallowedupbytheunpackedboxesathome.Ihaven’tseenitfordays.”
“Soundsaboutright,”heteased.
ColehadspentmanyhourslisteningtomecomplainthatI’dlostmypersonalphone.Inmydefense,Ihadyettomisplacemystationcelloraradio.
Organizationwasn’tnecessarilyaweakness.Icouldbeorganized.ButIdidn’tmindalittlechaoseither.Whenmyfocuswasononelane,everythingelsebecamealittleblurry.Unpackingandfindingmyphonejustdidn’tseemasimportantaswrappingmyheadaroundLilyGreen’sdeath.
“Iwasjustthinkingaboutyou,”hesaid.“How’dthefirstweekgo?”
“Itwas,um…interesting.”
“Uh-oh.What’sgoingon?”
Isighedandthetruthcamerushingout.“Noonelikesmehere.IkeepgettinglookslikeI’mtooyoungforthisjobandonlygotitbecauseofPops.”
“Youknewthiswouldn’tbeeasy.”
“Iknow,”Imuttered.“Ijust…hoped.”
“Hanginthere.It’sonlybeenaweek.You’reagreatcop.Givethemtimetoseethat.”
AllthingsI’dtoldmyself,butsomehowhearingthemfromColegavemeaboostofconfidence.
ColehadbeenmymentorinBozeman.WhenI’dbeenpromotedtodetective,he’dbeentheretohelpmeeverystepalongtheway.WheneverIhadadifficultcase,Colewasmygo-topersontotalkitthrough.
Inouryearsworkingtogether,he’dbecomemorethanacolleague.Hewasalsoacherishedfriend.Hiswife,Poppy,ownedmyfavoriterestaurantinBozeman.Theirkidswerethesweetestsoulsonearth.WhenI’dlostmyownfamily,hishadbeentheretoseemethroughthedarkestdays.
“Imissyouguys.I’mhomesickfortheGoodmans.”
“Wemissyoutoo.Poppywastalkingabouttakingaweekendtriptovisit.”
“I’dloveit.”Forthem,I’dactuallyunpackmyhouse.
“Tellmeaboutthestation.”
“Actually,ifyouhaveafewminutes,canIrunsomethingbyyou?”
“Always.”
IspentthenextfifteenminutestellinghimaboutLilyGreenandtheothersuicides.I’dtoldhimhowLily’smotherhadcollapsedintomyarmswhenI’dgonetoherhomeandtoldherthehorrificnews.HerscreamhadbeensofullofagonythatI’dneverforgetthatnoise.
Heartbreakwasanugly,blacksound.
I’dstayedwithMelinaGreenforhoursthatnight.I’dheldherhandasshe’dcalledherex-husbandandtoldhimaboutLily.ThenI’dwaitedwithherashe’ddriventhetwohoursfromMissoula.Whenhe’darrived,hiseyesredrimmedandhissoulbrokenoverhisdaughter’sdeath,I’dgivenhimmycondolences,thenleftthemtogrieve.
Yesterday,I’dstoppedbyMelina’shousetocheckonher.She’dansweredthedoorwearingabathrobeandtear-stainedcheeks.Andonceagain,she’dfallenintomyarms,andI’dheldherasshe’dcried.
ButMelinawasastrongwoman.She’dcollectedherselfandbeguntotalkaboutLily.Foranhour,she’dtoldmeaboutthebright,beautifullightherdaughterhadbeen.
Lilyhadbeentwenty-oneandlivingwithhermomtosavemoney.WhenI’daskedMelinaifshe’dfoundasuicidenoteinLily’sroom,she’dconfessedthatshehadn’thadtheemotionalstrengthtocheck.ButherexhadgoneintoLily’sbedroomwhilehe’dbeeninQuincyandhadn’tfoundanything.
“I’mtryingtobesensitiveandnotpushtoohardwiththemother,”ItoldCole.“ButmyimpressionwasthatsheandLilywereveryclose.She’sshocked.TrulyshockedthatLilywouldkillherself.”
“Ican’timagineherpain,”Colesaid.“Shemightnotwanttothinkaboutthesignsthatshemissed.Orthatherdaughterwashidinganythingfromher.YouneedtotalktootherpeoplewhoknewLily.”
“That’smyplan.Istartedwiththeofficersandstaffhere.”
“Andwhatdidtheysay?”
“Nooneknewherwell.OneoftheofficerssaidthathersongraduatedwithLily,butthey’dlosttouchwhenhersonmovedawayforcollege.Mostoftheothersjustknewherfromthebankwheresheworkedasateller.EveryonesaysthatLilywasalwayssmiling.Thatshewasahappyyoungwoman.”
Thatdidn’tnecessarilymeananything.Iknewhowitfelttofeelentirelylostandalonebutforceasmilefortheoutsideworld.
“Whatabouttheothersuicides?”
“Thereportsarethin.”
Theformerchiefhadn’tbeenasticklerfordetails.ThatwassomethingthestaffherewasgoingtohavetochangebecauseIwasn’tgoingtoletshort,hurriedreportsbethestandard.
“Lastyear,aseventeen-year-oldboyhunghimselfinhisbasement.Beforethat,it’sallbeenwomen.Three,includingLily,jumpedtotheirdeathsoffacliff.Anotherslitherwristsinthebathtub.Anotherdownedabottleofprescriptionpills.Andthefirst,tenyearsago,shotherselfwithherfather’spistol.Iguesshewasacop.”
Nooneinthestationhadwantedtotalkaboutthatcase.
“Damn.”Coleblewoutalongbreath.“That’salotforsuchasmalltown.Especiallybecauseit’smostlywomen.”
“Exactly.”Suiciderateswereoverthreetimeshigherinmen.YetinQuincy,itwaslikethestatisticshadflip-flopped.
“It’snotunheardofbutitgivesmepause.”
“Metoo.It’snotnecessarilyoutofthenormalrange,butthegirlswereallintheirtwenties.Typically,Iwouldhaveexpectedthemtobeyounger.Dealingwithhighschoolstuff,youknow?Thesegirlswereallworkingandtransitioningtotheiradultlives.Thehighschoolproblemsshouldhavelargelybeenbehindthem.”
“WeretheyallfromQuincy?”
“Yes.”
“Eventhoughtheywereolder,theywereprobablystillconnectedtoit.Theiroldacquaintances,goodandbad.Thetown.”
“True.”
“Whatdoesyourgutsay?”heasked.
“It’sunsettled,”Iadmitted.“Maybeifwehadfoundanoteorajournaloranythingthatshowedthisgirlwasstruggling,Iwouldn’tfeelsouneasy.”
“Keeplooking.Keeptalkingtopeople.”
“I’mrufflingfeathers.”
Helaughed.“You’requitegoodatlosingyourphoneandkeys.Butyou’refantasticatrufflingfeathers.”
“Haha,”Imuttered,asmileonmylips.I’dmissedCole’steasing.
“Rile’emup,Winnie.Ifthat’swhatittakesuntilyourgutstopsscreaming,ruffleallthefeathersyouneed.”
“Thanks.”Aknotofanxietyloosenedinmystomach.ColeoftentoldmewhatIalreadyknew.Thatdidn’tmakehiswordsanylesspowerful.
“Callmeifyouneedtotalkitthroughagain.”
“Okay.GivePoppyahugforme.BradyandMacKennatoo.”
“Willdo.I’llshootyouatextwithsomeweekendsthatworkforus.”
“Can’twait.”WesaidourgoodbyesandthenIsatbackinmychair,staringatthemessoffilestoreview.
MaybeIwasreadingtoomuchintoLilyGreen.QuincywasasmalltownandIhadtothinkthatmyofficershadagoodpulseforwhatwashappening.Iftherewasanyreasontosuspectfoulplay,theywouldhaveseenit,right?AndPopstoo.Hehadn’tmentionedathingaboutthesuicides.
ExceptwhatifthereasonnoonehadquestionedthesesuicideswasbecausetheywerefromQuincy?Iwastheonlypersonwhohadn’tspentyearsworkinginthisdepartment.Notonlythat,buteverystaffmemberhadbeenbornandraisedinthiscounty.
Maybetothem,thiswasnormal.
Thesaddesttruthwouldbeiftheywereright.
Aknockcameatthedoor.
“Comein,”Icalled.
Janicepokedherheadinside.“Emilyfromthenewspaperisonlineoneforyou.”
“WouldyoupleasetellherI’minameetingandtakeamessage?”
“Surething.”Sheeasedthedoorclosed,leavingmetomyownthoughts.
Iswiveledinmychair,rightthenleft,rightthenleft.Myeyesneverwanderedfromthestackoffiles.
Why?WhywasLily’sdeathbotheringme?
“Nonote.”Thatwasthebiggestmissingpiece.
“Hercar.”WhyhaditbeenmilesawayfromIndigoRidge?Who’dtakenherupthere?
“Hershoes.”Ifshe’dwalked,wherewerehershoes?
OnSaturday,afterafitfulnight’srestonFridaythankstothemanwho’dkissedmedizzy,I’dreturnedtoIndigoRidge.I’dcanvasedthearea,hikingtheridgenotoncemore,buttwice.ThenI’dwalkedthepathtowherewe’dfoundLily’scaragain.
Nocluesinsight,certainlynomissingpairofshoes.
WhatIreallyfeltlikedoingwithmydaywasheadingouttothetrailagain,butthestackoffileswasn’tgettingsmaller,soItookasipfrommynow-coldcoffeeandgottowork.
Eighthoursandtoo-many-files-to-countlater,therewasn’tanythingparticularlynoteworthy,thoughIhadaddedthreemoreitemstomylistofnewpaperworkrequirements.Janicehadscheduledone-on-onemeetingswitheveryofficerinthedepartment,andstartingtomorrow,I’dsitdownwitheachtotalkonanindividualbasis.
Ihadpositivepraiseforeachperson—exceptOfficerSmith—buttherewerecritiquestoo.IdoubtedI’dwinmanyfriendsbythetimethesemeetingswerecomplete,butwhatever.Thiswasmydepartmentnow,damnit,andweweregoingtostartcreatingreportsworthreading.
BythetimeJanicecameintosaygoodnight,Iwasexhaustedandstarving.Iwasinthemiddleofpackingupafewfilestotakehomeforthenightwhenmyphonerang.“Hey,Pops.”
“I’mgrillingburgersfordinner.”
“I’monmyway.Needmetopickupanything?”
“Coldbeer.”
“Onit.”Ismiledandhustledoutthedoor.Afteraquickstopbytheconveniencestoreforhisfavorite,CoorsOriginal,Iheadedacrosstown.
PopslivedontheoutskirtsofQuincy,inaneighborhoodnestledagainsttheriver.Thehousehadbeenhisandmygrandmother’sbeforeshe’ddiedfifteenyearsago.Inallmylife,thehousehadn’tchanged.Theoutsidewasstillthesamepeagreen.Theinteriorwasasymphonyofbeige.
Mygrandmotherhadlovedchickens,andhercollectionofroosterandhenstatuessatproudlyabovethekitchencabinets.Walkingthroughthefrontdoorwaslikewalkingintomychildhood.Hisloveforherclungtotheoutdatedfloralcurtains,crochetedafghansandcross-stitchedtosspillowsshe’dleftbehind.
“Pops?”Icalledfromtheentryway.
Hedidn’tanswer,soIheadedtowardthebackdeck.ThesmokyscentofhisbarbequegreetedmeasIsteppedoutside,alongwithanotherfamiliarface.
“Well,theresheis.”Frank,mygrandpa’sneighborandfriend,poppedoutofadeckchair.Heclappedonce,thenopenedhisarms.“I’vebeenwaitingforyoutocomeoverhereandvisit.”
Ilaughedandwalkedintohisembrace.“Hey,Frank.”
“Missedseeingyourface,cutie.Welcome.Gladyou’reoneofusnow.”
WasIoneofthem?BecauseIfeltlikeanoutsider,andthenigglinginmystomachwarnedmethatitmightalwaysbethatway.
Frankletmego,puttinghishandsonmyshoulderstolookmeupanddown.“You’reallgrownup.Stillcan’tbelieveyou’reourchiefofpolice.Ilookatyouandseethatlittlegirlinpigtailswho’dcomeoverandmakemudpiesinRain’sgarden.”
“HowisRain?”
“Comeonover.Seeforyourself.She’dlovetovisit.”
“I’lldothat,”Ipromised,feelingbadfornotstoppingbyalready.
RainandFrankhadmovedinnextdoorwhenIwaslittle.We’dcometovisitPopsandNanathatweekendandIrememberedthinkinghowcoolitwasthattheirU-HaulhadbeenfromMississippi.
Theywereolderthanmyparentsandyoungerthanmygrandparents,butafterNanahaddiedofasuddenheartattackwhenIwasfifteen,FrankandRainhadadoptedPops.They’dbeenhereforhimthroughhiswife’sdeath.
Andwhenhe’dlosthissonanddaughter-in-law.
FrankandRainhadbeenhereforPopswhenIcouldn’t.Theywerepartofthefamily.Frankwasmygrandfather’sbestfriend.NowIwashereandwecouldallbeafamily.
“Areyoustayingfordinner?”Iasked.
“Can’t.I’vebeenfixingupthisoldJeepforRain.Thenewfenderjustgothere,soIneedtodosometinkering.”Hesmackedhisflatstomach.“Andshepromisedmepaellafordinner.”
Frank,likePops,wasasilverfoxwithabroadphysiqueandmuscledframe.Thetwoofthemwenthikingtogethernearlyeveryweekendinthesummers,andduringtheweek,they’dcarpooltothelocalgym.
“I’dbettergeton,”hesaid.
“Sogoodtoseeyou,Frank.”
“Youtoo,Winnie.”Hegavemeakindsmile,thenturnedandshookhandswithPops.“Feellikefishingtomorrowafterwork?”
“Absolutely.”
“Gooddeal.”Frankwaved,thenwalkeddownthedeck’sstairs,crossingthelawntodisappearintohisgarage.
“How’smygirl?”Popscameoverandwrappedmeinabearhug.
“I’mokay.”Isaggedintohisbroadchest.Hisheartbeatwasstrongbeneathmyear,acomfortingrhythmthathadbeenasteadybeatmyentirelife.“Howareyou?”
“Hungry.”
Ilaughedandlethimgo.“WhatcanIdo?”
“Fetchmethatcoldbeer.”
Whilehegrilledburgers,Ireadiedthebuns,toppingsandnapkins.Thenthetwoofusateonthedeck,theriverbeyondtheyardprovidingtheeveningmusic
“Thanksforcookingdinner,”Isaidwhenthedishesweredone,andwesetoffforanafter-dinnerstrolldownhisblock.
“Ofcourse.GladIcouldtrackyoudown.Itriedcallingyourothernumber.Itsaidyourvoicemailboxwasfull.”
ThemessageswereprobablyallfromSkyler.Ourbreakuphadbeenfourmonthsago,andtheconstantcallswerewearingthin.“Ican’tfindthatphone.Idon’tevenknowwhenIlostit.”
“Ifiguredasmuch.”Helaughed.“Howareyouholdingup?”
“I’m…okay.”Notgreat.Notbad.Justokay.“It’sbeenaweek.”
“Istillcan’tbelievesweetLilyGreen.Breaksmyheart.”
“Minetoo.”Melina’sdistraughtfacepoppedintomymind.“Youneversaidanythingaboutthesuicides.”
Hetuckedhishandsintohiskhakipockets.“Didn’twanttoputthatonyouwhileyouweredealingwithsomuchinBozeman.Andawfulasitis,that’spartoflife.Hereandanywhereelse.”
“Sevenintenyears.Don’tyouthinkthat’salot?”
“OfcourseIdo.Eachtime,weputmoreresourcesintocounselorsattheschool.We’vegottwoavailableforcommunitymembers,freeofcharge.Butifthesekidsdon’treachout,ifwedon’tknowthey’rehurting,howarewesupposedtohelp?”
Isighed.“I’mnottryingtocriticize.It’sjust…it’sbeenalongweek.”
Heuntuckedahandandputhisarmaroundmyshoulders.“Sorry.”
“Doyouthinkthere’sachancetheyaren’tsuicides?”
“IwishIcouldsayyes.Iwishtherewasanotherexplanation.Buteachofthosedeathswasinvestigated.Mostcamewithnotes.”
“Lilydidn’tleaveone.”
“Ormaybeyoujusthaven’tfoundityet.”
“I’llkeeplooking.”
“Iknowyouwill.Idon’tlikethinkingofyoudealingwiththis.It’sheavyandhard.Butsomeonehastocarryit,andItrustyouaboveanyoneelsetodotherightthing.”
“Thanks.”Ileanedintohisside.Hisfaithinmewasunwavering.I’dearnedit.I’dkeepearningit.StartingwithgivingMelinaGreenwhateveranswersIcouldfindaboutherdaughter.
“Changeofsubject,”hesaid.“IstoppedatWillie’sonSaturday.”
“Um…okay.”Shit.Williehadn’tstruckmeasabigmouth.Hewouldn’thavetalkedaboutGriffinandme,right?
“Hesawyourpictureinthepaper,”Popssaid.
“Youmeanthegossiprag?”IntheoneandonlynewspaperI’dread,therehadn’tactuallybeenmuchnews.NotthatI’dreadthewholething.I’dhadtostopafterthefrontpage.
ThearticleonmypositionaschiefhadbasicallycalledmeachildcopandstatedtheonlyreasonI’dgottenthejobwasbecauseofPops.ButthepaperhadcomeoutonWednesday.I’dbeenatIndigoRidge,thenwithMelinaGreen.
Popshadcalledandleftmeavoicemail,fumingandcursingtheNelsenname.BythetimeI’dlistenedtohismessage,thenstoppedbythegrocerystoretobuythepaper,ithadbeenafterdark.WhenI’dfinallysatdowntoreadthearticle,Ijusthadn’thadmanyfuckstogive.
“WilliementionedthatyouandGriffinEdenweretheretogetherlastweek.”
Damnit,Willie.“Yeah,”Imuttered.
“Wanttotellmewhat’sgoingonthere?”
“Nope.”
“Ithoughtlunchwasalittleawkward.”
“Awkwardisanunderstatement.”
Helaughed.“ThenI’llassumeIdon’twanttoknow.”
“Youreallydon’t.”
“Well,justbecareful.Griffinisagoodman,buthe’sbeenknowntobreakafewhearts.”
“Noneedtoworryaboutmine.IhavenointerestinGriffinEden.”
Thatwasn’tentirelytrue.
OnenightwithGriffinandhe’dbecomeaconstantonmymind.MaybeifIstoppedkissinghim,itwouldhelp.Buthewastoogood-lookingforhisowngood—certainlyformine—andmyGod,couldhekiss.
Thechemistrywasoffthecharts.Themanwasmagnetic.Neverinmylifehadmybodyrespondedsostronglytoaman’stouch,notevenSkyler’s.
Replayingournighttogetherhadbecomeanescape.Wheneverythingelseinmyheadbecametooloud,I’dthinkofhiskiss.Ofhishandsandhistongue,roamingacrossmyskin.
Itwasalarmingtothinksomuchaboutoneman.ButsinceIhadnoplansofseeinghimanytimesoon,whatwastheharmofafewerrantthoughtswhenIwasaloneinbed?
PopsandIfinishedourwalk,mostlyinsilence.ThestreetsofQuincyheldapeaceunrivaled.Ihuggedmygrandpagoodnighttodrivehome,hopingtounpackatleastoneboxbeforebed.
Excepttheminutemygrayhouseandreddoorcameintoview,Ispottedafamiliartruck.
Twotrucks,actually.
Onewascoatedindust.Theotherwasgleamingblackandfreshlywaxed.
“Damnit.”Ireallydidn’thavetimeforthis.Hewasgoingtoruinmynight,wasn’the?
Iparkedinthedriveway,climbedoutandslammedthedoor.
Twohandsomefaceswaitedformeonthefrontporch.Onestood,armscrossed,legsinfadedjeansplantedwide.Theotherwasinasuit.Hehadn’tevenloosenedhistie.
Theyexchangedawaryglance,thenfocusedonmeasIstoppedonthebottomstairandcrossedmyarmsovermychest.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”ChapterSixGriffin
Wasshetalkingtome?
Thosedeepblueeyesnarrowed,thoughnotinmydirection.
Thesuitstoodtaller.“Hey.”
“Answermyquestion,Skyler.”Winnmarcheduptheporchsteps,armsstillcrossed.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Itriedcallingyou.”
“MenotansweringshouldhavebeenthefirstclueIdidn’twanttotalktoyou.”
Orwasitbecauseshe’dlostherphone?Ikeptmymouthshut,watchingasthisguywitheredunderherstare.
Winnhadthedeathglareperfected.Itwassexyashelltoseesuchafiercewoman,especiallyknowingshecouldthrowitallawayandletherguarddowntoflirtandlaughlikeshehadatWillie’s.Andbeneathitallwasanotherlayer,theprofessional,sharp-wittedwomanwho’dcometomyhomebearinghernotepadandpen.
Complex.Confident.Compassionate.EachofWinslowCovington’sfacetswasattractive.
Ifoughtagrinasshestoodunmoving,waitingforthesuittospeak.
“Iwasworriedaboutyou,Winnie.”
ShepattedtheGlockholsteredtoherbeltbesidehergleamingbadge.“Unnecessary.”
Heglancedinmydirection,hismouthflattening.SkylerhadbeenglaringatmesincethemomentI’dparkedonthestreetandwalkedtoWinn’sporch.
BeforeIcouldknockonthedoororaskwhohewas,he’dinformedmethatshewasn’there.He’dprobablythoughtI’dleave.Whyhadn’tIleft?MaybebecauseI’dinstantlydislikedthisguyandthearrogancewaftingoffhistailoredjacket.
“Whoisthisguy?”heasked,jerkinghisthumbatme.
Sheignoredhisquestion.“Howdidyoufindmyaddress?”
Helookedtomeagain,inchingclosertoher.“Canwetalkinprivate?It’saboutthehouse.”
“Whataboutthehouse?Itoldyoutentimes,Idon’twantit.Ifyoudo,thenyoucanbuymeout.Otherwise,quitstallingandputitonthemarket.”
“Winnie.”
“Skyler.”Sheuncrossedherarmsandflickedawristlikehewasaflythatshewasbrushingaway.Thensheturnedtome,andforamoment,Iexpectedthatsameglareanddismissal.Butthenherexpressionlightenedsosuddenlyitmademeblinktwice.
Gonewastheglare.Gonewasthesetjawandfurrowedbrow.Astunningsmiletransformedherface,showcasingherbeauty,anddamnit,Iwantedtokissheragain.
“Hey,babe.”
Babe?BeforeIcouldmakesenseofthat,sheclosedthegapbetweenus,stoodonhertoesandpressedherlipstothecornerofmymouth.
Whenshedroppedtoherheels,sheshifted,givingSkylerherback.Hereyeswidenedandshemouthed,“Please.”
Pretendtobetheboyfriend.
FinebymeaslongassheknewIwouldn’teverbetheboyfriend.
“Hi,baby.”
“Howwasyourday?”
Ibentdown,unabletohelpmyself,andbrushedmylipsagainsthers.“Betternow.”
Anddamnit,thatwasn’talie.EverytimeIsawher,shewasmorebeautiful
“Areyoustayingtonight?”sheasked.
“Wasplanningonit.”
“Good.”Shesteppedpastmeandinsertedherkeyintothelock.WithoutaglanceatSkyler,shedisappearedinsidethehouse.
“Winnie,”hecalled.
Shewasalreadygone.
Ichuckledandfollowedherintothehouse,closingthedoorbehindme.Afternavigatingamazeofboxes,IfoundWinninthekitchen,standingagainstthecounter,silentlyfuming.
“Friendofyours?”
“Myex.”
“Ah.Nowthefake-boyfriendplaymakessense.”
“Thanksforgoingalongwithit.”
“Welcome.”Ileanedagainstthewall.
“Wait.”Shegavemeawaryglance.“Whydidyougoalongwithit?”
Ishrugged.“Heirritatedme.”
“Heirritatesmetoo,”shemuttered.
“Wantmetohangoutuntilhedisappears?”
“Ifyouwouldn’tmind.”
“TheresomethingIshouldknow?”Becauseifthatbastardwasharassingher,I’dmarchoutsideandmakesureheunderstoodtheruleshadjustchanged.
“No.”Sheshookherhead.“He’sharmlessunlessyoucounthimbeingaroyalpaininmyass.”
“What’sthestorythere?”
Sheshrugged.“Weweretogetherforeightyears.Engagedforsix.Wecalleditofffourmonthsagoandhemovedoutofourhouse.Whichherefusestosell.”
Eightyearswasalongdamnrelationship.Sixyearswasonehellofanengagement.Whyhadn’ttheygottenmarried?“Isthatwhyyoumovedhere?Yourbreakup?”
“Partofthereason.Itwastimeforachange.WhenPopsmentionedthattheformerchiefwasretiring,Idecidedtoatleastapply.Ihonestlydidn’tthinkI’dbeconsidered.”
“EvenwithCovieasthemayor?”
“Popslovesme,buthelovesthistowntoo.Hewouldn’tputsomeoneinthechief’spositionwhowasn’tcapableofdoingthejob.AndIamcapable,Griffin.”
ThemoreIlearnedabouther,themoreIsuspectedshewas.“IheardyouwenttovisitMelinaGreenyesterday.”
“How’dyouknowthat?”
“Conor.Hewenttoseeher.Apparentlyhejustmissedyou.”
“Thatwasniceofhim.”
“Thatwasniceofyou.”
Shedroppedhergazetothefloor.“TheleastIcandoisshowherthatshe’snotalone.”
Thatact,inandofitself,setherapartfromtheformerchief.He’dalwayskepthisdistancefromthecommunity.Maybeithadbeenintentional.Ithadtobedifficulttobustfriendsorfamilymembers.Itwaslikelyeasiertoremainapartthanpunishabuddyforbreakingthelaw.
Ormaybehewasjustacoldbastard.ThatwasDad’simpression.
Winslowwasanythingbutcold.
Istudiedherasshestoodthere,thesilenceofthehousegrowinglouder.Therewasaweightonhershoulders.Anexhaustioninhereyes.
“Hellofaweek,huh?”
“That’sonewaytoputit.”Shelookedtoaboxsetonthecounter,thentrudgedover,openingthetopwithasigh.“Asyoucansee,unpackinghasn’tbeenapriority.”
She’dputherlifeonholdtoaskquestionsaboutLilyGreenandvisitagrievingmother.“Thisisaniceplace.Goodneighborhoodtoo.Oneofmybuddiesinhighschoollivedinthegreenhousethreedown.”
“IsthathowyouknewwhereIlived?”
“No,Iaskedmymom.Oneofherbestfriendswasyourrealtor.”
“Somuchforprivacy,”shemuttered.
“Smalltown.Privacyisrelative.”
“Iguessthat’strue.”Shepulledaglassfromtheboxandputitdirectlyintothedishwasher.
“Wantsomehelp?”
“No,butthanks.”Shefinishedwiththeglasses,andbecauseitwasn’tinmynaturetostandaroundwhentherewasworktobedone,Icollectedtheemptyboxfromherandfoldedupthepackingpaper,thenbrokedownthebox.
“Wheredoyouwantthis?”
“There’sastackofemptiesoutsidemybedroomdownthehallway.”
“Gotit.”Istrodethatway,takingtheboxandpaperalong.
Mybootsseemedtwiceasloudasnormalonherhardwoodfloors.Thereweretworoomsdownthenarrowhall.Ontherightwasherbedroom.Themattressrestedonthefloor,theblanketsunmade.Threesuitcaseswerepushedagainstthefarwall,openandoverflowing.
Winslowseemedsoputtogether.Diditbotherherlivinginamess?Becauseitsureashellwouldhavebotheredme.
Oppositeherroomwasanothercrammedwithboxes.Iaddedminetotheshortstackofflattenedcardboard,thenreturnedtothekitchen.
Thedishwasherwasrunning.Winnhadretreatedtothelivingroom.Besideher,onthecentercushionoftheleathercouch,wasthepurseshe’dcarriedinearlierandastackoffiles.
Thecouchwastheonlypieceoffurnitureintheroom,maybeinthewholehouse.Itsatatanoddanglebeneaththecenterlightfixture.BesideitwasanunopenedboxthatWinnhadshovedbesideanarmresttouseasamakeshiftendtable.
Hadherextakentheotherfurniture?Wasitstillbeingmoved?Iwasabouttoaskwhenamanilafilefoldercaughtmyeyefrombeneathherpurse.Walkingcloser,Ireadthenameonthetab.
HarmonyHardt.
ThegirlI’dfoundatthebaseofIndigoRidge.
Therewerelikelyphotosinthatfolder.Photosoftheimagesforeverburnedintomybrain.Thedarkhairmattedwithblood.Thelimbsaskew.Theblood.Thedeath.
“You’relookingintothesuicides,”Isaid.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“BecauseIneedto.”
“They’resuicides,Winn.”
Shestayedquiet,notagreeingordisagreeing.
“It’ssad,”Isaid.“Horrific.Igetwhyyouwanttofindadifferentexplanation.Mostoutsidersdo.”
“Youknow,youkeepremindingmethatI’mnewintown.ButI’mnotallthatnew.I’vespentalotoftimehere,especiallywhenIwasakid.Thiswasmyfather’shometown.”
“There’sadifferencebetweenvisitingQuincyandlivinginQuincy.”
“Well,Iliveherenow.”
“Yes,youdo.”Andthatmadethisinsatiableattractiontoherexponentiallymorecomplicated.
Winnroseupandleanedoverthebackofthecouch,peeringtowardthewindowthatoverlookedtheporch.Theexwasstillthere,hisfacegluedtohisphoneandhisfingersflyingoveritsscreen.
“He’sstillhere,”shegrumbledwithaneyeroll.“Whatareyoudoinghere,anyway?”
Ipluckedherphonefromthebackpocketofmyjeans.“Thiswasatmyplace.”
“Damn.”Shestoodandcrossedtheroom,takingitfrommyhand.Thenshetosseditinthegeneraldirectionofherpurse,likeshedidn’tcareifitvanishedagain.“Itmusthavefallenoutofmypocket.I’mabitscatteredrightnow,butIwouldhavetrackeditdowneventually.”
“Youdon’tneedit?”
“Notreally.It’smypersonalcell,theoneSkyler’sbeencalling.”Shewenttothecouch,ploppingdowninthesameseat.“You’rewelcometositdown.Butifyouneedtogo,it’sfine.”
Theonlythingwaitingformeathomewasastackofbillstopay.Thiswomanwasfarmoreentertainingthanhoursspentinmyoffice,soItooktheseatbesideher,leavingenoughspacetokeepmydickfromgettinganyideas.
“Sowhatwasthereasonyoucalleditoff?Yourengagement?”Itwasnoneofmybusiness,butIwasaskinganyway.MaybeifIunderstoodherbetter,I’dgetheroffmymind.That,andgoafewyearswithoutkissingher.
Dayslaterandthetemptationofherlipswasaspowerfulasever.
Shewasascaptivatingasshewasdangerous.
“He’snotthemanIthoughthewas,”shesaid.
Theassholehadprobablybeenfuckingsomeoneelse.Idiot.“Sorry.”
“It’sbetternowthanifwe’dactuallygottenmarried.”
“True.”
LikeSkylerknewweweretalkingabouthim,thedoorbellrang.
Winslow’snostrilsflared.“He’sstubborn.”
“Why’shehere?”
“Yourguessisasgoodasmine.Hedidn’tspeaktomeafterhemovedout.ThenheheardthroughsomemutualfriendsIwasmovingtoQuincyandhehadconcerns.Hemightclaimtobehereaboutourhouse,buttheball’sinhiscourt.Andourrealtorknowsthebestwaytoreachmeisemail.”
“Whatwerehisconcerns?”
“Skylerisusedtogettingwhathewants.Ithinkheexpectedmetopineafterhim.MaybehethoughtI’dforgivehim.Maybebegforhimtocomeback.HellifIknow.Heprobablydoesn’tlikethefactthatIwon’tgivehimanymoreofmytime.Hehadeightyears.AndIwon’tbeganyman.”
Thatwasn’texactlytrue.She’dbeggedinthebackseatofmytruckwhenI’dhadmyfingeronherclitandshe’dwantedtocome.
Mycocktwitched.
“Wanttomesswithhimsome?”Iasked.
“Whatdoyouhaveinmind?”
Igrinned.“Berightback.”
Skyler’sfacewhippedtominewhenIopenedthefrontdoor.He’dbeenonhisphoneagain.
Ijerkedupmychin,passedhimforthestairsandwalkedtomytruck.EarliertodayI’dstoppedbythegrocerystoreforafewthings.WinslowhadbeenonmymindwhenI’dpassedthecondoms,soI’dgrabbedaboxonawhim.
Ormaybeawish.
Withthecondomsinmyhand,Ishutthetruckdoorandreturnedtothehouse.
Skylerspottedtheminstantly.Hisjawclenched.
“Stillhere?Haveagoodnight.”Ishothimasmirk,thenwalkedthroughthedoorandflippedthedeadbolt.
WinnsatupstraighterasIrejoinedheronthecouch,bothofuslistening.
Footstepsdescendedtheporchstairs.Momentslater,atruck’senginestarted.
“Thatwasentirelytoosatisfying.”Shelaughed.“Thanks.”
“Welcome.”ThiswasthemomentwhenIwascleartoleave,butinstead,Irelaxeddeeperintothecouch,tossinganarmovertheback.
Winn’seyeslandedontheboxofcondomsinmyhand.“CanIaskyousomething?”
“IfIsaidno,wouldyouaskmeanyway?”
“Yes.”
Ichuckled.“Shoot.”
“YouthoughtIwasatouristatWillie’s.Isthatyourthing?Tourists?”
“Mythingisbeautifulwomen.Butyeah,it’slesscomplicatediftheydon’tlivehere.Fewerexpectations.”
Shehummed.“Why’dyoukissmeatyourhouse?”
“Why’dyoukissmeback?”
Thecornerofhermouthturnedup.“Whoarethecondomsfor?”
“You.”Therewasnopointinlying.Shewasstuckinmyhead.
Winslowwasawomanapart.Inbeauty.Inbrains.Insexappeal.
Herconfidencewasasalluringasthosefrecklesacrosshernose.
Inonegracefulmove,sheliftedandclosedthegapbetweenus.Herlegswungovermylap,herkneessettlingoutsidemythighs.Herhands,daintybutpowerful,slidupthesmoothcottonofmycharcoalT-shirt.Thenshepressedhercenterintomyswellingcock,rubbinghercoreagainstmybeltbuckle.
“Givemeyourmouth,”Iordered.
Shebent,herlipsgrazingmine.
Iclaspedahandaroundherhead,holdinghertomeasIsurged,mytongueslidingbetweenherteeth.
Winngasped,herhipsbangingintomine.
Anyhopeofmewalkingoutofherebeforedarkevaporated.ChapterSevenWinslow
AcrylodgedinmythroatasIjoltedawake.Sweatbeadedatmytemples.
Isqueezedmyeyesshut,dragginginabreathtocalmmyracingheart,usingeveryfragmentofmentalfortitudetoshovethenightmarefrommymind.
Myparentsusedtosay,“It’sjustabaddream,Winnie.”
Thiswasn’tadream.
Theblood,themutilation,wasreal.Thelifelesseyes.Thescream,myown,thatstillranginmyearsfiveyearslater.
Wouldthesenightmareseverstop?They’dbeenworsesincemovinghere.They’dhauntedmealmosteverynight.
Besideme,Griffinshifted.Thesheethe’dpulledoverusafterthelasttumbledippedlower,revealingthesculptedcontoursofhismuscledback.Thebroadshoulders.Thedimplesjustabovehisass.
Islippedoutfrombeneaththecottonandstoodfromthemattress,stillonthefloor.Ontiptoes,Ipaddedoutoftheroom,easingthedoorclosedbehindme
MyclothesfromworkwerestrewnalongsideGriffin’sinthelivingroom.IsnaggedhisT-shirt,pressingittomynose.Itsmelledoflaundrysoapandthemasculine,naturalspiceofthemanwho’dmademeseestarslastnight.Ibreatheditinagain,drawingcomfortfromthescent,beforepullingitovermyhead.Theshirthitmeonmyupperthighsandskimmedbelowmybottom,butatleastIwascoveredincaseoneofmyneighborswasawaketoo.
Afavoritepartofthishousewasthelivingroom’sbaywindow.Anarrowbenchseatwasbuiltbesidetheglass,notwideenoughforlounging,butenoughtositandstareintothenight.Therewascomfortinthetranquilityofthisstreet.Peaceinthesilenceofsleepyhomesandglowingporchlights.
Thenightmaretappedatmytemple,beggingforattention.IpusheditawayandstudiedGriffin’struckinstead,tracingtheEdenranchbrandonthepassengerdoorwithmygaze.ThenIclosedmyeyesandpicturedhimonmycouch.Naked.Hiswashboardabsbunched.Hishipsthrusting.Hiscocklikevelvetandsteel.
Focusingonsexprobablywasn’ttherightwaytocopewithmypast,butfortonight,Ididn’tcareaboutright.Ijustwantedthenightmaregone.SoIimaginedGriffin’sfaceashecame,theclenchofhisstubbledjawandthebulgeofhisbicepsashisbodyshookthroughitsrelease.
We’dfuckedhardonthecouch.Afterward,I’dexpectedhimtoleave,buthe’dcarriedmetomybedroom,andifI’dthoughtthesexhadbeengoodbefore,withalittlespacetomove,he’dshownmethepowerofthatlargebody.
Orgasmafterorgasm,I’dpracticallyblackedoutafterthelastround.
Asmiletuggedatthecornerofmymouth.
Sleepingwithhimwasundoubtedlyastupiddecision.Anaddicting,toe-curling,stupiddecision.Self-controlwastypicallymyspecialty,butwhenitcametohim,therulesdidn’tseemtoapply.
GriffinEdenwastantalizing.Magnetic.Ruggedandbold.
Andnakedinmybed.
Ipulledmykneesup,stretchinghisshirtovermycalves.Threeyawnsweremybody’swayofremindingmejusthowtireditwas,butIdidn’twanttosleep.Thedreamwouldcomeback.Itlingeredtooclosetothesurface.Sowithmytempletothewindow,Istaredintothedarkness.Alone.
Thenightmare—amemory—alwaysleftmefeelingalone.
Mybreathfoggedtheglassandthechillfromthehousebroughtgoosebumpstomyforearms.Iwasabouttogivein,tosneakintomybedroomforahotshower,whentheshuffleofbarefeetfilledtheroom.
Griffinemergedfromthehallway,thesheetwrappedaroundhisnarrowwaist.Hisstepsslowedwhenhespottedmeinthewindowwearinghisshirt.“Youokay?”
“Justcouldn’tsleep,”Ilied.
Nooneknewaboutmynightmares.NotevenSkyler.He’dneveraskedwhyIwokeupinthemiddleofthenight,onlythatwhenIdid,nottoturnonalight.Itmightwakehimupandhehadwork.
Griffinnoddedandwalkedtohisjeans,droppingthesheettopullonhispantsonethick,stronglegatatime.Heleftthetopbuttonundoneandthebelthangingopenashestrodemyway,draggingahandthroughhisdisheveledchocolatehair.
I’dtousleditmyselfearlier,holdingontoitashe’dsuckedmynipplesintohistalentedmouth.
“I’dbettergetgoing.”Hisdeepvoicewasfoggedwithsleepandtherumblesentashiverdownmyspine.
“Okay.”Inodded,takinginhisbarechest.ThedustingofhaironhispecswastootemptingandIraisedahand,myfingersbrushingthroughthecoarsestrands.Hisheartbeatwassosolidandstrong,likeeverythingelseaboutthisman.
“Areyougoingtogivememyshirt?”
“Areyougoingtotakeit?”
Hishandswenttothehem,liftingitupandovermyhead.Thenhesmirkedasheputitonhisownbody,coveringupthehardstomachandthesculptedVathiships.
Thismanwasbetterthananyfantasy.Betterthananyromancenovelheroormoviestar.Betterthananyloverwho’devertakenmetobed.NotthatI’dhadmany.
Thecoldairfromthewindowskatedovermynakedskin,butIdidn’tmovefromthebench.IwaitedwhileGriffingrabbedthesheetandbroughtitover,wrappingitaroundmyshouldersbeforefindinghisbootsamidtheboxes.
Anawkwardquietsettledintheroom.Casualhookupswerecompletelyoutofcharacterforme.Eveninmyearlytwenties,theonlymenI’dbeenwithhadbeenboyfriends.ThenSkyler.
Iwasn’tsurewhattosay.Iwasn’tsurewhattodo.SoIstayedput,listeningtoGriffinbucklehisbelt.Ithadbeeneasieratthebartosimplygetinmycaranddriveaway.
MomhadtoldmeoncethatIwasn’tthesleeping-aroundtype.Iwaslikeher,awomanwholoved.DiditmakeMomwrongthatIlikedthisflingwithGriffin?Therewasnolovebetweenus,simplylust.
Ididn’twantMomtobewrongaboutanything.Iwantedhertoremainaperfectmemory,thebeautifulwomanwho’dlovedmebeforethenightmare.
“Hey.”Griffin’shandcametomyshoulder,histhumbdrawingacircleontopofthesheet.“Areyouokay?”
“Yeah.”Iswallowedthelumpinmythroat.“Tired.”
“Yousure?”
Inoddedandslidoffthebench’sledge.“Thanksforstaying.WhenSkylerwashere.”
“Ishegoingtobeaproblem?”
“Idon’tknow.”ButafterGriffin’sdisplaywiththecondoms,IdoubtedI’dseeSkyleragain.
“So,um…this.”Hegesturedbetweenus.“Probablynotagreatideaifitbecomesaregularthing.I’mbusy.”
Busy.Thattermgratedonmynervesbutitdidn’tmatter.Iwasbusytoo.
“Agreed.”TheorgasmshadbeenoutofthisworldbutIwastoorawforanysortofrelationship,evenifitwasonlyforsex.
“Good.”Hebreathed,likehe’dexpectedmetoargue.“Lockupbehindme.”
Iwasthechiefofpolice,Ihadablackbeltinkarate,andIknewmywayaroundapistol,yetthismanwantedtoasserthisprotectiveness.
IhatedthatIlikedit.
“Seeyouaround,Griffin.”
“Bye,Winn.”Hewavedonce,thenheadedforthedoor.
Iwaitedbesidethewindow,watchinguntilhistruckdisappeareddowntheblock,thenIlockedthedoorandwenttothebedroom.TheairsmelledlikeGriffinandsex.
Thefittedsheetonthemattresswasrumpledandmycomforterhadbeenkickedtothefootofthebed.Theblackalarmclockonthefloorbesideadiscardedpillowshoweditwasthreethirty.TherewasnowayI’dgetbacktosleep,notnow,soIdroppedthesheetandwenttothebathroomforascaldingshower.
Dressedinjeansandtheblackbutton-downshirtthateveryofficerworeaspartoftheiruniform,Iheadedtothestation.
Thenightshiftwasjustaskeletoncrew,soitwasquietwhenIparkedinmyreservedspace.ThedispatcheratthedeskjerkedinsurprisewhenIwalkedthroughthedoor.
“Oh,uh,hi,Chief.”
“Goodmorning.”Ismiled.“Hopeyouguyshavesomecoffeeon.”
“Justbrewedafreshpot.”Henodded,thenbuzzedmeinsoIwouldn’thavetousemykey.
Withasteamingmuginhand,Iretreatedtomyoffice,wherestacksoffilesfromyesterdaywerewaiting,andIwastednotimedivingin.Theshiftchangeatsixwasabustleofactivityandmorethanoneofficergavemeawide-eyedlookwhenIemergedfrommyofficetojointheminthebullpen.
Conversationwasstunted.Laughterlimited.Ilistenedinasthenightshiftgavetheirsummaryreport,thenreturnedtothesolitudeofmyofficesotheycouldhaveafewminuteswithoutthebosseavesdropping.
Maybeoneday,they’dwelcomemeintotheirhuddle.
Maybeoneday,itwouldn’tbothermethattheydidn’t.
“Knock,knock.”Janicepokedherheadinsidemyoffice.“Goodmorning.”
“Hi.”Ismiledandwavedherin.
“Youokay?”sheasked,studyingmyface.
Iopenedmymouthtoliebutaquestioncameoutinstead.“CanIconfesssomething?”
“Sure.”Shetookaseatacrossfrommydesk,thefoldershe’dbroughtalongrestingonherlap.
“Thisismyfirstjobastheboss.Youprobablyknowthatalready.”
Shenodded.“Yes.”
“IsitthatobviousthatIhaven’tdonethisbefore?”
“No,butweallreadthepaper.”
Mylipcurled.Thereporterhadcompletelyomittedmyrésumé,makingitseemlikemyonlyqualificationwasthelastnameCovington.“I’musedtobeinginthebullpen,notinanoffice.I’musedtobeinginontheconversations,notonthereceivingendsoftheofficialreports.I’musedtobeingincluded.Ididn’texpectittobesojarring,thedifferencebetweenbeinganofficerandbeingthechief.”
“That’sunderstandable.”Janicegavemeasoftsmilebutdidn’tofferanyadvice.
Therewasnonetogive.Iwasn’tanofficer.Iwasthechief.
Thelinebetweenthetwowasnecessary,evenifthatputmeononeside,alone.
“Anyway.”Iwaveditoffandpointedtothefolder.“Whatdoyouhaveforme?”
“TheautopsycameinfromthemedicalexaminerforLilyGreen.Ithoughtyou’dwanttoseeitbeforeIputitonAllen’sdesk.”
“Yes,please.”
AllenwastheofficerofficiallyassignedtoLilyGreen’sdeath,thoughhehadn’tseemedtomindmyinterference.Inaway,he’dalmostseemedrelievedwhenI’dtoldhimIwasgoingtobetakinganactiverole.AndwhenI’dofferedtotellMelinaGreenofherdaughter’sdeath,he’dinstantlyagreed.
Janicehandedoverthereport,thenwentthroughashortlistofitemsthatneededtobeaddressed.Afterward,sheleftmetotheautopsy.
ItwasalmostexactlyasI’danticipated.Thecauseofdeathwasextremebodilytraumaduetoafall.There’dbeennosubstancesinherblood.Nomarksorwoundsbeyondthosecausedbytheimpact.
TheonlynoteofinterestwasLily’ssexualactivity.Theexaminernotedthatshe’dlikelyhadsexwithintwenty-fourhourspriortoherdeathbecausethere’dbeenlubricantresidueonherskin,thoughnosemen.
“Huh.”Ipulledoutmynotepadforthecase,flippingthroughmynotes.
MelinahadtoldmethatLilyhadn’thadaboyfriendwhenI’dasked.Maybeshehadn’tknown?IfLilyhadbeenseeingsomeone,wouldherboyfriendhaveinsightintohermentalstate?Hadhebeenwithherbeforeherdeath,drivinghercar?HadhetakenhertothosedesertedgravelroadsalongtheEden’sranch?
AsmuchasIwantedtohuntdownanswerstothosequestions,they’dhavetowait.Mydaywasfilledwithmeetingsandphonecalls.Anotherunexpectedsideeffectfrombeingthechief.Ihadn’texpectedthemeetings,andtransitioningfrominvestigationstomanagementwasgoingtotakesomegettingusedto.
Whatevergracethestaffandcommunityhadgivenmeduringmyfirstweekwasgone,becausetheadministrativeworkcameinaflood.
Finally,aroundfouro’clock,Ihitmyfirstlulloftheday.Mycalendarwasclearuntiltomorrow,andthoughtherewereemailstoreturn,Ineededtogetawayfromthisdesk.SoIgrabbedmypurseandescapedthestation.
TheroutetoMelinaGreen’shousewasfamiliar,andwhenIparkedinfrontofherwhitepicketfence,shewaskneelingonthegrassbesideaflowerbed.
“Afternoon,”Icalled.
Shelookedoverhershoulder,herblondhairtiedinabraidbeneathastrawhat.Shegavemeashakysmileandstood,comingoverasIopenedhergate.“Hi,Winnie.”
“Howareyou?”Iopenedmyarmsandshewalkedrightintomyembrace.
“Minutebyminute.That’swhatyoutoldme,right?”
“Minutebyminute.”
ItwassomethingPoppyhadtoldmeaftermyparentshaddied.I’daskedherhowtodealwiththesortofpainthattorethrougheveryheartbeat.
“Whatareyouworkingon?”Iasked,lettinghergo.
“Weeding.Iwastemptedtostayinmypajamasalldaybut…”Unshedtearsglistenedinhereyes.“Ineedtodosomething,anything,butcry.”
“Icanunderstandthat.Whydon’tyouputmetowork?”
Wespentthenextthirtyminutescleaningtwoflowerbeds.Theafternoonsunwashotonmyblackshirt,butIsatbesideMelina,pluckingshootsofgrassandbabythistlesassweatdampenedmybrow.
“IneedtoaskyouaquestionaboutLily.Wouldyoumind?”
“No.”Sheshookherhead,hereyesfocusedonthetrowelinherhandandtheweedsshechoppedattheroot.Thebladesankintotheearthwithagrittyslice.She’dgetthroughthislossbykeepingbusy.I’ddonethesame.Becausewhenyouwerebusy,therewaslesstimetothink.Lesstimetohurt.
Untilthenight,whenthememoriescreptintoyoursleep.
“Yousaidshedidn’thaveaboyfriend.Butcouldshehavebeenseeingsomeonenew?Maybeafirstorseconddatewithaguy?”
“NotthatIknowof.Why?”
“I’mjusttryingtofindoutwhoshespenttimewith.”NormallyIbelievedinfulltransparency,butuntilIhadmoreanswersaboutLilyandwhoevershe’dbeenwithbeforeherdeath,Ididn’twanttoleaveMelinawithunansweredquestions.
“LilylikedtoheaddowntownonFridayandSaturdaynightswithherfriends.Theyusuallymetupatoneofthebars.IalwaysfeltlikeIwaswalkingafineline.ShelivedhereandIlovedthatshelivedhere.Butshewasanadult,soItriedtokeepmymouthshutaboutthepartying.”
IfLilywaslikemosttwenty-one-year-oldwomen,she’dprobablymetaguyatthebar.Hell,IwasthirtyandhaddonethesamewithGriffin.
“Ididn’tasktoomanyquestions,”Melinacontinued.“Itriednottopesterheraboutcominghomebeforetwo.Maybethatwasmymistake.Butshewasyoungandonce,alongtimeago,Iwasyoungtoo.”
ThetearsbegantofallandMelinadidherbesttowipethemdrywithhergardengloves,leavingstreaksofdirtonhercheeks.
“I,um…”Shepulledoffhergloves.“I’dbetterwashup.”
“Ofcourse.”
Whensheexcusedherselftogoinside,Isawmyselfoutoftheyard.Anyotherquestionswouldhavetowait,butMelinahadgivenmeaplacetostart.
I’dspokentomanyofLily’sfriendsbutIhadn’taskedaboutheratthelocalbars.Theywouldbemynextstop.Butfirst,beforethesunwentdown,IwantedtopayIndigoRidgeonemorevisit.
LeavingMelina’shouse,Idrovetowardthemountains,navigatingthegravelpathtoIndigoRidge.Myshoesweren’tthebestforhiking,butIparkedatthebaseofthetrailandstartedmyclimbanyway.Stepbystep,Imademywayupthedirtpath.IwaspantingandstickybythetimeIreachedthetop.Thebreezethatthreadedaroundtherockscooledthesweatbetweenmyshoulderblades.
Inchingtotheedgeofthetrail,Ileanedforwardtostareoverthecliff.Herbodywasn’tonthejaggedrocksbelow,butIcouldstillpictureitthere.Herblondhair.Thatblood-soakeddress.
Onejump.Onestep.Thatwasallitwouldtake.Onetrip.Onefall.
Andalifeshattered.
“Whatthefuckareyoudoing?”Ahandclampedovermyelbowanddraggedmeawayfromtheedge.
Iwhirledaround,myheartinmythroatasIthrewafisttowardGriffin’snose.Imanagedtostopthepunchbeforeitlanded,butjustbarely.MyknucklesgrazedhisskinandhiseyeswidenedthatI’dmovedthatfast.
“Jesus,Winn.”Hereleasedmyelbow.“Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?”
“Me?Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?Youscaredtheshitoutofme.Icouldhavefallen.”
“Thendon’tstandsogoddamnclosetotheedge,”hebellowed,draggingahandthroughthatthickhair.“Fuck.Wedon’tneedyouhavinganaccident.”
“Thisshouldbeblockedoff,”Ibarked,pressingahandtomythrashingheart.
“That’swhatI’mdoinghere.”Hejerkedhisthumbtowardthetrail.“Icameupheretobuildafencealongthepathandspottedyourrig.Followedyouupherejustintimetoseeyouleaningovertheedge.”
Ifrownedupathisscowl.“Iwasjustlooking.”
“Lookfrombackhere.”Hegrabbedmyarmagain,haulingmebackagainsthim.“Ican’tfindyourbodydowntheretoo.”
Thepleainhisbluegaze,thefearinhisexpression,chasedawayanyanger,andmyshouldersslumped.“Okay.Sorry.”
Heblewoutalongbreath,shakingawayhisfrustration.“It’sallright.Whyareyoulooking?”
“Idon’tknow,”Iadmitted.“Iknowyouthinkitwassuicide.Idon’tevenknowwhattothinkmyself,Ijust…somethingfeelsoff.AndIneedtofigureoutwhat.ForLily.Forhermother.SometimeswhenIcan’tmakesenseofsomething,Istartattheendandworkmywaybackwardtothebeginning.”
SoI’dstandhereuntilIcouldretracehersteps.
WhichwaswhatIdid.Istoodthere,staringouttothenothingbeyondthetrail.
Griffinstoodbesideme,unspeaking.Unmoving.HesimplystoodatmysidewhileIthought.
She’dcomeuphere,terrified.Desperate.Likelyalone.
Itookonestepclosertotheedge.
Griffingrabbedmyhand,holdingittight.
IlethimbemytetherasIglancedoverthecliff,puttingmyselfinLily’splace.
She’dhadagoodjob.She’dhadlovingparents.She’dhadfriendsinQuincy.Somethinghadpushedheroverthisedge.
“Abrokenheart?”
“What?”Griffinasked,pullingmeawayfromtheedgeoncemore.
“Nothing,”Imuttered.Theautopsywasconfidential,andGriffinhadn’tearnedthedetails.“I’dliketoknowwhatLilywasdoinguptothetimeofherdeath.Ifshe’dbeenhangingoutwithfriends.Aboyfriend.WherewouldsomeoneheragehangoutonaSundaynight?”
“Willie’s,”heanswered.
“Wouldyouhavenoticedherifshe’dcomein?”
“YouandIweretheonlypeoplethere.”
“Anywhereelse?”
Herubbedthatstrongjaw.“Thebarsdowntown.Theyoungercrowdusuallyhangsthereinthesummerswiththetourists.Andyou’reinluck.”
“AmI?Why?”
Hetookmyarm,tuggingmeyetanotherstepawayfromthecliff.“Iwasjustthinkingaboutheadingdowntownmyself.”
“Oh,wereyou?”Iraisedmyeyebrows.“Ithoughtyouweregoingtoputupafenceonthistrail.”
“Changeofplan.”ChapterEightGriffin
“Youdon’tneedtocomewithme.”WinnpausedoutsideBigSam’sSaloon.“Aren’tyoubusy?”
Yes,Iwasbusy.ButIgrabbedthedoor’shandleandopeneditforheranyway.“Afteryou.”
Shefrownedbutwalkedinside,thenIwasforgottenasshesoakedineverydetail,fromthewagon-wheelchandelierstotheseamsinthewood-paneledwalls.
Theownershaddoneamajorremodelabouttenyearsago.They’dmovedtoQuincyfromTexasandthelonghornsthey’dbroughtalongwerehangingbehindthebar.Thetableswerewhiskeybarrelswithglasstops.Thestoolswereupholsteredinblackandwhitecowhide.
TheywereplayinguptheWesternthemeforthetourists,andcountrymusiccroonedfromthejukeboxinthecorner.
IloathedBigSam’s.
“It’spacked,”shesaid,scanningtheroom.
“Mostdaysareinthesummer.”
Afewfamiliarfacesjumpedoutfromthecrowd,andaswewalkedtothebar,Iliftedahandtowaveatoneoftheguyswhoworkedatthehardwarestore.
Ijerkedmychintothebartenderashecameover,hisbaldheadcatchingtheglarefromthelightthatreflectedoffthemirroredliquorshelves.“Hey,John.”
“Griffin.”Hereachedoverthebartoshakemyhand.JohnhadtrimmedhiswhitebeardsincethelasttimeI’dstoppedinaboutamonthago.Itbrushedagainsthisheartinsteadofhisprotrudingbeerbelly.“Whatbringsyouin?”
InoddedtoWinn.“John,thisisWinslowCovington.”
“Thenewchief.”HeheldhishandouttoWinn.“WelcometoQuincy.”
“Thanks.”Sheshookhishand,thenslidontoastool.“MindifIaskyouafewquestions?”
“Dependsonthequestions.”
Itooktheseatbesideher,andbeforeshecouldlaunchintoherquestions,Iorderedabeer.“BudLightforme,John.Vodkatonicforthechief.”
“I’monduty,”shemutteredashewalkedaway.
“Thendon’tdrinkit.”
Sheshotmethatsternfrownagain.It,likeeverythingelsewiththiswoman,wasfrustratinglysexy.“Thisisquitetheplace.”
“ItusedtobeoneoftheEdenfamilybusinesses.Mygreat-unclewasBigSam.”Thenewownershadn’tchangedthename,probablybecauseitwentwiththeircheesytheme,butthatwasabouttheonlythingleftfromthebarithadoncebeen.
“Usedtobe?”
“Samwasmoreaboutthedrinkingthanhewasaboutrunningabusiness.Hesoldittothecurrentownersbeforeitwentunder.”
“Ah.IsJohnoneoftheowners?”
“No,themanager.ButifLilywashereSundaynight,he’syourbestbetatgettinginformation.Heworksmostweekends.”
“Can’tIjustaskhim?Whydidyouorderusadrink?”
Ileanedincloser,myshoulderbrushinghers.“Bartendersinsmalltownsalwaysknowwhat’sgoingon.Theyhearthegossip.Theyseetheexcitement.Buttheyalsoprotecttheirown.John’sagoodguybuthedoesn’tknowyou,andhedoesn’ttrustoutsiders.”
Shegrittedherteeth.“Doyouhavetokeepcallingmethat?”
“It’swhatyouare.Wanttofitin?Sitherewithme.Orderadrink.Leavehimadecenttip.Youwanttostopbeinganoutsider,thengettoknowthecommunity.”
“Fine.”ShesighedasJohnreturnedwithourdrinks.“Thankyou.”
Henoddedassheliftedtheglasstoherlips,sendingmeaglareovertherim.
Igrinnedandsippedmybeer.
“Sowhatarethesequestions?”Johnasked,leaningahipagainstthebar.
“I’mtryingtolearnmoreaboutLilyGreen.Shewas—”
“Iknowwhoshewas.”
Winnstiffenedathissharptone.“DoyourememberseeingherhereonSaturdayorSundaynight?”
“No,shewasn’there.”
“Didshecomeinoften?Hermothersaidthatsincesheturnedtwenty-one,shecametothebarsoftenontheweekends.”
Johnshrugged.“Nomorethananyoftheotherkidsaroundhere.Theycomedown.Haveafewdrinksandplaypool.Mixwiththetourists.”
“WasthereanyoneinparticularyousawLilywithmorethanonce?”
“Yeah.”Henodded.“Herregulargroupoffriends.”
WhoWinslowwouldhaveknownhadshebeenfromhere.ItwasadigonJohn’spart.Hecouldhavejustaseasilyrattledoffthelistoffriends’names.
Buthedidn’tneedto.BecauseWinndiditforhim.
“FrannieJones.SarinaMiles.ConorHimmel.HenryJacks.BaileyKennedy.ClarissaFitzgerald.Thosefriends?”
ItookadrinktohidemysmileasthesmugexpressionvanishedfromJohn’sface.
“Yeah,”hemuttered.
“DidyounoticeLilywithanyoneelse?”sheasked.“Likeaboyfriend?”
“No.Shewasn’tthatsortofgirl.She’dcomedown,haveadrinkortwo.Alwaysresponsibleaboutcallingacaborcatchingaridewithadesignateddriver.Ican’tthinkofatimewhensheleftherewithaguy.”
AcreaseformedbetweenWinn’seyebrows,likeshewasdisappointedinthatanswer.Whatwassheafter?ConorwouldknowifLilyhadbeenseeingsomeone.SowouldMelina.
“Anythingelse?”Johnasked.“Ineedtocheckontheothertables.”
“No,thankyou.Iappreciatethehelpanditwasnicetomeetyou.”
“Same.”Johntappedonthebar,thenlefttotakeanotherorder.
“Whatareyouafter?”Iasked,keepingmyvoicelow.
“LikeIsaidontheridge,Ijustwanttoretraceherstepsandfigureoutwhatshewasdoingbeforeshedied.Butsoundslikeshewasn’there.”
“Johnwouldknow.”
Winslowtookanotherdrink,thendugthroughherpocket,pullingoutatwenty.“Bye,Griffin.”
Sheslappedthecashonthebarandheadedforthedoor.
Iditchedmybeerandfollowed,catchinguptoherbeforeshe’devensteppedoutside.“Let’sheadtotheOldMill.Maybeshewentthere.”
“Idon’tneedanescort,”shesaidbutfellinstepbesidemedownthesidewalk.
“ThetwobarsonMainbookendthetouristysectionofQuincy.”TheEloiseInnwasalmostexactlyinthemiddle.“Wanttoknowwhy?”
“Becausethere’sanordinancethatrequiresatleastfourhundredyardsbetweenanyestablishmentswithaliquorlicense.”
Igrinnedatthesassysmirkonherprettymouth.“You’vedonesomeresearch.”
“No,I’vejustbeenheremany,manytimes.Popshaslivedherehisentireadultlifeandlovestotellstories.IknowalotaboutQuincy.EvenifIdon’tknowthepeopleyet.EvenifI’manoutsider.”
Oh,didshehatethatword.Iguessinhershoes,I’dhateittoo.
“Theordinancewasmygreat-great-grandmother’sidea,”ItoldheraswemadeourwayacrossthosefourhundredyardstowardtheOldMill.“Mygreat-great-grandfatherfoundedQuincy.Ourfamilyhaslivedhereeversince.Therunningjokeintownisthatyoucan’tthrowarockwithouthittinganEden.”
Withaunts,unclesandcousins,Ihadcountlessrelativeslivingintown.Myparentshadtakentheunofficialhelmofthefamily.Mostofthebusinessesthathadbeenstartedbymygreat-great-grandfatherandhisdescendantshadfunneleddowntomygrandfather.He’dthenpassedthemtomyfather.
Someofmyotherrelativeswereentrepreneursintown,butforthemostpart,myparents,mysiblings,orIownedandoperatedmostofthebusinesseswiththeEdenname.
“OldMillwasthefirstbarinQuincy,”Isaid.“Startedshortlyafterthetownwasfounded.Thestorygoesthatmygreat-great-grandmotherallowedmygreat-great-grandfathertoopenthebarbutonlyifthebartenderwasemployedbyher.Thatway,shecouldsettherules.”
“Therules?Likehowmanydrinkshecouldhave?”
Inodded.“Andhowlatetoservehim.Butshewasworriedthatsomeoneelsewouldcomeinandopenanotherbar.Accordingtofamilyrumor,shewasafairlyshrewdbusinesswomanherself,soshesuggestedtheordinance,andsincetheEdenswereprettymuchinchargeatthetime…”
“Itpassed.”
“Exactly.Thetownwasonlytwoblocksatthattime.Shefigureditwouldtakeahundredyearsforittodoubleinsize.Afour-hundred-yardradiusnotonlygavehercontrolofthealcoholintown,butcontroloverherhusband’sdrinkinghabits.”
Winnsmiled.“Andithasn’tchanged.”
“Nope.Thetowngrewbutthatordinancestuckaround.”
“WhichmakessensewhyWillie’sisn’tonMain.”
“It’snotlongenough,sotheyestablisheditfiveblocksoffMainanditbecamethelocals’hangout.”
AndtheplacewhereI’dneverexpectedtomeetthisintriguingcreation.
Wepassedtwomen,touristsbasedontheirpoloshirts,jeansandunscuffedboots.TheybothlookedWinnupanddown.Itwasn’tsubtleandhermouthpressedintoalineassheignoredthem,hereyesaimedforward.
Bravemen,notonlybecauseshewaswearingagun,butbecauseIwasapossessivebastard.Withoneglarefromme,theyeachdroppedtheireyestothesidewalk.
ThatwouldalwaysbeaproblemwithWinn.
Shewastoobeautiful.Youdidn’texpecttoseeawomansostunningwalkingdownthestreetsofQuincy.Herhairwasdowntoday,straightandlongasitdrapeddownherspine.Withoutsunglassestoshieldhereyes,thoseblueirisessparkledbeneaththeafternoonsun.
Wereachedanintersectionandshecheckedbothwaysbeforecrossingthestreetandmarchingtothebar.Hershouldersweresquareandherseriousfaceinplaceassheopenedthedoor.
OldMillwasn’ttheover-the-topscenethatwasBigSam’s.Itwasmoreofasportsbar,andifIwasn’tupforWillie’s,Icameheretocatchagameandhaveadrink.Flatscreensweremountedbetweenneonbeersigns.Threekenomachineshuggedthewalljustinsidethedoor.AbovethemhungaframedQuincyCowboysjersey.Twodifferentbaseballgameswereplayingtonight,theannouncers’voicesmutedthroughthebar’ssoundsystem.
“Doesyourfamilystillownthisplace?”sheaskedaswewalkedtowardthebar.
“Notanymore.MyparentssoldittoChriswhenIwasakid.”
“Who’sChris?”
Ipointedtothebartender.
“IsthereanotherordinanceinQuincyrequiringallbartenderstohavebushywhitebeards?”
“NotthatIknowof.”Ichuckledandpulledoutastoolforheratthebarbeforetakingmyown.“Hey,Chris.”
“Griff.”Henoddedtome,thenheldhishandouttoWinn.“You’reCovie’sgranddaughter,right?”
“Iam.”Shefitherdelicatehandintohismeatygrip.“Winslow.Nicetomeetyou.”
“Same.Whatbringsyoutwoin?”
“Winn’sgotafewquestionsforyou.Buthowaboutabeerfirst?Whatever’sontap.Surpriseus.”
“Yougotit.”Chriswouldn’tbegrufflikeJohn—who,comparedtoWillie,wasaswelcomingasadoormat.Oftheregularthreebartendersintown,Chriswasthenicestguy.
Winndidn’tneedmehere,butIwashavingahardtimewalkingaway.
HerquestionsforChriswerethesameonesshe’daskedJohn.
WasLilyhereonSaturdayorSunday?Doyourememberseeingherwiththesameguymorethanonce?Didshehaveaboyfriend?
Chris’sanswerswerethesameaswe’dgottenatBigSam’s.Neitherofusfinishedourbeers,andwhenshewenttopay,Ibeathertoit.WithawavegoodbyetoChris,weretreatedtoourvehiclesontheoppositeendofMain.
“YoutalkedtoallofLily’sfriends,didn’tyou?”Iasked.
“Idid.Ihopedthatoneofthemmighthavenoticedsomethingwrong.ButtheywereallasshockedasMelina.”
“Conor’sbrokenupaboutit.Ithinkhemighthavehadfeelingsforher.”
“Really?”
“Idon’tthinkshereturnedthosefeelings.Hegotshovedintothefriendzonealongtimeago.”
“Hmm.”Hershouldersfell.
“Youthinkshehadaboyfriend,don’tyou?”
Shestayedquiet.
Thatwasayes.MaybeLilyhadhookedupwiththemysteryguybeforeshedied.Butwho?Nowmyowncuriositywasracingdowntheblock.IfLilyhadbeenseeingsomeone,Conorwouldhaveknownaboutit.UnlessLilyhadhiddenarelationshiptosparehisfeelings.
“Maybeshewassleepingwithsomeonewhoworkedatthebankwithher,”Isaid.
“Ineversaidshewassleepingwithanyone.”
IgaveWinnaknowinglook.“Youdidn’thaveto.”
“Whydidyoucometotownwithme?”Shecrossedherarms.“Youtoldmetobackoff.Youtoldmetodropthis,remember?”
“Iremember.ButforMelina’ssake,forConor’s,Irespectthatyou’retryingtogivethemmoreofanexplanation.”
“Oh.”Herarmsfelltohersides.“Thankyou.”
“You’rewelcome.”
“Bye,Griffin.”
BeforeshecouldclimbintoherSUVanddisappear,IwalkedtothepassengersideofherDurango.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Shenarrowedhereyesthroughthewindow.
“MightaswelldrivetogethertoWillie’s.”
“HowdidyouknowIwasgoingtoWillie’s?”
Ichuckled.“Doyouwantmetodriveinstead?”
“No.”Shehuffedbutunlockedthedoors.
ThefiveblockstoWillie’swastooshort.Theinsideofhercarremindedmeofherbed.Themomentwepulledintotheparkinglot,thetemperatureinthecabspiked.Attractioncrackledbetweenuslikeaspark.
WouldIevercometoWillie’sandnotpictureherinmytruck?Probablynot.
Winslowparkedandwasoutofthecarsofastshepracticallyjoggedtothedoor.HercheekswereflushedwhenIcaughtup.
“Shuffleboard?”InudgedherelbowasIopenedthedoor.
“No.”Thatprettyflushdeepened.“I’mhereonofficialbusiness.Andyousaidityourselfthismorning.Notagoodthingtorepeat.You’reabusyman.”
Isaidalotofstupidthings.
“Griff.”Williestoodbehindthebar,hisscowlfixedfirmlyinplaceaswewalkedin.
“Hi,Willie.”Winndidn’tbothertakingaseat,andwhatI’dtoldheraboutmakingniceattheotherbarshadbeenforgotten.OrmaybeshekneworderingadrinkandmakingpleasantrieswithWilliewouldbeawasteoftime.ShelaunchedintoherquestionsaboutLily,andwhenshereceivedaseriesofgruntednos,shethankedhimforhistime.
Winnturned,readytoleave,whenthedooropenedandafamiliarfacewalkedintothebar.
“Harrison.”MyuncleBriggswalkedover,hishandextended.“What’sgoingon,brother?Ididn’tknowyouwerecomingintotowntonight.”
Fuck.Mystomachdropped.
Winnlookedbetweenthetwoofus.
“Griffin.”Iclappedmyhandonhisshoulder.“I’mGriffin,UncleBriggs.”
Hestudiedmyface,confusioncloudinghiseyes.Helookednormalinjeansandaredshirt.Buthewaswearingtwodifferentboots,oneroundtoeandtheothersquare.Asetofkeysdangledfromonehand.
“Whatareyouupto?”Iasked.
“ThoughtI’dgrababeer.”Hisforeheadwasfurrowed,stilltryingtofigureouthowIwasn’tmyfather.
“I’llbuy.”InoddedforBriggstoheadtothebar,thenfacedWinn.“I’mgoingtostayherewithhim.”
“Sure.”Shelookedtomyuncle,hereyessoftening.“Haveagoodnight,Griff.”
“Bye,Winn.”
Asshewalkedtothedoor,Ijoinedmyuncleatthebar.Hecalledmebymyfather’snamethreetimesinthehourwesatandsippedabeer.HerememberedWilliejustfine,butkeptgivingmestrangelooks.
“I’dbettergethome,”Itoldhim.“MindifIhitcharidewithyou?Ihaven’tseenyourplaceinages.”
“Youwerejusttherelastweek.”
Huh?“That’sright.Mybad.”
IpaidWillie,thensnatchedBriggs’struckkeys.“HowaboutIdrive?Ididn’tfinishmybeer.”
“Okay.”HeshruggedandledthewaytotheparkinglotwherehisoldChevytruckwaited.
Iclimbedbehindthewheel,cringingatthescentinthecab.Therewasacoffeetumblerinthecupholderandmyguesswasthatthecreamerhe’daddedhadlongsincecurdled.
Withthewindowsrolleddown,Idrovetotheranch,passingthegravelroadthatI’dbeenonearliertoday.TheplacewhereI’dfoundWinn’scar.ThenextturnoffledtothebacksideofIndigoRidge,andaswemadeourwayupthemountainfoothills,IstoleafewglancesatBriggs.
HelookedoldertodaythanI’deverseen.Theskinonhischeekssaggedslightly.Thewhiskerswerewhite.BriggswasfiveyearsolderthanDadandhadlivedhisentirelifeonthisranch.
He’dbeentheretohelpDadbuilduskidsatreehouse.He’dhelpedmebreakmyfirsthorse.
Whenmygrandfatherhadbeenreadytopassdowntheranchandhisbusinessholdingstohissons,BriggshadchosentoletDadtakeover.Managementhadneverbeenhispassion.Hewascontenttohaveabankaccounthealthywithmoneyherarelyspentandasimplelifelivingonthelandthatownedhisheart.
Briggs’scabinwasnestledinagroveofevergreensinarguablytheprettiestmeadowontheranch.Astackofunevenlychoppedfirewoodwasscatteredaroundtheporch.Anaxwasproppedupagainstthesteps.
“Choppingwood?”Iasked.
Briggsnodded.“Gettingaheadstartbeforewinter.”
“Goodplan.”ThoughIwasn’ttookeenonhimrunningthestoveifhecouldn’tmanagetoputonamatchingpairofboots.
Iparkedandpickedupthetravelmug,dumpingthecontentsaswemadeourwaytothehouse.WithnoideawhatI’dfind,IbracedasIfollowedhiminside.Butthecabinwasascleanandtidyasever.
“Howarethingsgoingontheranch,Griffin?”heasked,takingthecupfrommyhandandcartingittothesink.
Thatwasthefirsttimehe’dcalledmebymynametonight.
“Good.Busy.We’reaboutdonewithfencerepairsfortheyear.”
“That’salwaysagoodfeeling.”Hechuckled.“Wanttostayawhile?Joinmefordinner?”
“No,butthanks.”Igavehimasmile.“I’dbettergeton.”
“Appreciateyouswingingby.”
“You’rewelcome.”Didherememberevencomingtothebar?
Goddamn,thiswashard.Myheartclenched.HisblueeyeswerethesameasthoseImetinthemirroreachmorning.Hewastheverybestuncleaboycouldhavewishedfor.He’dtreatedDad’schildren—me—likeoneofhisown.
Briggshadbeenmarriedonce,briefly,untilshe’dlefthimaftertheirthirdanniversary.MysiblingsandI,myparents,hadbeenhisfamily.Hehadn’tmissedasingleoneofmybasketballorfootballgames.He’dbeenpresentateverygraduation.
Seeinghimlikethis…fuck,butitwashard.
“I’llseeyousoon.”Iwavedgoodbye,thenletmyselfout.
Iwasmorethanreadytogohome.
ExceptIdidn’thaveavehicle.Itwasdowntown.
“Shit.”IpulledoutmyphoneandcalledDad.“Hey,canyoucomepickmeupandrunmeintotown?”
“Now?”Hesoundedlikehismouthwasfull.
“Yeah.Now.I’matUncleBriggs’scabin.”
“Where’syourtruck?”
“Intown.AndIneedtotalktoyou.”
“Allright.”Therewastheshufflingoffeetandamuffledexchangewithmymotherbeforethelinewentdead.
Istartedwalkingdowntheroad,makingitaboutamilebeforeIheardtherumbleofanengineandDad’snewpickupemergedfromabendinthetrees.
Hehadadropofbarbequesauceonhisshirt.
“Sorrytointerruptdinner.”
“It’sokay.”Heturnedthetruckaround,headingtowardhome.“What’sgoingon?”
Iblewoutalongbreath,thentoldhimaboutBriggs.
“Damn,”hecursed,hishandstighteningonthewheel.“I’lltalktohim.”
“Youneedtodomorethantalk.”
“I’llhandleit.”
“MaybeweshouldcallGrandpa’sdoctor.SeeifwecouldgetBriggsintoahomeor—”
“IsaidI’dhandleit,Griffin,”hesnapped.
Christ.Iheldupmyhands.“Fine.”
Tensioncreptthroughthetruck’scab,andwhenDadpulledinbesidemyrigonMain,hedidn’tsayawordasIclimbedout.HereversedoutfromhisspotanddroveawaybeforeI’devenfishedthekeysfrommypocket.
Iunlockedmytruckandhoppedin,slammingthedoortoohard.“Damnit.”
Briggshadhadafewepisodeslikethisoverthepastyear.Ithadstartedwithmixingupanameatfamilydinner.Butthathappenedallthetime,right?Momusedtorunthroughallournamesbeforelandingontheonekidintrouble.
ExceptforBriggs,thesmallmistakeswerebecominghabit.He’ddrivenintotownthiswinterandKnoxhadstumbleduponhistruckonMain.Briggshadforgottenwherehewas.Sixmonthsago,TaliahadbumpedintoBriggsatthegrocerystoreandBriggs’sshirthadbeenbackward.
Buttonight…tonighthadbeentheworst.He’dactuallythoughtIwasDad.Theentiretimewe’dbeenatWillie’s.
Maybeifmygrandfatherhadn’tsufferedfromdementia,Iwouldn’tworryasmuch.ButI’dbeenateenagerwhenGrandpa’smentalhealthhaddeteriorated.I’dwatchedhimbecomeaghostofthemanI’dknown.
IthadcrushedDad.Briggstoo.
Nowourfamilywouldgothroughitagain.
Mystomachgrowled,forcingmeoutofmyhead.Leftoverswaitedformeathome.Sodidapileofwork.ButasIdrovedownMain,mytrucksteereditselftowardalittlegrayhousewithareddoor.
Therewasnotimeforthis.Theranchdidn’trunitselfandIhadshittodo.ButIparkedonthecurb,spottingWinnthroughthefrontwindow.
She’dshedtheblackshirtshe’dhadonearlierforaplainwhitetanktop.Thestrapsofherblackbrapeekedoutathershoulders.Herhairwastiedupinaponytail,theendsswayingacrosshershouldersasshedraggedatallcardboardboxdownthehallway.
WhenIrangthedoorbell,Iheardaloudthudandthenapairofmutedfootstepsbeforethedoorflewopen.
“Hi.”Sheshovedatendrilofhairoffhersweatyforehead.“How’syouruncle?”
“Notgreat,”Iadmitted.“Mygrandfatherhaddementia.Alzheimer’s.Itdidn’tsetinuntilhewasinhisseventies.It’shappeningearlierwithBriggs.”
“I’msorry.”Shewavedmeinside,closingthedoorbehindus.
Iinspectedthelivingroom,asfullofboxesasithadbeenthismorning.“Areyouunpacking?”
“Sortof.Mybedframearrivedtoday.”
“Soyouaren’tplanningonsleepingonthefloorforever.”
“Itwasonbackorder.MymattressarrivedbeforeImoved,butnottheframe.”
“WhatabouttheoneyouhadinBozeman?”
“ItwasSkyler’s.”Herlipcurled.“Ileftallofthefurnituretostartfresh.”
“Ah.”Inodded.“Sowhere’stheframe?”
“Inthebox.Ijusthauledittothebedroom.”
“Gottools?”
“Um…yes?”Shetappedthetopofabox.“Ihaveascrewdriver.Somewhere.It’sinoneofthese.Ormaybeaboxintheoffice.”
She’dspendanhourjustfindinghertools.
Withoutaword,Istrodeoutsidetomytruck,grabbingthesmalltoolboxIkeptunderthebackseat.WhenIcameinside,Winnwasinthebedroombesidetheframe’sopencardboardbox.
“Instructions?”Iasked.
Shepointedtothehardwarepackandattachedpamphlet.“Icandoit.”
“I’llhelp.”
“Why?”
Igrinned.“SoIcanhelpyoubreakinthebed.”
“Ithoughtyoudidn’twanttodothatagain.”
“Icanmaketimeforonemorenight.Whatdoyousay,Chief?”
Shepickeduptheinstructionsandhandedthemover.“Onemorenight.”ChapterNineWinslow
Griffin’stonguesweptinsidemymouth,flutteringagainstminebeforehebrokeaway.Thenhebenttopullonhisboots.
Istoodback,watchingashetrappedhishairbeneaththefadedblackbaseballhathe’dbeenwearinglastnight.TheendsI’dbeentoyingwithbeforehe’dclimbedoutofmybedcurledathisnape.
Ittookeffortnottogotohim.Nottorunmyhandsuphiswidechestandbegforonemorekiss.ButIstayedonthearmrestofthecouchbecauseifthiswasgoingtowork,boundarieswerekey.
“Seeyaaround.”Griffinwalkedoverandleanedinlikehewasabouttokissmyforehead,butatthelastsecond,pulledaway,adjustingthebrimofhishat.
Ishouldn’thavebeendisappointed.Sweetgesturesandforeheadkissesweren’tpartofthisrelationship.Wewereenjoyingcasualsex,nothingmore.
Boundaries
“Bye.”Ifollowedhimtothedoorandwaitedbythethresholdashewentoutside,hisbootsthuddingontheporchstairsbeforehesteppedontothesidewalk,takingitwiththoselong,easystrides.
Watchinghimwalkawayhadbecomepartofmydailyroutine.
He’dbeencominghereeachnightforaweek.Eachmorninghe’dleavebeforedawnandI’dwonderifhe’dcomeback.Oriflastnighthadbeenthelastnight.
Somenights,he’dcomeoverearly,notlongafterI’dgottenhomefromwork.Othernights,itwouldbeafterdarkandhe’dfindmeunpackingabox.He’dinterruptmyprogressandcarrymetothebedroom,whichwaswhymylivingroomwasstillfullofcardboardandIcontinuedlivingoutofsuitcases.Thekitchenwasunpacked,butlittleprogresshadbeenmadeelsewhere.
Thesexwas…distracting.Brilliantlydistracting.Thisflinghadnochanceoflasting.SotheboxescouldwaituntilGriffinandIfizzledout.
Heglancedoverhisshoulderasheroundedthehoodofhistruck,andeveninthedark,Isawthesexysmirkonhislips.Yeah,he’dbebacktonight.
Iwasn’ttheonlyoneenjoyingthis.
Closingthedoor,Iwaitedfortherevofhistruck’senginebeforeretreatingtomybedroom.Thesheetswererumpledandhisscent,spiceandleatherandearth,clungtotheair.I’dfallenasleeptothatsmelllastnightasI’dlainonhischest,mybodylimpandutterlysated.
We’dgonewildlastnight.He’dwornmeoutsothoroughly,Ihadn’thadanightmareallweek.
Ifthisnewbedofminecouldtalk,itwouldscreamOh,God,Griff
Whatwasitabouthimthathadmadeitsoeasytoshedmyinhibitions?WithSkyler,I’dalwaysfeltreservedwithsex.Ithadtakenyearstotrulyrelaxwhenwewereinbed,andhehadn’tbeenthemostcreativelover.
MaybeitwasdifferentwithGriffinbecausetherewerenostrings.Nopressureforalong-termcommitment.Maybebecausemyownpleasurehadbecomeapriority.MaybebecauseGriffinmadeitaprioritytoo.
Damn,thatman.Griffinhadabodybuilttoplease.Hishandsturnedmeintoputty.Hislips,ashiveringmess.Hiscock,awantonslavetohiscommand.
IsmiledasIwalkedintothebathroomandturnedontheshower.Thewarmwatersoothedsomeofmyachingmuscles.
SinceI’dmovedtoQuincy,Ihadn’tgoneononeofmyregularmorningruns.Ihadn’tworkedout,period,becausesexhadtakenexercise’splace.Maybetomorrow,ifIhadtheenergy,ifGriffindidn’tkeepmeupuntiloneortwo,I’dfindmytennisshoesandrunafewmilesthroughmyneighborhood.OrmaybeIcouldtryoutthesmallgymatthestation.Itwasn’tmuchmorethananellipticalandasetoffreeweights,butacoupleoftheofficersuseditregularly.Maybewecouldbondovercardio.
Doubtful,butatthispoint,I’dtryanything.
AftertossinginaloadoflaundryandreadingthroughthecasefilesIhadn’tlastnight—adrunkendisorderly,apettytheftandavandalismofaSantadisplaylastChristmas—Iheadedtothestation.
OfficerSmithwasreadyandwaitingathisstationinthelobbytogivemehisstandardcoldwelcome.
“Goodmorning,OfficerSmith.”
Nothing.
Asshole.
HisfirstnamewasTom,butheandIwerestickingtolastnames.Heseemedtohatememoreandmorewitheachpassingday.
Eventuallyhe’dhavetogettoknowme,right?MaybethatattitudewouldthawwhenherealizedIwashereforthelonghaul.Or…earlyretirement.Hewasgettingafewmoreweekstoshapeup,thenIwaspitchinghimanearlyretirement.
MydeskwasitsusualdisasterbutI’dblockedoffthemorningtotidyup.Ispenthoursputtingfilesaway,goingthroughemailsandmylongto-dolist.Andfinally,bynoon,thebrownishgraywoodwasvisible.
“Ireallyneedtodothisathome.”Settlein.Cleanup.
Iswiveledmychairtothewindowatmyback,takingintheforestbeyondtheglass.
Thestationwasnestledbetweenagroveofpineandfirtrees,theirtrunkssowideIwouldn’tbeabletowrapmyarmsaroundthem.Thebranchesprovidedacanopyoverthebuildingthatkeptthesunfromstreaminginside.I’dbeensobusysinkingintothisjob,Ihadn’tspenttimelookingoutthewindow.
AmistakeI’dremedyinthefuture.
Likemyquietstreetunderthemoonlight,therewaspeacetobefoundinthosetrees.
NowthatIwassettlingin,piecingtogetheraroutine,itwastimetoputmyhouseinordersothatwhenIwalkedthroughthedooratnight,Icouldsimplybreathe.
Aknockatthedoorhadmeturningfromthewindow.
“Whoa.”Pops’seyeswidenedashecameintotheoffice.“You’vebeenbusy.”
“Productivemorning.”Ismiled.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“ThoughtI’dinvitemyfavoritechiefofpolicetolunch.”
“Good,I’mstarved.Andafterward,Ineedtoheadtothecourthouse.Getmyvehicleregistrationswitchedover.Changemydriver’slicense.”
Morestepstomakingthismoveofficial.
OncetheDurangowasregistered,itwouldbeinthegaragethemajorityofthetime.I’dbeenhesitanttousetheformerchief’sunmarkedExplorerbecauseitsmelledlikecigarettes,butafterathoroughdetailing,thestinkwasbeginningtofade.
“Meetyoudowntown?”Popsasked.
“Whereto?”
“EdenCoffee.”
Griffin’ssister’sbusiness.Aspikeofnerveshit,butInoddedandfollowedPopsoutofthestation.Likeourlastlunchdate,wehadtoparkoffMainandwalk.
“It’scute,”Isaid,takinginthegreenbuilding.
EdenCoffeewasemblazonedingoldlettersonthecoffeeshop’sfrontdoor.Theblack-panedwindowsgleamedintheJunesunshine.Achalkboardsandwichboardstoodonthesidewalk,theswirlyletteringoutliningtoday’sspecials.Evenfrombeyondthedoor,thescentofcoffee,vanilla,sugarandbutterfilledmynose.
“NowI’mreallyhungry.”
“Youhaven’tbeenhereyet?”heasked.
“I’vebeenstickingtocoffeeathomeoratthestation.”Hopingafewencounterswiththeofficersinthebreakroomwouldgiveusachancetobond.“AndIdidn’trealizetheyhadlunch.”
“Lylamakesamazingfood.Sundaymorning,let’smeethereforbreakfast.HerpastriesarethereasonI’mgettingagut.”
Iscoffedandsmackedhisbarrelofachest.“Please.”
Hechuckled,openingthedoorforme.Abelljingledoverhead,andthemomentwesteppedinside,InearlycollidedwithFrank.
“Heythere.”Frankbeamed,pullingmeintoaquickhug.“How’sitgoing,cutie?”
“Good.”Ismiled.“PopsandIwerejustgoingtoeatlunch.”
“Samehere.Ijustwalkedthroughthedoorandwassearchingforatable.”
“Joinus,”Popssaid,motioningtowardthecounter.
Imovedtofollowthem,takingintherestaurant.Theinteriorwaspaintedthesameshadeastheexterior,givingitamoody,modernfeel.Besidethecounterwereglasscasesofpastriesandmuffinsandotherbakedgoods.Therewereahandfulofwoodentablesalongthewalls,allbutoneofthemoccupied.
MystepsfalteredasIspottedahandsomefaceatthetableclosesttothecounter.
Griffinwaswearingthesameclotheshe’dbeeninthismorningatmyhouse.Hisfadedhatstillcoveredhisunrulyhair.Hewassittingwithtwobeautifulwomen.OnehadbrownhairthesameshadeasGriff’s,twistedintoaknot.Sheworeagreenapron.Lyla.Irecognizedherfacefromthefamilypictureathishouse.
Theotherwoman’slongblondhairhunginstraight,shinystrandsoverhershoulders.Herstrappytanktopshowcasedherleanarmsandherjeanswereskintight.SheplacedherhandonGriffin’sforearmandazingofjealousyracedthroughmyveins.
Itoremyeyesaway,forcingmyfeetacrosstheroom.Wewerecasual.Weweretemporary.Butwehadn’ttalkedaboutbeingexclusive.I’djustassumedthatsincehe’dspenteachnightinmybed,itwastheonlybed.Washedatingher?Wasthiswhyhewassobusy?Ikeptmygazeaimedforward,refusingtolook.
MystomachtwistedandwhateverhungerI’dhadearliervanishedasIfollowedPopsandFrankthroughthecafe.
“Hey,Covie.”Lylastoodfromthetable,roundingthecornertostandbehindthecounter.
“Hi,Lyla.”Frankwaved.
“Frank.”ShesaidhisnamebutkepthergazeonPops.
“Lyla,it’saspecialday.”Popsgaveherawidesmile.“I’dlikeyoutomeetmygranddaughter,WinslowCovington.Shegetstoexperiencethemagicofyourfoodtoday.”
“Hello!”Lylasmiled,herblueeyessparklingassheextendedahand.“It’snicetofinallymeetyou.Mydad’sbeentalkingaboutyouconstantly.”
Butnotherbrother.BecauseIwasasecret.Theblondewasnot.
“It’snicetomeetyoutoo.”Ishookherhand,doingmybesttopretendherbrotherwasn’tatthetablewithinearshot.
Pretendingwaspointless.
Griffin’sgazeburnedintomyspine.
“Whatareyouhavingtoday?”Lylaasked.
Thethreeofusorderedthespecial,andafterPopspaid,weturnedfromthecounterwithanumberedtablecard.
Griffinstoodanddroppedsomecashonthetable.
Theblondestoodtoo,cozyinguptohisside.
Theirarmsbrushed.
AgreenhazespreadacrossmyvisionandmyjawclenchedsotightIdoubtedI’dbeabletounlockitandeatthechickensaladsandwichI’dordered.Ihadnorighttobejealous,yethereIstood,fuming.NotjustatGriffinandthefactthatclearlyhehadsomesortofrelationshipwiththatwomanandhadn’tbotheredtomentionit.Butwithmyself
Onceagain,fooledbyahandsomeman.
“Hi,Griffin.”Popswalkedover.“Howareyoutoday?”
“Fine,Covie.You?”
“Famished.Lylacanusuallyfixthatproblemthough.”
“Icamehereforthesamereason.”Griffingrinned,butthesmiledidn’treachhiseyes.HisgazeflickedtoFrankandhisexpressionflattened.“Frank.”
“Eden,”Frankmuttered,thenwalkedawaytoclaimthelastremainingemptytable.
Whatthehell?WhatwasImissing?
“Here’syourcoffee,Covie.”Lylacameovercarryingacupbalancedonasaucer.“Wantmetoputitatyourtable?”
“Oh,I’lltakeit.”Helifteditfromherandsmiled,hisattentioncompletelyonGriffinandLyla.
TheblondeglareddaggersatPopslikeGriffinhadatFrank.
Definitelymissingsomething.
SilencestretchedawkwardandthickasPopsliftedhiscoffeecuptohislips,ignoringtheblonde’sexistence.
Finally,Griffinclearedhisthroatandmetmygazeforthefirsttime.“WinslowCovington,thisisEmilyNelsen.”
EmilyNelsen.
Thereporter.
Well,damn.Thisjustgotbetter.
“Hi.Nicetomeetyou,”Iliedwithafakesmile.
“Same.”SheleanedinclosertoGriffin.
Hestiffenedbutdidn’tmoveaway.Bastard.
“We’dbetterclaimourtable,”Popssaid.“Haveagoodone,Griff.”
“Youtoo.”Hisgazemetmineforasplitsecond,thendartedawayasheheadedforthedoor.
Emilyscurriedafterhim.
Don’tstare.Don’tstare.
Griffinwasjustahookup.Acasualfling.Aflingthatwasvery,veryovernow.
I’dmournthelossofsexanddistractionlater,soIfollowedPopstojoinFrank.
ThefrontwallofthecoffeeshopwasmadeentirelyofwindowsandbeyondtheglasswasthesidewalkandMain.ItwasimpossibletomissEmilywalkingtoGriffin’struck.
“Thegoddamnreporter,”Imuttered.“Really?”
Why,ofallthepeople,didGriffinhavetobewiththefuckingreporterwho’dsmearedmynamebeforeevenmeetingme?Igaveupanyattemptnottostareandwatchedtheireverymove.
Griffinsaidsomethingtoher,hisexpressionstern.Thatdidn’tmeanmuch.Heoftenworeaseriousface.Itwasrarethathe’dsmileandlaugh.Buthehadafewtimes.Withme.
HeleanedinclosertoEmily,speakinglow.Thepoutonherfacesaidshedidn’texactlylikewhathehadtosay.
Shecrossedherarmsoverherchestandgavehimpathetic,pleadingeyes.
Heshookhishead,hisshouldersslumping.Thenhegaveherasmallnodbeforewalkingtohistruckandclimbinginside.
Shehurriedtothepassengerdoor,gettinginwithasmuggrinaimedtowardthecoffeeshop.Nodoubtshecouldseemestaringthroughtheglass.Bitch.
Whatwasthejokehe’dmadetheothernight?Youcan’tthrowarockinQuincywithouthittinganEden.Atthemoment,Iwouldn’tmindthrowingaboulderattheman.
ItoremyeyesawayfromGriffin’struckashereversedoutofhisspaceandrolleddownMain.
“ThosegoddamnNelsens,”Popssaid.
“ThosegoddamnEdens,”Frankmuttered.
Lylachosethatmomenttoappear,herhandsfullwiththreewaterglasses.Hercheekswereflushed,andIwassureshe’dheardbothFrankandPops.
Frankdidn’tnoticebutPopsgaveheranapologeticsmile.“Thanks,Lyla.”
“Sure,Covie.”Shewalkedaway,returningtothecounter.
“Youdon’tliketheEdens?”IaskedFrank.ThenwhywasheatEdenCoffee?
“Oh,IlikeLylajustfine.AndTaliaandEloise.Butno,I’mnotexactlyfondofHarrisonorGriffin.Theythinktheyownthewholetown.”
Envycreptthroughhisvoice.TherehadtobemoretoitthanjustdislikebutIdidn’tcaretohearit.Nottoday.
Griffinhadn’toncegivenmetheimpressionthatheownedQuincy.Thenagain,healsohadn’tgivenmetheimpressionthathewascozywithanotherwoman,soclearly,whenitcametothatparticularEden,myjudgmentwasimpaired.
OhGod.Mystomachchurned.OnMonday,hehadn’tcomeoveruntilten.Hadhebeenonadatewithherfirst?Hadhevisitedherbedbeforecomingtomine?
“Youokay,Winnie?”Popsasked.
“Yeah.”Inoddedandtookasipofmywater.“Justbeenahecticweek.”
“Howarethingsgoingatthestation?”
“Good.”Theywouldbegood.Eventually.
Maybethisrun-inwithGriffinwaswhathadneededtohappen.Hadn’tIjustbeenthinkingabouthowIneededtogetmylifeathometogether?Griffhadbeenaconstantonmymindandaregularintrusionduringmyevenings.
IhadalifetoestablishinQuincy.Ihadahousethatneededtobecomeahome.Buildinglastingrelationshipswithmystaffwasmoreimportantthanafleetingonewithahotcowboy.
I’dmovedheretoheal.Tobuildanewlife.TorepairtheheartachefrommysplitwithSkyler.JumpingintobedwithGriffinwasn’tgoingtohelpmeachieveanyofthosegoals.
Ithadtoend.Tonight.
Whenheshoweduptonight,I’dcallitoff.
Ishotoutofbed,myheartracing.Mystomachlurched.
Thebedroomwasbathedingraybutmymindwasswimminginred.Bloodred.
Irantothebathroom,trippingontheshoethatI’dkickedoffinthemiddleoftheroomearlier.ImanagedtocatchmyselfbeforeIsmashedintothewall,rightingmyfeetasIslappedahandovermymouth.
MykneescrackedonthetilefloorasIlandedbythetoilet,retchinguntilmystomachwasempty.TearsstreameddownmycheeksasIshovedthehairfrommyeyes.
“Damnit,”Icursedtotheemptyroom,buryingmyfaceinmyhands.
ThiswastheworstnightmareI’dhadinmonths.Maybeyears.ItwasliketheversionsI’dhadearlyon.TheoneswhereIwasatthesceneofthecrash.
ItwasthenightmarewhereIfoundmyfather’smangledarmoutstretchedonthepavement.ThedreamwhereIsawmymother’sheadseveredfromherbody.
Isqueezedmyeyesshut,willingthesmelloftornfleshandburntrubberandscrapedmetaloutofmynose.Thinkofsomethingelse.Anythingelse.
ThefirstimagethatpoppedintomymindwasofLilyGreen.HerdisfiguredbodyshatteredontherocksbelowIndigoRidge.
Mystomachroiledagainbuttherewasnothinglefttopuke.
“Fuck.”Ipressedmyfingersintomyeyesuntiltheblackbecamewhite.
Shovingmyselfoffthefloor,Istoodonshakinglegsandshuffledtothesink.Aftersplashingwateronmyface,Ibrushedmyteeth,thenturnedonthelights.
Allofthelights.
IflippedeveryswitchasImademywayfromthebedroomtothekitchen.Theclockontheovenshoweditwasjustpastmidnight.
Thehousewasstillandquiet.Myheartbeatfilledeachroomwitharesoundingboom,boom,boom
Ibrewedapotofcoffee.TherewasnowayI’dgobacktosleeptonight.Withasteamingmuginhand,Iwenttomybedroomandbeganorganizing.Ithrewmyselfintothetask,refusingtothinkofthenightmare.RefusingtothinkofGriffin.
Forthepastweek,eachnighthe’dsleptinmybed,I’dsleptallnightlong.Chanceswere,ifhe’dbeenheretonight,Istillwouldhavehadthenightmare.Ormaybethedreamshadbeenwaitingformetobeatmyweakest.
Sometimes,itwasliketheimageshadasickmindoftheirown.TheharderIfoughtthem,thehardertheystruck.EverynightmareI’dhadsincemovingherehadbeenbrutal.Itwaslikethey’dcrepttheirwayintomynewpillows,waitingtopounce.
OfcourseitwouldbethenightofGriffin’sabsence.
Maybehewaswithhisreportertonight.
Maybenot.
Itdidn’tmatteranymore.
Hehadn’tshownupformetoendittonight.Iguessthatwasendenough.
SoIworkedalonetounpackmyhouse.BecausethatwaswhatIwas.
Alone.ChapterTenGriffin
TherestraintitrequiredtostayawayfromWinslowwascrippling.
Forthepasttwonights,I’dpracticallybarricadedmyselfathome.Myemailinboxwasempty,mydeskclear.Lastnight,afterdinner,I’dwantedtogotohersobadlythatI’dspentthreehourscleaningstallsinthebarn.
Keepingbusy.
Keepingmydistance.
Myskincravedtheheatfromhers.Myfingerstwitched,desperatetothreadthroughherhair.Myarmsachedtoholdherasshefellasleep.
Imissedherblueeyes.Imissedthefrecklesonhernose.
Thenightshadbeenbrutal.Sleepless.Buteventhedaysweredifficult.ItwasnoonandallIwantedtodowasturnmytruckaround,headintotownandtrackherdown.
Irefusedtoletmyselfbreak.
Theranchandmyfamilyneededmyfullattention.Therewasnotimeforanythingelse.
Itshouldn’tbelikethis.NeverinmylifehadIstruggledsomuchtoletgoofawoman.Especiallywhenthere’dbeennocommitmentinvolved.Hell,I’dhadgirlfriendsincollegeeasiertoerasefrommymind,despitedatingthemformonthsbeforecallingitquits.
SowhythehellwasWinslowCovingtonstuckinmyhead?
Herbeautywasunmatched,herintelligenceasattractiveasherslenderbody.HerresponsivenessinthebedroomandthewayourbodiescametogetherwerelikenothingI’dfeltbefore.
Thishadtobeaphysicalthing,right?Chemicalsandhormonesfuckingwithmyrationality.Onethoughtofherbare,creamyskinandIwashardagain.LikeI’dbeenforthepasttwodays.
“Goddamnit,”Imuttered.
“What?”Mateoaskedfromthepassengerseatofmytruck.
“Nothing.”Iwaveditoff.“Thanksforcomingouttoday.”
“Sure.”Heshruggedthosebroadshoulders.
Attwenty-two,hehadn’tquitefilledouthisframe.Buthewould.IfhekepteatingMom’scookingandworkingontheranchlikehehadbeenthissummer,breakingasweatandtestingthosegrowingmuscles,soonhe’dbeasbigasme.
Ofallmysiblings,MateoandIlookedmostalike.Weallhadthesamebrownhairandblueeyes,butMateoandIsharedthesamenose,thesmallbumpatthebridge.Likemine,hisAdam’sapplewaspronounced,afeatureIhadn’tthoughtmuchaboutuntilWinn.
Shelovedtodraghertongueupmythroat,especiallywhileIwasburiedinsideherbody.
Fuck.Whycouldn’tIstopthinkingabouther?
“What’stheplanfortoday?”Mateoproppedaforearmontheopenwindow.Thesmellofgrassandearthandsunshineclungtotheair.
Thereweren’tmanyplacesI’dratherbeinlifethanrollingdownaMontanadirtroadinJune.
Winslow’sbedwasthreateningtotakethattopspot.
“I’dliketocheckthefencealongtheroadtoIndigoRidge.Conorstartedonitbut…youknow.”Ihadn’thadthehearttosendanyonebacktheresinceLilyGreen.
“Yeah,”Mateomumbled.“How’shedoing?”
“We’reworkinghimhard.”Ontheothersideoftheranchandasfarfromhereaspossible.
“HealwayslikedLily.Evenaftertheirbreakup.Ialwaysthoughtthey’deventuallygettogether.”
“I’msorry.”Iglancedoverandgavehimasmallsmile.
LilyhadbeenayearyoungerthanMateo,butthesizeofQuincyHighmeanttheywouldhaveknowneachotherwell.
“Ihadn’treallytalkedtoherinawhile.ButeverytimeIbumpedintoher,she’dsmile.Givemeahug.Shewassweetlikethat.Likeyouwerethislong-lostfriendshehadn’tseeninyears.Notsomeoneyousawonceamonthatthebank.Ihadnoideashewasstruggling.Noonedid.”
Becausemaybeshewasn’t.
Thatknee-jerkthoughthitsofastandhardthatIflinched.
ThedoubtswereWinslow’sdoing.She’dputtheminmybrain,andnow,wheneverthetopicofLilycameup,anypreviousassumptionshadbeentossedinthetrash.
Wastheremoretoherdeath?Whatifshehadn’tcommittedsuicide?
Winnhadbeensearchingforaboyfriendorhookupduringourstopsatthebars.MaybeLilyhadsleptwithsomeonerecently.Maybethatguyhaddonesomethingtomesswithherhead.Ormaybeshehadn’tbeenaloneonIndigoRidge.
Maybetherewasmore.
“WasLilydatinganyone?”Iasked.
“NotthatIknowof.WheneverIsawheratthebar,shewasusuallywithothergirls.”
ProbablythesamegirlsWinnhadrattledofftoJohnatBigSam’s.Localgirls.AndknowingMateo,hewouldn’thavepaidthemmuchattention.
Mylittlebrothertookaftermeinthatregardtoo.Hewasn’tinterestedinarelationshipandtouristswouldn’tbetheretoharasshimformorecomemorning.
ItwasadviceI’dgivenhim.
AdviceIwasn’tfollowingmyself.
“Heardyou’rehookedupwithCovie’sgranddaughter.Winslow.”Mateogrinned.“Igotaspeedingticketlastweek.Thinkyoucouldgethertofixitforme?”
ThisideathatWinnandIwouldbeabletokeepourtrystunderwrapshaddisintegratedlikewettoiletpaper.“It’snotlikethat.”
“Fuckbuddies?”
Thattermgratedonmeandmyhandstightenedonthesteeringwheel.Itwastherighttermbutitwaslikenailsscrapingchalkboardinmyear.“Where’dyouhearthat?”
“BumpedintoEmilyNelsenatOldMilllastnight.Sheaskedwhereyouwere.ItoldheryouwereprobablyathomeandthenshemadesomecommentabouthowyoucouldalsobeatWinslowCovington’splace.”
“GoddamnEmily.”Ishookmyhead.
ShewasthereasonI’davoidedWinslow’splacethepasttwodays.Apparently,thathadbeenpointless.
OnWednesday,I’dgoneintoEdenCoffeetograboneofLyla’ssandwichesforlunch.She’dbeentalkingtoEmily,makingnice.Lylaalwaysmadenice.Maybebecauseshewassmarterthanme.Shekeptherfriendscloseandherenemiesinthefoldsofhergreenapron.
EmilyhadneverbeenmeantoLylaandthey’dgraduatedatthesametime.Forawhile,I’dthoughttheymighthavebeenfriendsbutIhadn’tpaidmuchattention.ThenI’dscrewedupandfuckedEmilyonenightayearago,andeversince,allshe’ddonewaslingeraroundLyla.
Mysisterwassmart.SheknewwhyEmilywaskissingherass.
I’dmadethemistakeofsittingattheirtabletovisitwithmysister.Ithadbeen…informative.NotonlyhadEmilygossipedabouteverypersoninthecoffeeshop,butshe’dalsocommentedthatshe’dseenmytruckatWinslow’shousethreenightsinarow.
Iknewbetter.Damnit,Iknewbetter.HowcouldIhavebeensostupidastoforgetthatEmilylivedinthatneighborhood?Ofcourseshe’drecognizemypickup.ThelastthingIneededwastohaverumorsspreadingaroundQuincy.ItwasthelastthingWinnneededtoo.
SoI’dstayedaway.
Itwasthesmartestdecision.Forbothofus.
Winnwasfightingenoughbattlesatthemoment.Atthestation.Withthecommunity—nothankstoEmily’sarticle.Shedidn’tneedtowagewarwiththegossipmilltoo.
“She’sagoodcop,”ItoldMateo.“Ithinkshewastherightchoice.”
ForalltheshitI’dgivenWinnforbeinganoutsider,shefithere.Shetookthejobseriouslyandhaddecentconnections.ThoughIwasn’tthrilledaboutherfriendshipwithFrankNigel.
Thatassholecouldgofuckhimself.He’dhadaproblemwithmyfamilyfornoreasonmywholelife.He’dbuyalattefromLyla’scoffeeshop,flirtwithheruntilshewasuncomfortable,thenleaveashittyreviewonYelp.He’dswingbyKnox’srestaurantatTheEloiseandtelleveryonewho’dlistenthatthefoodwasmediocre.
He’dtalkaboutusallbehindourback—tomeandDad,ourfaces.Atleasthe’dstoppedtryingtofakeitwhenwebumpedintoeachotheraroundtown.I’dmadeitclearthelasttimehe’dtriedtoshakemyhandthatIhadnouseforthesonofabitch.
Frank’sfriendshipwithCoviewastheoneblackmarkagainstourlong-timemayor.Ineverdidunderstandhowthey’dbecomesuchgoodfriends.Neighborsbonded,Iguessed.HopefullyWinndidn’tlistentoFrank’spoison.
MateoandIreachedtheedgeoftheditchalongtheroad.Aloosewiredangledatthecornerpost.Iparkedthetruck,grabbedapairofleatherglovesfromthebenchseatandpulledonmyballcap,lettingitshieldmyface.ThenmybrotherandIgottoworkrepairingthestringsofbarbedwire.
Twohourslaterandwe’dmadeithalfwaydowntheline.
“Morejunk.”Mateopickedupahubcaplyingonthetallgrass.
“Justtossitinthebackofthetruck.Iswearthepreviousownersofthisplacetookapartanentirecardealershipandleftthepiecesscatteredaroundherejusttoirritateme.”
I’dbeenpickinguprustedscrapsandoldpartssinceI’dboughtthisproperty.IthadtakenusamonthofregulartripstoMissoulatohaulawayalloftheoldcarsthey’dleftscatteredaroundthebarn.
“Ihatefencing,”Mateomutteredashepickeduphisfencingpliers.
Ichuckled.“It’spartofranching.”
“It’spartofyou.”
ThisranchwasallI’deverwanted.FromthetimeIwasakid,I’dknownthatI’dliveanddieonthisplace.Myheartbelongedtotheland.Mysoulwastetheredtotheearth.Adayofhonestworkgavemepeace.
Iconsideredmyselfaluckymanthathappinesscameeasiestwhenmybootswereinthedirt.Thiswasn’tajob.Thiswasapassion.Thiswasmyfreedom.
Mysiblingslovedtheranchbutranchinghadn’tbeentheirdream.
“Anythoughtsonwhatyouwanttodo?”IaskedMateo.Beingnineyearsolder,Ioftenfeltmorelikeanunclethanasibling.Hecametomeforadvice,muchlikeI’ddonewithBriggs.
“No.”Hegroaned,crimpingacliptoholdafreshwiretoasteelfencepost.“Idon’tknow.Notthis.”
“Thereareotherthingstodoontheranchbesidesfencing.”
“Thishasalwaysbeenyours.”
“Itdoesn’thavetobejustmine.”
“Iknow.IfIwantedtobepartofit,you’dmakeithappen.ButIjust…don’t.AndIdon’tknowwhatIwantyet.SoI’lljustworkhereandattheinnuntilIfigureitout.”
“Theofferalwaysstands.”
“Thanks.”Henoddedandsteppedbackfromthesectionwe’djustfixed.Helookedpastmyshoulderasthesoundoftirescrunchinggravelfilledtheair.
IturnedasBriggs’struckrolledourway.Myunclewasbehindthewheelandbehindhim,againsttheglasswindow,hisgunrackswereloadedwithtworifles
“Why’shedeckedoutinorange?”Mateoasked.
“Hell.”Ishovedthetopwiredowntoswingmylegoverthefence,thenwalkedtotheroad,Mateorightbesideme,asBriggspulledover.
“Hey,boys.”
“Hey,Briggs.”Ileanedagainsthisdoor.“Whatareyouuptotoday?”
Hejerkedathumbathisrifles.“ThoughtI’dhuntthebaseofIndigoRidge.Isawaherdofmuledeeryesterday.Wouldbegoodtogetmorejerkymadebeforethesnowfliesinthenextcoupleofweeks.”
“Whatthefuck?”Mateomumbled.
Isighed,wishinglikehellmyfatherwouldstopignoringthis.Theincidentsweregettingmorefrequent.“Briggs,it’snotquitehuntingseasonyet.”
“It’sOctober.”
“It’sJune.”
“No,it’snot.”Hefrowned.“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?It’sOctober.”
“It’sJune.”Idugoutmyphonefrommybackpocket,openingupmycalendarforhimtosee.
“YouknowIdon’ttrustthosegoddamnphones.”Hehuffed.“Stopmessingaround,Griff.”
Christ.“Youcan’tgohuntingrightnow,Briggs.It’snottheseason.”
“Don’ttellmewhatIcanandcannotdoonmyownranch.”Hisvoicerosealongwiththecolorinhisface.“Damnkids.Runningalloverthisarealikeyouownit.HowmanyyearshaveIworkedhere?Thisismyplace.Ownedbymeandmybrother.Youdon’tgettotellmewhattodo.”
“I’mnottryingtotellyouwhattodo.”Iheldupmyhands.“Justtakealookaround.DoesitlooklikeOctobertoyou?”
Hisforeheadfurrowedashefacedforward,takinginthegreengrassandwildflowersinthemeadows.“I,uh…”
Briggstrailedoff,staringoverthewheel.Then,inaflash,hebroughthishandupandslammeditintothedash.“Fuck.”
Itensed.
Mateoflinched.
“Fuck!”Briggsroaredagainwithanotherstriketothedash.
Theoutburstwassounlikehim,sounlikehisgentle,calmnature,thatittookmeamomenttoreact.NeverinmylifehadIseenhimshout.Notonce.HeandDadwerealotalikeinthatway.Bothhadalwayskeptafirmgripontheirtemper.Itwasthereasontheywerebothsogoodwithhorsesandkids.
Thismanwasnotmyuncle.
Thisfurious,angrymanhadrealizedthathismindwasslipping.
Andtherewasn’tathingtodoaboutit.
Iputmyhandonhisshoulder.“Archeryseasonwillbeherebeforeyouknowit.Probablyjusthadyourdaysmixeduponyourcalendarathome.Happenstomeallthetime.”
Henodded,hiseyesunfocused.
MateoandIsharedalook,andwhenheopenedhismouth,Ishookmyhead.Nowwasnotthetimeforquestions.Thosewouldcomelater.AlongwithyetanotherconversationwithmyfatheraboutBriggs’smentalhealth.
“We’regettingthirstyandweforgotwatertoday,”Ilied.Thecanteeninmytruckwasfull.“Mindifwecomeonuptoyourplaceforaquickdrink?”
BeforeBriggscouldanswer,Mateoroundedthehoodandclimbedinthepassengersideofouruncle’struck.“Meetyouupthere.”
Inodded,waitinguntilthey’dflippedthetruckaroundandheadeddownthegravelroadbeforereturningtomysideofthefenceandgettingintomyownpickup.IcaughtthemabouthalfwayupthemountaintoBriggs’scabin.
Whenwearrived,Briggssteppedoutofthetruckandshedhishunter’sorange.Heshookhishead,likehewasconfusedaboutwhyhe’dhaditoninthefirstplace,thenwavedMateoandmeinside.
Whateverangerhe’dhadearlierseemedtohavevanished.
“Howarethingsonthemountain?”IaskedaswesettledintoourchairsatBriggs’srounddiningtable.
“Good.Retirementgetsmonotonous.ButI’vebeenhikingalot.Tryingtostayinshape.”
“Whichtrails?”Mateoasked,takingasipofwater.
“MostlyaroundIndigoRidge.It’schallenging,butyoucan’tbeatthoseviewsfromthetop.”
Itwasthesecondtimehe’dmentionedtheridgetoday.Tenyearsago,Iprobablywouldn’thavethoughtmuchofit.Butnow,afterthosethreegirls…notmanyofuswenttoIndigoRidge.
Tragedyhaditswayoftarnishingbeauty.
“Haveyouseenanyoneelseupthere?”MyquestioncamecourtesyofWinslow’sdoubts.
“No.It’salwaysjustme.Why?”
“Justcurious.”
IfBriggshadseensomeone,wouldheevenremember?
WefinishedourwatersandItooktheglassestothesink,lookingoutovertheyard.
Briggshadbeenbusy,keepingthegrassaroundthehousetrimmed.He’dputinasmallraisedgardenbed.Thebeginningsofvegetablessproutedfromrich,blacksoil.Arounditwasatalldeerfence,sevenfeethighinhopestheywouldn’tjumpitandeathiscrop.Therewasapairofcowboybootsnexttothefence,eachfilledwithdirtandarubyredflower.
“Lovetheboots,Briggs.Cleveridea.”
Hechuckledandstoodfromhisseat,walkingovertostandbesideme.“Thoughtitwasprettyclevermyself.Prettynicepairofbootsbutwaytoosmallformybigfeet.Foundthemonatrailawhileback.Feltlikeawastetothrowthemaway,soIdecidedtoturnthemintomyflowerpots.”
Mystomachdropped.“Youfoundthem?”
“Yeah.Wasoutshedhunting.”
“Where?”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.Sometrailnotfarfromhere.”
AtrailonIndigoRidgemostlikely.Becausetherewaspinkstitchingalongthebrownleathershaft.Therewereplentyofmen’sbootswithpinkstitching,butthedelicatesquarepointofthetoeboxandthearchoftheheel…thosewerewomen’sboots.
WinslowhadbeenlookingforLilyGreen’sshoes.
ThesinkingfeelinginmygutsaidI’djustfoundthem.
“We’dbettergetgoing,”ItoldMateo.“Thanksforthewater,Briggs.”
“Stopbyanytime.Getslonelyuphere.”
Inodded,mythroatthick.“Hey,doyoumindifIborrowthosebootsforaspell?Mommightliketodosomethinglikethatherself.”
“Notatall.Ifshelikes’em,shecankeep’em.”
“Thanks.”Ileftthehouseandgrabbedtheboots.
Theyweredustybutonthenewerside.Theleatheronthevampandinstepwasstiff.Iputafingerthrougheachofthepullstraps,hopingnottoleaveabunchoffingerprintsbehind,thenhauledthemtomytruck.
“UncleBriggsismessedup.”Mateoblewoutalongbreathaswestarteddowntheroad.“ThewholedriveupherehekeptcallingmeGriffin.”
“I’lltalktoDad.”Again
“Thinkhe’sgotwhatGrandpahad?”
Inodded.“Yeah,Ido.”
“What’sgoingtohappen?”
“Idon’tknow.”ButifDaddidn’tactsoonerratherthanlater,I’dstepinanddowhatneededtobedone.
Briggsneededtoseeadoctor.Weneededtoknowwhatweweredealingwithhere.Maybemedicationwouldhelp.Maybenot.
IdroveusbacktoMomandDad’splace,droppingMateooffattheshop.
“Areyoucomingin?”
“No,I’vegottoheadtotown.”IcouldblameBriggsforshatteringmyresolvetostayaway.Butreally,ithadonlybeenamatteroftimebeforemyresolveshattered.
“Okay.”Mateopointedtothebootsinthebackseat.“Wantmetotaketheseinside?”
“No.Theyaren’tforMom.”
TheywereforWinn.ChapterElevenWinslow
“Whatareyoudoinghere?Andwhydoyouhaveflowersinyourboots?”
Griffinwalkedintomyofficewiththeboots,eachwithageraniumpokingoutofthetop.Heeyedmydesk,searchingforaclearspacetosetthemdown.Therewasn’tone.
“Thiswasclean,”Imumbled,shufflingfoldersandpapersoutoftheway.ThemessI’dwrangledhadreturned.Storyofmylife.
ThemomentIthoughtIhadsomethingundercontrol,itsnuckuponme.
SortoflikeGriffin.
I’dspentthepasttwodaysmakingpeacewiththeendofourrelationship.Itwasfine.Good,even.Therightdecision.IthadbeentimetoputGriffinbehindmeandfocusonthisjob.
ThatwasthereasonIwasinQuincy,right?Ishouldbespendingmyeveningsoutandaroundtown,notlockedinmybedroomwithagorgeousmanwhoknewhowtodeliveranorgasm.I’dtuckedmyweekswithhimawayonashelfinmymindwherethey’dcollectdustforthenextdecade.
Exceptthenhe’dwalkedthroughmyofficedoorwithflowersandsuddenlyallIwantedwasmore.
Morenights.Moreweeks.
More.
Hesetthebootsdownonthedesk,thentookanemptychair,leaninghiselbowsonhisknees.Lookingupfromunderthebrimofhishat,thoseblueeyesdidn’thavetheirnormalglint.Helookedworn,liketheworldwasproppedagainstthosebroadshoulders.
Thisvisitwasn’taboutme,wasit?Thiswasnotanapologyandwhatevertheseflowerswere,theyweren’tagifttoworkhiswaybackintomybed.
Iwaited,givinghimamoment.Peopleusuallytoldyouthemostwhenyoulentthemaminutetobreathe.
“Myuncle.Briggs.”
“TheonefromWillie’swithdementia.”
Henodded.“Hehadthesebootsathisplace.SaidhefoundthemonahikearoundIndigoRidge.”
Mybodytensed.“When?”
“Hewasn’tsure.Ididn’tpress.Hefoundthemandturnedthemintoflowerpots.”
Auniqueidea,excepthe’dprobablyerasedanyevidenceImightfind.Theywerewomen’sboots,theintricatepinkandcoralstitchingintheleatherapatternofpaisleysandswirls.
“Ididmybestnottotouchthem,”Griffsaid.
Igrabbedmyphonefromthedeskandtookafewquickpicturesfromallangles,thenIleftGriffininhisseatasIwenttothebullpen.“Allen.”
HelookedupfromhisdeskandIwavedhimintotheoffice.
“What’sup,Chief?”HedippedhisheadtoGriffin.“Griff.”
“ThesebootswerefoundonIndigoRidge,”Isaid.“Withouttheflowers.Wouldyoumindtakingtheflowersoutandthencatalogingtheseintoevidence?We’llwanttodustforprintsandseewhatwefind.ButI’mguessingtheseareLilyGreen’s.”
“Yougotit.Wantmetocheckwithhermothertoseeifsherecognizesthem?”
“Please.”
Allenwalkedoutoftheoffice,comingbackwithtwoevidencebags.Ihelpedhimputabootineach,thenclosedthedoorbehindhimasheleft.
“I’llbevisitingyouruncle,”ItoldGriffin,returningtomychair.
“Figuredyouwould.”Griffinstoodandwalkedtothebookshelfinthecorner.
Ihatedhowgooditwastoseehim.Hisfadedjeansdrapedoverhisstrongthighs.Theymoldedtothecurveofhisass.TheT-shirtheworetodaywasdusty,likehe’dbeenoutworkingallmorning.
Thescentofhissoapandsweatfilledtheroom.I’dwashedmysheetsyesterday,erasinghimfrommybed.Iregrettedthatdecisionnowbecausethatsmellwasintoxicating.
Hepickedupaframedphotoonthemiddleshelf.“Who’sthis?”
“Cole.”
“Cole.”Hiseyesnarrowed.“Anotherex?”
“Amentor.WeworkedtogetherinBozeman.Andhewasmysensei.”
Inthephoto,ColeandIwerestandingtogether,eachwearingwhitegisatthedojointownwhereI’dtakenkarate.WhenI’dbeenpromotedtodetectiveinBozeman,ColehadsuggestedIlearnmartialarts.Notonlyasawaytokeepinshapebutasawaytoprotectmyself.
“Youhaveablackbelt.”
“Ido,”Isaid.
“Andtheseareyourparents.”Hepointedtothephotoonthenextshelf.Notaquestion,butastatement,likemaybehe’dseentheirpicturebefore.
MomandDadstoodbesidemeonthedayI’dgraduatedfromthepoliceacademy.Iwaswearingablackuniformandahat.Thesmilesonallthreeofourfaceswereblinding.
“YourdadlookslikeCovie,”hesaid.“I’veseenhimaroundtownbefore.Andyoulooklikeyourmom.”
Hecouldn’thaveknownwhatacomplimentthatwas.MymotherwasthemostbeautifulwomanI’dseeninmylife,insideandout.
Forawhileafterthey’ddied,I’dputtheirphotosinstorage.Ithadbeentoohardtoseethemfrozenintime,laughingandsmilingandhappy.I’dwalkintomybedroom,seetheirphotoonashelfandburstintotears.Butthenthenightmaresstarted,soI’dputthephotosback,becauseeventhoughithurttoseethem,tomissthem,I’dtaketheirsmilesamilliontimesovertheirdeaths.
Griffinmovedtothelastpictureontheshelf,oneofmeandPopsfishingwhenIwasateenager.“Youhadmorefreckles.”
“Summersinthesun.ThatwasbeforeIworesunscreeneveryday.”
Hehummed,thenresumedhisseat,leaningforwardoncemore.Hiseyesstayedgluedtotheedgeofmydesk,andonceagain,Iwaiteduntilhewasready.“DoyoustillthinkthatLily’sdeathmightnothavebeenasuicide?”
“Idon’tknow,”Iadmitted.
Asthedayswenton,theuneasyfeelinghadn’tfaded,butthelogicalpartofmymindhadbeguntoyell.Therewasnoevidencepointingtoanythingbutsuicide.Atsomepoint,I’dhavetoletthisgo.
Maybethebootswouldhelp.
Maybenot.
Griffinlookedupandtherewasdesperationinhiseyes.Likeheneededmetogivehimadifferentanswer.
“It’sstillnotsittingright,”Isaid.“EverytimeItalktosomeonewhoknewher,theyareshocked.Friends.Family.Noonehadacluethatshewasstruggling.”
“Yeah,that’sprettymuchwhatI’mhearingtoo.”
“Itdoesn’tmeanshewasn’thidingit.Mentalhealthisusuallyawell-keptsecret.ButIwouldhaveexpectedtofindonepersonshe’dconfidedin.”Eithertherewasn’tthatperson.OrIhadn’tfoundthemyet.
Ifheorshedidexist,IsuspecteditwasprobablywhoeverhadbeenwithLilybeforeherdeath.
Maybethosebootswouldprovideaclue,assumingtheywerehersandifanyfingerprintshadn’tbeenerasedwhilethey’dbeenturnedintogardendécor.
“Thankyouforbringingintheboots.”
“I’llgetoutofyourhair.”Hestoodandtookastepforthedoor.
“Griff,”Icalled,waitingforhimtoturn.ThenIsquaredmyshouldersandstraightenedmyspine.
IhatedthequestionIwasabouttoask.“Areyousleepingwithanotherwoman?”
“Excuseme?”Hisjawticked.
“ThatwomanonWednesday.Emily.”Thereporter.“Areyousleepingtogether?”
Hefistedhishandsonhiships.
“Weusedprotectionbutit’snotfoolproof.I’monbirthcontrolbutI’dliketoknowsoIcangettestedifnecessary.”
Griffinraisedhiseyebrows,thenwithtwolong,stompingstrides,heplantedhishandsonthedesk,leaningsofardownthatthefuryinhisgazehitmelikeaheatblast.“Idon’tfucktwowomenatthesametime.”
Theairrushedfrommylungs.Thank.God.
Endingthisrelationshipwasforthebest,butthatdecisionhadn’texactlytranslatedtomyemotions.EverytimeIpicturedGriffinandblondEmily,jealousywouldeatatmeforhours.
“That’snotthetypeofmanIam,”hesaidthroughgrittedteeth.
“Okay.”
“It’snotfuckingokay.Youshouldn’thavehadtoaskmethatquestion.”
“Well,youseemedrathercozyatEdenCoffee.”
“DidItouchher?”
“Um…”She’dtouchedhim.Buthehadn’ttouchedher,hadhe?
“No,Ididn’tfuckingtouchher.DidIkissher?”
Iswallowedhard.“No.”
Hewaspissed.Reallypissed.Ilikedthathewasmad.Hischaracterwasinquestion,andforgoodmen,they’dstopatnothingtosettherecordstraight.“No,becauseIdon’tplaywithwomen.Understood?”
“Loudandclear.”
“Good.”Heshovedoffthedeskandstormedoutoftheoffice.Hisfootstepsdownthehallwaypoundedashardasmyheartbeat.
Itwasn’tuntilIheardtheexitdooropenandshutthatIbreathed.Thenasmiletuggedatmymouth.
Therewasnothinggoingonwiththereporter.Isighed,sinkingintomychair.ThedaysI’dspentbeingangryatGriffhadbeenfornothing.MaybeIshouldhavetrustedhim.
ItwasSkyler’sfaultI’djumpedtothisconclusion.Beingbetrayedbythemanwho’dpromisedtoloveme,tobemycompanion,tobemyfriend,hadleftitsmark.
Griffinwasn’tSkyler.Therewasnocomparison.
Griffinwashonestandtrue.Andheknewhiswayaroundmyclitoris.
ThesmilewasstillonmylipsasIshookthemouseonmycomputerandgotbacktowork.MaybetomorrowI’dseethesurfaceofmydeskagain.
AndmaybethenexttimeIsawGriffinaroundtown,Iwouldn’twanttohithimwitharock.
Thecorkinmywinebottlepoppedfreeatthesamemomentsomeonepoundedonmydoor.Notaknuckletap.Afull-fistedhammer.
Onlyonepersoninthistownbeatonmyreddoor.
Ipouredaglass,thencarrieditwithmeasIwenttoanswer.“Ihaveadoorbell.”
Griffin’sscowlwasfixedinplace.Clearly,anafternoonandeveninghadn’tmadehimanylessangrythanhe’dbeenatthestation.“Whataboutyou?”
“Whataboutme?”Itookasipofmycabernet,lettingthedry,robustflavorburstonmytongueasheglowered.
“Areyoufuckinganyoneelse?”
Inearlychokedonmysip.“No.”
“Good.”Thatlargebodyforcedmeoutofthewayashestrodeinside.
Iclosedthedoorbehindhimandfollowedashewalkedintothelivingroomandglancedaround.
“Youunpacked.”
“Forthemostpart.”
“Where’syourfurniture?”
“Onbackorder.”Justlikemybedframehadbeen.
EverythingI’dorderedwasdelayed,soallIhadwasthecouchandanendtable.Thebooksthathadbeeninboxeswerestackedagainstawall.Thetelevisionwasonthefloor,waitingforitsstand.TheknickknacksandartworkI’dcollectedovertheyearshadbeenunwrappedandsetaside,readytobeplacedonthebookshelfthathadbeenshippedyesterday.
Besidesmybed,theonlypieceoffurniturethathadarrivedwasmydesk.I’dputittogetherlastnightafterI’dwokenupattwo.ThenI’dspenttheearlymorninghourssettingupmyhomeoffice.
Griffininspecteditall,thenhewenttothecouchandsatdown.
“Wantaglassofwine?”
“Sure.”
Ihandedhimmine,watchingasheputtherimtohislips.ThenIwenttothekitchenandpouredmyselfanotherglass.
He’dtakenoffhisbaseballhatwhenIreturnedtothelivingroomandwasdragginghisfingersthroughthedarkstrandsofhishair.“Emilysawmytruckparkedoutside.”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”Itookaseatbesidehimonthecouch,curlingmylegsbeneathme.Afterwork,I’dputonapairofleggingsandatee,havingeveryintentionofgoingforarun.Instead,I’doptedforthisbottleofwine.
“Wehookedupaboutayearago,”hesaid.“Shewantedittobemore.Ididn’t.Itwasmymistake,butithappened.Sheknewthescore.Itwasaone-timething.Saidshewasgoodwithit.Turnsout…”
“Shewasn’t.”
“Emily’sgotabigmouth.Herfamilydoesn’tlikeyourgrandpamuch.”
“Hetoldme.”Becauseofsomesmall-towndramayearsago.“Itwasfairlyobviousfromherarticleaboutme.”
“Ifshe’stalkingaboutus,otherpeoplewill.”
“Ah.Andyoudon’twantpeopletoknow.”Awesome.Asifmyegohadn’ttakenenoughhitssinceI’dmovedhere.Firstfromthestation.NowfromGriffin.
“It’snotthat,Winn.”
“It’sfine.”Itwasn’tfine.Notevenalittlebit.Itookalong,necessarygulpofwine,wishingI’dgoneforthatrunafterallandmissedthisentireconversation.
“Hey.”Griffreachedoverandpulledtheglassawayfrommymouth.“Idon’tgiveafuckifpeopletalkaboutme.Hell,theyalreadydo.ButIdon’twantthemtalkingaboutyou.Idon’twantthemsayingthatyou’rescrewingaroundwithmeandnotconcentratingonyourjob.Orthatourrelationshipwasthereasonmydadpushedtohireyou.Iwantpeopletoseeyouasthechiefofpolice.Asacapablecop.Notasthewomanwarmingmybed.”
“Oh.”Myheartswelledsomuchithurt.Ihadnoideahecaredaboutmyreputation.Me,theoutsider.“I’veneversleptinyourbed.”
“No,youhaven’t.Butthatdoesn’tmatter.Peoplewilltalk.They’llmakeuptheirownversionofthetruth.”
Thiswasthesmall-townlifethatDadhadalwayscussed.Itwasthereasonhe’dmovedawayfromQuincyafterhighschool.
Peoplewouldmakeuptheirownmindsbasedonfactorfiction.They’dbelievetheEmilyNelsensoftheworldsimplybecauseEmilyNelsen’sgossipwasthemostentertaining.TherewasnothingIcoulddotostopit,andlivinginfearoftherumormillwasn’tinmyfive-yearplan.
“Idon’tcare.”Ishrugged.“Besides,I’mguessingshe’salreadyrunninghermouth.”
“Prettymuch.”
“Thenit’sdone.”Iraisedmyglasstotakeanotherdrink,butbeforeitreachedmylips,Griffintookitoncemore,thistimeoutofmyhandentirely.
Hesetmyglasswithhisonthefloor,thenhewrappedahandaroundmywristandhauledmeoffthecouch.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
Hisarmsbandedaroundmyback,pullingmeflushagainsthischest.“Ifpeoplearegoingtotalkaboutushavingsex,wemightaswellhavesex.”
Ismiled,andwhenhedroppedhislipstomine,Iwelcomedhimintomymouth,moaningathistaste.Oh,howI’dmissedhim.MorethanIwantedtoadmit.
Clingingtohisbroadshoulders,Iwrappedmylegsaroundhishipswhenheliftedmeoffthefloor.
Withtonguestangled,hewalkedustomybedroom,pausingwhenhesteppedthroughthethresholdtotearaway.“Thisisnotthesameroom.”
Iunwoundmylegs,mytoeseasingtothefloor.Gonewerethesuitcasesshovedagainstthewalls.Theywereneatlystowedinmyclosetalongwiththeclothesthey’dcarried,eitherhungonahanger,foldedonashelfortossedinahamper.“Iunpacked.”
“Thewholehouse?”
“Yes.”
Hestudiedme,likeheknewtherewasmoretomyanswer.Ittookeffortnottosquirmundertheintensityofhisgaze.ButtonightwasnotthetimetodiscussthereasonsIhadn’tbeensleeping.
Iliftedahandtohishardchest,lettingitrunuphissmoothcottonshirt.
Grifftrappeditbeneathhiswidepalm.“Missme?”
“Didyoumissme?”
“Yeah.”Hisfreehandcametomybreast,skimmingtheswellbeforemovingtomyneck.Hehadsuchlargehandsandlongfingersthathistouchstartedatmythroatandwrappedaroundmynape.
OnetugandIwascrushedagainsthimagain,hismouthclosingovermine,wetandhot.
Ireachedforhisjeans,slippingmyhandfrombeneathhissoIcouldundothebuttonandzipper.ThenIdoveforhiscock,findingithardandthickbeneaththefabricofhisboxerbriefs.
ThemomentIwrappedmyhandaroundhisvelvetyshaftandgavehimastroke,Griffinsurged,pickingmeupfrombeneathmythighstotossmeonthebed.
Hecamedownontopofme,givingmehisweightashismouthleftatrailofhot,open-mouthedkissesacrossmyjaw.Thenhetuggedandpulledatmyleggings,strippingmebare.
“Takeyourtopoff,”heorderedashestood,reachingbehindhisheadtograbahandfulofhisshirtandyankitfree.
Griffin’sbodywasamasterpieceofruggedlinesandmasculinestrength.Thedustingofhaironhiswidechest.Thesinewedforearms,tannerthanhiswashboardabs.Thiswasamanwhoworkedtokeephisbodystrong.Whodidn’tbelieveinwaxingorspraytans.
“Winn.Topoff.Now.”
“Bossy.”Ilovedhisbossyside.Ipulledoffmytopasheundressed.
Hisbootsdroppedwithtwodistinctthudsonthecarpet,followedbytheplopofhisjeansasheshovedthemdownhisbulkylegs.HestaredatmeasIstaredathim,drinkingineverysingleinch.
“YouaskedmeifI’vebeenwithanyone,”hesaid.“Ihaven’t.Gotcheckedupafewmonthsago.”
Mymouthwateredashefistedhiscock,givingitahardpull.“I’monthepill.”
“Iwanttofuckyoubare,Winslow.Butonlyifyou’regoodwithit.”
Winslow.ThenameI’dalwaysloved.Itwasamasculinename,butinhisdeepvoice,itsoundedsosmoothandsoft.IfhekeptcallingmeWinslow,itwouldbehardtolethimgo.“I’mgood.”
Thewordswerebarelyoutofmymouthwhenhecameatme,draggingmedeeperintothebed.Hismouthlatchedontoanippleandmyeyesdriftedclosed,myfingersthreadingthroughthedarkstrandsofhishair.
Hetormentedmewiththattongue,suckingatmybreasts,lickingacrossmyskin,untilmycorewasthrobbing.
“More,”Iwhimpered.
Heslippedhishandbetweenus,trailingthosecallousedfingersdownmybelly.Theheelofhispalmpressedagainstmyclitastwoofthoselongfingersstrokedthroughmywetfolds,toyingwithmeuntilItrembled.
“Griff.”
Henippedatmyearlobe.“Doyouwanttocomeonmyfingersormycock?”
“Cock.”
Hishandbetweenusdisappeared,thenhewasthere,thrustinginsidewithonefast,skilleddriveofhiships.
IcriedoutasIstretchedaroundhim,mynailsclawingatthetautskinofhisshoulderblades.“Oh,God.”
“Damn,youfeelgood.”
“Move,Griff.Ineedmore.”
Heobeyed,pullingouttoslambackinside.Withoutthecondombetweenus,Ifeltevery.Single.Inch.Overandover,hebroughtustogetheruntilmylimbstrembledandmybackarched,mybodygivingintothemostintenseorgasmofmylife.
Starsburstbehindmyeyes.Mynailstoreintohisshoulders.TremorsrackedmybodyasIclenchedaroundGriffin,unabletobreathe.Unabletothink.Unabletodoanythingbutfeel.
“Fuck,Winn,”hegrowledagainstmyskin,hismovementsneverslowing.Hedrewoutmyorgasm,pulseafterpulse,untilIfinallycamedown.Andthenheletgotopourhisowninsideofme,comingonaroarthatechoedthroughmyhouse.
Hecollapsedontopofme,givingmehisweight.Iwrappedmyarmsaroundhim,holdinghimforamomentbeforehespunus,keepingusconnectedasweshiftedpositionssoIwasdrapedoverhischest.Hisarmsneverletmego.
Ourheartsthunderedtogether,eachatdifferentrhythms.
“It’ssogood,”hesaidthroughpantedbreaths.“Everydamntime.Thatshouldscareme.”
“Metoo.”
Butifitdid,itwasn’tenoughtomakehimleave.Bythetimedarknesssettledbeyondthewindows,he’dexhaustedmethoroughly.
Andforthefirsttimeindays,Isleptthroughthenight.ChapterTwelveGriffin
“Morning.”IbenttokissWinn’shead,hesitatingbeforemylipscouldtouchherhair.
Shewasn’tmygirlfriend.Otherthanherpassingoutonmychestaftersex,wedidn’tcuddle.Wedidn’tholdhandsorgoondates.Thiswasn’tthefirsttimeI’dgonetokisshergoodmorningorgoodbye,onlytorememberthatwe’dputlinesinplace.
Exceptinthepastweek,I’dspenteverynightatherplace.Therewasn’taninchofherbodyIhadn’ttasted.
Maybethelinesneededtoberedrawn.
Fuckit.Ibrushedmylipsagainstthosesilkytressesandmovedtothecoffeepot.
Shelookedupatmefrombeneaththoselonglashes.“Morning.”
Ipouredmyselfacup,standingbesideherassheleanedagainsttheclutteredcountertop.“What’sondeckfortoday?”
“Work.Mydayisslammedwithmeetingsatthecourthouse.You?”
“We’removingcattletoday.”
Thesewereusuallymyfavoritedaysontheranch,whenIwasinthesaddleallday.I’dbeupatdawn,itchingtogo.ButIwasalreadylatetogetstarted.ThesunwasupandIwassuretheguyswerealreadyatthebarn,saddlinghorses.Meanwhile,Iwasstillinyesterday’sclothesandbarefeet.EverymorningIlingeredhere,inWinn’skitchen,forjustabitlongerthanthepreviousday.
“Whatareyoudoingthisweekend?”Isippedfrommymug.
“I’llprobablygoandspendsometimewithPops.Maybedosomework,andhopefullyapieceoffurnitureortwowillshowuptoday.”
Thiswashowourmorningsforthepastweekhadgone.We’dwakeupearlyandshe’dcomeouthereandmakeapotofcoffeewhileIrinsedoffthescentofsexwithaquickshower.Thenwe’dstandinthekitchen,talkingaboutourupcomingdays,delayingtheinevitableexitwhenIwentmywayandshewenthers.
Wehadanunspokenunderstanding.Shehadherplans.Ihadmine.Butlater,we’dcometogether.
“IranintoFrankyesterdayatthegrocerystore,”shesaid,glancingup.
“Andwhatdidtheassholehavetosay?”
“Benice.”Sheelbowedmyribs.“Hewasnotoverlyhappytohearthatweweresleepingtogether.”
“Peoplearetalking.”JustlikeI’dexpectedtheywould.WhetheritcamefromEmilyorsomeoneelse,ithadonlybeenamatteroftime.“Yougood?”
“I’mgood.”Shenodded.“Heaskedifwewereacouple.IremindedhimthatIwasanadult,itwasnoneofhisbusiness,andIcouldmakemyowndecisions.”
Igrinnedandtookanothersip,wishingIcouldhaveseenFrank’sfacewhenshetoldhimtobuttthefuckout.Shemightbeoneofthefewpeopleinthistownnotrattledbygossip.
Eventuallyitmightwearonher.I’ddealtwithitmywholelife,butthiswasnewtoWinn.
“I’mnotbigonlabels,butifyouneedone,ifthatwouldmakeiteasiertofieldquestions…”
Sheliftedashoulder.“Ijustgotoutofaneight-yearrelationship.IthinktheonlylabelIneedrightnowissingle.”
“Fairenough.”I’dgladlyenjoythehelloutofthesex.
“Butmaybeweshouldputalimitonit.Justtokeeptheboundariesinplace.Keeptalktoaminimum.”
Alimit?Ihatedthisideaalready.“Towhat?”
“Idon’tknow.Onceaweek?”
Iscoffedandtookadrink.“Howaboutyoucomeouttotheranchtonight?There’salotlesstrafficgoingpastmyhousethanthereisyours.”
“Sothat’sanoonthelimit.”
Isetmymugdown,tookhersfromherhandandpickedherup,earningalittlegaspasIsetheronthecounter.Herlegswerebareandthesleepshirtshe’dpulledonthismorningrodeupthoseleanthighs.
“That’sahardno.”Ipressedinclose,draggingmyhandsupherlegsbeforepushingthemapartsoIcouldsettlebetweenthem.Mycock,inaconstantstateofarousalwhenitcametoher,strainedagainstthezipperofmyjeans.
“Whattimedoyouhavetoleave?”Shebroughtherhandstomycheeks,pullingmylipstohers.
“Later,”Imurmured,lettinghercontrolthiskiss.
Yes,Iwasbusy.Butsomehowtherealwaysseemedtimeforthis.
Hertonguedraggedacrossmylowerlip.Hertaste,infusedwithcoffee,brokeonmytonguewhensheslidherspastmyteeth.
Myhandsleftherlegstounfastenmyjeans.ThenIpushedherpantiestothesideanddroveintohertightbody.“So.Damn.Good.”
Winnwrappedherarmsaroundmyshouldersandraisedherlegs,herheelsdiggingintothesmallofmyback.SheclungtomeasIdroveintoheragain,skinslappingskintheonlysoundotherthanourraggedbreaths.
Wewentforit.Hard.WheneverIthoughttoeaseup,herheelswoulddigindeeper,urgingmeon.Awhimperescapedherlipsbeforeherinnerwallsfluttered.Thenshecameonacry,pulseafterpulse,herorgasmtriggeringmyown,andweflewovertheedgetogether.
Iheldherinmyarmsastherushsubsided,mynoseburiedinherhair.Herscentclungtomyskin,andforamoment,Iforgotwhatlifehadbeenlikebeforethis.
Thesex.Theheat.Thewoman.
Maybewedidneedalimit.Everytimeweweretogether,Iwantedtwomore.Andoneday,Iwasgoingtohavetocutthisoff.Beforefeelingsgottangledandwehadamesstounravel.
Maybeitwastoolatetoavoidthemess.
Ipulledfreeandtuckedmyselfaway,andthistimewhenImetherbrilliantblueeyes,Ididn’tletmyselfleanintokisshergoodbye.“Tonight.”
“Bye.”Sheshovedalockofhairoutofherfaceasshehoppedoffthecounter.
Ishowedmyselfoutofthehouseandthecoolmorningairfeltcrispagainstmyoverheatedskin.Thedrivehomewasquiet,thestreetsmostlydesertedatthisearlyhour.ButwhenIgottotheranch,therewasabustleofactivitywaiting.
Fivevehicleswereparkedinfrontofmyhouse.Fourbelongedtohiredmen.Onewasmymother’sCadillac.
Iparkedandhustledtothefrontdoor.Thesmellofcoffeegreetedmefrominside,andIfollowedmynosetothekitchen,whereMomwasstaringoutthewindowthatoverlookedthebackyard.
“Morning,Mom.”Iputmyarmaroundherforasidewayshug.
“Yousmelllikeawoman.”
“BecauseIwaswithawoman.”
Shesighed.“Fromwhatyourfathersays,WinslowCovingtonisagoodcopandisgoodforQuincy.”
“Iwouldagree.”IletMomgoandmovedtothecupboardtopulloutmyowncoffeemugandfillitfromthepot.
“Areyou—”Sheheldupahandbeforeshecouldfinishherquestion.“Actually,nevermind.Idon’treallywanttoknow.IpromisedmyselfwhenyoukidsgraduatedfromhighschoolthatI’dstayoutofyourlovelives.Andfrankly,Ipreferitthatway.”
Ichuckled.“Whatareyouuptotoday?”
“Hiding.”
“From?”
“Yourfather.He’smadatme.”Sheblewoutadeepbreath.“WegotintoafightaboutBriggs.”
“Uh-oh.Whathappened?”
“Iwentuptothecabinyesterdayafternoon.Imadeacoupleofpiesandthoughthe’dlikeone.Griffin…”Sheshookherhead.“Whenyoutoldusabouthim,Ibelievedyou,butIdidn’tthinkithadgottenthatbad.IknockedonhisdoorandhehadnocluewhoIwas.Notadamnclue.”
“Shit.Sorry,Mom.”
Shesniffledanddabbedatthecornerofhereye.“He’smybrothertoo.HasbeensinceImarriedyourfather.Seeinghimlikethatisheartbreaking.”
“Iknow.”Ipulledherintomyside.
“Don’ttakeyourmindforgranted,Griffin.Oryourheart.Theyareyourgifts.Andtheyarenotguaranteedfromonedaytothenext.”Shesniffledagain,thenheldupherchin.Becausethatwasmymother.Shewalkedthroughlifewithherchinheldhigh.“Yourdadisindenial.WhenItoldhimwhathappenedwithBriggs,hedidn’tbelieveme.HemadeanexcusethatsinceIhadmyhairup,Ilookeddifferent.”
“Yeah,hedidn’tseemtobelievemeeither.”
“Whenhisfather’smindbeganslipping,itwasdevastating.Toseeithappentohisbrother…Ithinkheworriesthatmaybehe’llbenext.”
Thatwasmyfeartoo.Iwasn’tsureifIcouldhandleitifmyfatherlookedatmeanddidn’tremembermyname.
“Wecan’tleavethisalone,”Isaid.Notonlybecausehemightcausehimselfharm,butbecausehemightcauseharmtoothers.
Overthepastweek,sinceI’ddeliveredthosebootstoWinnatthestation,I’dthoughtalotaboutthissituation.Briggshadmostlikelyfoundthosebootswhilehewashiking.He’dalwaysbeendisconnectedfromeventsintown,andevenifhehadheardaboutLilyGreen’ssuicide,Idoubtedhewouldhaveputthepiecestogether.
I’msurehewouldhaveexpectedthatshe’ddiedwithshoesonherfeet.Winnhadtoldmethey’dconfirmedthebootsasLily’s.
Butthatoutburstinthetruck,whenwe’darguedoverthemonth,hadplaguedmedaily.Briggswasn’taviolentman.Exceptthereweretimeswhenhesimplywasn’tBriggs.
CouldhehavestumbledonLily?CouldhehavefoundheronIndigoRidgeanddonetheunthinkable?
No.Never.Hewouldn’thavetakenthetimetoremoveherboots.No,shehadtohavedonethat.Shehadtohavejumped.
LilyGreenandBriggsEdenhadnothingtodowiththeother.
“GiveDadtime.He’llmaketherightdecision.”
“Hewill.”Shepulledawayandpouredthedregsofhercoffeeintothesink,rinsingitclean.“Whatareyoudoingtoday?”
“Movingcattletotheforestservice.”
“ThenI’llgetoutofyourhair.Ijustwantedtoseeyourface.You’vebeenscarcelately.”
“IsawyouTuesday.”
“Forawholefiveminutestodropoffthemail.”Sheturnedandwalkedoutofthekitchen,pausingbeforeshecoulddisappeardownthehallwaytothefrontdoor.“BringWinslowaroundfordinneronenight.”
“That’snotreallyourkindofrelationship,Mom.”
“Oh,I’vegotaprettygoodideaofyourkindofrelationship.Butyoucanbringherbyregardless.YourfatherspeakshighlyofherandI’dliketomeether.Isuspectshe’llbepartofthiscommunitylongafteryoutwoquitoneanother.Covieisheronlyfamilyleftnowthatherparentsaredead,andI’dlikehertoknowthatshe’sgotmorethanhergrandfatherpullingforhertomakeQuincyhome.”
“Holdup.”Therewasalottheretoappreciate.Mymother’swarmandinvitingheart.Butmyheadwaswrappedaroundsomethingelse.“Herparentsaredead?”
“Foracoupleofyearsnow,Ithink.TheywerekilledinanaccidentinBozeman.”
ButI’djustseentheirphotoinherofficelastweek.I’dmetthemyearsagoatWillie’swhenthey’dbeenheretovisitCovie.HowhadIbeensleepingwithWinnandnotknownthatherparentshadbeenkilled?“Ididn’tknow.”
“Coviedidn’ttalkmuchaboutit.Hedidn’ttellmanypeopleintownthattheydied.”
“Really?Why?”
“Helosthissonandhisdaughter-in-law.Ibelievetheywereveryclose.Weallhandleourgriefdifferently.IthinkCoviewentthroughaperiodofdenial.Pretendinglifewasthesamewashiswayofcoping.AndhespentalotoftimeinBozemanwithWinslow.Hementionedtoyourdadoncethatshewashavingahardtime.”
Whattheactualfuck?IhatedthatmymotherknewmoreaboutthisthanIdid.Whyhadn’tWinntoldme?Maybeshe’dsuspectedthatIalreadyknew.Still,notahintthattheyweregone.Infact,shehadn’tspokenmuchaboutherparentsotherthantoremindmethatherfatherhadgrownupinQuincy.
IopenedmymouthtoaskMommoreaboutit,butthedoorbellrang.
“I’llgetit.”Shedisappeareddownthehallway,andwhenthedooropened,IrecognizedJim’svoice.
“Ithinkhewasjustgrabbingacupofcoffee,”Momsaid.“Griffin?”
“Coming.”Ichuggedtherestofmycup,thenstrodedownthehallwayandoutthedoor,wheremymenwerewaiting.
AftergrabbingmyfavoriteStetson,IwavedgoodbyetoMomandheadedforthebarn.Everyonehadsaddledtheirhorses,sowhiletheyvisited,ImademywaytoJupiter’sstall.
“Hey,fella.”Iranmyhandoverhisbuckskincheek,lettinghimnuzzlemeforamomentbeforeIwentthroughthemotionsI’ddoneathousandtimes,combinghimoffbeforestrappingonhissaddle.
Jupiterhadbeenmyhorseforthepastdecade.HewasthebestI’deverhad.Strongandconfidentwithatenderheart.OndaysIneededtoclearmyhead,he’ddoitwithme.We’drideoffthroughthevalleyorintotheforestandI’dunloadtheburdenswiththesteadyswayofhiscanter.
Iledhimfromhisstall,snaggingmyfavoritepairofchapsfromahookonthewall,thentogetherwewalkedintothesunshine.“Readyforalongday?”
Jupiteransweredbynudgingmyshoulder.
Igrinned,rufflingtheblacktuftofhairbetweenhisears.“Metoo.”
Aspromised,thedaywaslong.Werodeformiles,movingthecattleintotheirsummergrazinghomeinthesectionofthemountainsthatweleasedfromtheforestservice.Theanimalswouldhavemoregrassthantheycouldconsume,andwiththemthere,they’dhelpalleviatetheriskofaforestfire.
Onthereturntrip,Ibrokeapartfromtheguys.TheyheadedtothestablesatMomandDad’splace,wheretheyallkepttheirhorses.Itwasabenefitofworkingonourranch—freeboarding.WhileIcontinuedonalonetomyplace.
Homewasahappysight.
SowasthewomanstandingbesideherDurangoinmydriveway.
IswungoffJupiter,mylegsstiffasIwalkedtoWinn.Wearingapairofjeansandasimplesage-greenblouse,shewasbreathtaking.
“WhenIshowuphere,I’mgoingtoneedyoutobewearingthat.”Shepointedfrommyhattomychapstomyboots.“Everytime.”
Ichuckledasshemovedintomyspace.“I’vebeeninthesaddleallday.Ismelllikeahorse.”
“Idon’tcare.”Shestoodonhertoes,goingformylips.
Ibent,readytotakehermouth,whenmyhorseshovedhisnosebetweenus.“Doyoumind?”
Winnlaughed.“Who’sthis?”
“Jupiter.”
“Jupiter.Interestingnameforahorse.”
“Eloisenamedhim.Dadboughteighthorsestenyearsago.Shewasintosomescienceprojectforschoolaboutthesolarsystem,soshenamedthemallafterplanets.”
“Ilikeit.”Shereachedup,hesitatingforasecondbeforetouchinghischeek.“Hey,Jupiter.”
Henuzzledherpalm.Myhorsewasassmartastheycame.Heknewqualityattentionwhenhegotit.
“Letmegethimputaway.Headonin.Makeyourselfathome.”ItookthekissIneeded,thenwinkedandescortedJupitertothebarn.Aftergettinghimsettled,Ireturnedtothehouse,findingherontheporch,rockinginoneofthechairs.
Shehadabeerinherhandandanotherreadyforme.
Whatasightshewas.
Mostdayslikethis,I’dcomehometoanemptyhouseandpraythatnooneshowedupatmydoorstep.Icravedthetimealone,thetimetodecompress.ButIhadn’thadanightaloneinaweek.Andatthemoment,Ididn’twantone.
“Ifiguredyou’dwantoneofthese.”ShemotionedtothebeerasIwalkeduptheporch.
“Yeah.”Isatdown,tippingthebeertomylipsandquenchingmythirst.
Shetookherowndrinkashereyesrakedovermylegs.“Youaresexyonthathorse,cowboy.”
“What’sitgoingtoearnme?”
“Takeashowerandyou’llfindout.”
Ilaughed,leaningoverthearmofmychairandwavinghercloser.ThenIfitmylipstothecornerofhermouthbeforeIleftherontheporchandwentinsidetoshower.
Withatoweltomyhairandwearingonlyapairofjeans,Icameoutofthemasterbedroomandcheckedmyphone.
I’dmissedsevencalls,andadozentextswaitedtoberead.Theywereallfromfamilymembers,andthoughIshouldfindoutwhatwashappening,putoutwhateverfireshadstartedtoday,IignoreditallandwentinsearchofWinn.
I’dexpectedtofindherinside,butthroughtheglasswindowsinthelivingroom,Isawhersittinginthesameporchchair,rockinggentlyashereyesstayedgluedtothetreesandthemountainpeaksrisingbeyond.
Shelookedatpeace.Maybemoreatpeacethanshe’deverbeen,eveninsleep
Myheartskipped.Thetowelfellfrommyhand.Myhandcametomysternum.
Shewasperfectinthatchair.
SobeautifulIwantedthisvieweverynight.
Fuck.Weweresupposedtoburnout.Weshouldhaveburnedoutalready.Ineededittoburnout.Myfocushadtostayonthisranch.Onmyfamily.
Yetitdidn’tstopmefromwalkingoutside,pickingherupoutofthatchairandcarryinghertomybedroom.
Wewouldburnout.
Justnotyet.ChapterThirteenWinslow
“Didhegiveyouanytrouble?”Mitchasked.
“Notunlessyoucounthimcryingthewholeridehere.”Iglancedthroughthejailcell’ssteelbarstothemanI’dhauledinfordrunkdriving.
Hesatonthecot,hisheadinhishands,stillcrying.Dumbass.Maybethiswouldteachhimalesson.
Oh,howIhatedtheFourthofJuly.
“Hopefullyhe’llbethelast,”Isaid.
Mitchsighed.“It’sstillearly.Ibetwebringinoneortwomore.”
“Butwe’reoutofspace.”Allfivecellswereoccupiedbyotherdumbasses.
“We’lldoubleupifwehaveto.LastyearontheFourthwehadtotripleafewcells.”
“Let’sjusthopenoonegetshurt.”
“Agreed.”Henodded.“Buthey,onthebrightside,nobarfightsthisyear.TwoyearsagowebustedupabrawlatOldMill.Thatwasacluster.AndlastyearwehadsixgirlswhogotintoitatBigSam’s.Thatwasevenworse.Girlsfightmean.”
Ilaughed,followinghimoutoftheholdingarea.“Yes,wedo.”
Thebarsintownwereclosed.Therodeowasover.Now,hopefully,wejusthadtodealwiththeidiotswhohadn’tgonehome.Theoneswho’ddecidedtotakethepartyelsewhereandcausetrouble.
Mitchwouldbeheretolockthemupwhentheotherofficersbroughtthemin.
Thekeysattachedtohisbeltjingledaswewalked.Oftheofficerteam,Mitchwasmyfavorite.Histallandstoutframemadehimanintimidatingman,butI’dlearnedinmytimeherethathewasgentleandkind.
Smilesaimedmywaywererareinthestation.TheynormallyonlycamefromJanice.AndMitch.HealwayshadonewaitingwhenIwalkedintothestationintheearly-morninghoursbeforetheshiftchange.
Aswepassedthelastcell,themanwho’dbeenhauledinfirstwasonhiscot,snoringlouderthanabear.
Mitchsimplyshookhisheadandhitthebuttononthewalltosignalwewerereadytocomeout.
Allenwaswaitingontheothersidetobuzzusthroughthesecuredoor.He’dswappedoutofdayshifttohelptonightonpatrols.
Everymemberofmystaffhadbeenondutytoday,eventheofficecrew.Thecountysheriffandhisteamhadcomeintotowntohelpmanagethecrowdsandpatrolthestreets.TheQuincyIndependenceDaycelebrationhadbeenawhirlwindofactivity.We’dbeenpreppingforitallweek,andinjustafewmorehours,itwouldbeover.
ThankGod.
Iyawnedanddugasetofkeysoutofmypocket.TheybelongedtothecruiserI’dtakenoutforatwo-hourpatrolshift.
“It’sallyours.”IhandedthemtoMitch.HeandAllenwouldbetakingthenextpatrolshifttogether.
“Thanks,Chief.”
“Winslow,”Icorrected.
HenoddedbutIsuspectedhe’dkeepcallingmeChief.“Headinghome?”
“Yeah.”Iyawnedagainandglancedattheclockonthewall.Threeinthemorning.I’dcomeinatfour,yesterdaymorning.“Callmeifyouneedanything.”
Henodded.“Willdo.”
“Night,Allen.”
“Night,Chief,”hesaid.“SeeyouMonday.”
“That’stechnicallytomorrow,isn’tit?”
“Guessso.”Hescrubbedahandoverhisface.“I’mnotcutoutforthenightshift.”
“Meneither.”Iwaved,duckingintomyofficetocollectmypursebeforeheadingoutside,wheremyDurangohadbeenparkedfornearlytwenty-fourhours.
Slidingbehindthewheel,Iletmyshouldersslump.“Whataday.”
ThefestivitieshadstartedwithaparadeonMain.MyteamhadbarricadedtheroadandputoutdetoursignsforthetrafficneedingtopassthroughQuincy.Officershadbeenstationedatbothendsofthestreettoguidepedestriansandwavethroughcars.I’dmissedmostoftheparade—floatsandhorsesandclassiccars—toobusywalkingthesidewalksandsurveyingthecrowd.
Cleanuphadfollowed,andI’dfoundthirtyminutestoscarfdownanearlylunchatmydesk.Afterward,whilehalfoftheofficershadsetoutincruisersonpatrol,therestofushadmadeourwaytothefairgroundstopreparefortheeveningrodeo.
Duringthebarrelracing,I’dvisitedwiththecountysheriff,learningmoreabouthimandhisteam.Duringthesteerwrestling,I’descortedadrunkencowboywho’dbeenvomitingbehindtheporta-pottiesoffthegroundstosleepitoffinthebackofhishorsetrailer.Andduringtheteamroping,I’dhelpedalittlegirlwho’dgottenseparatedfromherfamilyfindherparents.
Buttowardtheendofthenight,asthesunhadsetandwithitthetemperature,I’dfoundaquietmomenttostandagainstthefenceandbreathe.Theoverheadlightshadcloakedthearenaintheirblindingglowandobscuredthestarsabove.Bullridinghadbeenthefinalevent,andasyoungmenhadclimbedonthebackofmassivebeasts,hopingtomakeiteightseconds,I’dfocusedonthestands,searchingforGriffin.
He’dsattowardthebottomrail,andevenfromtheoppositeendofthefairgrounds,hissmilehadmademyheartskip.Everyrowhadbeencrammed,thespacearoundGriffinnodifferent.I’drecognizedhisfamilysittingcloseby.
TheEdenshaddrawnnearlyasmuchattentionasthebullriders.Peoplehadpassed,wavingandstoppingforaquickhello.Likehe’dknownIwaswatching,Griffhadsearchedthefencelineandfoundme.
Inaseaofpeople,abovethenoiseandbelowthelights,onelookfromhimandtheworldhadmeltedaway.
TheFourthofJulymeanttrouble.
Inthatmoment,withthatsinglelook,I’dknownIwasintrouble.
Casualwasbecomingacraving.We’dsailedpastuncomplicatedweeksago.Whateverboundarieswe’derectedhadbeendestroyed.I’dpeeledmylifeawayfromSkyler’saftereightyearstogether.Eightyears.YettheideaoflettinggoofGriffinseemedimpossibleandithadonlybeenamonth.
Ashe’dstaredatmeandtakenasipfromhisbeer,thatsexygrinhadwidened.Griffhadshiftedtodighisphonefromapocket,andminehaddingedmomentslaterwithatext.
Comeoverwhenyou’redonetonight.
Thattexthadbeenhoursago.Aftertherodeo,myteamhadmigratedtotheparkbytheriver,wherethecountyfiremenhadsetupafireworksshow.We’dhadtheareapreppedearlierintheweek,makingsuretherewerewaysforourcruisersandanambulancetogetinandout.
Liketheparadeandrodeo,Ihadn’tgottentowatchmuchoftheshow.I’dcaughtthetailendofthefinale,butthatwasonlyafterchasingagroupofteenagersawayfromthewater,wherethey’dbeenvaping.
Ihadn’tseenGriffinatthepark,notthatI’dhadtimetosearchhimout.Soonaftertheparkhademptied,I’dreturnedtothestationandtakenmyscheduledpatrolshift.
Apparentlythiswasnotsomethingtheformerchiefhaddone.WhenI’drattledoffthescheduleatourprepmeeting,includingmynameintherotation,everyofficerbutMitchhadgivenmeastrangelook.
So…nodifferentthanmostdays.
Byrights,Ishouldgohomeandcrash.Ihadn’tsleptinmyownbedforaweek,optingforGriffin’sinstead.ButasIpulledoutofthestation’sparkinglot,IaimedmywheelstowardtheEdenranch.
TheporchlightwasonwhenIparkedoutsideGriff’shouse.Myeyelidswereheavyandmyfootstepsleaden.Itrudgedupthestairs,expectingtofindhiminbedandasleep,butbeforeIcouldtouchthedoorhandle,itopened.
“Hey.”Hisarmsopened.
Ifellintothem,saggingagainsthisstrength.“Hi.”
“Everythinggookay?”
“Forthemostpart.”
“Anyaccidents?”
“No.”AndIprayedwhenIwokeupinthemorningthatwouldstillbethecase.Workhadbeenmysaviortoday.Ithadkeptmefromthinkingofasummernightnotunlikethisone.
“Cometobed.”Hekissedmyhair.
“Okay,butyouhavetodoalltheworktonight.”
Hechuckled,thenbentandsweptmeintohisarms.
Tootiredtooverthinkit,Icurledintohischestandlethimcarrymetothebedroom.
Hestrippedmeoutofmyclothesbutleftmypantieson.ThenheyankedtheT-shirtfromhisbodyandpulleditovermyhead.“Sleep.”
“Okay.”
Iwantedsex.Tomorrow.
Tonight,Iburrowedintothepillows,drawinginhisscent,andonlystayedawakelongenoughtofeelhiswarmchestcurlintomyback.ThenIcrashed,gratefulthattonightofallnights,Iwasn’talone.
Igaspedawake.Asilentcrytoreatmythroat.Myeyeswereopen,butIcouldn’tseeGriffin’sdarkbedroom.Thebloodwastoothick.
Isqueezedmyeyesshut.Please.Stop.Thebloodoozed.
Griffinshiftedbehindmebutdidn’twakeasIslidoutfrombeneathhisheavyarmandpaddedacrossthehardwoodfloor,closingthedoortoescapehisbedroom.
Ishouldhaveexpectedit.Tonight,Ishouldhaveknownthere’dbeanightmare.Butfoolishly,I’dthoughtsheerexhaustionwouldwin.ThatI’dsleepthoselastfewhoursofthedayaway.
Themicrowaveclockshowed4:32.I’dsleptanhour,atmost.Thefaintraysofdawnlitupthehorizonbutstarsstillclunghighinthesky.
Grabbingathrowfromthecouch,Imademywaytothefrontdoor,easingitopentoslipoutside.Theporch’sboardswerecoldagainstmybarefeet,therockingchairdampfromthenight’sdew.Iwrappedtheblanketaroundmyshoulders,thensankintotheseat,lettingthefreshmorningairchaseawaythescentofdeath.
Griffin’shousesatinthecenterofaclearing.Treessurroundeditoneveryside,buttheywerefarenoughawaythatfromtheporch,Icouldseethemountainrangeinthedistance.Itjuttedintothehorizon,thepeaksglowingwithsunlightandsnow.Attheirtips,theskywasayellowsoclearitwasalmostwhite.
Sunrise.Anewday.ThefifthofJuly.Themarkofanotheryearalone.
Imissedthem.IhopedI’dneverstop.
“Hey.”Griff’sruggedvoicecutthroughthequiet.
“Hey.”Iturned,findinghimatthedoorIhadn’theardopen.“Youshouldgobacktobed.”
Heshookhishead,hishairamess,andsteppedoutsidewearingonlyapairofboxerbriefs.Hewavedmeoutofthechair.
Icouldn’tgobacktosleep,notnow.Buthehadn’tsleptanylongerthanIhad,soI’dgobacktobedandliethereuntilhedriftedoff,thensneakouttotheporchagain.
ButwhenIstood,hedidn’tleadmeinside.Instead,hetooktheblanketfrommyshoulders,tosseditaroundhisown,thenstolemychair.
“Sitdown.”Hepattedhislap.Thefabricofhisboxerbriefsstrainedatthebulkofhisbarethighs.Thecirclesunderhiseyessaidhe’dhadalongdayyesterdaytoo.
“Youdon’thavetostayouthere.”
“Sit.Keepmewarm.”
Isighedbutsettledintohislap,lettinghimcirclemeinhisarmsandsnuggleusbeneaththeblanket.Thenhestartedtorockthechairwithslow,measurednudgesofhisfoot.“Sorrytowakeyou.”
“Youneedtogetsomerest.Youwereonyourfeetalldayyesterday.What’sgoingon?”
“Justabaddream.”
“Wanttotalkaboutit?”
Yes.No.Thenightmareshadbeenmysecret.Mypain.EvenwhenSkylerandIhadlivedtogether,Ihadn’ttoldhimwhyI’dwokenuplateatnight.Thoughhehadtohavesuspectedwhatwasgoingon,hehadn’tasked.
Becausethedreamswerereal.Theyweremassive.Andhehadn’tbeenoneforheavylifting.
“Idon’twanttoburdenyou,”Isaid.“Itseemslikeyoucarryalotalready.”
Hetensed.Therockingstopped.
WhenIlookedup,acreasemarredtheskinbetweenhisforehead.“WhatdidIsay?”
Thetensiononhisfacemeltedaway.Hisarmsheldmetighter.“YoumightbethemostintuitivepersonI’veevermet.”
“Idon’tknowaboutthat.”Ileanedmyforeheadagainsthisshoulder.“Justanobservation.”
Hestartedrockingusagain,andforafewminutes,theonlysoundswerehisheartbeatandthebirdsinthetrees,chirpingtheirmorningsong.“I’mtheoldestofmysiblings.That’salwaysputmeinadifferentpositionwithmysisters.Myyoungestbrothertoo.Aslittlekids,they’dtaketheirproblemstoMomandDad.Theoldertheyget,themorethoseproblemscometome.EspeciallyafterItookovertheranch.I’mtherolemodel.Themediator.”
“Doesitbotheryou?”
“No.”
BecauseGriffinwasthetypeofmanwhostoodattheready,alwayswillingtohefttheload.
“Butitisaweight.Ineedtobehereforthem.Idon’twanttoletthemdown.AndIdon’twanttofailtheranch.”
“Iseverythingokaywiththeranch?”
“Yeah,it’sgood.Justalotofwork.”
“Doyouenjoyit?”
“Ido.”Henodded.“Ican’timaginedoinganythingelse.”
“Ifeelthesamewayaboutbeingacop.”
Hetuckedalockofhairbehindmyear.“How’dyougetintoit?”
“MysenioryearinhighschoolIworkedasanofficeaide.Theofficerstationedatourschoolwasthisbeautifulwoman.Shewaspersonableandgracious.Gorgeous,butyoualsoknewnottofuckwithher.”
“Sortoflikeyou.”
Ismiled.“Iaskedheroncehowshebecameapoliceofficer.I’dbeenstrugglingtodecideifIshouldgotocollegeoratradeschool.AlloftheotherkidsatschoolseemedtoknowexactlywhattheywantedtodoandIcameupblankeverytime.Oneday,Iwasintheofficeandshewastheretoo,soIaskedherwhyshedecidedtobeacop.”
Thatconversationhadchangedmylife.She’dgivenmetenminutesofhertime,justtenminutes,butitwastenminutesthathadsetmeonthispath.
“Shetoldmethatwhenshewasateenager,shedidn’tknowwhatshewantedtodoeither.Andwhileshewasdebatingheroptions,herdadgaveherapieceofgreatadvice.Intheabsenceofaclearambition,servingothersisamightypurpose.Shedidn’twanttobeanurseorateacher.Soshewenttothepoliceacademy.IwenthomethateveningandtoldmyparentsIwantedtofindoutwhatitwouldtaketobeacop.”
“Andhereyouare.”
“HereIam.”
“Howdidyourparentsreact?”
“Asyou’dexpect.Theyworried.Rightlyso.Itwashard,reallyhard.Mendon’talwaystakemeseriously.It’sadangerousjob.ButIbelieveinmyheartthatI’mintherightplace.ThatbecauseI’mawoman,I’mabletohandlesomeawfulsituationsdifferentlythanaman.”Likerape.Domesticabuse.I’dworkedwithplentyofincrediblemalecops,butthereweretimeswhenawomanwouldonlytalktoawoman.Thosecases,ashorrificasthey’dbeen,hadonlysolidifiedmydecision.
“Isthatwhatwakesyouupatnight?Theawfulcases?”
“No.”Iblewoutalongbreath.“ButlikeIsaid,Idon’twanttoburdenyou.”
“It’snoburdentolisten,Winn.”
Talkingaboutithurt.ThefewtimesPopshadwantedtodiscusstheaccident,everywordhadscrapedandslicedacrossmytongue.Thathadbeenyearsago,andsince,I’dalwayschangethesubject.Ignoringthepainwaseasier.Wasn’tit?
Somethinghadtogive.Somethinghadtoletgo.Thesenightmarescouldn’tgoonforever,andmaybebecauseI’dkeptitinsideforsolong,thebaddreamsweremyheart’swayofscreamingforrelief.
“Myparentsdiedfiveyearsago.”Onesentenceandmychestburned.
“Mymommentionedsomethingaboutthattheotherday.”
“ItwasontheFourthofJuly.Theyweredrivinghomefromapartyatafriend’shouseinthemountains.Theywerehitbyanoncomingcar.Thedriverwastexting.”
“Damn.”Griffindroppedhisforeheadtomytemple.“I’msorry.”
Iswallowedhard,pushingpasttheache.“Iwasthefirstofficeronthescene.”
Hisbodystilled.Therockingstoppedagain.
“Itwasmylastyearasapatrolofficer.I’dalreadyputinmyapplicationtobepromotedandmyparentsweresoexcitedthatIwouldn’tbeonthestreetsasmuch.Whenthecallcamethroughmyscanner,Ijust…Ican’tdescribeit.ThispitformedinmystomachandIknewthatwhenIgotthere,itwouldbebad.”
Badwasanunderstatement.
“Whenyougotthere,werethey…”
Dead.“Yes.Ifoundtheotherdriverfirst.He’dbeenthrownfromhiscar.Hisbodywasonthecenterline.”
Thebloodhadpooledaroundhisslackenedface.He’donlybeeneighteen.Achild.Itwashardtohateachild,butI’dmanageditforfiveyears.
“Itwasahead-oncollisionatfortymilesperhour.Myparents…”MychinquiveredandIslammedmyeyesshut.
Whatpeoplesaidabouttimehealingwoundswasbullshit.Noamountoftimehadmadeiteasiertorelivethatnight.Notanhour.Notaday.Notfiveyears.Becauseeachdaythatpassedwasadaywehadmissedtogether.
MomandDadwouldhavebeensoproudtoseemeinQuincy.Dadwouldhavewarnedmeaboutthegossipmillanddonehisbesttoshieldmefromit,likeGriff.Momwouldhaveinsistedonvisitingeachandeveryweekenduntilmyhousewassetupandperfect.
“That’swhatyouseeinyourdreams,”Griffinwhispered.
Inodded.
Bothofthemhadbeenwearingseatbelts.They’dbeentrappedintheirseats,theirbodiesdestroyedaftertheircarhadrolledsixtimes,landingonitsroof.
“Dad’seyeswereopen.Mom,she,herbody…”Myeyesflooded.Thewordsburnedtoomuch.“Ican’t.”
“Youdon’thaveto.”
Istudiedthetrees,takingafewminutestobreatheasGriffbegantorockusagain.
“Theydidn’tsuffer,”Iwhispered.“Itwasinstant.”
“I’msosorry,Winn.”Griffin’sarmsbandedtighter,andwhenthefirstteardrippeddownmycheek,hejustheldon.HeheldonasIburiedmyfaceinhisneckandcriedforthepeopleI’dlovedmorethananythinginthisworld.
BythetimeIpulledmyselftogether,thesunhadrisenabovethemountainpeaks.
“Thankyouforlistening.”Iwipedmycheeksdry.
“Anytime.”
“You’regoodatit.”
“Practice.I’vegotfivesiblings.”
“No.”Iputmyhandoverhisheart.“It’sjustwhoyouare.”
Hekissedmyhair,hisarmsneverlettinggoaswestayedstucktogetherinthechair.“Whatareyoudoingtoday?”
“Idon’thaveanythingplanned.”Sleep.Atsomepoint,I’dhavetoattemptsleep.
Hepickedusbothup,settingmeonmyfeet.Thenhetracedafingertipacrossthefrecklesonmynose.“Spendthedayhere.”
We’dneverspentthedaytogether.Thathadalwaysbeenaboundary.Andliketheothers,crossingitwasasnaturalasbreathing.
“Okay.”ChapterFourteenGriffin
Onemorningspentinarockingchair,andtheworldhadshifted.Likegoingforarideandveeringoffthemainpathtogetalookfromadifferentangle,andthendiscoveringthatthetrailyou’dbeenonwaslackingineverywayimaginable
Iwasinitwiththiswoman.
Sofuckinginit.
Theshifthadhappenedweeksago.Ormaybethere’dbeensmallturnsalongtheway.Yesterday,duringtheannualQuincyactivities,I’drealizedjusthowdifferentlifewouldbewithWinn.TheFourthhadalwaysbeenfun.Busy,butfun.ExceptI’dstruggledtorelaxandenjoytheday.
Ispentmostofmytimesearchingforher,findingherinthecrowdatvariousevents.WhenIspottedherattheparade,walkingupanddownthesidewalks,herexpressionwasoneofconcentrationandawareness.Oncethestreetsweeperpassed,shedisappeared,probablybacktothestation,andittookeffortnottocallandcheckin.
Instead,Irushedaroundtohelpmysiblings.Knoxneededahandattherestaurantforthelunchrush,soIstoppedatTheEloisetohaulinsupplies.There’dbeenaninety-minutewaitforatable—whichhadn’tseemedtoturnmanypeopleaway.
IleftKnoxhustlingaroundhiskitchen,inhiselementandexactlywherehewantedtobe,thenheadedtothecoffeeshopbecauseLylahadbeenslammedtoo.Someassholehadcloggedoneofthetoilets,soIplungedit,thenclearedtheoverflowinggarbagecans.
ItwasallhandsondeckfortheEdenfamily.Dadwasthegopher,runningaroundtowntothehardwarestoreorthegrocerystoreforwhateveranyoneneeded.MomandTaliawerehelpingLylabehindthecountermakingcoffee.Mateowasatthehotel,workingwithEloisetomakesureguestsweretakencareofforthesold-outweekend.
AsthecommunitymigratedoffMainandtothefairgrounds,myfamilymanagedtogettogether.Wegatheredinourfamily’sregularseatsfortherodeo.Thecoffeeshopwasclosed.SowasKnox’srestaurant.Eloise’sstaffatthehotelwasonduty,sowecouldcometogetherforafewbeersandhotdogs.
TheQuincyrodeowasastandingtradition,muchlikeChristmasorThanksgiving.Itwasoneofthefeweventswealwaysmadesuretoattendtogether,evenifthatmeantclosingshop.Exceptthatevening,surroundedbymyfamily,apiecewasmissing.
Ihadn’trealizeduntillateintheevening,whenI’dglancedacrossthearenaandfoundWinnatthefence,thatthemissingpiecewasher.
Anothershift.
Shebelongedbymyside,notstandingalone.
Especiallynotyesterday.
IwishedIhadknownaboutherparents.She’dprobablyworkedalldayyesterdayasadistraction.Today,ifallIcoulddowaskeepthedistractionscoming,thenI’dbustmyasstomakeithappen.
“Yourhairdryerisnicerthanmine.Imighthavetostealit,”shesaid,comingdownthehallwayfromthemasterbedroom.
Afterwe’dcomeinsidefromtherockingchair,I’dtakenhertothebedroomforacoupleoforgasmsbeforehoppingintotheshower.WhileI’ddressedandcometothekitchentobrewcoffee,she’dgottenreadytoo.
Normallyshewenthometoshower.Nottoday.Today,shewasn’tleavingmysight.
“ThehairdryerisTalia’sdoing.”Ichuckledandhandedherasteamingmug.“Sometimesmysisterswillcrashhereifwehaveafamilyfunctionattheranch.Savesthemfromdrivingintotownifthey’vegottenintomyparents’liquorcabinet.Taliadecidedthatsincethey’retheonlypeoplewhousetheguestbedrooms,theymightaswellhavestuffheretogetreadythenextmorning.”
Winnsippedhercoffee.“That’ssweetthatyouletthemstay.”
Ishrugged.“I’malotlikemydadwhenitcomestomysisters.Twistedaroundtheirlittlefingers.”
“Alsosweet.”
“Howabouteggsforbreakfast?”Iwalkedtothefridge.“Baconorsausage?”
“Either.CanIhelp?”
Ishookmyheadandtookoutthesausage.“Haveaseat.”
Sheslidintoastoolattheisland,watchingwhileImadeaquickscramble.Withitplated,Isatbesideher,thetwoofuseatingquietly.Iwasn’tonetotalkmuchwhentherewasfoodinfrontofme.Ilikedthatshedidn’teither.
Wait.Wasthisthefirstmealwe’dshared?Istoppedchewingandglancedatherprofile.
“What?”sheasked,grabbinganapkintowipeherlips.
“Wehaven’teatentogetherbefore.”
“Therewaslunchmyfirstdayatwork.”
“Thatdoesn’tcount.”
“Then,no,Iguesswehaven’t.Weusuallyskipthedinnerdatesandgostraightforthebed.”
Sexhadalwayscomefirst.Butitfeltlikeweshouldhavebeensharingmealsforweeks.ThatIshouldhavetakenheroutonaproperdate,likedinneratKnox’srestaurantormyfavoritesteakhouseoutsideoftown.“Maybeweshouldtossinadinnerdate.”
Sheheldmygazeforaminute,likeshewastryingtodecideifIwasteasing
“I’mserious.”
Hereyessoftened.“Okay.”
“Howaboutwedosomeexploringtoday?”Iaskedafterwe’dbothfinishedeating.
“Sure.”Shenodded,motioningtoherclothes.Theywerethejeansshe’dhadonlastnightandoneofmyblackT-shirts,whichdwarfedher,soshe’dtieditintoaknotatherhip.“DoIneedtorunhomeandchange?”
“You’llbefine.Haveyoueverriddenahorse?”
“No.”
“Wanttolearn?”
“Notespecially.”ShesmiledasIlaughed.“Maybeoneday.”
Ifandwhenthatonedaycame,I’dteachher.“We’lldoanotherkindofride.”
Soafterourbreakfastdisheswereinthewasher,wesetoutforthebarn.
“Howaboutafour-wheeler?Everdrivenoneofthose?”
“Anotherno.”
“Wanttoridewithme?Ordriveyourown?”
SheeyedthemachineasIfilledthegastank.“Ridewithyou.”
“Goodanswer.”Istraddledtheseat,pattingthebackforhertoclimbonbehindme.ThenIstartedtheengineandsetoutontheroad.
Werodeforanhour,followingoldtrailsaroundtheranch.Winn’sarmsstayedtightaroundmywaist,herheadrestingagainstmyshoulderattimes,asthesunwarmedourskinandthewindblewherhairoffherprettyfaceuntilIcametoastopalongafence.
“Thisisthefarendoftheranch,”Itoldher.
“Thisisallyours?Fromheretoyourhouse?”Shepointedtowardthedirectionthatwe’djustcomefrom.
“Andabitbeyond.”Ipointedleft,thenright.“Thisisthecenterpoint.Howlongwejustrode?Itgoestwiceasfarinbothdirections.”TheEdenranchwasessentiallyarectanglethatstretchedalongthebaseofthemountainsinsomeofthebestcountryunderGod’sbluesky.
“Areallranchesthisbig?”
“Veryfew.”Istoodfromtheseat,climbingoffthemachinetowalktothefencewhereasmallclusterofwildflowerswastangledwiththestalksofgrass.Ipluckedawhiteoneandayellowone,bringingthemtoher.“We’veexpandedovertheyears.Boughtnewproperty.”
“LiketheonenexttoIndigoRidge.”
“Exactly.Afterafewgenerationsofbuyingwhenlandcomesavailable,nowwe’vegotoneofthelargestranchesinthispartofthestate.”
“It’sbeautiful.”Shepressedtheflowerstohernose.“Thanksfortakingmeouttoday.”
“Welcome.”Iproppedahipontheedgeofthefour-wheeler,lookingoutoverthepasture.“It’sbeenawhilesinceI’vedonethis.Justdrivenaround.Notaskinmind.”
“It’sbeenalongtimesinceIdidn’tfilladaywithworkofsomekind.”
“WhataboutinBozeman?Whatdidyoudotheretorelax?”
“Hungoutwithfriends.Didsomehikingaroundthearea.Ihadavegetablegardenonesummer.Skylerruinedthatoneformethough.”
“Howdidheruinit?”
“Hecomplainedthatitwastootimeconsuming.Thatinsteadofhavingoureveningsfreetomeetupwithfriendsorgotoamovieorwhateverelsehewantedtodo,Ilikedtostayhomeandworkinthegarden.MaybeI’llputoneinatmyhousehere.NotthatIhavealotoffreetime.”
“Maybebythistimenextyearyouwill.”
“Yeah.”Shesmiledandliftedtheflowerstohernoseagain.“Maybe.”
“Haveyouheardfromhim?”Iasked.
“No.Hisphonecallsstopped,atleastIthink.Iforgettochargethatphoneallthetime.ButIhaven’thadanymessagestotalkaboutusorthehouse.Ithinkhisvisitherewastheend,butyouneverknowwithhim.Hecanbeunpredictable,whichispartofwhyIstayedwithhimforsolong.He’dactdistantandrudeformonths.I’dswearweweredone.ThenitwaslikeheknewIwasabouttocallitoffbecausehe’dbecomethisentirelydifferentperson.He’dmakemelaugh.He’dbeaffectionateandcaring.WhenIlookbackoveroureightyearstogether,itwaslikelivinginaconstantstateofwhiplash.”
HesoundedlikeamanipulativedickbutIswallowedthatcommentbecauseIsuspectedthatWinnknewitalready.
“Heknewmyparents,”shesaid.“That’stheotherpartofwhyIstayedwithhim.Becausetheyknewhim.OrIguessIshouldsaythatheknewthem.Anyoneelseandtheywouldjustbephotographsandstories.Andtheywouldhavebeenastrangertomyparents.That’snotagreatreasontostickwithsomeonebut…”
“It’sunderstandable.”ItwasthereasonwhyIhadn’tbroughtanyonehometomyparents.Becausetherehadn’tbeenanyoneI’dwantedtogivethemmemoriesabout.
ButWinn…maybeitwastimetotakeMomuponherofferandtakeWinnoverfordinner.
“Why’dyouendit?”Iasked.“Younevertoldmethatnighthewasatyourhouse.”
“Hewassleepingwithsomeoneelse.”Shehuffed.“Ifoundoutbecauseshecalledthehouselookingforhim.Canyoubelieveit?ShethoughtIknewbecauseherhusbandknew.”
“Shewasmarried?”
“Yup.”Winnpoppedtheword.“Apparentlythey’dmadethisarrangement.Sexonly.Herhusbandwasgoodwithit,butSkylermusthaveknownthatI’dsayfuckno,sohe’dhiddentheaffair.”
“Prick.”
“Prettymuch,”shemuttered.“I’mjustguessing,butIbetshedumpedhimandthat’swhyhemadehisvisit.”
“Hethoughtyou’dtakehimback?”Idiot
“Skylergotawaywithalot.HemusthavethoughtthateventuallyI’dforgivehim.ThateventuallyI’dpickaweddingdate.Idon’tknow.Aftermyparentsdied,Ipushedhimaway.Hedidn’tpullmeback.”
Becausehewasafuckingidiot.
“Ithurt,”shesaid,twirlingtheflowersbetweenherfingers.“We’dmadealotofpromisestogether.Eightyearsisalongtimetoliveyourlifearoundsomeone.ButthenIrealizedthatwelivedaroundeachother,notwitheachother.Icouldn’tcountonhim.Thepromisescrumbled.WhenIstartedpeelingmylifeaway,makingitmyown,thereweren’tmanythreadstountangle.Thehouseisallthat’sleftandthat’ssimplypaperwork.”
Atthemoment,Iwasthinkingoftanglingherupsotightshe’dnevergetfree.
“Itworkedoutthewayitneededto,”shesaid.“I’mgladtobehereinQuincy.”
“I’mgladyou’reheretoo.”Istood,returningtotheseatandthehandlebars.ThemomentIwassettled,Winn’sarmswrappedaroundmeandtheinsidesofherthighspressedtotheoutsidesofmine.
Shefitme.Perfectly.Inmorewaysthanjustridingonafour-wheeler.
“Keepgoing?”Iaskedovermyshoulder.“Orheadbacktothehouse?”
“Keepgoing.”
Igrinned,gladshewasenjoyingthis,andstartedtheengine.
Anotherhourlaterandthesunwasbeatingdownonus.We’dworkedourwaypastIndigoRidge,crisscrossingthroughpasturesandbouncingfromonefencetothenext.TheridgewasbehindusandtheonlyreasonI’dcomethisfarwastoshowheronemoreedgeoftheranchsoshecouldgetabetterideaofthesize.
Thebacksideoftheridgewasamassiverise,thehillcoveredinevergreens.Butontheflats,therewasn’tmuchshade.Withoutahat,Iworriedshe’dgetsunburned,soIaimedthewheelsforhome.
Islowedatagate,readytogetoffandopenitforus,whenIglanceduptotheforestandsawaplumeofsmokerisingfromthetreetops.ItwasinaboutthesamespotasBriggs’scabin.“Whatthehell?”
ItwasJuly.FiresinJulywerenotonlyunnecessarybutgoddamndangerous.
“What?”Winnasked,followingmygaze.“Aren’ttherefirerestrictionsrightnow?”
“Yeah.”Iturnedthefour-wheeleraround,andinsteadofheadinghome,wetorethroughthelandscapetowardmyuncle’scabin.
Winnclutchedmetightaswewoundthroughthetreesanduptheroad.Thescentofcharredwoodandcampfirereachedusaswecrestedtheclimbandpulledintothecabin’sclearing.
Briggswasstandingbesideapileofburningpinelimbs,smokebillowingfromitscenter.Theorangeandredflickeroftheflamestickledtheopenair,sendingsparksonthebreeze.
Iparkedandflewoffthefour-wheeler,racingovertomyuncle.“Briggs,whatthehell?”
Hehadashovelinonehand.Ahoseintheother.“Harrison?Whatareyoudoinghere?Didn’tevenhearyoupullup.”
Harrison?Fuck.Iyankedtheshovelfromhishand,slammedtheendintothedirt,steppedoutascoopandtosseditontheflames.
“Hey!I’m—”
“Tryingtoburndownthewholefuckingmountain.”
“It’saslashpileburn.It’sundercontrol.”
Iignoredhim,shovelingasquicklyasIcould.ThenIsnatchedthehosefromhishand,dousingthefire.Steamhissedandpoppedasitbrokethroughthepile.
AsmallcoughmademeturntoseeWinnbehindme.“WhatcanIdo?”
Ihandedherthehose.
“Whoareyou?”Briggsaskedher.“Harrison,whoisthis?Whatthehelldoyouthinkyou’redoingwithanotherwoman?DoesAnneknow?”
“I’mGriffin,Briggs.Griffin,”Ibarked.“ThisisWinslow,andyou’reinherway.Move.”
Heflinchedatthevolumeinmyvoiceandshiedaway.
Damnit.Atmyage,DadandIwouldhavelookednearlyidentical.Ishouldbepatient.Ishouldtakeiteasy.ButafireinJuly?Wewaiteduntilthedeadofwinterwhenthereweretwofeetofsnowonthegroundbeforeweburnedslashpiles.
Therumbleofatruck’senginecamefromtheroad,andDad’spickupskiddedtoastopbesidethefour-wheeler.Heflewoutthedriver’sside,runningourway.“What’sgoingon?Isawsmoke.”
Iwaiteduntilhewascloseenoughtothrowhimtheshovel,sopissedoffIcouldbarelyseestraight.“Talktoyourbrother.HethinksI’myou.”
Withoutanotherword,IgrabbedWinn’sfreehandandpulledherawayfromthehose.Shefollowed,silentlyclimbingonthebackofthefour-wheelerandholdingonasIspeddowntheroadandawayfromthecabin.
“Goddamnit.”Ishookmyhead,myheartracing.
Winn’sholdtightened.She’dheardme.
Werodestraightforhome.Iparkedinthebarn,lettingthequietsettleafterIkilledtheengine.ThenIhungmyhead.“It’sgettingworse.Ididn’twanttobelieveit.Yesterday,hewasso…normal.Attheparade.Attherodeo.”
BriggshadseemedexactlylikethemanI’dknownmyentirelife.He’dgonearoundtownwithDadtohelpforawhile.He’dbeenattherodeoarena,talkingtohisbuddiesanddrinkingabeer.
“HewassonormalthatIthoughtmaybeIwasblowingthisthingoutofproportion.MaybeI’vebeentakingittoofar.But…”
“Youweren’t.”
Ishookmyhead.“Somethinghastochange.”
Andeithermyfatherwouldpushforthatchange,orI’dhavetodoitmyself
“I’msorry,”Winnwhispered,droppingakisstomyshoulder.
Itwisted,takingherfaceinmyhands.Thoseindigoeyessearedintomine.Theysawthefears.Thedoubts.Thefrustration.Theygavemeaplacetoputitall.Aplacetojust…bereal.
She’dtoldmethismorningthatIcarriedburdens.Idid.Butrighthere,inthismoment,shewastheretohelpsharetheload.
Idroppedakisstoherlips,thenhelpedhertoherfeet.“Wesmelllikesmoke.”
Withherhandclaspedinmine,Iledhertothehouseandstraighttothebathroom,whereIturnedontheshower.Westrippedoutofourdirtyclothesandsteppedunderthesprayliketwopeoplewho’dshoweredtogetherahundredtimes.Easy.Comfortable.Andasthesoapcascadedoverourbodies,thesmellofthefireandthestressofmyfamilydisappeareddownthedrain.
MyhandsfoundWinn’swetskinatthesametimeherlipsfoundmine.Thedesireforherswirledwiththesteam,andwhenIliftedherintomyarms,pressingherbackagainstthetiledwalltoslideintohersilkyheat,nothingelseintheworldmattered.
Nodrama.Nofamily.Nofire.
JustWinn.
Wecametogetherwithshakinglimbsandfrenziedmoans,lingeringuntilthewaterrancold.
SheyawnedasIhandedherafreshtowel.
“Tired?”
“I’llbefine.”
“Wanttotryandsleep?”BecauseIcoulduseanapmyself.Ourconversationintherockingchairfeltlikedaysago,nothours.
“Idon’tknow.”Shemetmygazeinthemirrorandthefearbehindthemwaslikeapunchtothegut.
Isteppedcloseandtookherfaceinmyhands,myfingersthreadingthroughthewetstrandsofhairathertemples.“I’llholdyou.Ifyouhaveanightmare,Iwon’tletgo.”
Herbodysaggedandherforeheadfellintomychest.“Okay.”
Withaswiftmove,Ipickedherup,cradlinghertomychest.ThenIretreatedtothebedroom,settingherintheunmadebedanddrawingtheblinds.
Shefellasleepfirst.Iwouldn’tletmyselfsleepuntilshewasunder.AndasIlistenedtoherbreathevenout,Isankinwithher.
Deeperanddeeper.Shepulled.Ifollowed.
Ithadhappenedsonaturally,thisfallintoWinn.LikeIwasoutforashortdrive,andwhenIlookedbacktowhereI’dstarted,insteadoftravelingyards,I’dgonemiles.
Deeperanddeeper,untiltherewasnoturningback.
Iwasinitwiththiswoman.
Sofuckinginit.ChapterFifteenWinslow
“Areyoucomingovertonight?”Griffinwasbarefoot,onestepdownfromwhereIstoodonthetopstairofhisporch.Hewasstilltaller,butitgavemeeasieraccesstohismouth.
“Maybe.”Ileanedinandpressedmylipstohisstubbledcheek.
Hishairwasdisheveled,thestrandsstickingupatallanglesfromwheremyfingershadcombeditearlier.
Griffinhadwokenupfirstandcometothekitchentomakecoffee.Insteadofeatingbreakfast,he’dhoistedmeontothecounteranddevouredmeinstead.
Mymanknewhowtousehistongue.
“Wantmetocometoyourplaceinstead?”heasked.
“Let’sseehowthedaygoes.”Myownbedhadbeendesertedforaweek.Ilovedmylittlehouse,butIlovedGriffin’stoo.
Itwasrelaxingouthereontheranch.Serene.Ihadn’trealizedjusthowloudmythoughtswere,howloudmylifewas—eventhesolitarymoments—untilI’dcomehereandspentafewhoursinarockingchairandclearedmymind.
Myheadwasfullofcasesandstressfromthestation.Despitemybesteffortstosmotherthosefeelings,Iworriedaboutfittinginandmyreputation.
ThemomentIpulledontotheEdenranch,thenoisedulled.Theworriesfaded.Ormaybeitdidn’thaveadamnthingtodowiththepropertybutwiththemanstandingonestepbelowme.
“Haveagoodday.”Ikissedhimgoodbye.
“Youtoo.”Heproppedahipagainsttherailing,hisarmscrossingoverthatbroadchestashewatchedmedescendthestairsandheadformycar.
Itwasearly,themorningairfresh.Theweatherforecastpromiseditwouldbeascorcher,andasIstartedtheDurango,IwishedIhadtakenanotherdaytoenjoythesummersunshine.
Buttherewasworktobedone,soIshovedthekeyintotheignitionandheadedintotown.
Griffinhadwashedmyclothesyesterday,andthoughIdoubtedanyonewouldnoticeIwasinthesameapparelasI’dwornontheFourth,Imadeaquickpitstophometoensuretheplacehadn’tfloodedandswapoutmyclothesforsomethingfresh.
TheshiftchangewasoverbythetimeIarrivedatthestation.Thenight-shiftcrewwerelikelyintheirbedswhileIfilledacoffeecupandsurveyedthequietbullpen.NowthattheFourthwasover,weweretrimmeddownforafewdaystogiveeveryonesomeaddedrest.
Exceptforme.IstifledagroanatthefilesscatteredonmydeskwhenIsettledintomyoffice.Ihadn’tearnedvacationyet.
Onefilealwaysseemedtorisetothetopofthestack.
LilyGreen.
Iflippeditopen,aphotographofherdeathontop.Amonthago,thispicturehadmademecringe.ButI’dstaredatitlongenoughthatnowtheonlyemotionIfeltwassoul-deepsadness.
“Oh,Lily.”Iturnedthegruesomephotoonitsface,thenskimmedtheedgeoftheonebeneath.Itwasthelastselfieshe’dpostedonInstagramforMemorialDay.
LilyGreenwasabeauty,herblondhairlikestrandsofspunsunshine.Hersmilewasasbrightasthestars.Maybeitwasallanillusion.Maybethesmileandthesparklingeyeshadbeenthefa?adeshe’dputonfortheworld.
Itwaseasytoforcesmiles.Itwassimpletolieandtellpeopleyouweredoinggreatwhenthetruthwasthateveryheartbeatcausedyoupain.
I’dspentamonthsearchingforsignsthatLilymighthavebeendepressed.I’dquestionedfriendsandfamily.I’dgoneonanunsuccessfulquesttofindaboyfriend.I’ddugintoallofhersocialmediaaccountsandevenpulledhertextrecordsandcreditcardstatements.
Butthere’dbeennothingtofind.
Maybebecausetherewasnothingtofind.
Nohiddenconfessions.Nosecretboyfriend.Chanceswere,she’dgoneoutwithherfriendstohavesomefun,thenmetaguytohookupwith.ConsideringI’ddonethesamewithGriffinonmyfirstnightintown,itdefinitelywasn’toutofthequestion.
Maybehe’dgonehisownwayandshe’dstayedbehind,sufferinginsilence.
Untilithadjustbeentoomuch.
Itouchedtheedgeofherphotoonemoretime,thenclosedthelidonthefolder.
ObsessingoverLily’ssuicidewasn’tgettingmeanywhere.Becauseoftheirage,therewasalimittothenumberofquestionsIwaswillingtoaskabouttheothersuicides.Myjobwasn’ttoreopenwoundsunlessabsolutelynecessary.Ifparents,friendsandlovedoneswerehealing,Irespectedthatprocess.
Iwaslivingthatprocess.
SomeofmyworstmomentsoverthepastyearhadbeeninBozemanwhenI’dbeengoingaboutmynormaldayonlytohavesomeonewalkuptomeonthestreetandtellmehowsorrytheywereformyloss.Eveniftheymeantwell,eachtimewaslikeaslapintheface.
Peoplehandledgriefdifferently.Somewelcomedtheoutpouringofaffectionandsupport.Others,likeme,helditclosetotheheartandonlyletsmallpiecesgowhentheywereready.
Yesterday,tellingGriffinaboutMom’sandDad’sdeaths,I’dletapiecego.
LilyGreendeservedasmuchenergyasIcouldgiveher.ButMelinaGreendeservedspacetoheal.Today,thatmeantgivingthecasesomeroomtobreathe.
SoItuckedthefileintomydeskdrawer,addingtheothersuicidesbesideit,andIwentaboutclearingmydesk.
BythetimeIleftthestationatsix,myinboxwasnearlyempty,I’dhadthreemeetings,andeveryreportthatI’dneededtoreviewandapprovewasfinished.Theofficershadtakenmycritiquesoftheirreportsbetterthanexpected.Thelackofdetailwaslessnoticeablenow,thoughtherewasstillroomforimprovement.
TwoofthefilesI’dbeengiven,bothhavingtodowithincidentsontheFourth,neededsomerevisions,soIleftthemwithnotesontheofficers’respectivedesks.Thebullpenwasquietagain.Theeveningshifthadclockedin,andbesidesthedispatcheratthephones,theotherofficerswereoutonpatrol.
Ihadcollectedmypurseandwalkedout,keysinhandtolockmyofficedoor,whenInearlycollidedwithOfficerSmithcomingdownthehallway.
“Oh,sorry.”
“Watchit,”hemuttered,givingmeawideberth.
Thisguy.“OfficerSmith,”Icalledtohisbackashewalkedby.
Hehuffedandturned,fistinghishandsonhiships.Hewasinplainclothes,apairoftrackpantsandanathleticshirt.“What?I’moffshift.Justusingthegym.”
Istaredathim,hisruddycheeksandsweatyhair.ForthemonththatI’dbeenhere,I’dbeenkind.I’dbeenpoliteandprofessional,hopingthatintimeI’dwineveryoneover,includingTom.
Callitwishfulthinking,butI’dbeenmakingprogresswiththestaff.Theydidn’tneedtotreatmelikeafriend,anditwouldbebetteriftheydidn’t,buttheywerebeginningtorealizethatIwastheboss.
AndIwasn’tgoinganywhere.
AsIlookedatTomSmithandthesnarlonhislip,IrealizedIwasn’tgoingtoearnhisrespect.Hisloyalty.He’dmadeuphismindanditwouldn’tchange.
“YourreportfromSaturdayislacking.You’llfindmynotesonyourdesk.I’llexpecttoseethecorrectedversiontomorrow.”
Hisnostrilsflared.“Whatever.”
“Chief.Thecorrectresponseis,Yes,Chief.”
Anothernostrilflare.Anothersnarl.Thenhewasgone.
IwaiteduntilIheardthedoorslamopenandclose.ThenIblewoutthebreathI’dbeenholding.Tomorrow,I’dmakesureIhadadecentjobdescriptiondraftedforhispositionincasehequit.OrhepushedmefarenoughthatI’dlethimgo.
Diggingmyphonefrommypurse,IsentGriffinatext.
Myplace.
AsmuchasIwantedaquietnightattheranch,Ihadabottleofwineathomeanditwascallingmyname.
DowntownQuincywasswarmedwithtouristswalkingupanddownMainasIdrovehome.There’dbeenashoplifterthismorningatthekitchengoodsstore.Twospeedingtickets,onealocalandonefromoutofstate.Otherwise,lifeinmynewsmalltownseemedwonderfullysimple.
Tonight,itfeltlikemine.
I’dheardfromlong-timecopsinBozemanthatitwaseasytogetjadedtowardthebad.Thatyousearchedforcrimesaroundeverycorner.Maybeitwouldhappentome.Ormaybethislittletown,evenwithitsfaults,wouldkeepthejaggededgesaway.
Quincywashome.
Iturnedontomystreet,alightnesstomyheart.ItvanishedwhenIspottedafamiliartruckparkedagainstthecurb.Andafamiliarblondreporterstandingonmysidewalk,talkingtomyex.
“Shit,”Imuttered,pullingintothedriveway.“Bothofthem?Ishouldhavegonetotheranch.”
Skylermetmeatthedriver’sside,openingthedoorforme.
“Whatdoyouwant?”Iasked,brushingpasthimandheadingforthehouse.
IignoredEmilyNelsencompletely.Griffhadmentionedshelivedinthisneighborhood.Judgingbytheleggingsandtanktop,she’dbeenoutforajogandmusthavespottedSkyler.Shewasprobablylookingforgossiptospreadinherpreciouspaper.MaybethatIwascheatingonGriffin.
“Winnie.”Skyler’shandtouchedmyelbowaswetooktheporchstairs.
HowironicwasitthatjustyesterdayI’dtoldGriffinaboutSkyler?“What?”
“Let’stalk.Please.”
“Aboutthehouse?Sellit.Idon’tcare.ButIdon’twantit.”
“No.Let’stalkaboutus.”
“Thereisnous.”FromthecornerofmyeyeIspottedEmilyinchcloser.Nosybitch.
“I’vebeenworriedaboutyou.Yesterdayespecially.”
“Yethereyouare,adaylate.”
“Ifiguredyou’dbebusyyesterdayanddidn’twanttobotheryou.”
Orhe’dhadhisownplansandhadn’twantedtocancel.“IfyouactuallycaredabouttheanniversaryofMomandDad’saccident,youwouldn’thaveplannedagolfingweekendlastyearovertheFourth.Ormaybethattripwasjustanexcusetofuckyoursidepiece.”
Hestiffened.“I’vetoldyou.Thatwasjustsex.”
“Nottome.”
“Itwasn’tarealaffair.”
“Oh,soyoudidn’treallyputyourpenisinsidehervagina?”
“Jesus,Winnie.”Heflinched.“Doyouhavetosayitlikethat?”
“Yes.Goaway,Skyler.”Ileanedpasthim.“Andyoutoo.”
Emily’seyeswidened.
“Didyouneedsomething?Anewstory?”Iaskedher.“Becausethereisn’tonehere.Sorrytodisappoint.”
“Iwasjustpassingbyandsayinghello,”shemumbled.
Iwaved.“Hello.”
“Let’stalkinside,whereit’sprivate.”Skylerdroppedhisvoice.
“No.You’renotcominginside.We’redone.We’vebeendoneformonths.Idon’tunderstandwhyyou’rehereandwhatit’sgoingtotakeforyoutodisappearbut—”
“Eightyears.Weweretogetherforeightyears.Wehadahousetogether.”
“Ahouseyourefusetosell.”
“BecauseIcan’t.”Hetosseduphishands.“Iwalkthroughthedoor,anditstillsmellslikeyou.Icanstillseeyouinthelivingroom.IknowIfuckedup.Iwasn’ttherewhenIshouldhavebeen.Ididn’trealizeituntilIcamehomeanditwasn’thomeanymorebecauseyouweregone.Don’tweoweittoeachothertotry?”
“Trywhat?Wewouldn’thavemadeit,Skyler.There’sareasonneitherofuspushedforanactualwedding.There’sareasonwenevermadethatcommitment.Wewouldn’thavemadeit.”ThatwasthetruthIhadn’twantedtoadmitforthoseeightyears.
Therehadn’tbeenenoughloyalty,oneitherside.Ihadn’tmadeourrelationshipapriority.Ithadalwaysbeenanafterthoughttowhatwashappeningwithmycareer.TherewasareasonI’dbeenpromotedsoquicklythroughtheranks.I’dgivenmyjobninety-ninepercentofmyheart.Skylerhadonlygottenfragments.
He’dbeenjustasdedicatedtohisowncareer,andtherewerecoupleslikethatwhomadeitwork.Butwehadn’tsharedanurgencyforoneanother.
Ihadn’tevenrealizedwhatwe’dlackeduntilI’dmetGriffin.Ihadn’tunderstoodwhatitwasliketocraveaperson.Tolongfortheirvoice,theirscent,theirtaste.
EightyearswithSkyler.OnemonthwithGriffin.
I’dchooseGriffineverytime.
“There’sareasonyoucheated,”ItoldSkyler.“Becausewewouldn’thavemadeit.”
“Winnie.”Hesteppedcloser,hishandmovingfrommyelbowtomyshoulder.
“Ifyouwanttokeepthathandattachedtoyourbody,you’lltakeitoffofherrightnow.”ThedeeprumblingvoicebehindSkylersentashiverracingdownmyspine.ThethudofbootsechoedbeforeGriffinsteppedontotheporchandcametomyside.
TheglareheaimedSkyler’swaybroughtasmiletomylips.
JealousyonGriffinEdenlookedincrediblysexy.
“Idon’tknowwhoyouareorwhatyou’redoing,butI’mhavingaconversationwithWinnie,”Skylersaid,standingtaller.
“AndI’mheretogiveheranorgasmbeforedinner.Let’sfindoutwhichoneofusshe’dratherhavestickaround.”
Myjawdropped.
Emily’sgaspwasloudenoughforusalltohear.
“Gohome,Emily,”GriffinbarkedoverSkyler’sshoulder.
Shetensedbutdidn’tmove.
“There’snothingforyouhere,”Grifftoldher.“Notastory.Notme.Gohome.”
Sheswallowedhard,herpridevisiblydinged.Thatmightcostuslater,butthesightofherscurryingdownthesidewalkafterhe’dchosenmewasrewardenough.
“Youtoo,”ItoldSkyler.“Gohome.”
Heshookhishead.“Igetit.Youwantedtoscrewthisguyforawhileandbalancethescales.Fine.Icanlookpasthimifyoucanlookpast—”
“Youlosther.”Griffin’svoicehadanedgeunlikeanythingI’dheardbefore.AnedgethatmademegladIwasstandingonhisside,nottheopposing.“Youfuckedupandlosther.She’smine.AndIwon’tfuckitup.”
Mine.Myheartmeltedintoapuddle.
Nomanhadeverclaimedmebefore.Skyler,dressedinhissignatureblacksuit,hadtakeneightyearsandhe’dneveroncesaidshe’smine
MyexlookedatmeandIignoredhim,toobusyholdingmyselfbackfromhuggingtheangrycowboy.“Griff…”
“Unlockthedoor,Winn.”
Ifoughtasmile.Andfollowedorders,butbeforeIwentinside,IgaveSkyleronelastglance.“Sellthehouse.Letitgo.Letmego.Please.”
Heswallowedhard.Thennodded.
“Thankyou.”ItookGriffin’shand,tugginghimintothehouse.
Heslammedthedoorshut,draggingahandthroughhishair.“Ireallywanttopunchhim.”
“Don’tpunchhim.”
Skylerdidn’twaitaroundthistime.AsquicklyasEmilyhadvanished,sodidhe.Forgood,Isuspected.
“Sothatwas,um…”Awkward?Incredible?Enlightening?Alloftheabove.
“Yeah.”Griffstalkedmyway,closingthedistancebetweenusinasinglestride.Thenhismouthwasonmine,sendingafluttertomyheartandatremblingtomyknees.
Heclaimedme.Onesweepofhistongueandthosewordshe’dtoldSkylerracedthroughmybody.
She’smine.
Hewasminetoo.
Itwasdarkoutsidebythetimeweemergedfromthebedroom.Aspromised,Griffinhaddeliveredonhisorgasmbeforedinner.Three,actually.
“Arewecallinginforfood?”Iopenedmyfridge.“Ordoyouwantcheeseandcrackers?”
“Pizza.”Hewrappedanarmaroundmyshoulders,hisbarechesthotagainstmyback.Thenheclosedthefridge.“Definitelypizza.”
Isaggedagainsthim.“Arewegoingtotalkaboutearlier?”
“Probablyshould,”hemurmuredagainstmyhair.
“We’renotreallycasual,arewe?”
Heshifted,looseninghisarmsohecouldturnmetofacehim.Thosepiercingblueeyessearedintomine.“No.Wearenot.”
“Okay.”Thatwordseemedtoosmallforthis.I’dsayokaytoalatte.Toaglassofchampagne.NottoGriffinproposing,well…whateveritwashewasproposing.Nothingatthemoment.Butthepromiseofafutureneededmorethanasimpleokay
“Yougoodwiththat?”
“Yes.”Anotherword,toosmall.Ormaybeitwastheperfectword.
Thetwoofushadstartedwithayes,whisperedintohisearaswe’dcometogetherinthebackofhistruck.
“Iwanttotakeyoutodinner,”hedeclared.“Onadate.”
“Allright.”Myheadwasspinning.“Tonight?”
“No.”Hegrinnedanddughisphonefromhisjeanspocket.Aftertappingthescreenafewtimes,hepressedittohisear.
Myphoneranginthelivingroom,soIbrushedpastGriffinasheorderedpizzaandhurriedtothefloorwhereI’ddroppedmypurseearlier.Ifoundmypersonalphonefirst,butithadbeendeadfordays.IkeptdigginguntilIhadmyworkphoneinhand.Thestation’snumberflashed.
Shit.
“Hello,”Ianswered.
“Hi,Chief,”Mitchsaid,hisvoicetight.Therewasnosmile.
“What’sgoingon?”
“GotacallfromFrankNigel.”
Myheartgalloped.Frankwouldonlycalliftherewasanemergency.He’dprobablytriedmypersonalphone,andwhenIhadn’tanswered,he’dcalledthestation.“Whathappened?”
“It’sCovie.He’satthehospital.”ChapterSixteenWinslow
“I’mgoingtomoveinwithyou,”ItoldPops,hishandsandwichedbetweenmine.
Hescoffed.“No,you’renot.”
“Idon’tlikethatyouwerealone.”
“Iwasn’talone.IhadFrank.”
Ishookmyhead.“It’snotthesame.”
BecausehadFranknotneededtoborrowawrench,thisentiresituationmighthaveturnedoutdifferently.
“I’mfine.”
“Youhadaheartattack.”
“Amildheartattack.”Hetriedtopryhishandfree,butIwasn’tlettinggo.Notyet.
Ifrowned.“Semantics.”
Popssighed.“Iloveyou,Winnie.”
“Iloveyoutoo.”Mychinbegantoquiver.Ithadbeenalongnightofsittinginthischairandmyemotionswerefrazzled.
“Don’tcry.”
Inoddedandswallowedthelumpinmythroat.Therewouldbecrying.Lotsandlotsofcrying.ButI’dsaveitforwhenIwashomealone.
PopswastheonlyfamilyIhadleft.Dadhadbeenanonlychild.Momhadbeentooandherparentshadpassedawayyearsago.Thereweren’tauntsandunclesandcousinswho’dtakemeinfortheholidays.Who’dtellmetheylovedme.
Popswasit.Andthisheartattackwasabrutalreminderthathewouldn’talwaysbehere.
I’dspentmostoflastnightwatchinghimsleep.Helookedsosmallinthishospitalbed.Thegrayish-bluegownandthebeigewallsbleachedthecolorfromhisface.Theflorescentlightsbroughtouteveryline,everywrinkle.
Lifewasdestinedtoend,butIwasn’treadytolosePops.Iwouldn’teverbeready.
Thetearsfloodingmyeyesdidn’tcarethathewantedmetosuckitup.Onestreakedacrosseachcheek,leavingtwintrails.
“Winnie.I’mokay.”
Iletgoofhishandtodrymyface.“Iknow.”
“Likethedoctorsaid,it’stimetocleanupmydietandreducestress.”
Popswasinsuchgreatshapeforhisage.Hewasn’toverweightanddidn’tgetoutofbreathonourafter-dinnerwalks.ButIguessthatdidn’tmattertohiscloggedarteries.Hischolesterolwastoohighandhehadahigh-pressurejob.“Itwouldbeeasierforyouathomeifyouhadhelptokeepupthehouse.”
“Pfft.”Hewaveditoff.“Thehouseisn’tastress.But…”
“But,what?”
Hestudiedtheceiling,hisheadsinkingdeeperintothepillowsbehindhisshoulders.“Maybeit’stimeformetoretire.”
“Youlovebeingthemayor.”
“Isuredo,sweetheart.Isuredo.”Hegavemeasadsmile.“ButI’moldandbeingmayorisstressful.IfeellikemaybeI’vedoneexactlywhatIneededtodo.I’vebroughtinthenextgenerationtorunthistown.Youincluded.”
Isniffled,catchinganothertearbeforeitcouldfall.“Let’sstartwithyourdiet.I’mnotreadyforanewbossyet.”
Hechuckled.“Deal.”
“Goodmorning.”Aknockcameatthedoorasadoctorsteppedintotheroom.Shewasn’tthesamedoctorwho’dbeenherelastnightwhenGriffinandIhadarrived,butIknewherface.“Hi,I’mTaliaEden.”
“Hi.”Istraightened,standingtoshakeherhand.“I’mWinslowCovington.”
“It’snicetomeetyou.”Herblueeyeswerethesamebrightbluecolorasherbrother’s.TaliawasasbeautifulasGriffinwashandsome.Herrich,brownhairwaspulledintoalongponytailthatswishedbetweenhershoulderbladesasshewalkedovertoPops’sbedside.“Howareyoufeelingtoday,Covie?”
“Good.”
Sheswungastethoscopefromaroundherneckandfitteditagainsthisskin,underthecollarofhisgown.“Deepbreath.”
Hefollowedherordersasshedeliveredthemuntilshewasfinishedwithhercheckup.“HowlongdoIhave,Doc?Threemonths?Six?”
“That’snotfunny,”Iscolded.
Popsgrinned.“I’llbefine.”
“Allofhisvitalsarestrong,”Taliasaid.“Haveyouhadanymorechestpain?”
“Nope,”Popsanswered.
“I’mgoingtokeepyouherefortheday,”shetoldhim.“Justtomonitoreverything.Butifeverythinglooksgoodbytomorrowmorning,we’llsendyouhome.”
Henodded.“Allright.”
“Doeitherofyouhaveanyquestionsforme?”sheasked.
Popsshookhishead.
Iraisedmyhand.
“OhLord,”Popsmumbledwithaneyeroll.
“Questionsaremyspecialty.”AndIaskedthemwithoutshame.
Thefirstfourhadbeeninmyheadsincearrivingatthehospitallastnight.Theycameoutofmymouthinastreamofwordvomit.Howdowepreventthisfromhappeningagain?Istheremedicationhecantake?Lastnight,thedoctormentioneddietchanges.Doyouhavealistoffoodstoavoid?
Taliadidn’tevenblink.Shelistenedtothemallandimmediatelyansweredeachone.“I’llhavethenursebringinsomepamphlets.Theyarefairlygeneric,buttherearesomegoodwebsiteslistedthatprovidemuchmoreinformationindetail.”
“Thankyou.”
“You’rewelcome.”Shesmiled.“Itwasnicetofinallymeetyou.”
“Youtoo.”
Taliawalkedtothedoor,andthemomentsheopenedit,twoangrymalevoicesdriftedinfromthehallway.Sheclearedherthroatandthevoicesstopped.
PopsandIsharedalook.Weknewbothofthosevoices.
IfollowedTaliatothehallway,findingGriffinstandingjustoutsidethedoor.
Hisarmswerecrossedandhiseyesnarrowed.FuryradiatedoffthatwidechestasheglareddownthehallwaytowhereFrankwaswalkingaway.
“What’sgoingon?Why’sFrankleaving?”
Frankdisappearedthroughthedoortothestairwellwithoutabackwardglance
“Letitgo,Griff,”Taliasaid.
“It’snotokay.”Griffshookhishead.“Heunderminedyou.Hewenttoyourboss.”
“What?”Ilookedbetweenthetwoofthem,waitingfortheexplanationneitherwasgiving.WhywouldFrankgotoTalia’sboss?
“Please,dropit.”Shewalkedoverandputherarmonhisshoulder.“Iappreciateyougettingrileduponmybehalf,butit’snotnecessary.”
Griff’sjawclenched.
Talialaughedandpunchedhisbicep.“I’llseeyoulater.”
“Fine,”hemumbled.
“Bye,Winslow.”
“Thanksforeverything,”Isaid,wavingasshewalkeddownthehallwaytowardthenurses’station.Whenshewasoutofearshot,IsteppedclosertoGriffin.“What’swrong?”
“FrankfoundoutthatTaliawasgoingtobeCovie’sdoctortoday,sohewenttoherbossandrequestedsomeoneelse.”
“What?”Taliaseemedperfectlycompetent.Young,buthowmanypeoplethoughtthesameaboutmeinmypositionaschief?“Whywouldhedothat?”
“Becausehe’sanasshole?Idon’tknow.Whileshewasinthere,hegotinmyface.Toldmeshewasn’tqualifiedtobehisdoctor.”
“Idon’tunderstand.Whywouldhethinkthat?”
“ThisisTalia’sfirstyearofresidency.Shegotoutofmedschoolandtheseniorphysicianshereagreedtobringheron.Gethertheexperiencenecessary.BecauseunlikeFrank,theyrealizethatiftheydon’tbringinsomenewdoctors,therewon’tbeanyonetotaketheirplacewhentheyretire.Taliaknowsandlovesthecommunity.She’ssmart.She’sagooddoctor.”
“Youdon’thavetodefendhertome.”Isteppedcloserandputmyhandonhisforearm.“Frankwaswrongtodothat.”
Heuncrossedhisarms,snakingonearoundmywaisttopullmeclose.“Ijustdon’twantyoutothinkthathavingherasCovie’sdoctorwouldputhimatrisk.Sheknowsthatshehasthingstolearn.She’llcallforhelpifshe’sinoverherhead.”
“I’mnotworried.”
“Sorry.”Heblewoutalongbreathandwrappedhisotherarmaroundme.“Howareyouholdingup?”
“Tired.”Iyawned.
AsIleanedintohischest,givinghimmyweight,exhaustioncreptthroughmybones,likeithadbeenwaitingonthefloor,readytoweaveitswayupmylegslikeavinearoundatreetrunk.Ibreathedhimin,takingcomfortfromthatsmell.“Yousmellgood.”
He’dshoweredthismorningandhiscleansoaplingeredonhisskin.
Iprobablysmelledlikeantibacterialhandsanitizerandhospitalair.“They’regoingtokeepPopshereuntiltomorrow.”
“Whydon’tyouheadhome?Getsomerest?”
“That’smyplan.Iwantedtowaitandhearfromthedoctor—Talia—first.”
HeheldmeforafewlongmomentsandIclosedmyeyes,lettinghimbemystrength.AttherattleofanIVpole’swheels,Ipulledaway.Amaninahospitalgownandrobeemergedfromhisroomnextdoorinslipperedfeet.
“WanttosayhitoPops?”Iasked.
“Definitely.”Heclampedmyhandinhis,holdingittight,likehehadlastnight.LikeheknewIneededit.
Whenwe’darrived,Popshadbeenintheemergencyroom.Afterthedoctorshadfeltconfidentthattheheartattackhadpassed,they’dwhiskedhimawayforaseriesoftests.Ithadtakenhours,andGriffinhadstayedbymysideinthewaitingroom,holdingmyhandthrougheveryminute.
Frankhadstayedtoo,andwhateveranimositythetwoofthemhadforeachother,they’dputawayforthenight.Clearly,thetrucehadendedsometimeafterthey’dsettledPopsintoanovernightroomandI’dinsistedGriffingohome.
“Hey,Covie.”Griffindidn’tletgoofmyhandaswewalkedintotheroom.HejustusedhisotheronetoshakePops’shand.“Howareyoufeelingtoday?”
“Better.I’mingoodhandswithyoursisterasmydoctor.”
“Icouldn’tagreemore,”Griffsaid.
Imovedtositontheedgeofthebedbymygrandfather’sfeet,buttheminutemybutttouchedthewhiteblanket,Popspointedtothedoor.
“Out.Go.Now.”Hesnappedhisfingers.
“Afteryoueatyourbreakfast.”
Hescowled,andwhenIdidn’tbudge,heknewIwasn’tgoingtobeswayed.IwantedtostickaroundtohelpwithhismealandhopefullyFrankwouldcomeback.IwantedtofindoutwhyhewassoopposedtoTalia.Itdidn’tmakesenseandIdidn’twanthimputtingunnecessarydoubtsinPops’sheadeither.
“Youguysneedmetobringyouanything?”Griffinasked.
“No.”Iyawnedagain.
“Gohome,Winnie,”Popspleaded.“I’mfine.”
“Iwillsoon,”Ipromised.
“I’mgoingtogetoutofthewaysoyoucangetsomerest,Covie.”Griffinclappedahandonmygrandpa’sshoulder.“Gladyou’redoingokay.”
“Metoo,”Popssaid.
“I’llwalkyouout.”IstoodfromthebedonheavylegsandwentwithGriffintothehallway.
“Don’tstaytoolong.”Hetouchedthefrecklesonmynose.
“Iwon’t.I’mgoingtoheadhomeandshowerandtakeapowernap.”
“Thenyou’regoingtoworkbeforecomingbackhere.”
Icockedmyhead.“AmIreallythatpredictable?”
“Yes.”Hebenttokissmyforehead.“Callmelater.”
“Iwill.”Iwaitedashewalkeddownthehallway,disappearingthroughthesamedoorwhereFrankhadboltedearlier.Whenitclosedbehindhim,Igavemyselfamomenttofeelworndown.
Threeheartbeats.Four.Thenthesoundoffootstepsforcedmetoturnaround.
“Hey,Frank.”Ididn’tforcecheerintomyvoicebecausewell…he’dirritatedme.Iwasgratefulthathe’dfoundPopsonthecouch.ThatwhenPopshadtoldhimhewashavingchestpains,hehadn’tdelayedorwaitedtoseeifthey’dpass.He’dsimplyloadedmygrandfatherintohiscaranddrivenhimtothehospital.
Butdidhehavetocausedrama?Today?
Hereadtheirritationonmyface—Iwastootiredtodoadecentjobdisguisingit.“GriffintoldyouIaskedforanotherdoctorbesidesTalia,didn’the?”
“Yes,hedid.Why?Wemetwithherandsheseemsquitecapable.”
“She’snotarealdoctor.”
“She’saresident.”
“Whichisbasicallyanintern.Don’tyouwanthimtohavethebest?”
“OfcourseIdo.”ButIwasalsotrustingthehospitaltoknowhowtoappropriatelyhandlestaffing.ItwasthesamerespectIappreciatedwithmyownposition.
“Thendon’tlettheEdensfoolyou.Idon’tknowwhatyou’vegotgoingonwithGriffin.”Frankspathisname.“Just…becareful.Stayonguard.”
Iblinked.“Onguard.Againstwhat?”
Frankglancedoverhisshoulder,makingsurewewerealone.Thenheinchedcloserandloweredhisvoice.“Griffin’sworkedhiswaythroughplentyofwomeninthistown.Andoutside.”
Ifrowned.ThiswasnotsomethingIneededtothinkabouttoday.Orever.ButbeforeIcouldtellFrankthatwasmyproblem,nothis,hekepttalking.
“Briggsbeathiswife.That’swhyshelefthim.”
Thewheelsofmymindscreechedtoastop.“What?”
“ShewasRain’sbestfriend.Ittookheralongtimetoconfessthathewasabusive.Shecameoveronenightcrying.ToldRaineverything.Thenextday,shewasgone.”
“Gone?Where?”
“Idon’tknow,Winnie.Sheleft.Itwasalongtimeago,butthat’swhyI’mtellingyoutobecareful.MaybeshelefthimandneededtoseverallconnectionstoQuincy.ButRainwasdevastated.Shelostherbestfriend.AndtherewasnothingshecoulddotoBriggs.”
Ipinchedthebridgeofmynose.“Anythingelse?”
“Otherthanthefactthathe’slosinghisdamnmindandnooneseemstocarethathedrivesaroundtownwithriflesinhistruckwindow?No.”
SoGriffinandhisfamilyweren’ttheonlyoneswho’dnoticedBriggs’sdementia.Ikeptmymouthshutbecauseitwasn’tmybusiness.
Frankputhishandonmyshoulder.“Howareyouholdingup?”
“I’mallright.Tired.”
“Howaboutyouheadonhome?I’llstickwithCovieforawhile.”
“Areyousure?”
“Ofcourse.ButmaybechargeyourphonesoIcanactuallygetaholdofyouifsomethinghappens.”
Inodded.Asoflastnight,Ivowedtoneverletthatphonegodeadagain.
ThetwoofuswalkedintoPops’sroom,andafteralonghuggoodbye,IlefthimwithFrankandheadedfortheparkinglot.
ExceptthemomentIslidbehindthewheel,mybraindecidedtogointohyperdrive.There’dbenonapping,notafterwhatFrankhadjusttoldme.
WasFrankjustouttocreatedramatoday?OrhadBriggsabusedhiswife?GriffhadbeensoforthcomingaboutBriggs’sdementia.Whywouldn’thementionanythingaboutBriggs’sex-wife?UnlessmaybeGriffdidn’tknow.DependingonwhenBriggshadbeenmarried,thatmighthavebeenwhenGriffinwasalittlekid.
ButBriggswastheonlypersonwholivedanywherenearIndigoRidge.Hismentalhealthwasdeteriorating,andifhehadahistoryofviolence,well…thatchangedeverything.
Ipulledoutoftheparkinglotanddrovetothestation.WordaroundQuincyhadtraveledfastandIwasinundatedwithquestionsaboutPopswhenIwalkedthroughthedoor.Janicewaspracticallyinapanic.
Afterassuringeveryonethathewasfine,Iretreatedtomyoffice,whereIclosedthedoorandloggedontomycomputer.
PullingabackgroundcheckonBriggsEdenfeltlikeabetrayal.MyskincrawledasitloadedandIsquirmedinmyseat.Butthemomentthereportappearedonmyscreen,Ibegansiftingthroughtheinformation.
Birthdate.Addresses.Phonenumbers.Knownrelations.Andthenthecriminalrecord.
Itwasempty.Nodomesticabuse.Nospeedingtickets.Notevenaparkingticketinthepasttenyears.
Iclosedthescreenandstared,unfocused,atmydesk.“Huh.”
MaybeFrankhaditwrong.
Ipickedupapenfornoreasonotherthantotapit.Thesteadyclick,likethesoundofmyfifth-gradepianoteacher’smetronome,groundedmythoughts.Itletmeblockoutthenoiseandjust…think.
Iftherehadonlybeenaminorscuffle,noactualabuse,thenitwasunlikelythepolicewouldhavebeennotifiedtoarresthim.OrmaybeifBriggs’swifehadonlytoldRain.Maybeshe’dkeptitsecret,fearingforhersafety.
IgrabbedmyphonefrommypurseandpulledupGriffin’sname,myfingerhoveringoverthescreen.ButIsetitaside.
Thiswashisfamily.Hislife.
Ifhedidn’tknowaboutBriggs,thiswasnothowIwantedhimtofindout.NotfromFrank’sgossiping.Ifhedidknow,thentherewasareasonhehadn’ttoldmeaboutit.
Tonight.Wecouldtalkaboutittonight.
AfterImadeavisit.
GuiltplaguedmeasIdroveoutoftown.AknotformedinmybellythecloserandcloserIgottowardtheranch.BythetimeIturnedontothegravelroadthatledtoBriggs’scabin,Iwassweating,evenwiththeairconditionerblasting.
GriffinhadknownforawhilenowthatI’dplannedontalkingtohisuncle.I’dtoldhimasmuchthedayhe’dbroughtmeLilyGreen’sboots.SowhydidIfeellikeIwasbreakinghistrust?Hecouldn’tcomealong.Thiswasanofficialvisit.
Thiswasmedoingmyjob.
IswallowedmydoubtsasIparkedbesideBriggs’struck.ThespotwherethefirehadbeenonSundaywasnowacircleofblackgrass.Initscenterremainedapileofgrayash.Thecharredlimbshadbeenhauledaway.Evendayslater,IsworeIcouldsmellthescentofburningpine.
Iwalkedtothecabin,steppingbeneaththeoverhang.BeforeIcouldknock,itflewopenandBriggsEden’sbroadframecrowdedthethreshold.WouldGriffinlooklikehiminthirtyyears?Theyhadthesamenose.Thesameshapetotheirlips.ButBriggshadaroughedge,maybefromlivingaloneforsomanyyears.
“Hi.”Iheldoutahand.“I’mWinslowCovington.Wemettheotherday.IcameupherewithGriffin.”
Briggs’sgazedroppedtomyoutstretchedhand,thenbacktomyface.“Who?”
“WinslowCovington.I’mQuincy’snewchiefofpolice.”
Therewasn’taflickerofrecognition.
“Iwasupherethedayofthefire.”
“Oh,uh…sorry.”Heshookhishead,thenfithislargehandovermine.“IjustwokeupfromanapandI’mabitfuzzy.Youknowhowthatgoes.”
“Sure.”
“Comeonin.”Hesteppedbacktowavemeinside.“Winslow,wasit?”
“That’sright.”
“CanIgetyousomewater?”
“Thatwouldbelovely.Thanks.”
Hemovedtothekitchenandpulledtwounmatchedglassesfromacabinet.
Thecabinsmelledofbacongreaseandfriedeggs.Mystomachsqueezed—Ihadn’teatensincelunchyesterday.
Acast-ironskilletsatontherange.Therewasamasonjaronthekitchencounterfilledwithpickedwildflowers.Themainroomwasonewide-openspacewiththekitchenandadiningtabletooneside.OppositewasalivingroomwithtwocouchesandaTVangledonastandinthecorner.
Thecoffeetablehadtwobooksstackedneatlyonthesurface.TheDVDsbelowthetelevisionwerearrangedinaperfectline.Therewasabookshelfagainstthewall,butunliketherestofthehouse,itsshelveswerechaos.
Thatbookshelflookedlikeitbelongedinmyhomeoroffice,notthistidycabin.Therewasabundleofrollednewspapers.Scatteredpaperbacks.Ahammerthatlookednew.Ajigsawpuzzle.Ajarofpens.
Theclutterwassenseless.Whereotherpeoplehadajunkdrawer,Briggshadjunkshelves.Therewasapileofunopenedbills.Apocketknifethathadseenbetterdays.Andapurse.
Whywouldhehaveapurse?Andwhydiditlooksofamiliar?Itookastepcloser,inspectingthesmooth,camelleatherwithexposedchocolatestitchingattheseams.
“Thisisbeautiful.”Ilifteditfromtheshelf,turningtoholdituptoBriggs.“Yourwifeorgirlfriendhasexquisitetaste.”
“I’mnotmarried.”Hechuckled,bringingmeoveraglassofwater.“Notanymore.Mywifeleftmeagesago.We,uh…wehadsomeproblems.Turnsout,beingabachelorsuitedmejustfine.”
Ismiledandsippedmywater.Itwasn’tlikeIcouldaskhimifhe’dbeatherandthatwasthereasonthey’dhadproblems.Today’svisitwasn’ttoconfirmordenyFrank’sgossip.Briggsappearedlucid.Todaywastofeelhimout.Andmaybefindoutwhyhehadthispurse.
“Didyoumakethis,then?Areyoualeathercraftsman?”
“Lord,no.I’mtooimpatienttomasteracraft.Iwasbuiltformanuallabor.”Hisfacechangedashechuckled.Theroughedgessoftened.Thecrinklesathiseyesdeepened.“IfoundthatonahikearoundIndigoRidge.Thoughtitwastoonicetoleaveonthetrail.”
Therewasn’tasmidgeofdirtonthebag.Eitherhe’dcleaneditafterfindingit.
Or…
Ididn’twanttothinkofthealternative.Ididn’twanttothinkthatthispursehadn’tbeenfound,butkeptasasouvenir.
“WouldyoumindifIlookedattheliningandtheinside?”Iasked.
“Goforit.”Aphonechimecamefromthebackofthecabin.“Letmegogetthat.”
“Ofcourse.”Iwaitedforhimtoleave,thentookaquickvideoofthepursewithmyphone,swivelingitaroundtogetashotatallangles.
Thepurplesilkliningwasascleanandflawlessastheexterior,anditsmelledlikenewleather.ThefrontflapwasmonogramedwithanH
Theinsidewasemptyexceptforawallet,tuckedatthebottom.Asquare,seafoamgreenwalletwithagoldzipper.Awalletasfeminineasthiscabinwasmasculine.
Ipluckeditfromthepurse.Thezipperwasopen.Insidewasafoldedtwenty-dollarbillandadriver’slicense.
LilyGreen’sdriver’slicense.ChapterSeventeenGriffin
“Areyoudecent?”Knoxcalledfromthefrontdoor.
“No,”Ilied.
Hecameinsideanyway.“Areyoualone?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn.Iwashopingtomeetthechief.I’mfeelingleftout.”
“Mateohasn’tmethereither.”Inoddedtotheplasticcontainerinhishand.“What’sthat?”
“Breakfast.”Hesetitonthecounterbeforeheadingtothecoffeepot.“RememberatChristmaswhenthatbakerfromCaliforniastayedatthehotel?We’vebeenemailing,exchangingrecipes.Italkedherintogivingmehercinnamonrollrecipe.Imadesomeearlythismorning,tookabatchtoMomandDad’s.ThoughtI’ddropsomeheretoo.”
“Thanks.”Ipoppedthelidoffthecontainerandmymouthwateredatthescentofcinnamonandbreadandsugar.Eachrollwasasbigasmyface.
Knoxhadbroughttwo,probablythinkingWinnwashere.
“YoulookaboutastiredasIfeel,”hesaid.
“Iam.”Iyawned.
ThecoffeeI’dbeendrinkingsincefourhadn’tkickedinyet.Ihadn’tsleptwelllastnight,mostlytossingandturning.Eachtimemyarmwouldtouchtheemptysideofthebed,I’dwake,worryingthatWinnhadleftafteranothernightmare.ThenI’drememberthatshe’dstayedatthehospital,andnotlongafterI’dfallbackasleep,itwouldhappenagain.
Finally,asthefaintraysofdawnhadcreptthroughmybedroomwindows,I’ddecidedtogetupandworkintheoffice.
“How’sCoviedoing?”
“Better.Winnstayedatthehospitalagainlastnight.”Againstmypleadingtextsforhertosleepinabed,notthatdamnchair.ButifIwasinherposition,Iwouldhavedonethesame.“SoundslikeCovieshouldgettoheadhometoday.”
“Gladtohearit.”
“Gladtosayit.”Ididn’twantthatsortoflossforWinn.
“What’snew?”Knoxasked,takingasipofcoffee.“FeelslikeIhaven’tseenyouinages.”
“Yousatbesidemeattherodeo.”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
“Yeah,Ido.”SinceWinnhadinvadedmylife,she’dbeentheconstantfocus.Beforeher,I’dheadtotherestaurantandletKnoxcookmedinneronceortwiceaweek.
“You’reseriousaboutthisone,aren’tyou?”heasked.
“Iam.”
“Damn.”Heblinked.“Thoughtyou’ddenyit.”
“NotwithWinn.”
“Rememberthattimewhenwewere,what,twelveandten?Wemadeapacttonevergetmarried.”
“Iremember.”Ichuckled.“Girlsaregross.Boysrule.”
“Weweregoingtobuildatreehouseandliveinitforever.”Knoxlaughed.“Thenwehitpubertyandthetree-houseplansweretorched.”
We’dbothbeenfairlypopularatQuincyHigh,andneitherofushadgonelongwithoutagirlfriend.ThoughKnoxhadalwaysdatedmoreseriously,I’dbeenatypicalteenageboy—initforthesex.
Hell,that’showithadbeenmywholelife.That’showithadstartedwithWinn.
Butiftherewasawomantostealforthefuture,itwasher.
I’dthoughttherewouldn’tbetimetoaddanotherperson,anothercommitment,tomylife.Butbeingwithherwasn’twork.Shefit.Seamlessly.
Iwasn’tgettinganyyounger.Myfamilywasbigandloudandexhaustingmoreoftenthannot.Buttheideaofbuildingmyownlegacy,havingmyownchildren,grewmoreandmoreappealingeachday.
Ishookmyhead,gettingaheadofwherewewere.First,we’dstartwithintroductionstomyfamily.Andadate.Shedeservedafirstdate.“I’llbringWinndowntodinner.Tonight,ifshe’suptoit.”
“Thatwouldbegreat.”Knoxwenttotheislandandslidontoastool.
Thenormalstubbleonhisfacehadgrownsothickitwasalmostabeard.Hishairwaslongerthanithadbeeninyears,curlingatthenapeofhisneckandasshaggyasmine.WiththeblacktattoosonhisbicepspeekingoutfrombeneaththesleevesofhisT-shirt,helookedmorelikethebikerswhorolledthroughQuincyeachsummerontheirwaytoSturgisthanasuccessfulbusinessmanandchef.
ThoughIguessthat’sprobablywhatpeoplethoughtofmetoo.Iworedirtyjeansandscuffedbootstorunthismultimillion-dollarranch.
“MomandDadtoldmeaboutBriggsthismorning,”Knoxsaid.“Soundsbad.”
“Itis.”Isighed.“Andtheworstpartishowfastit’shappening.”
“He’sbeencomingintotherestaurantforlunch.Two,threetimesaweek.Seemstotallyfine.”
“Ithinkmostofthetime,heis.Butthatdoesn’tmatterifduringthebadtimeshetriestoburnthegoddamnranchdown.”
“Agreed.Dadsaidhewasgoingtomakesomecallstoday.”
“It’stherightthingtodo.You’ddoitforme.”
“Iwould.”Knoxnodded.“Justlikeyou’ddoitforme.”
Iwaveditoff,notwantingtotalkaboutthistoday.Notwantingtothinkaboutmybrothergoingthroughsomethinglikethis.
KnoxandIweretheclosestinage.Atonlytwoyearsapart,thetwoofushadbeeninseparableaskids.We’dexploredtheranch,buildingfortsandhuntinginvisiblemonsterswithourBBguns.
We’dbothbeendisgustedwithourparentsforhavingthreegirls.AndbythetimeMateowasborn,nineyearsyoungerthanme,wehadn’tplayedmuchwithhimasayoungboy.Thetimeswehad,itwasasababysitter.
IlovedMateo,butmybondwithKnoxwentdeeper.HewastheoneI’dcalledmysenioryearwhenI’dgottentoodrunkatakegpartyandneededaride.He’dcalledmetobailhimoutofjailaftergettingtangledinabarfightyearsago.Awomanatthebarhadbeenarguingwithherboyfriend,andwhentheboyfriendhadbackhandedher,Knoxhadtaughtthesonofabitchalesson.
Gonewerethedrunkennights.Anymore,thetwoofuswouldsitonmyporchandhaveafewbeers.Sometimeshe’dcrashhereinsteadofdrivingtohisplaceintown.
“Areyouworkingtoday?”Iasked.
“Always.You?”
“Everyday.”
Jim,Conorandtheotherhandshadalreadystoppedbytocheckinfortheday.Withallofthemoutworking,I’ddecidedtostickclosertohome.Mostly,IwantedtobearoundifWinncameout.
“Speakingofwork”—Knoxdrainedtherestofhiscoffee—“I’dbettergetgoing.Prepworkiswaiting.We’vebeenslammedlately.”
“That’sagoodthing,right?”
Hegrinned.“Wouldn’thaveitanyotherway.”
Knox’sdreamwastorunhisownrestaurant.He’dalwayslovedbeinginthekitchen,workingbesideMom,soakingupeverythingshecouldtellhim.Whenhe’dannouncedthathewasgoingtoculinaryschool,noneofushadbeensurprised.
“I’llbeinfordinner.WithorwithoutWinn.Maybeafter,ifyoucangetaway,wecanheadtoWillie’sforabeer.”
“You’reon.”Hestoodand,withawave,headedforthedoor.
Ifinishedmyowncupofcoffee,thenfoundmyworkbootsandwenttothebarn.
Myplanwastospendanhourortwooutside,thentakeashowerand,ifIhadn’theardfromWinnyet,headtotown.ThiswasthelongestI’dgonewithoutseeingherinaweek.WithallshehadhappeningwithCovie,Iwasworried.
Shehadn’trepliedtothelastmessageI’dsentherthismorningtocheckin.Shewasprobablybusygettinghergrandfatheroutofthehospitalandtohishome.Butstill,Iworried.
Momhadtoldmeoncethatweworriedforthosewelovedmost.
ForWinn,I’dalwaysworry.
ItwassomethingI’dhavetofigureout.Getahandleon.Shehadadangerousjob,andthoughshewasn’toutonnightlypatrols,thereweretimeswhenshe’dbeonthestreetswiththewackos.ItwasthereasonI’dstayedawakeontheFourth.I’dknownshewasoutandthathadkeptmeupuntilshe’dcomeover.
Thoseworrieswereaconstantrattleinmyhead.Evenanhourdoingphysicalchoresinthebarndidn’tclearmymindlikeitusuallydid.
IwasinthemiddleofcleaningoutJupiter’sstallwhenthecrunchoftirescamefromthedriveway.Istrodeintothesunshine,andtheknotinmychestloosenedasWinnsteppedoutoftheunmarkedExplorershedroveforwork.
“Hey,baby.”Iwalkedrighttoherandpulledherintomyarms.“Howareyou?”
Shestiffened,shyingaway.“Fine.”
“Oh,sorry.”IbrushedatmysweatychestandthebitsofhaystucktomyT-shirt.“How’ditgoatthehospital?How’sCovie?”
“He’sokay.Homeandsettledforthemoment.”Shemetmygazeforabriefsecond,thenherblueirisesdroppedtomyshoulder.Shestoodstiff,herforeheadfurrowed.Thereweredarkcirclesunderhereyesandthenormalflushtohercheekswasmissing.
“Didyousleepatall?”
“Notreally.”Sheshookherhead,thensquaredhershouldersandstraightened.“Ineedtotalktoyouaboutsomething.”
“Okay,”Idrawled.“About?”
“Youruncle.”
“Briggs?Didsomethinghappen?”
Shenodded.“I’mgoingtobringhiminforquestioning.”
“Questioning?Forwhat?”
“Iwenttoseehimyesterday.”
Iblinked,tryingtowrapmyheadaroundthis.I’dbeenworriedabouther,thinkingshewasatthehospitalwithCovie.Thinkingaboutherathomealone,tryingtogetsomesleep.Butshe’dbeenontheranch.Myranch.“Youwenttothecabin.Yesterday,afterthehospital.Withoutme?”
“ItoldyouweeksagoIwasgoingtotalktohim.”
“Yeah,butyoucouldhavewarnedme.”Weren’tweatthepointwherewesharedthissortofthing?
“Ineededtodothisalone.”
“Alone.”Whatthehell?Itookastepbackandcrossedmyarmsovermychest.“Why?”
“There’sarumorthathehasahistoryofviolencetowardwomen.”
“Arumor.”Iscoffed.“NowIgetit.YouwerelisteningtoFrank’spoison.Therewasnoabuse.Briggs’swifelefthimbecauseshewasaspoiledbitch.Shethoughthe’dtakeovertheranchandgetthemoney.Whensherealizedhehadnointerestinrunningthisplaceandwasgoingtoletmydadtakeitall,sheskippedtown—withallofhismoney,bytheway.Andbeforesheleft,shedecidedtofuckuphisreputationfirst.”
EveryonewhoknewBriggsknewthetruth.Hewouldneverhavehithiswife.He’dadoredher,andwhenshe’dlefthim,ithadbrokenhisheart.
“Youshouldhavecometomefirst,”Isnapped.“Forthetruth.”
Winntensed.“I’mcomingtoyounow.”
“Towhat?Totellmethatyou’regoingtohaulmyuncleinforquestioningonamaritaldisputefromdecadesago?”
“I’mbringinghimintotalkaboutLilyGreenandHarmonyHardt.”
Myheartstopped.“Why?”
“WhenIwasatthecabin,Ifoundapurseandawallet.ThepursewasHarmony’s.Hermotherconfirmeditformeyesterdayafternoon.ThewalletwasLily’s.”
“Yousearchedmyuncle’scabin.”Shemightaswellhaveslappedmeintheface.
“No.HeinvitedmeinandIsawthepurseonhisbookshelf.”
ThebookshelfthatwasalwayssoclusteredandfullofjunkIhadn’treallynoticedwhathe’dkeptonit.Thecontentschangedconstantly,andtheonlytimesIpaiditmuchattentionwerewhenI’dgotothecabinandfindtheshelvesorganized.
“Thewalletwasinside,”shesaid.“Hegavemepermissiontolook.”
Wasthatsupposedtomakemefeellikeshehadn’tbetrayedme?
Ishookmyhead,mymolarsgrindingtogethersotightmyteethhurt.“Ican’tbelieveyou’ddothis.”
“I’mdoingmyjob.”
“You’retakingFrankmotherfuckingNigel’sopinionovermine.”
Sheflinched.“No,I’mnot.”
“Itoldyouoncethatthebastardhatesmyfamily.I’veknownhimmyentirelifeandhe’salwaystreatedmelikeshitbeneathhisshoe.”Ifshewasgoingtogetpulledintotherumormill,thenshemightaswellgetsomefactstobalanceoutthebullshit.“Didyouknowthereasonhe’ssuchapricktoTaliaisbecausehehitonherwhenshewaseighteenandshetoldhimtofuckoff?”
Winnblinked.“I,um…no.”
“OrhowhegoesintothecoffeeshopwhenLylaistheonlyoneworkingandmakesherfeeluncomfortable?Didhetellyouhowshe’shadtoexcuseherselfintothebackroomtwicetocallKnoxtocomeoversoshe’snotalonewithFrank?”
“No.He…”Sheshookherhead.“What?Frank?I’veknownhimmywholelife.Maybehe’saflirtbuthe’sharmless.”
“SoisBriggs.”
Sheopenedhermouth,thenclosedit,takingamomenttoweighherwords.“Ijustwantedtogiveyouaheads-up.”
“Alittletoolate,don’tyouthink?”
WhileI’dbeenworriedaboutheryesterday,thinkingshewasdistraughtoverCovie’sheartattack,she’dbeenonmyproperty,talkingtomyunclewhensheknewwehadfamilyshithappeningwithhimatthemoment.
“Ididn’thavetocomehereatall.”Herexpressionhardened.“Byallrights,Ishouldn’thavetoldyou,butbecauseofourrelationship,Ididn’twantyoutohearitfromanyoneelse.”
“Ourrelationship.”Iclenchedmyjaw.ArelationshipthatI’dthoughtwasseriousenoughthatshe’dcometomebeforebelievingFrank’sbullshit.
Winnheldupherhands.“Ineedtogo.”
“Fine.”
IrefusedtolookatherasshereturnedtotheSUV,reversedawayanddisappeareddowntheroad.Whenthesoundofherenginewasdrownedbydistance,Ikickedarock.“Fuck.”
Thiswasgoingtobeamess.Arealfuckingmess.WhatifBriggssaidthewrongthing?WhywouldhehaveHarmonyHardt’spurse?AndLilyGreen’swallet?
Iwouldn’tgetthechancetoaskhimfirst.Winnwasprobablyalreadyonherwaytothecabin.Andtheminuteshebroughthimintothestation,theentiretownwouldknow.Oneoftheofficersatthestationwouldtalk,andbeforemyfamilyandIhadanswers,Briggswouldhaveearnedyetanotherblackmarkonhisreputationthatwouldlasttherestofhisdays.Justliketheonehisexhaddelivered.
Decadeslater,therewerethosewhostillbelievedhe’dbeather.AndpeoplelikeFrank,thosewhodidn’tlikethatourfamilywassoingrainedinQuincy,onlymadeitworse.
Therumormillwasabouttospinoutofcontrol.
“Fuck!”Ishouted,thenspunandjoggedforthehouse.Iswipedmykeysoffthecounterandhustledtomytruck.
ItswheelsleftatrailofdustasIspedalongthegravelroadtoMomandDad’s.
Wecouldhavetalkedatthecabin.Winncouldhavequestionedhimtherewithoneofuspresent.Whywassheinsistingondragginghimintotown?
Briggshadmostlikelyfoundthepurseandwalletononeofhishikes.MuchlikeLily’sboots.ThedayI’dtakenthosetoheroffice,she’dtoldmeshewasgoingtotalktoBriggs.Assheshould.Butwasitreallynecessarytobringhimintothestation?
Istompedthegaspedal.
IfBriggswashavinganepisode,ifhewasn’tassharpashenormallywas,whatwouldhesaytoher?Itfeltlikeshewashandingthemanashovelandtellinghimtodighisowngrave.Allbecauseshehadquestionstoask.
Herdamnquestions.WinnhadbeensoagainstcallingLily’sdeathasuicide.Butweallknewitwassuicide.Thewholetown.Sowhywouldn’tshejustletitgo?
Thiswasnothingmorethanacaseoflostandfound.Apurseandawallet.Hell,thatpursehadprobablybeenoutonatrailforyearscollectingdustandrain.
IfIbegged,wouldshetakeBriggstothemainhouse?CouldwehavethisconversationatMomandDad’skitchentable,wherehe’dfeelmorecomfortable?
Ishiftedanddugmyphonefrommybackpocket,bringinguphername.Thecallwentstraighttovoicemail.
“Shit.”Idrovefaster.
Thepitinmystomachdoubledinsize.
MaybethereasonIwassopissedwasn’tbecauseWinnwasgoingtotalktoBriggs.ItwasbecauseIwasfuckingterrifiedthatmaybetherewasareasonwhy.
Shewouldn’thaulhimtothestationiftherewasn’tsomethingwrong.Right?
Whathadbeeninthatpurse?Whyhadn’tBriggsturneditinafterHarmonyHardt’sdeath?WhyhadhekeptLilyGreen’swallet?Heknewwherethosegirlshaddied.
Fuck.Ifhe’dhadsomethingtodowiththosedeaths…
No.Thosepoorgirlshadkilledthemselves.Theformerchiefhadinvestigated.HarmonyHardthadbeendepressed.She’dbeenstrugglingwithmoodswingsaccordingtoherclosestfriends.
Herdeathhadnothingtodowithmyuncle.Mykind,gentleunclewhowaslosinghisclearmind.
Momwasintheyardonherknees,pullingweedsfromaflowerbed,asIskiddedtoastopbesideDad’sSilverado.Shemusthaverealizedsomethingwaswrongbecauseshestood,tearingoffhergardenglovesandtossingthemonthelawnasshemetmebytheporch.“What’swrong?”
“Where’sDad?”
“He’swatchingthenews.You’rescaringme,Griffin.Isityourbrothersorsisters?”
Ishookmyhead.“No,it’sBriggs.”
“Ohno,”shebreathed.“Comein.”
Ifollowedherinside.DadwasinhisreclinerinthelivingroomwiththenewsontheTV,hisglassesonandthenewspaperinhislap.
“Hi,son.”HisforeheadfurrowedashelookedbetweenmeandMom.Hekickedthefootrestofthechairclosedandsatstraight.“What’sgoingon?”
Iplantedmyhandsonmyhips.“We’vegottrouble.”ChapterEighteenWinslow
“CanIgetyouacupofcoffeeorwater?”IaskedBriggs.
“No.Butthanks.”Heshookhishead,glancingaroundmyoffice.Hislargeframeconsumedthechairacrossfrommydesk.IthadlookedjustastinythedayGriffinhadsattheretoo.
“Iappreciateyoucomingdownherewithmetoday.”ThesmileIsenthimwasinfusedwithasmuchwarmthasIcouldmuster.
Briggsmotionedtothepurseandwalletonmydesk.“Soyouwanttotalkaboutthese?”
“Yes.”
Botharticlesweresealedinevidencebags.WhenI’darrivedatBriggs’scabinanhourago,I’dsimplyaskedifIcouldhavethemforaninvestigation.He’dagreed,savingmethetroubleofrequestingawarrant.ThenI’daskedifhe’dcometothestationwithmetodiscusshowhe’dcomeuponthem.Again,he’dagreed.
Hewasfocusedandsharptoday.Likeyesterday.WhenI’dknockedonhisdoorthismorning,he’djokedabouthavingmorepolicevisitsinthepastweekthanhe’dhadhisentirelife.
ItwaseasytoseewhyGriffinlovedhisunclesomuch.EvenridinginmyunmarkedExplorer—inthefrontpassengerseat,becausewhileIhadconcerns,Iwasn’tgoingtostuffhimintheback—he’dtalkedtometheentiredrivetotown,askingmequestionsabouthowIwaslikingQuincyandtellingmestoriesabouthislifespentontheranch.
Heseemedlikeagentleman.Apersonwholivedalonebecausehewascontentwithhisowncompany.Abrotherandaprouduncle—mostofthestorieshe’dtoldhadincludedoneormoreofhisniecesornephews.
Itfeltwrongtohavehimhere,tobediscussinguglythings.OrmaybeitfeltthatwaybecauseofGriffin’sreaction.
“WouldyoumindifIrecordedthisconversation?”Iasked,reachingforthehandheldrecorderbesidemyphone.
“Notatall.”
“Thankyou.”Iputtherecorderbetweenus,thenhittheredbutton.Afteraquickintroduction,statingournamesandthedate,Idescribedthepurseandwalletfortherecord.“Yousaidthatyoufoundbothofthesearticleswhilehiking,correct?”
Briggsnodded.“Idid.”
“Wherewereyouhiking?”
“IndigoRidge.I’vehikedaroundthatareamywholelife.It’safavoritespot.Theviewsfromthetoparemagnificent.”
“Ibettheyare.MaybeonedayI’llmakeittothetopmyself.”
“I’lltakeyou.”Agenuineoffer.
“I’dlikethat.”Agenuinereply.
IfBriggstookmehiking,Idoubtedhe’dpushmeoffthecliff.
Wouldn’ttherebeatwistinmybellyifIfearedthismanwasamurderer?Wouldn’ttherebeanervouszingthroughmyveins?Therewasnothing.MyinstinctssaidthatsomethingaboutLilyGreen’sdeathwasn’tright.YetasIsatacrossfromamanwhoshouldn’thavehadherwallet,amanwholivedtheclosesttotheplacewhereshe’ddied,notasinglecellinmybodywarnedthathewasdangerous.
YetIwasn’tpaidtorelysolelyoninstincts.Iwasherebecausewefollowedtheevidence.Thetrailhadledmehere.I’dkeepgoinguntilIreachedaroadblock.
“Briggs,I’msureyouknowthis,buttherehavebeenthreewomenfoundatthebaseofIndigoRidge.”
“Yes.It’sawful.Thesekids…they’rejustkids.”Heartfeltsympathyfilledhisvoice.
“Itisawful.”
Acreaseformedbetweenhisgrayingeyebrows.“Youdon’tthinkIhadsomethingtodowithit,doyou?Ineverevenknewthosegirls.”
“Tellmemoreabouthowyoufoundthepurse.”
Hecockedhishead,staringattheobjectinquestion.“Ithoughtyouwantedthepursebecauseitwasstolenorsomething.Samewiththewallet.Figuredyou’dtellmewhenwegothere.Igetitnow.YouthinkIhadsomethingtodowiththosegirls,don’tyou?”
Insteadofanswering,Ileanedforward,bracingmyelbowsontheedgeofthedesk.“Whendidyoufindthepurse?”
“I’mnokiller.”Hegrittedhisteeth,notansweringmyquestion.“I’mlosingmymind.I’mlosingmyself.That’sahumblingrealizationforaman.Toknowthatthere’snotadamnthingIcandotostopit.I’mfacingmyownmortality,Ms.Covington.Notmurderinginnocentgirls.”Thecolorinhischeeksturnedpink.Hisshouldersstiffened.
“Let’sjusttalkaboutthepurse.”
“Whosewasit?”
“HarmonyHardt.”
Hedroppedhisgaze.“WasthatthewomanHarrisonfound?OrGriffin?”
“Griffin,”Ianswered.“Whendidyoufindthispurse?”
“Whatdayisit?”
“Wednesday.”
“Sunday.”
Thatwasthedayofthefire.“You’resure?ThispastSunday?”
“Yes.Iwentforahikeearlythatmorning.Camehome.Putthemonmybookshelftosortoutlater.Wentoutsidetodosomeyardwork,andwell…youwerethere.”
Thenhe’dhadanepisode.
“Wasthewalletinsidewhenyoufoundit?”
“No.”
“Wheredidyoufindthewallet?”
“SameplaceonSunday.Bothweretogether.”
HarmonyHardthaddiedyearsbeforeLilyGreen.Thosepiecesshouldn’thavebeentogether.
UnlessLilyGreenhadkeptapurselikeHarmonyHardt’s.I’dassumedatfirstthattheHmonogramhadbeenforHarmonybutmaybeitwasthedesigner’slogo.WhenI’dgonetoidentifythepurse,I’dstartedwithHarmony’smother.Whenshe’drecognizedit,Ihadn’tcross-checkeditwithMelinaGreen.
I’dbemakingastopaftertakingBriggshome.Anddoingmoreresearchontheoriginofthispurse.
“Didyoufindthepurseorwalletfirst?”Iasked.
“Thewallet.Itwasrightinthemiddleofmyusualtrail.Nearlysteppedonit.”
“Wherewasthepurse?”
“Inabushaboutthirtyfeetaway.”
“Onthetrail?”
Henodded.“Yes.”
Mymindwasracing,possibilitiesandscenariosflashinglikeastrobelight.Therewasnoreasonthatheshouldhavefoundbotharticlessoclosetogether.
Briggscouldbelying,thoughhisadmissiononlymadeitmoresuspicious.Amorebelievableliewouldbethathe’dfoundthepurseyearsagoandthewalletmorerecently,bothoncompletelydifferenttrails.
Assumingitwasthetruth,whyhadtheybeentogether?
Couldthisbepartofthesuicidepattern?Maybeoneofthekidshadstarteditasasymbol,toleavesomethingbehind.Butthatdidn’tmakesenseatall.ThepursewasintoogoodconditionifittrulywasHarmony’s.
AndafterLily,we’dallgonearoundthearea,lookingforevidence.I’dspenthoursuptheresearchingforhershoes.ThereasonIhadn’tfoundthemwaslikelybecauseBriggshadbeatenmetoit.ButIhadn’tfoundthepurseorwalleteither.
Whoelsehadbeenuponthatridge?
“Isyourtrailwellknown?”Iasked.
“Notreally.”
“Didyoufindthebootsinthesamearea?”
“No.Theywereclosertomycabininafield.IprobablywouldhavemissedthemexcepttheywerebyaclusterofwildflowersandIstoppedtopickabundle.”
I’dhavetoscoutbothlocations.Maybetherewassomethingelseleftbehind.Maybetherewasmore.“Thetrailwhereyoufoundthese.”Igesturedtothepurseandwallet.“Isitthetrailthatleadstothecliff?Theonefromtheroad?”
“No,they’reseparate.Youcangettotheclifffrommytrail,butit’sthelongwayaround.There’sacutacrosstotheoneyou’retalkingaboutthat’sabouttwohundredyardsfromthecliff.IrarelytakeitbecauseIheaduphigher.”
PathsswirledlikespaghettinoodlesinmyheadasItriedtovisualizewhathewastalkingabout.“Isthereamapthatshowsanyofthis?”
“No,butIcouldsketchoneout.”
Iopenedmydeskdrawerandpulledoutanotepadandapencil,thenslidthemovertoBriggs.
Whilehewentaboutdrawingthemap,Istudiedhisface.
Washeguilty?Didhedothis?
I’daskedthosequestionsbefore,indifferentinterrogationsettings.
Once,I’dquestionedamanwho’dbeenaccusedofrapingawomaninanalleybehindadowntownbarinBozeman.He’dbeensocooperative.Seeminglysoinnocent.Sodistraughtoverwhathadhappenedbecausethevictimhadbeenanacquaintancefromcollege.Yethe’ddoneit.He’dlookedmeinthefaceandsworntomethathe’dhadnothingtodowithit
Itwasmynaturetobelievetherewasgoodinmostpeople,butIhadn’tbelievedthatsonofabitchforamoment.DNAhadconfirmedmyinstincts.
Didhedothis?
Inthatbastard’scase,yes.
WithBriggs?No.Maybe.Idon’tknow.
Iftherewasn’tadoubtabouthismentalcapacity,itwouldbealoteasiertodecide.Butwhatifhe’ddonesomethingterribleandcouldn’tevenrememberdoingit?Whatifhe’dgoneouthikingandrunintoagirlonthewrongpath?Whatifhe’dgottenviolentwithher?
Whatifhe’dgottenviolentwithhiswifeandFrankhadbeenright,thathe’ddrivenheraway?OrwhatifGriffinwasrightaboutFrankandthiswasalljustgossipspewedinasmalltownbyenemies?
Thetruthwasprobablysomewhereinthemiddle,hiddenformetofind.
Briggsfinishedhissketchandhandedmethenotepad.Themapwassimpleandconcise.He’dcircledtheareawherehe’dfoundthepurseandwallet.He’dmarkedwherehe’dfoundtheboots.Fromhowhe’ddrawnthemap,therereallywasnoreasonthatthegirlswouldhavegoneonhistrail.Ifthey’dparkedontheroadandtakenthesametrailthatI’dtakentolookoverthearea,theyshouldn’thaveevengottenclosetowhereBriggshadfoundthepurseandwallet.
Unlesshewaslying.
He’dhadthatwalletfordays,allegedly.He’dheardaboutLilyGreen’sdeath.Whyhadn’theimmediatelybroughtitin?
“Didyoulookthroughthewallet?”Iasked.
“No,I,um…Iwasgoingto.ThenIsortofforgotaboutit.”Herubbedthebackofhisneck.“Afterthefire.”
“Thepurseisingoodcondition.”Ipointedtothehandbag.“Itdoesn’tlooklikeit’sbeenoutsidelong.”
“Probablyhasn’t.Leatherlikethatwouldberuinedinaspringrainstorm.”
Eitherhe’dhaditlongerthanhe’dclaimed.Orsomeonehadputthatpurseonthemountainalongwiththewallet.Yes,bothcouldbeLily’s.Buteventhen,she’ddiedearlylastmonth.We’dhadrainshowerssinceherdeath.Thatpurseandthewalletshouldbeinworseconditionifthey’dbeenoutsidesinceJune.
Therewasachancethey’dbeenshelteredfromtheworstoftheelements,maybeshadedunderatree.AssumingthepursewasLily’s.Assumingshehadtakenthewrongtrail.Assumingthatshe’dtossedthepurseandwalletasidebeforegoingtothecliff.
Toomanyassumptions.
“Haveyouseenanyonehikinginthatarealately?”
Briggsshookhishead.“It’sprivateproperty.Onlypersonwhoregularlygoesthereisme.”
“You’resure?”
Helockedhiseyeswithmineandunderstandingcreptintohisgaze.
Iftherewasevidenceofanythingsinister,he’dbemyprimarysuspect.Hehadthemeans.Theopportunity.Theonlysolidelementmissing—thekeyelement—wasmotive.
Trespassingwasweakbutapossibility.Maybehe’dseensomeoneonhisranchandhe’dgoneintoarage.
Itwasthin.
Ihatedthin.ItusuallymeantIwasmissingsomething.
TheuneasynoiseinmyheadwasbeginningtoscreamsoloudIwantedtoplugmyears.
Whatthefuckwasgoingon?IfLilyreallyhadcommittedsuicide,someonemighthavebeenwithherthatnight.She’dhadsexwithsomeone.
Briggs?
Thatwouldexplainwhynoneofherfriendshadnoticedaboyfriend.Maybeshe’dbeensneakinguptothemountainsforanaffairwithamucholderman.
Maybe…
Thereweretoomanymaybes.Butifhe’dhadherbootsupthere,itmadesensewhyherfeethadn’tbeenshredded.She’dbeenwearingthemuntil,what?He’dpushedher?He’dtossedherovertheedge?
“CanyoutellmewhereyouwerethenightofJunefirst?”Iasked,hatingthewayhisshouldersslumped.
“Home.”
“Alone?”
“AsfarasIremember.”
“Wereyoudoinganything?Reading?Texting?Movies?”
Hemetmyeyesandtherewassomuchembarrassmentinhisfacethatmyhearttwisted.“Idon’tdomuchthesedays.I’m,uh…I’msureIwashome.ButIdon’trememberexactlywhatIwasdoing.”
“Fairenough.”Igavehimasadsmile.“It’shardtorememberspecificsthatlongago.”
Hedroppedhisgazetohislap.
ItwashisrelationshiptoGriffinthatmademehurtforBriggs.Itwasthereasonwewereinmyofficeandnotaninterrogationroomwithanotherofficerasawitness.
“That’salltheinformationIneedfornow.”Istoppedrecordingandlockedtherecorderaway,thenpickedupmykeys.“I’lltakeyouhomenow.”
Hestood,wordlessly,andfollowedmeoutoftheofficeandtotheparkinglot.
Therewerenoofficersinthebullpen,onlyOfficerSmithstationedatthedoor.I’dpickedthishourspecifically,notwantingtheretobeanaudiencewhenIbroughtBriggsin.
Thedrivetothecabinwasastarkcontrasttoourtripintotown.Briggskepthishandsclaspedtightlyinhislap,likeapairofinvisiblehandcuffswereclaspedaroundhiswrists.
WhenIstoppedinfrontofhishouse,hereachedforthedoor,buthesitated,lookingatmeforthefirsttimesincewe’dleftthestation.“Idon’tthinkIhurtthosegirls.”
Theuncertaintyinhiswordswasaknifetotheheart.
Lostforwords,Ihadnothingtosayasheshovedoutofthecruiseranddisappearedintohishome.
Istaredatthecabin’scloseddoorforalongmoment.
Youneverknewwhathappenedinsidethewallsofahomeunlessyoulivedthere.ButinBriggs’scase,Icouldguesshelived—preferred—asimplelife.
Hewaslikehisnephewinthatway.
TheurgetorushtoGriffin,tohavehimwraphisarmsaroundmeandchaseawaythissickfeeling,wassostrongthatwhenIdrovetotown,IhadtokeepbothhandsonthewheeltoensureIstayedoncourse.
Hewasmad.Iwasangry.
There’dbenocomfortinhisarmstoday.
ThestationwasstillquietwhenIreturned.IsatatmydeskandreplayedtherecordingfrommydiscussionwithBriggs.ThenIgottowork.
Thepurseandwalletweretakentobefingerprinted.Evenwiththerecording,ImadenotesofexactlyhowmydiscussionwithBriggshadcomeaboutandhowI’dfoundtheitemsinhishome.ThenIlefttovisitMelinaGreenatwork.
Melinawasatthenurses’stationwhenIarrivedatthenursinghome,smilingasshechattedwithacoworker.Hersmilefellwhenshespottedme.Melinarecoveredquickly,wavingasIapproached,butthedamagetomyfeelingswasdone.
I’dforeverbethefaceoftheworstdayofherlife.
Itwasmyburdentobear.
ShewasgettingbackonherfeetandIwasanunwelcomereminderofherpain.Astimewenton,there’dbeotherslikeMelina.Otherswho’dwincewhentheysawmeenterarestaurant.Otherswho’dturntheoppositedirectionwhentheyspottedmewalkingdownthesidewalk.
“Hi,Melina.Sorrytobotheryou.CanIhavefiveminutes?”
“Ofcourse.”
Ididn’tbotherwithsmalltalkasIpulledherasideandshowedherthevideoofthepurse.Shedidn’trecognizeitandassuredmethatifLilyhadpurchasedthathandbag,shewasthetypeofdaughterwhowouldhavelovedshowcasingittohermother.
ThereweretearsglisteninginMelina’seyeswhenIsaidgoodbye.
ItwasearlyintheafternoonwhenIleftthenursinghome.Therewaspaperworktodoatthestation.Reportswaitedformetoreview.Thecity’sbudgetingprocesswasbeginningforthenextcalendaryear,andIneededtowrapmyheadaroundthefiscaldataJanicehadprepared.
ButIdidn’treturntomydesk.
Idrovehome,needingacoupleofhoursalonebehindmyownwallstoletmyfeelingsbreathe.ThenI’dgoseePopsandcookhimdinner.
Excepttimealonewasnotinmyfuture.
Griffin’struckwasparkedinfrontofmyhouse.ThemomentIeasedintothedriveway,hesteppedoutofthedriver’ssideandmarchedtomyporch.Evenwithmydoorsclosed,Icouldhearthestompofhisbootsonthesidewalk.
Idraggedinafortifyingbreath,summoningnoenergyforthisfight.Ihadn’tsleptmuchlastnightatthehospital—notonlybecauseofthestiffhospitalchairbutalsobecauseI’dagonizedoverhowtotellGriffinIwasbringinginBriggsforquestioning.
Withoutaword,Ijoinedhimontheporch,fitthekeyintothelockandwalkedinside.
Hefollowedmetothelivingroom,wavesoffuryradiatingoffhischest.
Iletmypurseploptothefloorbymyshoes,thenfacedGriff,readytogetthisargumentoverwith.
Itwouldlikelybeourlast.Thiswastheend.
Latertonight,whenIwasaloneinmybed,I’dmournthelossofGriffin.Myruggedcowboywhocarriedsomuchonhisbroadshoulders.I’dmisshim.I’dcryforwhatwemighthavebeen.ProbablymorethanI’dcriedoverSkyler.
Evenfurious,Griffwashandsome.Hischiseledjawwasclenched.Hiseyes,hiddenbeneaththatbaseballcapIlovedsomuch,wereicecold.
“YoutalkedtoBriggs.”Itwasanaccusation,notastatement.
“Yes.”
“MomandDadcalledtheirlawyer.He’stobepresentforanyotherdiscussionsyouhavewithmyuncle.”
“That’sfine.Briggscouldhaveaskedforalawyertobetheretoday.”
Grifflookedatthewall,hisjawpulsingashisnostrilsflared.“It’sallovertown.Istoppedbythecoffeeshop.Lylasaidshe’sbeenaskedaboutfivetimeswhyBriggswasarrestedtoday.Sonowmyfamilyisfieldingphonecalls,havingtotelleveryonehewasn’tarrestedanditwasjustaroutinemeeting.”
GoddamnOfficerSmith.Hewastheonlyonewho’dseenmeescortBriggsintomyoffice.NotevenJanicehadbeenaround,havingtakenalunchbreak.Smith,thatasshole,wasgoingtolearnalessoninconfidentialityfirstthingtomorrowmorning.
“I’msorry.Itriedtobediscreet.”
“Discreetwouldhavebeenhavingthatconversationanywherebutatthepolicestation.Discreetwouldhavebeentellingmefirst.”
“Ididtellyoufirst,”Ihissed,steppingforwardtopokeafingerinhischest.“Icametoyouthismorning.DoyoureallythinkIwanttomakeBriggslooklikeafool?”
Hedidn’tanswer.
“I’lltakethatasayes.”
“Iknowhowthistownworks.There’salotofgossip.”
“Somethingyou’veexplainedtomemanytimes.WhichwaswhytheonlypersoninthestationwasOfficerSmith.IquestionedBriggsinmyofficewiththedoorclosed.Noonewaspresent.Irecordedthediscussion.Meandmealone.ButIhaveajobtodo.”
“Ajob.”
“Yes,ajob.”Itossedupmyhands.“DoyouknowhowmanyrulesIbrokebytellingyoufirst?Ifanyoneeverfoundout,myinvestigationwouldbecompromised.”
“Whatinvestigation?Whatdoyouthinkyou’regoingtofind?Thosegirlskilledthemselves,Winn.It’sfuckingsad.It’sfuckinghorrible.Butit’sthefuckingtruth.Itwassuicide.”
“Butwhatifitwasn’t?”Myvoicebouncedoffthewalls.“Whatifitwasn’t,Griff?”
“Youthinkmyunclekilledthem?”
“No,Idon’t,”Iadmitted.Tohim.Tomyself.“Thatdoesn’tmeanIcanignorethequestions.Whatif?Whatifitwasyoursisterwhoyou’dfoundonIndigoRidge?WhatifitwasLylaorEloiseorTalia?Icannotlivewiththewhat-ifs.NotwhenImighthavethepowertoerasethem.”
Heexpelledtheairfromhislungsinawhoosh.“I’mnotfaultingyouforthequestions.Justthemanner.”
“Ican’tbeapoliceofficerforeveryoneinQuincybutnotforyou.Andifyouactuallytookastepback,stoppedactinglikeastubbornmuleandrememberedthatI’mmorethanjustthewomansharingyourbed,you’drealizethatwhatyouareaskingofmeisimpossible.That’snotwhoIam,Griffin.That’snotwhoyou’dwantmetobe.”
“I’mnot—”
“Youare.”Isighed.“Youare.”
Hefroze.Heartbeatspassed.
Anyminute,he’dwalkoutthedoorandoutofmylife.Ithurtalready,tolosehim.God,ithurt.
Excepthedidn’tleaveme.Hisframesaggedandhetoreoffhisbaseballcap,sendingitsailingacrosstheroom.Thenhedraggedahandthroughhisdarkhair.“You’reright.”
ThereliefwassoprofoundIlaughed.“Iknow.”
Heplantedhisfistsonhiships.“I’mpissed.”
“Dealwithit.”
“Iwill.”Griff’sarmwrappedaroundmyshouldersandhehauledmeintohischest.“Sorry.”
MaybeIshouldhavefoughtformorethanaone-wordapology,buttwosecondsagainsthiswarm,strongbodyandIletitgo.AfterPopsandhisheartattack,twosleeplessnightsandthediscussionwithBriggs,Ididn’thavethestrengthtoarguewithGriffin.SoIwrappedmyarmsaroundhisnarrowwaistandpressedmycheekagainsthisheartandjust…breathed.
“Youhavemetwistedup,woman.Sofuckingtwistedup.”
“Wanttounwind?Callitquits?”
Heleanedawayandhishandsmovedtomyface,hisfingersthreadingthroughthehairatmytemples.“Idon’tthinkIcouldquityouifItried.”
“Evenifwefight?”
“Especiallywhenwefight.”
Itwasn’tadeclarationoflove.Itwasn’talifelongcommitment.Butthatstatementmovedmesomuchthattearsfloodedmyeyes.
Myparentsusedtofight.Momhadcalleditnormalfighting.
Inhighschool,whenallofmyfriends’parentsweregettingdivorced,I’dfretandconvincemyselfthatmyparentswouldtoo.Onenight,I’doverheardthemarguingaboutsomething.Thedetailshadfadedwithtime,butwhenmymomhadfoundmeinmyroomlaterthatnight,crying,she’dsatdownonmybedandpromisedthattheargumentwasnormalfighting.
She’dtoldmethatoneday,shehopedI’dfindamanwho’dfightwithme.Who’dlovemeevenwhenhewantedtostrangleme.Who’dneverquitfightingbecausewhatwehadwasworthafewangrywords.
“Idon’twanttoquiteither,”Iwhispered.
“Hey.”Histhumbscaughtthetwotearsthatescaped.“Youcan’tcry,Winn.Itdestroysme.Don’tcry,baby.”
Isniffledawaythestinginmynose.“It’sjustbeenalongfewdays.”
“Leanonme.”Hekissedmyforehead,thenhuggedmeagain,squeezingsotightthatifmykneesbuckled,Iwouldn’tdropaninch.
Ileanedonhim.
Andforthefirsttimeinalongtime,Iknewthemanholdingmetightwouldn’tletmefall.ChapterNineteenGriffin
“What’sfunny?”Iasked.
Winnhadbeenholdingbackgigglessincewe’dleftthegrocerystore.“Nothing.”
Thetwitchatthecornerofhermouthsaidotherwise.“Baby.Spillit.”
“I’vejustneverriddeninyourtruck.”
“Okay,”Idrawled,pullingtoastopinfrontofmyhouse.“Why’sthatfunny?”
“Becauseit’sfilthy.”Herprettylaughbrokefree.“Youaretheneatest,tidiestmanI’veevermet.IfIleaveacrumbonthecounter,yousweepitup.I’veneverseenyourhampersoverflowingwithdirtyclothes.Whenyoushave,there’snotawhiskeryoudon’trinsedownthedrain.Butthistruck…”
Ishrugged.“It’saranchtruck.”
Keepingitcleanwaspracticallyimpossible.WorkinginthedirtalldaymeantI’dinevitablybringitinonmyboots.Thesamewastruewithstrawandhay.Andmostofthetime,Ipreferredrollingthewindowsdowntousingtheairconditioner,sodustwasagiven.
“Ilikethatit’smessy.”Sheunbuckledherseatbeltandleanedacrosstheconsole,kissingtheundersideofmyjaw.“Itmakesyoureal.”
“I’masrealasitgetsforyou,Winslow.”Ituckedalockofhairbehindherear.
Herdarkblueeyessoftenedandsheleanedhercheekintomypalm.
Neitherofusmoved.Wejustsatthere,touching,oureyeslockedaswesoakedinthequietmoment.
Stillmomentshadbeenscarcethesepasttwoweeks.
ThetopicofBriggshadmostlybeenavoidedinthattime.Itwasarawsubject,forusboth.
Winnhaddonewhatshe’dneededtodo.She’dbeenrighttoputmeinmyplace.MomandDadhadbothtakenhersidetoo.Yes,they’dcalledalawyer,butneitherhadfaultedherforaskingBriggssomequestions.
Sincethen,she’dspentsometimehikingaroundIndigoRidgeandthetrailsthatledfromtheclifftoBriggs’scabin.She’daskedmefirst,givingmethesamerespectshewouldhaveanyotherlandowner.Otherwise,she’dgoneaboutdoingwhatsheneededtodowhileI’dfocusedontheranch.
Wewereinthethickofsummerhaying.Theswathersandbalerswererunningfromsunuptosundown.TheendofJulywasalwaysahectictime.Wewereconstantlymovingcattleherdsfromonepasturetothenexttoensurethegrasswasn’tovergrazedduringthesehotsummerdays.Weedshadtobesprayed.Equipmentfixed.Oneofourtractorshadbrokendownearlierthisweek,soI’dspentthebetterpartoftwodayswithourmechanic,bothofuscoveredingrease,workingtogetitfixed.
BythetimeImadeithomeeachnight,Iwasdeadonmyfeet.
WinnhadbeenbusyatthestationandspendingtimewithCovie.She’dleaveeachmorning,andthedailyworryaboutherwouldsettleinasanunderlyingcurrenttotheday.Thedistractionofworkhelped,butIwouldn’treallybreatheuntilshewashere.Undermyroof.Inmybed.
Ilikedthatmyhousewasbecomingherplace.Afewnightsthisweek,she’dbeatmehome.I’dfindherinside,shoesdiscardedbythedoorandwearingoneofmyT-shirts,herownuniformtopusuallyonthefloorbesidethehamperinsteadofinsideit.Onenightshe’dbeenontheporch,drinkingaglassofwine.
Soonerratherthanlater,Iwantedthistobeheronlysanctuary.Consideringthattherestofherfurniturehadarrivedatherhouseintownbutshehadn’tunboxedityet,Iwastakingitasagoodsign.
“We’dbettergetthesegroceriesinside,”shesaid.
“Yeah.”
Sheleanedinforonemorekiss,thenclimbedout.
Imetheratthetailgate,poppingitopen.Assheloopedplasticbagsoverherforearms,Ididthesamebeforefollowingherinside.Thenwecameoutforthesecondloadsincemyfridgeandpantryhadbeennearlybare.
“What’sthis?”sheasked,pickinguptheoldhubcapMateohadfoundweeksago.
“Trash.YouknowtheplaceIboughtbyIndigoRidge,acrosstheroad?”
“Yeah.”ShedraggedherfingeracrossthewordJeep,indentedintothemetal.
“Thatguyhadaboutamillionoldcarsparkedallovertheplace.Mateofoundthatalongtheroadthatleadstotheridge.IthinkI’llbefindingrustedpartshereandtherefortherestofmylife.”
“Ah.”Shetosseditdeeperintothetruckbedbeforegrabbingthelastbag.
Weworkedtogetherinthekitchentounload.Itwassimple.Boringanddull.Butsomethingaboutgoingtothegrocerystoretogether,pushingacartupanddownaisles,aboutmovingintandemthroughthekitchen,mademefallforherjustalittlebitmore.
Maybebecauseitfeltlikethisspacehadbeenwaitingforherallalong.
“Weboughtallthisfood.”Shestoodattheopenrefrigerator.“AndIhavenoideawhatIfeellikeeatingfordinner.”
Ichuckled.“Steakandpotatoes?Icouldgrill.”
“Perfect.WhatcanIdo?”
“Kissthecook.”
SheshutthefridgeandwalkedovertowhereIstoodagainstthecounter,fittingherselfagainstmychest.Herhandssnakedaroundmywaist,dippingbeneaththehemofmyshirt.Themomentherpalmsflattenedonthebareskinofmyback,mymouthwasonhers.Ourtonguesbattledthatdeliciouswar.
Secondsawayfromtearinghershirtoff,IfrozewhenIheardthefrontdooropen.
“Griffin,ifyourdickisout,thisisyourfive-secondwarningtoputitawaybeforethegirlsgethere.”Knox’svoicecarrieddownthehallway.
ItoremymouthawayfromWinn’s,wipingitdry.“Goaway.”
Heignoredme,emergingfromtheentryway.Whenhestrodeintothekitchen,itwasforWinn.“Hi,I’mKnox.”
Winnclearedherthroatandsteppedaway,nolongershieldingthebulgebehindmyzipper.“Hi.I’mWinslow.”
“Nicetomeetyou.”Heshookherhand,thenshotmealook.“Finally.”
ThedinnerdateI’dpromisedherattherestauranthadn’thappened.Partlybecausewe’dbeenbusy.Partlybecausewebothseemedcontenttolockourselvesawaytogether.
“Thegirlsarebringingdinner.”Knoxwenttothefridgeandpulledoutoneofmybeers.“AndI’mtakingtherareeveningnottobeinchargeofameal.”
“Wait.”Iheldupafinger.“Whatdinner?”
“MomsaidyouwerehomeandthatshesawWinslow’scarhere.Sowe’reinvading.”HeturnedtoWinn.“Makingsureyouknowthere’snohardfeelingsabouttheBriggsthingandthattheonlyonetogetriledupaboutitwasyou.”
Winn’sframerelaxed.“Thankyou.”
“You’rewelcome.”Knoxwinkedather.
Isighed,gratefulfortheshowofsupportevenifIwasn’toverlyexcitedaboutafullhouse.“Soeveryone’scominghere?”
Knoxshookhishead.“MomandDadalreadyhadplans.”
“Whatifwehadplans?”
“Didyou?”KnoxaskedWinn.
“No.”Shelaughed.“Justdinner.”
“See?”Hetippedhisbeertome,thenafteradrink,wentbacktothefridgetogetmeone.“Drinkthisandrelax.Begratefulwe’vegivenyoutwothislong.”
Itookthebottle,twistedoffthetopandofferedittoWinn.“Youmightneedthis.”
“Thegirlsarebringingsangria,”Knoxsaid.
“Oh,I’llwaitforthat.”Winnwavedoffmybeer.
“But…”Knoxraisedhiseyebrows.“Eloisemadethesangria.”
Icringed.“Baby,you’dbetterstickwithbeer.OrI’llopenabottleofwineforyou.”
“What’swrongwithEloise’ssangria?”sheasked.
“Momlikestojokethatshegifteduskidshercookingtalent,exceptbecauseshegavesomuchtoKnoxandLyla,bythetimeEloiseandMateowereborn,therewasnothingleftforthem.”
“There’sachancethesangriamightkillyou,”Knoxsaid.
Winnswipedthebeerbottlefrommyhand.
Iwenttothefridgeformyown.Themomentthetopwasoff,thefrontdooropenedagainandthechatterofvoiceswaslikesomeonehadfoundthehouse’svolumedialandcrankedittothemax.
“Christ,theyareloud,”Knoxmuttered.
“Youdon’tgettocomplain.”Ishothimaglare.“Thiswasyouridea.”
“Actually,itwasmine.”Lylawaltzedintothekitchenwiththreeplasticcontainers,eachavaryingshadeofgreen.“Hi,Winslow.”
“Hi,Lyla.”Winnwaved,andIwasgladshewastakingitinstride.
Winnwasgoingtobeapartofmylife—noifs,justfacts—andmyfamilyinvaded.Itwastheirnature.Hell,Iinvadedtoo.Thoughusuallyitwasbystoppingtoseethematworkinsteadofshowingupontheirfrontdoorstep.
TaliaandEloisecameinnext,theformercarryingaplatterofpreformedburgerpattiesandthelatterwithapitcherofsangria.
“Hey,Winn.”Taliasettheburgersdown,thenroundedtheislandtopullWinnintoahug.“Howareyou?How’sCovie?”
“I’mgood.Andhe’sfeelinggreat.SlightlyannoyedattheamountofvegetablesI’veintroducedtohislife.”
“Good.”TalialetWinngo,makingspaceforEloise,whoalsogaveherahug
“Hi,Winn.”
“Hi,Eloise.How’syourhotel?”
“Amazing.”Mybabysisterbeamed.“Technicallyit’sMomandDad’shotelbut…”
“They’dbelostwithoutyou.”Imovedclosertopullherintoasidewayshug.“Hey,kid.”
Eloise’sblueeyessparkledasshesmiledupatme.“Hey,bigbrother.”
“Youdoingokay?”
Shenodded,relaxingintomyside.“Justbusy.Youknowhowitisduringthesummers.”
TheEloiseInnwastheheartofQuincy.
AndEloisewastheheartoftheinn.
“Eloiseismyfavoritesibling,”ItoldWinn.
“Uh…”Winn’seyeswidened,lookingtomyothersiblings.“Areyousupposedtosaythatoutloud?”
“Weallhavefavorites.”Knoxchuckled.“Lylaismine.”
“Griffismine,”Lylasaid,poppingthelidononecontainer,floodingthekitchenwithasavorysmellthatmademystomachgrowl.
“Youallhavefavorites.Really?”Winnlaughed,thenpointedbetweenthetwins.“Andyoutwoaren’teachother’s?”
“IloveLylamostbecausewesharedawomb,”Taliasaid.“ButmyfavoriteisMatty.”
“WhereisMateo?”Iasked,keepingonearmaroundEloisewhiletheothertippedthebeerbottletomylips.
Oncue,thefrontdoorburstopen.“Party’shere!”
“Hewasinchargeofbeer.”Knoxcameoverandclappedahandonmyshoulder.“Hopethesheetsintheguestbedroomsareclean.”
“Hell.”Itippedmyfacetotheceiling.
Sonotonlyweremysiblingsinvadingtohavedinner,buttheywerealsogoingtogetdrunkandsleepover.
NowitmadesensewhyMomandDadhadoptedtoskip.
Theyprobablysuspectedthisdinnerwouldgetrowdy.
Itdid.
Eloiseconvincedeveryonetotryhersangria,promisingthatnoonewoulddie.There’dbeenalotofgrimacesbutthepitcherwasemptyandmysisterswerehammered.
“Let’sbuildafire.”Taliashovedoutofherseatonthedeckthatoverlookedthebackyard.Shestaggeredthefirstfewstepstowardthestaircasethatledtothefirepit.
“Yes!”Lylacheered.“Anddos’mores.”
“No.”Ishookmyhead.“It’stoodryforafire.”
“You’renofun,”Eloiseslurredfromherchairbesidemine.Hereyelidswerebarelyopentoslits.“Winn,yourboyfriendisabummer.”
Shegiggledfromherseatonmylap.“He’snotsobad.”
“Nooffense,Winn,”MateosaidfromhisseatbesideEloise,“butyouropiniondoesn’tcount.You’retheonlyonewhowillgettoseeFunGrifftonight.”
“Eww.”Taliagagged.
“Toofar,Mateo.”Lylacringed.
Winnburiedherfaceinmyshoulderandlaughed.
“Mateo,rememberwhenGriffwasthefunbrother?”Eloiseasked.
“Griffwasneverfun.”
“Excuseme.”Ileanedforwardtoshoothimaglare.“Iboughtyoubeerwhenyouwereunderage.”
Mateoscoffed.“WhenIwastwenty.SixdaysbeforeIturnedtwenty-one.That’snotfun.”
Winnsatupstraight.“Contributingtothedelinquencyofminors?”
“Don’tlisten.”Icoveredherearswithmypalms.“Youguysarefuckingkillingmetonight.”
Knoxwalkedoutfromthehousewithtwofreshbeers,handingonetome.“Soundslikeyouneedthis.”
“Thanks,”Imuttered.“I’mgoingtostartlockingthegoddamndoor.”
Winnsnuggleddeeper,kissingmycheek.“You’rehavingfun.”
“Yeah,Iam.”Igrinned,holdinghercloseassheyawned.
Thesunhadsethoursago.Thestarswereputtingontheirnightlyshow,twinklingdownfromtheirthroneinthemidnightsky.
Iwasbeat,andeventhoughtomorrow—today—wasSunday,mytasklistwaslong.ButIdidn’twanttobeanywhereelsebutinthischairwithWinnonmylap,listeningasmybrothersandsistersrazzedmeruthlessly.
“WhatelsecanwetellWinn?”Lylaasked.
“Nothing,”Igrumbled.“You’vedoneenough.”
Anyembarrassingstoryfrommylife,they’dtoldit.Shitheads
“Whataboutthattimehegotcaughtfreshmanyearwiththatgirlunderthebleachersatthefootballgame?”Mateoasked.
“No,thanks.”Winnwavedhimoff.“Let’sskipthatone,please.”
“Thatwasn’tme,”Isaid.“ThatwasKnox.”
“Andthatwasafunnight.”Knoxlaughed.“Ilostmyvirginitythatnight.”
“Waytoomuchinformation.”Eloisestoodfromherchair.“Ineedtogotobed.”
“I’llhelp.”InudgedWinn,bothofusstandingtohelp,becauseEloiselookedlikeshewasfivesecondsfrompassingout.
“Where’severyonesleeping?”Mateoasked.
Astheystarteddebatingwhogotwhichbedroom,IledEloiseinsidewithWinnfollowing.
Theentrywaysplitmyhouseinhalfwiththekitchenattheback.Inonehalfwasthelivingroom,theofficeandthemaster.Intheother,threeguestbedroomsandtwobathrooms.
ThearchitectI’dhiredtodesignthisplacehadmadeajokeonceabouttheneedforabundantbedrooms.We’dmetintowntodiscussblueprints,andduringthatlunchmeeting,eachoneofmysiblingsandmyparentshadstoppedovertooffertheiropinions.
Foryears,I’dlivedintheloftapartmentabovethebarnatMomandDad’s.ItwaswhereMateolivedatthemoment.ButasI’dgottenolder,ithadbeentimetobuildmyownhouse.
Knowingthatthiswasmyforeverhome,I’dspentthemoney.I’dgivenmyselfplentyofspace,notjustforthefamilyImighthave,butfortheoneIalreadydid.
Thefirstguestroomhadthreetwins,twobunkedontopandonebelowbesideadresser.Thewallswereplankedinadistressedbarnwood,muchlikethesidingthatcoveredmyactualbarn.ThegrayandbrownstriationsgaveitenoughcharacterthatIhadn’tneededtobuyart.
Ipulledbacktheblanketsonabottombed,makingspaceforEloisetosinkdown.
“I’llgetheraglassofwater.”WinnslippedoutwhileIhelpedmysistertakeoffhershoes.
“Iloveher,Griffin.”Eloisegavemeadreamysmile.“Butwhenyoumarryherandhavebabies,don’tgetridofmybunkbeds.”
“Okay.”Ichuckled,tuckingherin.MuchlikeI’dtuckedherinasakidwhenI’dbabysatforMomandDadtohaveadatenight.
Winnreturnedwithaglassofwater.“Goodnight,Eloise.”
“Night,Winn.”
Ikissedmysister’sforehead,theneasedoutoftheroom,hittingthelight
“Comeon,baby.”ItookWinn’shandandledherdownthehallway,pastthelivingroomandkitchentooursideofthehouse.
Themasterbedroom’svaultedceilingswerelinedwiththick,woodenbeamslikethoseinthelivingroom.Thefireplaceinthecornerofthebedroomhadafloor-to-ceilingstonehearth.Large-paneddoorsopenedtothefarthestendofthedeck—myothersiblingswerestilltalkingandlaughingoutside.
ThemomentIclosedthedoorbehindus,Winnbeganundoingthebuttonsoftheflannelshe’dstolenfromthewalk-inclosetearlierwhenshe’dgottencoldoutside.
“I’mbeat,”shesaid.“Ihopetheydon’tcarethatwedisappeared.”
“Theywon’t.”Itookoverforher,undoingthebuttons.ThenIeasedtheshirtoffhershoulders,lettingitpoolatherfeet.
“Iforgothowthisis.”
“Whatis?”
“Familygatherings.”
“Youmeanyouforgothowloudandobnoxioustheycanbe?”
“Andwonderfulandentertaining.”
Iputmyhandsinherhair,kneadingherscalp.“Didyouhavethesesortofnightswithyourparents?”
“Wedid.”Shegavemeasadsmile,herheadlollingintomytouch.“Itwaswiththeirfriends,sincetheydidn’thavesiblings,butasakid,they’dhostsummerbarbequesandeveryonewouldlaughforhoursandhours.Liketonight.Thiswasfun.Ineededit.”
“I’mglad.”
“Didyouhavefun?”
“Idid.Thoughsomeofthosestoriesweren’texactlyonesIwantedyoutohear.”
Shelaughed.“YoureallystreakeddownMainStreetwithagorillamaskoveryourhead?”
“Yep,”Imuttered.
KnoxhadtoldherallabouthowI’dlostabetmysenioryearandthepricewasanakedsprintdownMain.Thankfully,there’dbeennostipulationthatIhadtokeepmyheadexposed,soI’dborrowedthemaskfromabuddy’sHalloweencostumestash.
“Tothisday,Idon’tthinkMomknowsitwasme.”
“Iwanttobetherethedayshefindsout.”
Myheartswelled.“Youwillbe.”
“Yourfamilyisincredible.You’reluckytohavethem.”
“Iam.”Inodded.
Itwastoosoontodeclarethey’dbeherstoo.Thattonight,eachofmysiblingshadfoundaquietmoment,likeEloisehadbeforefallingasleep,totellmetheylovedWinn.
“They’veclaimedyounow.”
Shelockedhereyeswithmine.“Havethey?Andwhataboutyou?”
“Oh,Iclaimedyoualongtimeago.”ThenightI’dmetheratWillie’s.Ihadn’trealizeditatthetime,butfromthatnighton,she’dbeenmine.
“Whatarewedoing,Griffin?”
“Thoughtitwassortofobvious.”Fallinginlovewithherhadbeeneffortless.
“Yeah,”shewhispered.“Iguessitis.”
Iopenedmymouthtosaythewordsbuthesitated.Nottonight.Notwithmybrothersandsistersoutside,theirlaughterbouncingoffthewalls.NotwhenIhadn’ttakenheronafirstdate.
Thewordswouldcomeintime.
SoIdroppedmylipstohers,startingwithaslowtangle.Theheatbuiltgraduallybutwithintensity,likethesunonaclearJulyday.
Withclothesstripped,withherbareskinagainstmine,wecametogether.Oneslickslideofmybodyintohers,andtherewasnothingtokeepusapart.
Wedidn’tneedthewords.Hereyeslockedwithmineashertoescurledintomycalves,asherbodytrembledbeneathmine.
Wedidn’tneedthewords.
Fortonight,livingthemwasenough.ChapterTwentyWinslow
“I’mgoingtogohangoutwithPopsforawhiletoday,”ItoldGriffinasweatebreakfastatthekitchenisland.
“I’vegottoheaduptothesouthsideoftheranchwherewe’vegotsomehorsesgrazingandmakesurethecreekstillhasenoughwaterforthem.Ifit’stoodry,andIsuspectit’sgettingthatwaygivenhowhotit’sbeenallweek,I’llhavetomovethemclosertoaspring.Wanttocomewithme?”
“Howlongwillittake?”
“Probablymostoftheday.”
AswonderfulasaSaturdayspentwithGriffontheranchsounded,Ihadn’tspentenoughtimewithPopsinthepasttwoweeks.Oratmyownhome.Sincethenightoftheimpromptusiblingdinnerhere,Ihadn’tgonetomyhouseforanythingbutfiveminutestograbthemail.
“I’dbetterskipthisone.Ineedtogotothehouseandclean.It’sdustyandstale.MaybebuildthatTVstandthat’sbeensittinginthebox.”
“Or…”Griffinsethisforkdown,twistinginhisseattofaceme.“Youdon’tbuildtheTVstand.”
“Mytelevisionisonthefloor.”
“Butthatoneisn’t.”Hepointedovermyshouldertotheflatscreenmountedabovethelivingroom’sfireplace.
“Atsomepoint,I’mgoingtowanttowatchTVathomeandnothavetositonthefloorsoit’sateyelevel.”
“HowmanyminuteshaveyouwatchedTVatyourplaceinthelastmonth?”
“Zero.”
“Exactly.”
“ButIalreadyboughtthestand.Whywouldn’tIbuildit?”
“Becauseyoudon’tneedit.”
“Yes,Ido.”
“Winslow.”Myname,statedinawaythatsoundedlikeIwasmissingthepoint.
“Griffin.”
“YouwatchTVhere.Yousleephere.Yourstuff’salloverthebathroomandyourclothesarecoveringtheclosetfloor.”
“Ineedtodolaundry.”
“Yeah,andwhenyoudothatlaundry,it’sgoingtobeinthewasheranddryerrightdownthathallway.”Henoddedtowardthelaundryroom.
“Doyounotwantmetousethewasheranddryer?”
“No.”Hechuckled,shakinghishead.“It’syours.Justlikethebathroom’syours.Thebedroom.Theclosetfloor.Thiskitchen.ThatTV.Thishouseisyours.”
Iblinked.“Huh?”
Helaughedagain,fittinghiswidepalmtothenapeofmyneck.“Thinkitover.Youwanttokeepyourplaceintownforawhile,that’sfinebyme.Youwanttogetitlistedbeforesummer’soverandthemarkethasitsseasonaldip,thenwe’llgetaholdofyourrealtorandbringthehorsetrailertotowntomoveeverythingouthere.”
Myjawhitthefloorasheslidoffhisstool,kissedmyforeheadanddisappearedtowardthebedroom,probablytofindsomesockssohecouldgoonabouthisday.
Didhejustaskmetomovein?Tolivehere?Actually,no.Hehadn’tasked.Therehadn’tbeenasinglequestionmixedinwithhisstringofbrain-scramblingstatements.
DidIwanttomovein?Yes.Ilovedthishouse.Ilovedthecomfortthatcamewithturningoffthehighwayandontohisquietgravelroad.IlovedsunsetsontheporchandwakinginGriffin’sarms.
Butitwastoosoon,wasn’tit?I’dlivedwithSkylerforyears.I’djustseparatedmylifefromanotherman’s.AndIdidlovemylittlehouseintown.
Thatcute,charminglittlehousewiththereddoorthatI’dneglectedforweeksandweeks.
Griffin,hisfeetinsocks,snuckuponme,stillfrozenonmystool.
Iwavedhimoffwhenhereachedforourplates.“I’llcleanup.”
“Okay.”Hekissedmyhair.“Seeyoulater.Dinner?”
Inodded.
“Haveagoodday,baby.”
“Youtoo,”Imurmured,thewordscomingonautopilot.
Itwasn’tuntilhewasoutthedoorandtherumbleofhistruckvanishedthatIshookmyselfoutofmyownheadandloadedthedishwasher.ThenIwenttothebedroomandgrabbedaloadoflaundry.
Iworkedaroundthehouseforacoupleofhours,waitingtotransfermyclothestothedryer.Idustedthelivingroom.Ivacuumedthebedrooms.Imoppedthefloors.
ShouldImovein?Maybethatquestionwasunnecessary.
EverypairofpantiesIownedwasbeneaththisroof.Mostwereinthehamper,orthevicinityofthehamper.Buttheotherswerestowedinadrawerinthecloset.He’dgivenmethreedrawers,halfofthedresser.Thesamewastrueinthebathroom.
Icleaned.Ibroughtgrocerieshereafterwork.TheDurangowasparkedoutfrontwheneverIwasondutyanddrivingthestation’sExplorer.Allthatwasmissingwasmymailinthemailbox.
ExceptIknewthatifthisfellapart,Ihadaplacetogo.
Deepdown,maybethatwastheproblem.MaybethatwasthereasonIcouldn’tfindmyselfimmediatelysayingyes.
Becausehestillhadn’tsaidthosecriticalthreewords.NeitherhadI.
Eachtimehekissedme,eachtimehemadelovetome,Ifeltthem.
Sowhycouldn’tIgivethemavoice?
Bythetimethedryerdingedandmycleanclotheswereinadrawerorhangingonaclosetrod,Istillwasn’tsurewhattodo.SoIheadedintotowntovisitthemanwhosebearhugsalwaysgroundedmyfeet.
PopsopenedthefrontdoortohishousebeforeI’devenshutoffmyDurango.WhenIsteppedout,heheldupahand,haltingmystepsonthesidewalk.“NowI’mgoingtowarnyourightnow,Winnie.Ihadbaconforbreakfast.Thehouseandmyclothesreekofit.Iknowit’snotonthedietplan,butdangit,I’mgoingtohaveitonceaweek.Maybetwice.”
“Okay.”Ilaughedandwalkedintohisoutstretchedarms.Asexpected,onehugandIwassteadier.“Howareyoufeelingtoday?”
“Productive.Mowedthelawnthismorning.Pickeduparoundthehouse.NowIgettorelaxwithmybestgirl.”
“You’dbetterbetalkingaboutme.”
Hechuckled,slinginganarmaroundmyshoulderstobringmeinside.“YouknowIam.”
Wesettledonthebackdeck,watchingtheriverflow.Thelazyswirl,thelapofripplesalongthebanks,wasassoothingasasunsetonGriff’sporch.
Myporch.Itcouldbemyporch.
“Youlooknicetoday,”Popssaid.
“Really?”Iwasinasimplewhitetanktop,denimcutoffsandtennisshoes.
“It’snotyourclothes,sweetheart.”Hiseyessoftened.“Areyouhappyhere?InQuincy?”
“Iam.Quincyagreeswithme.”
“Ormaybeit’sGriffin.”
“Maybe.”Asmiletuggedatmymouth.“Heaskedmetomoveinwithhim.”
“Yeah?Andwhatdidyousay?”
“Nothing.Yet.I’mnotsurewhattodo.It’ssoon.”
“Pfft.Soonisrelative.”
“IlivedwithSkylerforyears.Don’tyouthinkIneedtobeonmyownforawhile?”
“Winnie,youmighthavelivedwithSkyler,buttrustmewhenIsay,youwereonyourown.”
Iopenedmymouthtoarguebutthewordsdiedonmytongue.Popswasright.I’dlivedwithSkyler,we’dbeenengaged,andIhadmostdefinitelybeenonmyown.
“Youtwocoexisted,”Popssaid.“That’snotthesameascompanionship.”
“Idon’tthinkIrealizedhowlonelyIwasinBozeman,”Iadmitted.“SinceMomandDad.”
AndthenI’dcomehere,andfromtheveryfirstnight,I’dhadGriffin.He’dchasedawaythatlonelinesswithsuchferocity,Ihadn’tevenrealizedhowmuchI’dneededsomeonetoburstintomylifeandshakeitup.
“Youwentthroughanawfulordeal,”hesaid.
“Sodidyou.”
Hereachedoverandputhishandovermine.“It’snotthesame.”
Forthefirsttimeinweeks,Ithoughtaboutthecrash.Ithadbeen…howlonghaditbeen?ThelastnightmareIcouldrememberhadbeenaftertheFourth.WeeksofpeacefulsleepandGriffinwasthecause.
“Imadeadecisionyesterday.”Popspattedmyknuckles.“Wantyoutobethefirsttoknow.”
“You’reretiring.”
Henodded.“It’stime.Thislittlehealthblipputthingsinperspective.”
“Alittleblip?”Irolledmyeyes.“Youhadaheartattack.”
“Minor.”
“Aheartattack,minorormajor,isnotablip.”
“Callitwhatyouwant,butitmademerealizeI’dratherspendtherestofmytimewithoutheartburn.Iseetheseotherold-timerssittingatLyla’sshopeachmorning,talkingabouttheweatherandthegossipintown.Ithinkthatwouldsuitmejustfine.”
“You’regoingtogetbored.”
“Guaranteed.I’llprobablydriveyoucrazy.Stoppingbyunannounced.Stayingoveruninvited.”
Ilaughed.“Inthatcase,Ifullysupportyourretirement.”
“Good.”
“I’mproudofyou,Pops.Allyou’vedoneforQuincy.”
“Youknow,Winnie?”Hesatalittlestraighter.“I’mproudofmetoo.It’sbeenagoodrunasmayor.Along,goodrun.Butyouhavetopromisemeonething.”
“Nameit.”
Heleanedinclose.“ThedayyoufireTomSmith,you’lltellmefirst.”
“Deal.Well,I’lltellTomSmithfirst.Butyousecond.”
“BeforeGriff.”
“BeforeGriff.”Iwinked.“Ihopewhoeverbecomesmynewbossisasgreatasyou.”
“You’rebiased.”
“No,I’mnot.”
Inmyshorttimehere,Popshadgivenmethefreedomtodomyjob.Hewasalwaysthereasaresource,buthedidn’tmicromanagethestationordemandtoknowwhatwashappeningwithcertaincases.
IwassurethatFrankhadgivenPopsanearfulaboutBriggsEden,butPopshadn’twadedintothefray.Hetrustedmetodomyjobandmaketherightdecision.
“CanItalktoyouaboutsomethingconfidential?Whileyou’restillmyboss?”
“I’mallears.”
“It’saboutLilyGreen.AndHarmonyHardt.”
Itoldhimaboutthewalletandthepurse.AbouthowI’dfoundthematBriggsEden’scabinandeverythinghe’dtoldmewhenI’dbroughthimintothestationlastmonth.
ItwasallinformationIhadn’twantedtoburdenhimwithafterhisheartattack.Thatandnothingelsehadcomefrommyinvestigation.Therewerenomoreleadstofollow,nomorequestionstoask.GossipaboutBriggshadmostlyfadedawaytoo.
“TherewerenofingerprintsbesidesthosebelongingtoBriggs,”Itoldhim.“Noteventhegirls’prints.WhichleadsmetobelievethatsomeoneputthemupthereforBriggstofind.”
“Why?”
“I’mnotsure.”Ithadbeenbotheringmeforamonth,butasIturneditaroundinmyhead,overandover,nothingmadesense.I’devencalledColeinBozemantogetmyformerpartner’sopiniononthecase.
ColehadbeenasstuckasIwas.
Andwithoutevidence,Iwasstuck.
“MaybesomeoneistryingtosetBriggsup,”Isaid.“TotiehimtobothLilyandHarmony.ThatpursemightjustbeareplicaofHarmony’s.MaybeitwasLily’s.”
Withoutfingerprints,Iwasn’tsure.I’dtriedtohuntdownarecentpurchaseonLily’screditcardstatementsbuttherewasnothingthathadshownherbuyingaleatherpurse.I’devenstoppedbysomeshopsdowntowntoseeiftheysolditandnoonehadrecognizedit.
“IfthepursewasLily’s,itwouldexplainwhyitwasinsuchgoodshape,”Isaid.“Maybesheboughtitandnevershowedittohermother.”Anditwouldexplainwhyithadbeenwiththewallet.“Shemighthavedumpedbothbefore…”
“Poorkid.”Popsshookhishead.
“There’sonemoreoption.Briggsmighthavebeentherethenightstheydied,andhetookHarmony’spurseandLily’swallet.”
“Andthenlefthistrophiesonabookshelfforyoutosee?”Popsblewoutalongbreath.“It’sastretch.”
“Maybehedoesn’trememberwherehefoundthem.Maybehewasn’tlucid.”
“ForLily,it’sprobable.Fromeverythingyou’vetoldme,he’sslipping.ButHarmonyHardtdiedyearsago.Idon’tthinkBriggshasbeenexperiencingseveresymptomsforlong.Letmeplaydevil’sadvocate.Whatifhewasthere?Whatifhehadsomethingtodowithit?”
“Ihavenoevidence.”Speculation,however,Ihadinabundance.“Someonecouldbesettinghimup.Someonewhowantedmetothinkthathemighthavehadahandintheirdeaths.”
“Who?”
Ishrugged.“TheonlypersonI’veeverheardtalkbadlyabouthimisFrank.”
“Andthat’sallolddrama.”Popswaveditoff.“Frank’sagoodfriend,butbetweenmeandyou,he’salwayshadaboneofcontentionwiththeEdens.It’sjealousy.Plainandsimple.Sotakewhateverhe’stoldyouwithagrainofsalt.”
“Ihave.”Isighed.“Ijust…IfeellikeI’veletthesegirlsdown.”
“Youwantanswers.”
“Verymuch.”Fortheirfamilies.“I’mmissingapiece.HadLilyleftasuicidenoteorhadtherebeenasignshewasstruggling,Imightnotfeellikethis.Butasitstands,Ican’tletitgo.”
“Youneedto.”Popsputhishandonmyforearm.“I’msayingthisasyourboss.You’vedoneeverythingyoucantomakesenseoftheirdeaths.But,Winnie,peoplegothroughdarktimes.Youknowthis.”
“Ido.”
“Itdoesn’talwaysmakesense.”
“You’reright.”Myshouldersslumped.“Iwasreadytoputitaway.Toletitgo.Thenthepurseandwalletshowedup,andIjust…gah.Ihatedeadends.”
“Theyexistinthisworldtotorturepeoplelikeyou.”
“You’renotwrong.”
“What’sGriffinsayaboutallofthis?”
Sinceourfightamonthago,Griffhadn’tbroughtupBriggsotherthantogivemeanupdateonwhatthedoctorshadfound.
Harrisonhadbeentakinghiminregularlytomeetwithaspecialist.Therewasn’tmuchtheycoulddo,butthey’denlistedhiminadrugtrialandeveryonewashopefulitwouldslowthedementia’sprogression.Butitwasearlyonandthatroadwaslong.
“GriffknowsIhaveajobtodoandhe’srespectingmyposition,”Isaid.
“Becausehe’sagoodman.”
“Heis.”
“AheckofalotbetterthanSkyler.”Popsspewedthenamewithalipcurl.
“IthoughtyoulikedSkyler.”
Hearchedawhiteeyebrow.“No.Hewasnevergoodenoughforyou.Yourparentsthoughtthesame.”
“What?”Mymouthfellopen.MomandDadhadalwaysbeensonicetoSkyler.They’dinvitedusoverforregulardinners.They’dhelpedusmoveintogether.“Whydoyousaythat?”
“He’sanasshole.”Popschuckled,hischestshaking.“Weusedtotalkabouthimbehindyourback.”
“Youdid?”Ismackedhisshoulder.“Whydidn’tanyonetellme?”
“Weallknewyou’dfigureitouteventually.ThoughIthinkyourdadwaslosingpatience.Whenyougotengaged,heaboutlostit.Thepissantdidn’tevenbotheraskingforhispermission.”
Icouldn’tbelieveIwashearingthis.Istaredunblinkingatmygrandpa’sprofileashewatchedtheriverflowlikehehadn’tjustdroppedabombonmylap.
Myparentshadn’tlikedSkyler.IfanyonebutPopshadtoldme,Iwouldn’tbelieveit.
Butinaway,itmademefeelbetter.Thatthey’dlandedonthesameconclusionIhad,thoughmuchearlier.
“Wow.”Ishookmyhead.“AndGriffin?Isthereanythingyouwanttotellmenow?”
Popsturnedandgavemeasadsmile.“They’dloveGriffin.”
Ipressedahandtomyheartasmyeyesflooded.DadwouldhavedroppedeverythingtohelpmemovemystuffintoGriffin’shouse.Momwouldhavelovedsittingontheporchtowatchthesunsetbehindthemountains.
“Iwishtheycouldhavemethim,”Iwhispered.
“Theydidmeethim.”
“What?When?”
“Oh,ithadtohavebeenyearsago.Theycametovisit.Youwerebusyworking,soitwasjustthemforaweekend.WeallwentdowntoWillie’sforadrink.HarrisonandGriffinwereboththere.”
“Griffdidn’ttellme.”
“Thebarwaspackedandhe’snotexactlyunpopular.ButIrecallyourmommadethecommentthatshewishedyou’dfindamanlikethat.Asexycowboy.Yourdadteasedhermercilesslyforthat.Saidhewasgoingtogohomeandbuyapairofbootstoweararoundthehousenaked.”
“OhmyGod.”Iburiedmyfaceinmyhands,tornbetweenlaughingandcrying.Becausethatwassothem.Andthefactthatthey’dmetGriff,justknowingthey’dseenhisface…Ididn’tknowwhyitwasimportanttome,butitwas.
Tearswonoutoverthelaughter,andasafewleakeddownmyface,Popsputhishandonmyshoulder.
“Imissthem.”
“Metoo,”hesaid.
“Thanksfortellingme.”
“Wedon’ttalkaboutthemenough,sweetheart.”
“That’smyfault.”Ithadbeentoohardfortoolong.
“I’dliketo.Ifyou’reallrightwithit.”
Inodded.“I’dlikethattoo,Pops.”
Hesqueezedmyshoulder,thenstood.“Howaboutasnack?I’mhungry.”
“Icangetit.”
“Youstay.”
ThewhooshoftheriverwasmysoundtrackasIreplayedmyconversationwithPops.Fortoolong,I’dheldMomandDadclose.I’dhoardedtheirmemories.Butweneededtobringthemintoourlives.
GriffinmightnothaveknownthemlikeSkyler,butthatdidn’tmeanhecouldn’t.Throughmymemories,he’dknowthem.Throughmyloveforthem,they’dbepartofourfuture.
Popsreturnedwithaplateoverflowingwithredgrapes,whole-wheatcrackersandbabycarrots.AllthingsI’dbroughthimearlierthisweek.
“Areyouinarushtoheadhome?”heaskedaftertheplatewasempty.
“No.Why?”
“Howaboutagameofbackgammon?”
“Thatwouldbefun.”Ihadn’tplayedinages.NotsincebeforeDadhaddied.BackgammonhadbeenhisfavoritegametoplaywithPops.Thenhe’dtaughtme
PopsandIplayedforhours,untiltheheatfromtheafternoonsundroveusinsidetothediningroomtable,whereweplayedonelastgame.
“Thatwasfun.”Hegrinnedasheputtheboardaway.
“Itsurewas.ButI’dbetterheadhome.”
“Whosehome?”
“Griffin’s,”Icorrected,wrappingmyarmsaroundhiswaist.“Thanks,Pops.”
“Loveyou,sweetheart.”Hehuggedmetighter,thenletmego.“Haveagoodnight.”
“Loveyoutoo.Bye.”
We’dplayedlongerthanI’dexpected,andbythetimeIgotoutside,itwasclosetodinnertime.Ipulledmypersonalphonefrommypocket—thestationphonewasintheother,andthoughcarryingtwophoneswasahugepainintheass,sincePops’sheartattack,Ihadn’tgoneanywherewithouteither,fullycharged.
IwasabouttocallGriffinandseeifhewantedmetostopdowntownandpickupsomethingfordinner,butbeforeIcouldunlockthescreen,theclankofmetalonmetalcarriedfromthehousenextdoor.
“Hey,cutie,”Frankcalledfromthegarage.Hewaswearingagrease-stainedpairofjeans.Aredragwashangingoutofafrontpocket.
“Hey.”Istuffedmyphoneawayandsmiled,mufflingasighwhenhewavedmeover.
HisattitudetowardGriffinatthehospitalstillgratedonme,butthiswasFrank.Thiswasmygrandpa’sbestfriendandtheguywho’dbeentherewhenIhadn’tbeentodrivePopstothehospital.
“Howareyou?”Iasked,steppingintothegarage.ThesmellofmetalandoilwassostrongIscrunchedupmynose.
“Oh,fine.”HetossedoutahandtotheJeep.“Thisvehiclemightbethedeathofme.EspeciallyifRainkeepslosingparts.”
Ilaughed.“How’dsheloseparts?”
“Lord,ifIhadtheanswerstosolvethemysterythatismybelovedwife.”Helaughedandkickedatirewithhisboot.
“Frank—oh,Winnie!”Rainpokedherheadoutthedoorthatconnectedthehousetothegarage,andwhenshesawme,sherushedout,comingmywaytopullmeintoahug.Sheworeanaprontiedtightandwasholdingameattenderizer.
“Hey,Rain.”
I’dseenherafewtimessinceI’dmovedtoQuincy,eachonmytripscomingandgoingtovisitPops.Shewasoneofthoseluckywomenwhodidn’tseemtoage.HerhairwasthesamelightbrownasIalwaysremembered,herskinsmoothexceptforafewfinelinesaroundhereyesandmouth.HerhugwasasfierceasthoseIrememberedfrommychildhood.
Momhadalwaysjokedthatforaslenderwoman,Rainwasasstrongasanox.
“Areyoucooking?”Inoddedtothetenderizermallet.
“Iam.”Sheshookitandlaughed.“Chickenfriedsteak.Frank’sfavorite.Howareyou,littlebird?”
“Good.”Ismiledatthesamenicknameshe’dcalledmesinceIwasakid.“FrankwasjusttellingmeaboutafewmissingpartsfortheJeep.Didyougowildcleaningthegarage?”
“Never.”Shelaughed.“Thisishismess.”
“Thenhow’dyouloseapart?”Iasked.
“Driving,”Frankanswered.“Somehowthissummer,shelostahubcap.”
Ahubcap.Thetirehe’dkickedwasmissingthecap.Myeyesdartedtothefrontwheel.ItwascappedwiththehubcapI’dseeninthebackofGriffin’struckweeksagoonagrocerystorerun.Theonehe’dtoldmeMateohadfoundontheroadtoIndigoRidge.
“Isawahubcaplikethis…”IlockedmygazewithRain’s.“Ididn’trealizethatyoudrovetheJeep.”
Hersmilefaltered.“Well,sure.It’smyonlycar.”
WhywouldshegoontheroadtoIndigoRidge?Thatwasprivateproperty.
Somethingprickledatthebackofmyneck.Anuneasyfeeling.Ididn’tneedamirrortoseethecolordrainfrommyface.
Rainmusthavenoticedittoo.“Frank,closethedoor.”
Ittookmethreesecondstoomanytoregisterthatsentence.IttookmethreesecondstoomanytolookbetweenmylifelongfriendsandrealizewhatIwasseeing.Becauseinthosethreeseconds,FrankpunchedthegaragedooropenerclippedtotheJeep’sdriver-sidevisor.
AndRainliftedthemallet.
Ittookmethreesecondstoomanytoshedmypersonalbiasandgraspthatthesepeople—neighbors,friends—werenotastheyseemed.
Threesecondstoomany.
Beforethelightswentout.ChapterTwenty-OneGriffin
Hi,you’vereachedWinslowCovington.PleaseleaveamessageandI’llreturnyourcallassoonaspossible.Ifthisisanemergency,pleasehangupanddial9-1-1.
Igrowledatthevoicemailgreeting,checkingthetimeagain.
Sevenforty-eight.
ThesummernightswerelonginMontanaandthedaylightwouldlastforalmostanotherhour,butitwasgettinglate.She’dmisseddinner.Shehadagreedtodinner,right?I’dlefthershellshockedthismorningbutWinnwasn’tonetoditchwithoutaphonecallfirst.
Forthepasthour,I’dassumedthatsomethinghadhappenedatthestation.Maybeanaccidentoranofficerwho’dcalledinsick.Butastheminutesworeonandshestillhadn’treturnedmycalls,thechurninginmystomachwasbecomingunbearable.
IpulledupCovie’snumberandcalleditforthethirdtime.Fourringsanditdroppedtohisvoicemail.
“Shit.”
BadnewstraveledatthespeedoflightaroundQuincy.Ifthere’dbeenanaccidentorsomethingelsesignificant,someoneinmyfamilymighthaveheardaboutit.SoIstartedwiththemostlikelysourceofnews.Dad
“’Lo,”heanswered.
“Hey,it’sme.”
“Hi,how’dthecreeklooktoday?”
“Dry.Movedthehorsesdown.Allgood.Listen,haveyouheardaboutanythinghappeningintowntoday?”
“Uh,no.Why?Whathappened?”
“Nothing.”Isighed.“Winnisn’thomeandshe’snotanswering.Iwasn’tsureifsomethingcameupandIhadn’theardaboutityet.”
“Nonewshere.Wantmetomakesomecalls?”
“No.Notyet.”IfDadstartedcallinghisbuddies,there’dberumorofanemergencybeforetherewasanactualemergency.
“Okay.Keepmeposted.”
“Iwill.Thanks.”
“CallEloise,”hesaid.“Ifthere’ssomethinggoingon,she’llknowbeforetherestofus.”
“Goodidea.Bye,Dad.”Themomentthelinewentquiet,Icalledmysisterandaskedherthesamequestion.
“I’vebeenatthefrontdeskallevening,”shesaid.“Therehasn’tbeenanythinggoingonthatI’veseen.”
Andifthere’dbeenastreakofcruisersblazingdownMainwiththeirlightsflashing,she’dhavenoticed.“Okay.Thanks.”
“You’reworried.”
“Yeah.Iam.”
“I’mgoingtomakesomecalls.”
“No,not—”
BeforeIcouldfinish,she’dhunguponme.“Damnit.”
TherewasnostoppingEloise,andifIknewmyfather,hewasonthehornatthemomenttoo.IfWinnwasjustoutandabout,shewasn’tgoingtolikebeinghunteddown.
“Thensheneedstoanswerherfuckingphone,”Imuttered,hittingthenumbertoherpersonalphoneagain.Itrangandrang.
WinnhadbeengoodaboutkeepingitcloseandchargedsinceCovie’sheartattack.ButwhenittransferredtovoicemailforthetenthtimesinceI’dcalled,Ihungupandpacedthekitchen.
She’sokay.Thiswasprobablyjustpartofherjob.Arandom,purposefuldisappearancewhenshewastoobusytoanswermycall.Chanceswereshewasdealingwithsomethingimportantandmyconstantcallshadbeenadistraction.
Butdamnit,Iwascomingoutofmyskinhere.
Weweregoingtohavetocomeupwithasystemorsomething.Atext,anything,forhertosignalshewasallright.
Therewasnowayshe’dgiveupbeingacop.
TherewasnowayIwouldn’tworry.
“Fuckit.”Iswipedmykeysandballcapfromthecounterandheadedforthedoor.
Shewasprobablyatherplace,buildingthatgoddamnTVstandandfreakingoutaboutmovingin.Yes,itwassoonforthisbigofastep.Butmyfeelingsforherweren’tgoingtochange.Sowhynotliveunderthesameroof?
Shewaspracticallylivingherealready.She’dcleanedthehousetodayandthescentoffurniturepolishclungtotheair.Bleachlingeredinthebathrooms.
MaybeIcouldhaveasked.Saiditmoreeloquently.Butignoringmycallswasn’ttheway.Wasatexttoomuchtoaskfor?
Thetriptotowntooktoolong—Icalledeachofhernumberstwomoretimes.Mychestwastootight,myheartbeatingtoofast.ThesinkingfeelinginmystomachplungedtothefloorboardswhenIturneddownherstreetandherdrivewaywasempty.Everywindowonthehousewasdark.
“Damnit,Winn.”
Ididn’tbotherstoppingatthehouse,butsimplyhittheacceleratorandheadedaroundtheblock.Thestationwasmynextstop,butherDurangowasn’tparkedinherreservedspot.Ididn’tbothergoinginsideeither.I’dcalltherenext,butfirstIwantedtocheckwithCovie,soIsteeredmyselftowardtheriver.
Covie’sstreetwasasquietasWinn’sandmyheartclimbedoutofmythroatwhenIspottedhercarparkedoutsidehisplace.“Oh,thankfuck.”
Christ.I’daboutlostmyshit.
Ihoppedoutofmytruckandforcedmyselfnottojogtohisdoor.Thedoorbellgotpunched,notpressed,becauseasmybloodpressurereturnedtonormal,anxietywasreplacedwithanger.
Therewasnoreasonsheshouldn’thaveanswered.Covietoo.
Whenhisfootstepssoundedfrombeyondthethreshold,Iwaspracticallyshakingasheflippedthelocks.
Except…
Ifshewasinside,whywasthedeadbolton?
“Griffin?”Coviecockedhishead.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Shewasn’tinside.Fuck.
“IsitWinnie?”heasked,thecolordrainingfromhisface.
“She’snothome.Itriedcallingyou.”
“IfellasleepwiththeTVon.Sheleftherehoursagotomeetyoufordinner.”HelookedpastmyshouldertoherDurango.“Ididn’trealizehercarwasstillhere.”
“Haveyouheardanythingfromthestation?Wasthereanaccidentorsomething?”
“NotthatI’veheard.You’vecalledher?”
“Aboutahundredtimes.”Idraggedmyhandthroughmyhair.
Itwasprobablynothing,buteverycellinmybodyvibratedthatsomethingwaswrong.
“Letmecallthestation.”Coviewavedmeinside,leavingmeintheentrywayasherushedtothelivingroom.Thelampbesidehisreclinerwastheonlylightoninthehouse.TheTVwasmutedonthemoviehe’dbeenwatching.Hisfreehandtrembledashemadethecall.“Hi,thisisWalter.I’mlookingforWinslow.Issheatthestationoroutonacall?”
Sayyes.
Thepanicinhisgazemademykneesshake.
“Yeah,okay.Thanks.”Heendedthecallandshookhishead.“She’snotthere.Mitchisgoingtoaskaroundandcallmeback.”
“I’mgoingtokeeplooking.”Maybeshe’dgoneforawalk.Maybeshe’dbeenattheriverandslipped.Ifherphoneswerewet,thatwouldexplainwhyshehadn’tcalled.
“I’llcomewithyou.”Coviefollowedmetothedoor,steppingintoapairoftennisshoes.
ThedarknesswascomingfasterthanIliked.“Wouldshehavewalkedsomewhere?Maybebumpedintosomeonewhoneededhelp?”
“Idon’tknow,”Coviesaid,followingmedownthesidewalk.
Wewerefeetawayfrommytruckwhenaloudcrashcamefromnextdoor.
OurfaceswhippedtotheNigelhouse.
“Whatthe—”Covieheldupafinger.“LetmecheckonFrank.”
Wedidn’thavetimetoworryaboutfuckingFrank.“Covie—”
“Twoseconds.Maybehesawherleave.”
“Fine,”Igrumbled,followinghimacrossthelawnthatseparatedtheirhomes.
Thegaragedoorwasopenbutthelightswereoff.
Franksatontheconcretefloor,onekneebent,theotherlegstraightandhisfoottippedtothesidelikehedidn’thavethestrengthtokeepitupright.Hisbackwasagainstatoolbench,hisfacehiddenintheshadowsofthedarkspace.
“Frank?”Coviehurriedtowardhisfriend,bendinglow.“What’sgoingon?Areyouhurt?”
Frankshookhishead,hisglassyeyesrollingmorethanblinkingashecastaglaremydirection.“Getout,Eden.”
“Areyoudrunk?”Coviestoodandfrowned.“We’relookingforWinnie.Haveyouseenher?”
“Thisishisfault.”
Washetalkingtome?“Excuseme?”
“Ihateyou.”
“Thefeelingismutual.NowanswerCovie’squestion.HaveyouseenWinslow?”
“Winnie.”Hisexpressionwentfromcoldandfurioustosadandapologeticinablink.Hedroppedhiseyestohislap.“Oh,God.”
“Hey.”Coviedroppedtoacrouch,puttingahandonFrank’sarmtogiveitashake.“What’sgoingon?”
Frank’sshoulderscurledin.“Itwasjustforfun,Walter.Itwasneverserious.”
“Whatwasfun?”Covieaskedhim.
“We’rewastingtime.”Iwantedoutofthisgoddamngarage.WeshouldbesearchingforWinn,notlisteningtothisasshole’sdrunkenbabble.
“Oneminute,Griffin.”Covieheldupafinger.“Frank,whatareyoutalkingabout?DoyouknowwhereWinnieis?”
“Youneedtounderstand,Walter.”Frankstraightenedinaflash,graspingCovie’sforearmsandholdinghiminplace.
Itookastepforward,thehairsonthebackofmyneckstandingup.
“Understandwhat?”Covieaskedhim.
“Itwassex.Onlysex.YouknowIlikesex.”
Sex.Withwho?Myframelocked.Myhandsballedintofists.IfFrankhadsomuchastouchedahaironWinn’shead,they’dneverfindhisfuckingbody.
“Whatareyoutalkingabout,Frank?”Covie’scalmvoicewasastarkcontrasttothefurythatragedthroughmyveins.
Iclampedmymolarstogethertokeepquiet.
Frankwouldn’tsayagoddamnwordtome.Maybe,ifwewerelucky,he’dforgetIwasstandinghere,becauseallthatmatteredwasWinn.
“Thegirls,”Frankwhispered.
Myheartlurched.Thegirls.Therewasnoquestionwhohewasreferringto.Iknew,deepinmysoul,exactlywhichgirlshemeant.
LilyGreen.HarmonyHardt.
WherethefuckwasmyWinn?
“Frank.”Coviepulledhisarmsfreeofhisneighbor’shands.Theninaswiftmotion,movingfasterthananymanthatageshouldbeabletomove,hewasonhisfeet,haulingFrankupwithhim.
“Ah!”FrankcriedasCovieshovedhimintothetoolbench.
“What.The.Fuck.Is.Going.On?”Coviebarked.
FrankcollapsedintoCovie’sshoulder,tryingtohughim.
ButCoviepushedhimoff,shovinghimagain.Thetoolsonthebenchrattled.“Talk.Now.”
“It’sanaddiction.It’snotmyfault.Ilikesexandthat’sallitwas.Iswear.”
Igulped.“What’shetalkingabout,Covie?”
IfFrankhadrapedWinn…
Redcoatedmyvisionandittookeveryounceofstrengthtostandhereandnotmove.
“Who?”Covieasked.“LilyGreen?”
TheguiltinFrank’seyeswasanswerenough.“Wekeptitasecret.Theywereallsecrets.We’dmeetoutoftownatahotel.Havesomefun.Thatwasit.Sex.TheywanteditasmuchasIdid.”
“Whatdidyoudotothem?”Thewordswerehardtoformthroughmyclenchedjaw.
“Nothing.Ididn’tdoanything.”Frank’seyessearchedCovie’s.“Youneedtobelieveme.Ididn’tdoanything.Iwouldn’thavehurtthem.”
“They’redead,”Coviespat.
“Iknowthey’refuckingdead!”Frank’sroarfilledthegarage,bouncingoffeverysurface.
“Tellme.”CovieshookFrankagain.“Tellme.WhereisWinn?”
“Sheshouldn’thaveaskedsomanyquestions.”
Thatstatementhadmeflyingacrosstheroom,rippingFrankoutofCovie’sgrip.“Whatdidyoudotoher?”
“Nothing.”Hegulpedandtherewasrealfearinhiseyes.BecauseIwouldmurderthismotherfucker,andheknewit.“Iwouldn’thurther.”
“Thenwherethefuckisshe?”Ibellowed.
Thestenchofwhiskeyonhisbreathwasoverpoweringashelostit,breakingdownintoafitofsobs.WhenIdroppedhim,hecollapsedtohisknees.
“Where’sRain?”Covieaskedhim.
Frankdidn’tanswer.Heburiedhisfaceinhishandsandcried.
Covieboltedforthedoorthatledtothehouse,whippingitopen.“Rain!”
Therewasnoanswer.
Hecamebackandscannedtheemptyspace.“HerJeepisgone.Maybeshe’sshopping.Let’scallher.SeeifsheknowswherehemighthavetakenWinnie.”
ThesoundoftherivergrewlouderasCoviewentforhisphone.
Theriver.ThementalimageofFrankholdingWinn’sheadbeneaththewaterexplodedinmyhead.Herlungsfillingwithwater.Herlifelessbodyfloatingdownstream.Isqueezedmyeyesshut,willingthepictureaway.
WhenIopenedthem,theylandedonthesafeinthecorner.MaybeFrankhadtakenoutapistol.Maybehe’dpressedthebarreltoherhead.Mystomachroiled.
“Itoldhernottodoitthistime.”Frank’sbabbletorethroughmybrain.
“What?”
“Itoldhernotthistime.Thatitwasdifferent.ButWinnieknew.She’stoosmart.She’salwaysbeentoosmart.”
“Wait.”Iheldupahand.“Youtoldwhonottodowhat?”
Hiswhisperwasbarelyaudible.“Rain.”ChapterTwenty-TwoWinslow
Thebloodtrailcoatinghalfofmyfacemadeopeningbotheyesalmostimpossible.Withmyhandsboundbehindmyback,therewasnowaytowipemyeyelidclean.Everyblinkwassticky.Everybreathstrained.Everystepexcruciating.
“Rain—”
“Shh.”Shepokedherknifeatthegashinmyhead.Themetaltipbarelymadecontactwithmyflesh,buteventhegrazewasenoughtosendmetothedirt.
Thecrackofmykneesagainsttherocksrangthroughmyboneslikethevibrationofabell,butinsteadofabeautifulchime,itwasagony.Sheeragony.
Myheadspuninadizzycircle,likeaspinningtopthemomentbeforeitcollapsed.BlacknesstickledattheedgesofmyconsciousnessbutIshoveditaway,forcingabreathintomylungs.Breathe
I’dhadthewindknockedoutofmecountlesstimesinphysicaltrainingorkarate.I’dstrainedmusclesandearnedthousandsofbruises.Butthiswasmyfirstconcussion.Eachmovewassluggish,andallIwantedwastosleep.Justforaminute.
Ileanedforward,thegroundbeckoning,andtwistedenoughsothatwhenIdropped,Ihitmyshoulderandnotmyface.Wrongmove.ThesecondIcrashed,painrippedthroughmyarm.EithermyshoulderwasdislocatedorIhadafracturedbone.
WhenI’dbeenunconscious,Rainhaddonesomethingtomyarm.Maybe,whensheandFrankhadbeenloadingmeintheJeep,she’ddroppedme.Maybeshe’dstompedonmeorusedthemeatmalletagain.Somethingwasdefinitelywrongbecausemymusclesdidn’twanttoworkrightandanystrengthinmylefthandwasgone,stolenbytheache.
ButbeforeIcouldclosemyeyesandsuccumbtothedark,Rain’sknifewasback,thetipdiggingintothesmoothskinatmyneck.
Painhadawayofcuttingthroughthehaze.
“Up.”Shegrippedmyelbowandforcedmetomyfeet.
IswallowedtheurgetopukeasIstood.“Please.”
“Shh.”Sheshovedmeupthetrail.“Walk.”
Onefootinfrontoftheother,Irushednothing.Foreverystep,Itooktwobreaths.
Think,Winn.Mybraindidn’twanttothink.Mybrainwantedsleep.Wakeup.Fight.“Whyareyoudoingthis?”
“Stoptalking.”
“Rain,please.”
Sheliftedtheknifetomyhead,totheplacewherethebloodfeltthickest.“Quiet.”
Iclampedmymouthshutandnodded,takinganotherstep.
UpandupIndigoRidge.
Totheend.
WasthishowLilyGreenhaddied?Forcedtomakethismiserableclimb?WasthisthepaththatHarmonyHardthadwalkedtoo?Whatabouttheothers?
Ithadn’tbeensuicide.Iwasright.Allthistime,myinstinctshadbeenpushingmetothisconclusion.Butthosesameinstinctshadfailedmetoo.They’dfailedmefornotsuspectingFrank.Fornotseeingthemonsterswho’dlivednextdoor.
Nowitwastoolate.
Theskywasthepurestofnavybluesabovemyhead.Thestarsappearedtobedancinginadizzycircle,butitwasmyfuzzyheadplayingtricksonme.Theonespinningwasme.
Rainhadslammedthatmeattenderizerintomyskulland,inablink,there’donlybeenblack.
Ihadn’tevenraisedanarmtoblockthestrike.I’dbedisappointedinmyselflater.IfIsurvivedthis.
Thathadtohavebeenhoursago.I’dwokeninthebackofherJeepatthebaseoftheridge.Whenshe’dwavedavialofsmellingsaltsundermynostrils,onlythefaintestofgoldenglowshadbeenleftonthehorizon.Thelightwasnearlygonenow.Andtherewasjustenoughmoonlighttoseethenarrowtrailthatloomedahead.
Raindidn’trelentforamoment.Shepushedmeupthattrail,stepbystep.Mylungswereonfireandmylegsburned.Shebreathedlikeshewasloungingonacouch,nothikingtotheapexofacliff.
Rain.Howhaditcometothis?Whowasshe?Thepaininmyheartmadethisallsomuchhardertobelieve.
“Ithoughtyoulovedme,”Iwhispered.
“Lovedyou?”shescoffed.“Likedyou.Yes.Yougotoofarwithusingthatword.You’relikemycheatinghusband.Alwaysspoutingwordsoflove.”
“Helovedthem?”
“Hewasobsessedwiththem.Leavingthemnotes.Arrangingtheirsecretrendezvous.Evenwhenhepromisedmehe’dstop,hedidn’t.Sothisishispunishment.”
“Youcoulddivorcehim.”
“That’stookind.Didyouknowthisusedtobeoneofhisfavoritehikingspots?Heproposedtomehere.Nowhecanhikethisridgeandthinkaboutwhathe’sdone.Aboutwhathe’smademedo.”
“InevertouchedFrank.”
“No,youaskedquestions.”Sheshovedmyelbow,nearlyknockingmeoff-balance.“Youshouldhaveletitgo.Theygotwhattheydeserved.Sodidhe.Anditcouldhaveendedthereifyouhaddonewhateveryoneelseinthisgoddamntownhasdoneforyearsandbelievedwhatyouweresupposedtobelieve.”
Thatthesegirls,atleastsomeofthem,hadkilledthemselves.Andyes,everyonehadsimplybelieved.
“Itoldhimtostopthis.”Rain’sseethingwordsseemedmoreforherselfthanforme.“ItoldhimthelasttimehadtobethelasttimeorI’dbringhimupherenext.”
“Ifyouwanttotakemetotownandcollecthiminstead,Iwon’targue.”
Shelaughed,themusical,sweetlaughthatI’dknownsincechildhood.Itsentachillupmyspine.“Keepgoing,Winnie.”
“Rain,please.”
“Don’tbeg.Itdoesn’tsuityou.”
Igrittedmyteethandtookanotherstep.ThenanotherbeforeIstopped.
WhywasImakingthiseasyonher?Screwthisbitch.Withasmirkatmylips,Idroppedtomyknees,thepainunbearablebutIgruntedthroughit.ThenIshiftedandsatonmyass.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Takingabreather.”Iliftedoneshoulder,stretchingmyneckinanattempttowipesomeofthebloodoffmyface.Ithurtlikeamother,butwhenIstraightened,therewasaredsmearonthestrapofmywhitetank.
“Getup,”shebarked.
“No,thanks.I’mgoodhere.”Myheadthrobbed,butmyfocuswassharpening.Iletitwakemeup.Iletitpushmetofight.
AtthedojowhereI’dtrainedinBozeman,mysenseis,Coleincluded,hadalwayssaidthebestwaytolearnwastofaceanopponentbetterthanyou.Rainwasbetterpositioned.Shehadtheknife.Ihadaconcussion.
ButIcouldn’tlosethisfight.Icouldn’tdieonthisridge.
“Get.Up.”Rainkickedmyankle,thesoleofherhikingbootscrapingtheskinraw.
Iwinced,tookthatpainandaddedittotherest,embracingitasfuel.“No.”
“Iwillkillyouhere.”
“Anddragmetherestoftheway?”Ihuffed.“Evenarookiecopwouldbeabletotellthatmybodywasdragged.SounlessyouwanteveryoneinthecountytostartaskingthequestionsI’vebeenaskingformonthsabouttheseallegedsuicides,no,youwon’tkillmehere.”
TheairwaslodgedinmylungsasIwaitedforhertorespond.Aboldmove,assertingmyself,butatthispoint,whatdidIhavetolose?
Griffin
IwouldloseGriffin.
Findme,Griff.WhenIdidn’tshowupfordinner,hewouldgolooking,right?He’dfindmycar.He’daskPops.Hopefullythey’dgotoFrank’splaceandseethroughthatbastard’sbullshit.
GriffinhadbeenrightaboutFrank,andI’dbeentoocloudedbyfamilyhistorytoseethelies.
“DidyouputHarmony’spurseandLily’swalletonthetrailforBriggstofind?”
Rainkickedmyhipandittookeveryounceofmywillpowernottocryout.“Getup.”
“Ormaybeyouputthemoutthereformetofind,hopingthatI’dthinkBriggshadkilledthem.”IshiftedasIspokesomybodywouldshieldmyhands.
ThedirtwaslikesandpaperagainstmyfingertipsasIclawedattheground,searchingforasharprockoredgethatImightbeabletousetobreaktheziptieatmywrists.Copspreferredcuffsbecauseevenbehindtheback,apersoncouldbreaktheties.Allyouhadtodowasmakesomespaceandslamdownhard.ButIcouldn’tliftmyshoulder,notwithenoughstrengthtobreakthetie.
“Italmostworked.Ididsuspecthim.”
“Butyoudidnothing.”
“Youdidn’tleavemeenoughevidence,”Isneered,atherandthetrail.ThisspotwhereI’dploppeddownwassmooth.
“Up.Now.”Anotherkick.Anotherwince.Butotherwise,Ididn’tmove.
“Didyouhitthemovertheheadlikeyouhitme?Wasthathowyougotthemouthere?”
“Shutup.”
“Ididn’tfindanybloodaroundLily’scar.Nosignsofastruggle.Whatdidyoudo?TrickherintothinkingshewasmeetingFrank?”
Rain’sglarenarrowed.“Stop.Asking.Questions.”
“That’sayes,”Imuttered.“Letmeguess.Youwroteanote—yousaidthat’showFrankcontactedthem.”WhichwaswhyIhadn’tfoundanythinginLily’stextandcallhistory.“LilycameouttothecountryexpectingFrank.Maybeyoupromisedalittlelate-nightstargazing.Aromanticpicnicand—”
“Shutup!”Theknife’sbladeglintedsilverasitwhippedoutandslashedthroughmybicep.
Mycrywasswallowedupinthenight.Therewasnoonebuthertoseethetears,soIletthemfall.Angry,desperatetears.ButIwouldnotbesilenced.Nottonight.
“Youhitthem,likeyouhitme.Thatwaswhythereweren’tanytracesofdrugsintheirsystem.”Anyinjuriescausedbyherknifeorawoundtotheheadlikeminehadbeencoveredupbythesheerbrutalityoftheirdeaths.Whenallthatremainedofaperson’sskullwerefragments,piecingthemtogethertoseeapriorinjurywasnearlyimpossible.“Didyoumakeherwalkupthetrailtoo?Whendidshetakeoffherboots?”
“Whydoyoucare?”
“Tellme.Beforeweendthis,theleastyoucandoisgivemethetruth.”
Herlipcurled.“Shekeptslippinginthoseboots.”
“Youshouldhaveleftthemonherfeet.”
Shenudgedmytennisshoe.“I’llfixthatmistakewithyou.”
“Goodluck,”Ideadpanned.“NoonewillbelieveIcommittedsuicide.”
“You’vehadsuchahardtime,though,haven’tyou?Strugglingtofitin.Thatawfulbreakupwithyourfiancé.Thefolksatthestationhavebeenunwelcomeatbest.You’realoneandrumoristhatGriffinEdenisabouttodumpyoutoo.He’sbeeninlovewithEmilyNelsenforyears.”
Iscoffed.“Ihadn’theardthatoneyet.”ButIhadnodoubtthatrumorhadbeenstartedbyEmilyherself.
“Oh,I’llconcedethatEmilyisafool,butshe’sbeenafterGriffinforalong,longtime.Therewillbesomepeopleintownwho’llbelieveshe’sfinallycaughthiseyeforgood.Combinethatwiththetragicdeathofyourparents,andit’snowonderyou’vebeensodepressed.”
“It’sastretch.Toobigofastretch.”
“I’vebeenstretchingforyears.”
Ilookedupandmethercunninggaze.“Itdidn’tworkwithme.”
“Almost.ItwouldhaveworkedonTomSmith.”
“ButTomSmithisn’tthechief.”Ijuttedoutmychin.“Iam.AndIwillseeyourotinaprisoncellforthis.Forthosegirls.”
Howevermanyshe’dkilled.
TheknifeshookinRain’shand.“Iwillkillyouhere.IwilldragyouifImust.”
“Fine.”
Herhandcametomyhair,bunchingitinherfist.Truetoherword,shebegantodrag.ThepainwasexcruciatingandIscreamedagain,thesoundsorawandbrutalitrippedthroughmythroatjustasaclumpofhairtoreloose.
“Stop.”Tearscloudedmyvisionasmylimbsshook.“I’llwalk.”
Thatonlymadeherpullharder.
“I’llwalk!”
IttookRainamomenttoletgo,andwhenherfingerspeeledfreefrommyhair,thereliefdrewanotherfloodoftears.
Istaggeredtomyfeet,myheadspinningworsethanithadbefore.Thetrailwaswiderherethanitwasinmostplacesbutitwasstillnarrow.Maybeshewouldn’thavetopushmeovertheedge.Maybethegashinmyscalpandtheseunsteadyfeetwouldkillmeforher.
God,ifIdidfall,IhopedGriffinwouldn’tfindme.Ididn’twantmybrokenbody,mydeath,tohaunthisnightmares.
“Move,”Raincommanded,theknifebyherside.Itsbladedrippedwithmyblood.
Istartedtheclimb,glancingovermyshoulderonce.Icouldrun.Itwouldn’tbeeasywithmyhandstied,butIcouldraceherdownthisridge.MaybeifIboughtmyselfenoughtime,someonewouldcomesearching.
“You’llneveroutrunme,”Rainsaid,readingmythoughts.Shemovedtostandbehindme,blockinganyattempttoescape.IfItriedtobowlherover,I’dprobablytripandrolldownthetrail.
Stepbystep,Rainurgedmeforward.HerknifebitintothesmallofmybackwhenIdidn’tmovefastenough.
She’dhavetocutmywristsfreeatsomepoint,right?Ifshewantedthistolooklikeasuicide,shecouldn’tkeepmyhandsbound.ShemustnothaveboundLily’satallbecausethere’dbeennotiemarks.
Thecutsonmywristsfromthetiesstungandthrobbed.I’dpulledhardenoughforthemtodigin,justnotbreak.Itwasasmallcomfort,knowingthatI’dfoughtenoughformycorpsetoraisemorequestions.
Maybeshe’dclimbdownafterpushingmeoffthecliffandcutthetiesthen.
Before.Please,lethercutthembefore.
Thatwouldbemyonlychancetofight.Itwouldn’tbemuchofanopening,butitwouldlikelybetheonlyone.
Thetrailcurvedandwithitmystomachtwisted.Thetopwasnear.
Exceptgettingtherewasgoingtobeabitmoredifficult.
Griffinhadblockadedthetrail.
IlaughedwhenIspottedthefence.Itwastallandsturdy.Theonlywaypastwastoclimboverthetop.Whenhadhedonethis?IfIsurvivedthisnight,I’dkisshimforit.I’dkisshimfortherestofmylife.
“Whatisthis?”Rainspatthewordsasshetookinthefreshlydugfencepostsandbracesbetweenthem.
“AgiftfromGriffin.”
Shestudiedit,lookingitupanddown.“Go.”
“Where?”
“Over.”Theknifejabbedmybicep.“Climbit.”
“There’sbarbedwireatthetop.”
Raindidn’tgiveashitifIcutmyselftopieces,butshe’dhavetoclimbthistoo.Shelookedforward,thenbehindus.“Go.Up.”
Iopenedmymouthtorefusebutpasthershoulderaflickeroflightbrokethroughthenight.
Shefollowedmygaze,herownwidening.
“Help!”Iscreamed.
“Winslow!”
Briggs.Hewascomingthiswayfromthetrailthatledtothecabin.Thelightmustbeaflashlight.
“Bri—”
“Shutup.”Rainliftedtheknifetomythroat.“Go.Down.”
Ididn’targueassheshovedmebackthewaywe’dcome.Downwasamoveintherightdirection.
Shepushedandpushed,sofastwewerepracticallyjogging.Whenwepassedtheplacewherethetwotrailsmerged,herknifestayedonmypulse,itsbladeslicingtinycutsintomyskin.
“Faster,”shehissed.
IsearchedfranticallyforBriggs’slight.Itwasonthetrail,buthewasstillyardsaway.Toofartostopusaswepassed.
He’dbechasingusdownthemountain.
Mykneesachedasshepushed,andIbracedeachtimemyheellanded,worriedthelastshredsofmystrengthwouldunravelandI’dfallforward.
“Stop.”Rain’shandwrappedaroundmyelbow.
Hergazewhippedbehindus,checkingtoseeifwewerealone.
Sofocusedonjoggingforward,Ihadn’tkepttrackofwherewewereonthetrail.Theslopebesideuswasthesteepestalongthispathexceptforthecliffitself.Thefacewasn’tasheerwallofrocklikeitwasatthetop,buttheverticaldropwasenoughtomakemystomachplummet.
Bushesclutteredtheslope,theirleavesgrayagainstthegrowingmoonlight.They’dhurtbuttheyprobablywouldn’tkillme.No,itwouldbetherockshidingbeneaththoseshrubsthatwouldbreakme.
Rainwouldpushmeover,thenracetothebottomanddisappearbeforeBriggsoranyoneelsecouldcatchher.
Herknifecametomyside.Shenudgedmyarm,sendinganotherwaveofsearingpainthroughmybodyassheeasedinclose,hervoiceawhisperinmyear.“Thinkyou’llfly,littlebird?”
“Fuckyou,”Iwhimpered.
“Let’sfindout.”Herknifeleftmysideandherfreehandpressedbetweenmyshoulderblades,readytoshove.Shewasfast.
ButIwasready.
Summoningeveryounceofmystrength,Itwistedaway,myfeetslidingonthedirtpath.Myarmswereheavyandmylegstired,butImanagedtokickatthebackofherknee,forcingheroff-balance.
“Goddamnyou,”sheshouted.
ButIwasalreadymoving,stumblingtomyfeetandpushingmylegstorun.
“Iwillcatchyou,”shethreatened,thesoundofherfootstepsclosebehind.Herhandreachedoutandbrushedmyhair.
Islipped,skiddingmorethanrunning,butthemomentumwasintherightdirectionasIroundedaslightcurve.
Anewlightflickeredinthedistance.Headlights.
Ipushedfaster.Harder.IfIcouldjustgettothebottom,Briggswould—
Rain’shandclampedonmyscalp.Oneofherfingersslidintothesticky,slickgashabovemytemple,andthepainwassoblindingtherewasn’tanythingtodobutslow.
Andfight.
Iwhirledonher,mykneeraised.Yearsoftrainingcametomyrescue.Mykicksnappedfast,rightintoherstomach.
Iwasn’tdyingtoday.Ihadthingstolivefor.IhadtomoveintoGriffin’shouse.IhadtolearnhowtorideJupiter.Ihadtospendmoresunsetsinhisrockingchairandnightscurledinhisbed.
Raingruntedbutkeptherbalance.Sheswungoutwiththeknife,slicingtowardmybelly.
Idodged,barely,myfootingunsteady.Mysecondattemptatakickmissedherhipbyinches.
Andwhensheswepttheknifeagain,herstrikewastrue.Agonyeruptedthroughmystomach.Redseepedthroughmyshirt,hotandwet.
“Winn.”Griffin’svoicesangthroughmymind.
“No.”Rainstabbedagain,thebladesinkingintomyside.
Igasped,thepainblendingwiththerest.
Shetookmywristandpulled,hard,draggingmepastherbodyinanattempttoflingmeovertheedge.
Idroppedtoaknee,myskintearingagainstarock.
“Winn!”
Griff’svoicerangthroughmymindagain.OrmaybeitwasBriggs.
Rain’sgazeflickeredovermyheadtothebaseofthetrail.
Ifollowedhereyes,twistingasbestIcould.Theheadlights.Thevoice.Hewashere.
Fight.Igrittedmyteeth,squaringmyshouldersandplantingmytoesbeneathme.ThenIshotforward,likeaspring,andslammedmyshoulderintoherankles
Rainstumbled.
Andthenitwashertimetofly.
Overtheedge.Herscreamsdyingatthefirstclashwitharock.
Thentherewassilence.SweetsilenceasIcollapsedontotheground,tiltingmygazetothoseswirlingstars.
“Winn.”Griffin’svoicecamelouderandlouder,thenhewasthere,pickingmeup.
“Youfoundme,”Iwhispered.
Heshifted,diggingintohisjeansforapocketknife.Oneflickandthetieatmywristswasgone.
ItriedtoliftanarmtotouchhischeekbutIdidn’thavethestrength.
“Winn.Baby.Standup.Weneedtogetyoutoahospital.”
Isaggedagainsthimashisarmwrappedbeneathmyshoulders.
“Oh,fuck.”Hishandpressedintothewoundsonmystomach.“Okay,I’mgoingtocarryyou.”
Hemadethemovetostandandthepainthatlancedthroughmybodyconjuredonemorescream.
“Fuck.Thiswillhurt.Youhavetostickitoutforme,okay?”Helookedupthetrail.“Briggs!”
“Coming!”
“Hurry!”
Briggscouldhurry.Griffincouldrun.ButIwouldn’tmakeit.Hemightcarrymedownthismountainanddriveintotown,butRainhadwon.
Therewerewordstosay.Apologiestomake.Promisestoaskhimtomake.Butintheend,Ihadnotime.
“Iloveyou.”
“No,Winn.Don’tsayit.”Heshookmeashestood.Hisbootsbeganpoundingdownthetrail.“Stayawake.”
“Sayitback.JustoncesoIcanhearit.”
“No.”
“Griffin.”Myvoicecracked.“Please.”
Hedidn’tslow.“Iloveyou.Fuck,butIloveyou.”
“Thankyou.”
ThenIletoutonemorebreath.
Andthestarsvanished.ChapterTwenty-ThreeGriffin
“Wakeup,baby.”Mylipsbrushedagainstherknuckles.“Whyisn’tshewakingup?”
“Shelostalotofblood,”Taliasaid.
“Ican’tloseher.”IclutchedWinn’shand.“Ican’t…”
Thelumpinmythroatthathadbeenthereforthreedaysfeltlikeanoosearoundmyneck.
“Youshouldgetsomesleep.”Taliaputherhandonmyshoulder.“Getoutofthischairandwalkaroundatleast.”
Ishookmyhead.“I’mnotleavingher.”
“Griff—”
“I’mnotleaving.”
Taliasighed.“CanIbringyouanything?”
“Coffee.”
“Okay.”Shesqueezedmyshoulder,thenslippedoutoftheroom.
Shewasn’ttheonlypersonwho’dtriedconvincingmetogohome.Myparents.Mysiblings.Covie.Thenurses.Thedoctors.Everyonewastryingtogetmetodisconnect.
Toletgoofherhand.
Becausetherewasarealchancethatshewasn’tgoingtowakeup.Shehadn’toncesinceI’dcarriedheroffIndigoRidge.
“Comeon,Winn.Wakeup,”Iwhisperedagainstherskin.Itfelttoocold,andshelookedtoopaleinthebed.Thegashonherheadhadbeenstitched,thebloodcleanedfromherfaceandhair.Butherlipswerethisuglygrayshade.Hereyelidsblueandhercheekshollow.
“Wehavesomuchaheadofus.ButIneedyoutowakeup.”
InthedaysthatI’dbeenhere,I’dbeggedhercountlesstimes.Becausemaybeifshecouldjusthearmyvoice…
“Findyourwaybacktome.Please.Youcan’tleavemeyet.”
TherewassomuchIhadtotellher.Somuchgoodshe’ddonethatshedeservedtocelebrate.
“Winslow.”Iclosedmyeyes.“Iloveyou.We’vegotalifetimetogether.Butyouhavetowakeup,baby.Youhavetowakeup.Findyourwaybacktome.”
Shedidn’tmove.
Mysisterbroughtmecoffeeallmorning.
Coviecameinandsatquietlybymysidethroughtheafternoon.
Thenursebroughtmeafreshblanketaftermidnight.
Winndidn’tmove.
Untilthesunbegantoriseonthehorizon.
Thosebeautifulblueeyesopened.Finally.
Andshefoundherwayback.ChapterTwenty-FourWinslow
“Ready?”Griffaskedaswestoodbesidehistruck.
Iclaspedmyhandwithhis.“Ready.”
Wewalked,sidebyside,toMelinaGreen’sfrontdoor.Mypacewasslowandawkward.Everythingoverthepasttwoweekshadbeenslowandawkward.Butitgavemetimetostudyheryardaswewalked.
Herflowerbedswereoverflowingwithpurpleconeflowerblooms.Thelawnhadbeenrecentlymowedandthescentofgrassfilledmynose.Robinschirpedastheylandedinthelargeoaktreethatshadedpartofherhouse.Afreshmorning.
Anewday.
BeforeGriffcouldknock,thedooropenedandMelinasteppedoutside.Herfacewasalightwithgratitude.
“Hi.”Ismiled.
“Hi.”Hereyesturnedglassyandthenshewasthere,huggingmetootight.
Ithurt.MyshoulderhadbeendislocatedandonlyyesterdayI’dstoppedwearingthesling.ButIdidn’tdareflinch.IsimplysqueezedGriffin’shandbecausehe’dbeenhelpingmebearthepainforthepasttwoweeks.
Melinaheldmeforalongmoment,untilGriffinmusthaverealizedIwashurtingbecauseheputhishandonhershoulder.
“Shouldwegoinside?”
“Ofcourse.”Sheletmego,wipingthetearsaway,andwavedusinside.
Sunlightstreamedthroughthebaywindowinherlivingroom.GriffinandIsatonthesmoothleathercouch,hisarmgoingbehindmyshouldersthemomentIwasdownsoIcouldleanintohisside.
Mybodywashealingbutitwasn’thappeningasfastasI’dlike.He’dtriedtoconvincemetoputthisvisitoffforanotherweekandspendyetanotherdayrestingathome.Butitwastimetogetbacktolife.
Livingwasprecious.Everymoment.IfthenightatIndigoRidgehadtaughtmeanything,itwastomakethemostofmytimeonthisearth.
Forafirstmajorexcursionoutofthehouse,visitingMelinawasexactlythewaytostart.
“Howareyoufeeling?”sheasked,takingthechairacrossfromthecouch.“CanIgetyouanything?”
“No,thanks.AndI’mokay.Thisguyhasbeentakinggoodcareofme.”
Griffinleanedoverandkissedmyhair.“Whenshelistens.She’snotthebestpatient.”
Ielbowedhimintheribs.ThefastmovementcausedastitchofpainandIgrunted.
“SeewhatImean?”heteased.
“Thankyouforcomingover.”Melinalookedtothefireplacemantel,crowdedwithframedphotosofherdaughter.“Andforeverythingyou’vedoneforLily.”
“Iwasjustdoingmyjob.”
“No.”Shegavemeasadsmile.“Youdidsomuchmore.”
Inthepasttwoweeks,numeroussuicidecaseshadbeenreopenedandtheirfilesfloodedwithnewinformation.FrankhadbeenarrestedthenightRainhadtriedtokillme,andhisconfessionhadshockedtheentirecommunity.
Fourofthesevensuicidesinthepastdecadehadn’tbeensuicides.He’dbeenhavinganaffairwitheachofthoseyoungwomenandeachhadbeenmurderedbyhiswife.
Frankhadmasteredsecretsanddeception,somehowconvincingthewomentokeeptheirtrystsasecret.Hewasacharismaticman.Good-looking.Ididn’tfaultthosegirlsforfallingforhisact.Ionlywishedoneofthemhadleftabreadcrumb.Orthattheformerchiefhadpushedhardertofindone.
Nowthatweknewwheretolook,evidencewaspouringin.
Frankwouldmeeteachofthewomenathotelsinneighboringtowns.Creditcardreceiptsshowedthathe’dpaidfortheirnightstogether.They’dcommunicatedbypapernotes,neversigned,buthishandwritinghadbeeneasilymatched.LilyGreenhadkeptafewofthenotes.Melinahadfoundthemwhenshe’dfinallyworkedupthecouragetocleanherdaughter’sroom.ThenoteshadbeenhiddenbeneathLily’smattress.
MaybeifI’dpushedhertolooksooner,IwouldhaverecognizedFrank’shandwriting.
He’ddropthosenotestoLilyathistripstothebank.HarmonyHardthadworkedatarestaurantintownandhe’dadmittedtoleavinghermessagesonthebacksofhisreceipts.
Therewasmoretouncover,butthegistofitwasallovertown.Frankwouldsneakhisaffairs,foolingeveryonebutRain.Andwhenshe’dfinallysnap,therewouldbeadeath.
Rain’sfirstvictimhaddiedofanoverdose.She’dlivedaloneanditwasbelievedthatRainhadbrokeninandforcedhertotakethepills—Frankhadn’tknownthespecificsandRainwasn’talivetoask.Apparentlytheoverdosehadn’tbeenenoughofapunishmentforFrank,soRainhadswitchedhertactics.
“Istillcan’tbelieveit.”Melinashookherhead.“Rainusedtovolunteeratthenursinghome.She’dcomeinanddopaintingclasseswiththeresidents.Shealwaysseemedlikesuchasweetwoman.”
“Youweren’ttheonlyonewhowasfooled.”She’dfooledmemyentirelife.Popstoo.
He’dtakenthishard.PopshadlovedFrankandRain.Truly.He’dbelievedtheywerefamilyandthisbetrayalhadhithimsohardthathe’ddecidedtomove
Afterdecadesoflivinginthehousethathadbeenmygrandmother’s,thathadbeenmyfather’s,Popswasmoving.Hecouldn’tbeartolivenextdoortotheNigelhouse.
Sohewastakingmine.
Griffinhadgoneoveryesterdaytocollecttherestofmythings.MostofthefurnitureI’dboughtwasgoingtocharity.Therewereafewfamiliesintheareawho’dfallenonhardtimes,andifmyfurniturecouldgivethemapick-me-up,thenIwashappytogiveitaway.Itwasn’tlikeIneededitatGriff’shouse—ourhouse.
Melina’sjawclenched.“WhatwillhappentoFrank?”
“He’sbeingchargedasanaccessorytomurder.Hislawyermightencouragehimtopleadnotguilty,buthewillgotoprison.”
Hisconfessionwasgoingtoworkagainsthim.He’dlikelysaythatithadbeencoercedorwasgivenunderduress.Therewasnothingtodobutwaitandletitplayoutincourt.ButIhadconfidenceinmyofficers.
Mitchhadbeentheonetorespondtothecallthathorriblenight.PopshadstayedwithFranktoensurethebastardhadn’ttriedtoskiptown.Meanwhile,GriffinhadtakenagambleandracedtoIndigoRidge,callingBriggsalongtheway
Ifnotforthemboth,IwouldhavesufferedRain’sfate.
“IthinkIhatehimmorethanIhateher,”Melinasaid.“Maybethat’sastrangewaytoseeit.Butheknew.Heknewshe’dkilledandhekepthavinghisaffairs.”
“It’snotstrange.”BecauseIfeltthesameway.
“I’mgladshe’sdead.”Melina’seyeswidenedwhensherealizedwhatshe’dsaid.“Sorry.”
“Don’tbe,”Griffinsaid.“You’renottheonlyone.”
Hehadn’tsaidmuchaboutRainsincethatnight.He’dtoldmethatherbodyhadbeenfoundonthesideofthemountain,herneckbrokenfromthefall.Otherwise,he’dstayedquiet.
Tooquiet.
Therewasfuryinhisgaze.Aflamesohotitburnedthesameshadeasthosestunningblueirises.Theragehadsurfacedafewtimesinthepasttwoweeks,mostlywhenI’dbeeninpain.
He’dclenchhisjaw.He’dballhisfists.He’dkeepitincheckuntilIwasfeelingbetter.Thenhe’dcallhismomoroneofhissisterstocomeandhangoutwithmewhilehewentforahardrideonJupiter.
ThankGodforthathorse.He’dhelpedgetGriffthroughthepasttwoweeks.Butsoonerorlaterwe’dhavetotalkaboutwhathadhappened.
“Haveyouspokentotheotherparents?”Melinaasked.
“Notyet.You’remyfirstvisit.”TheothersI’dgoseeonceIwasbacktoworkatthestation,butIhadanothertwoweeksofrestathome.Thesurgerytorepairthestabwoundshadgonewell,butcombinedwiththeconcussion,mybodyhadbeenthroughamajorordeal.
Thedoctorshadneededtorestartmyheartontheoperatingtable.
“Ican’timaginehowthey’refeeling.”Melinadroppedhergazetoherlap.“Tothinkforsomanyyearsthattheirgirls…I’mjustgladtohavethetruth.”
“I’msorryyoulosther.”
“Metoo.”Hereyeswerebrimmingwithunshedtears.
Evenwithtime,therewerewoundsthatwouldneverheal.
AteardrippeddownMelina’scheek.Thenanother.Shecasthergazeoncemoretothephotographsofherbeautifuldaughter.
“We’llgetoutofyourhair.”Griffinstoodfirst,holdingoutahandtohelpmetomyfeet.
WesaidgoodbyetoMelina,leavinghertofindwhateverpeacepossible,andclimbedintoGriffin’struck.
Themomentthedoorwasclosed,IletoutthebreathI’dbeenholding.
“Youokay?”heasked,slidingbehindthewheel.
“Justtired.”
“That’senoughforoneday.”
“IwantedtovisitPops.Seehowthepackingisgoing.”
“It’sgoingfine.Heknowswheretofindus.You’retakinganap.”
Ifrownedbuthadlearnedinthepasttwoweeksthatarguingwaspointless.SoIrelaxedintotheseatasGriffindroveushome.
“I’mproudofyou.”Hereachedoverandliftedahandoffmylap,bringingittohislips.“Younevergaveup.Evenwhenwealltoldyoutodropit.MaybeifIhadn’t…”
“Thisisn’tyourfault.”
Helookedoverandthepaininthoseeyesshotstraighttomyheart.“IthoughtI’dlostyou.”
“Youdidn’t.”
“But—”Heswallowedhard,hisAdam’sapplebobbing.Thenhedroveinsilence,takingushome.ThreecarscrowdedthespacenexttomyDurango.OnebelongedtoHarrison.Theother,Pops.Thethird,Briggs.
“Somuchforthatnap.”
“Theygettenminutes,”Griffsaid.“ThenI’mkickingthemout.”
“No,letthemstay.”Itfilledmyheartthatsomanypeoplehadcometocheckonme.Onus.
GriffstaredatthebackofBriggs’struck,makingnomovetogoinside.
“What?”Iasked.
“Forawhile,Iworrieditwashim.Thathe’ddonesomethingandblackeditout.”
BriggshadcomeeverydaysinceI’dbeenreleasedfromthehospital,eachtimewithabouquetofflowers.I’dbeforevergratefulthathe’dfoundhiswaytothehikingtrailinthedark.“Hesavedmylife.”
“Hedid.”
“Ifhisdementiagetsworse,ifheneedshelp,we’removinghimin.”
“Yes.IntoMomandDad’shouse.”Griffinnodded.“Theytalkedaboutit.They’regoingtostarthavinghimdownmore.Checkingonhimmore.Whenit’stime,they’llmovehimtotheirplace.”
“Wehaveroom.”
“Sodothey.AndIgetyoutomyselfforawhile.”
“Okay,”Iwhispered.
Hisshouldersslumped.Hiseyesstayedgluedtothewindshieldastheairconditionerblewthroughthecab.
Irestedmyheadagainsttheseat,reachingovertoslidemyhanddownhisarm.“Hey.I’mokay,Griff.”
“Yeah.”Heclearedhisthroat,thenjumpedintoaction,shuttingoffthetruckandhoppingout,roundingthehoodtogetmydoor.
Whateverhewasfeelingwaslockedawaybecausewehadcompanyanditwasn’tthetime.
Theguyswereallinsidewhenwewalkedthroughthedoor.Popswrappedmeinagentlehugbeforeguidingmetothelivingroomtosit.Briggshadbroughtanotherbouquetofflowers,daisiestoday.HarrisonhadbroughtoneofAnne’scherrypies.BetweenAnne,KnoxandLyla,wehadenoughfoodinthefridgetofeedtheentireEdenfamilyforaweek.
Ourfamilystayedforanhour,mostlytalkingtoGriffinaboutthegoings-onattheranchandwhatwashappeningintown.Afterlunch,whenmyeyelidsbegantodroop,Griffinkickedthemout,butnotbeforetheyhelpedmakeadentinthefoodandthepie.
IyawnedtwicebeforeGriffliftedmefromthecouchandcarriedmetobed.“Icanwalk.”
“Icancarryyou.”
“Fine.”Ileanedagainsthisshoulder,breathinginhisspicyscentbeforehesetmedownbesidethebed,pullingawaythecoverstotuckmein.
Myheadwasonthepillowwhenhecroucheddowntokissmyhair.“I’mgoingtoheadoutforaquickride.”
“No,you’renot.”Icaughthiswristbeforehecouldrunaway.“You’regoingtocometobedtoo.”
“You’llrestbetterifI’mnothere.”
“Nottrueandyouknowit.Liewithme.Please.”
Heblewoutafrustratedbreathbuthedidn’tdenyme.Griffstoodandkickedoffhisboots,thenunbuckledhisbeltsoitwouldn’tdigintomyback.Thenheeasedontothemattress,carefullyslidingonearmbeneathmypillow,inchingcloseuntilhischestwasflushwithmyspine.
Buthedidn’tholdme.Hehadn’theldmesinceI’dcomehomefromthehospital.
“Putyourarmaroundme.”
“Idon’twanttohurtyou.”
“I’mokay,Griff.”
“Idon’t—”
“I’mokay.Pleasedon’tpullawayfromme.I’lldragyoubackifIhaveto,butit’llhurt.”
Hesighedandburiedhisfaceinmyhair.Thenslowly,hisarmwoundaroundmywaist,restingagainstthespotwherethebandagesweregonebutthestitchesremained.
“See?”Itwisted,themovecausingabitofastingbutIshoveditdown.“Don’tcarrythisonyourown.Don’tshutmeout.”
Hisframeslumpedagainstmine.“Itrockedme.”
“Metoo.”
“Theideaofyougoingbacktowork,Ijust…Iworry.I’veneverfeltthiskindoffearbefore.It’smakingmeunsteady.”
“Thenweleanoneachother.Weworryabouteachother.Butwecan’tletitrunourlives.I’mokay.”
“You’reokay,”hebreathed,pullingmecloser.
“Good.”Iburrowedintohisarms.“Nowkissme.”
Hebarelygrazedthecornerofmymouth.
“Arealkiss.”
“Winn—”
“Kissme,Griffin.”
Hefrowned,butobeyed,hislipslingeringagainstmine.
“Stubborn,”Imumbledbeforedraggingmytongueagainsthislowerlipuntilfinally,hekissedmelikeIwantedtobekissed,breakingawaywhenwewerebothbreathless.“Iloveyou.”
Hetouchedthefrecklesonmynose.“Iloveyou.”
“Afterournap,canwedosomething?”
“Depends.Whatdoyouwanttodo?”
Ismiled.“Youowemeafirstdate.”EpilogueWinslow
Oneyearlater…
“Hey,baby,”Griffinanswered.“Havingfun?”
“Don’tevenstart,”Imuttered.“YouknowIhatetrafficduty.”
Helaughed.“Youvolunteered.”
“BecauseI’mtryingtobeagoodboss.”
“Thechiefofpolicedoesn’tneedtomanthespeedtraps.”
“Wedon’thavespeedtraps,Griffin.”
“Sure,”hedeadpanned.“Soyou’renotparkedbehindthebushoffthehighwayattheJohnDeeredealership.”
Notanymore.Iglancedinmyrearviewatthebushandthedealership.“Whatareyouguysdoing?”
“We’regettingreadytogoforaridearoundtheranch.”
“Byride,you’dbettermeaninatruckandnotonJupiter.”
GriffhadmadeacommentthismorningthatHudsonwasoldenoughtostartridingwithhimonthehorse.I’dthoughthewasjoking.He’dbetterhavebeenjoking.Mybabywasnotgettingonahorse.Notyet.
“He’sgottolearnsometime.”
“Griffin,”Iwarned.“He’stwomonthsold.”
Myhusbandchuckled.“Yes,we’reridingaroundinthetruck.”
“Good.Havefun.”
“I’mgoingtoswingbyMomandDad’s.Sayhi.SeehowBriggsissettlingintotheloftatthebarn.”
“Givethemallahugforme.MaybetwoforBriggs.”
Briggshadmovedinlastweek.IthadbeenMateo’sideatohaveBriggsclosertoHarrisonandAnne,butsinceBriggsdidn’twanthiscabintositempty,they’dtradedhomes.MateowasnowinthemountainswhileBriggswasclosertofamily.
Inthepastyear,he’dstartedonsomemedicationthatseemedtohelpbuteverynowandagainhe’dhaveanepisodewherehismindwouldfalterandhe’dlosetimeandplace.Theworstincidenthadhappenedamonthago,promptingthismove.Briggshadgonehikingandgottenlost.WhenGriffinandHarrisonhadgoneouttofindhim,he’dgottencombativewiththemboth,nothavingacluewhoeitherofthemwas.
WhenHarrisonhadtoldBriggslaterwhathadhappened,Briggshadmadeusallpromisethatifheactedlikethatagain,they’dputhiminahome.Mateohadsuggestedthebarnloftasanalternative.WehopedthatmaybeifBriggswaslivingclosertotheplacewherehe’dgrownupasachild,itwouldgivehimmoreofafoundation.
Noneofusknewwhatwouldhappen,butitwasworthatry.
“Willyoutakeyourmom’spieplatewhenyougo?”Iasked.
“It’salreadyloaded.”
Inthebackground,mysonwhimpered.
“How’sHudsondoing?”
“He’sreadyforanap.We’lldrivearound.Lethimconkoutinhisseat.ThenheadtoMom’s.”
“I’vegot”—Icheckedtheclockonthecruiser’sdash—“fourhourstogo.ThenI’llbehome.”
“We’llbewaiting.Loveyou.”
“Loveyoutoo.”IendedthecallandcontinueddrivingtowardMain.
Technically,Iwasstillonmaternityleave.Ihadthreeweeksleft.Butwe’dbeenabitshortonstaffforthepastfewmonths,eversinceI’dfiredTomSmith—pregnancyhadzappedmypatience.SoeventhoughIwassupposedtobeathome,I’dbeencoveringafewshiftstolightentheloadatthestationuntilwecouldgetanotherofficerhired.
Thetouristtraffichadlessenedconsiderablythispastweeknowthattheschoolyearhadbegun.Itwasnicetoseeafewemptyspacesdowntown,thoughsoonthere’dbehuntersandthentheChristmascrowd.
Quincyduringtheholidayswasmagical.
ThoughIwasbiased.MemoriesofchildhoodChristmasesherewithPopsandmyparentsweresomeofmyfondest.Andthispastyearhadbeenunforgettable.
GriffinandIhadgottenmarriedthreedaysbeforeChristmas.Theceremonyhadbeenasmall,intimateaffairatTheEloiseInn.He’ddazzledinablacksuit.I’dwornmymother’sweddingdress.AfterPopshadwalkedmedowntheaisleandGriffinandIhadexchangedvows,we’dopenedthehotel’sdoorsforareceptionthathadstrainedthebuilding’sseams.
Mostoftheguestroomshadbeenreservedforfamily,andforthefirsttimeever,I’dstayedatTheEloise.GriffinandIhadlockedourselvesinthebestsuiteforthreedays.
OurswasthelastweddinghostedatTheEloisebeforetherenovationshadstarted.HarrisonandAnnehadboughtthebuildingnextdoorandannexedittothehotelforevents.Andtherestaurantnolongerresembledanopendiningroom,butatrendy,upscalesteakhouse.
WhenI’dbeenpregnantwithHudson,GriffandIhadgonedownthreetimesaweekbecausemycravingshadbeenoutofcontrol.Knoxhadbeenlikeamagician,alwaysmakingexactlywhatIhadn’tevenknownI’dwanted.
Wehadn’tplannedtogetpregnantsosoon,butaftertheincidentonIndigoRidge,mybirthcontrolhadbeeninterruptedandwe’ddecidednottobother.
Lifewasshort.GriffinandIweregoingtoliveittothefullest,andthisfamilyweweremakingtogetherwasthelightofmylife.
Myhanddriftedtomybelly.Maybewe’dvisittherestaurantasoftenthistimearoundtoo.Mychildrenwouldbelessthanayearapart.Hopefully,thatmeantthey’dbeclosefriends,ifnotwhentheywerelittle,thenwhentheywereolder.
IreachedtheendofMainandheadeddownthehighway.TrafficwaslightandmostcarsIpassedwoulddoalittledip,theirfendersdroppingastheytappedtheirbrakes.Tenmileslater,IwasabouttoturnaroundandheadbacktotownwhenIspottedagraysedanwithNewYorkplatespulledoveronthesideoftheroad.
Slowing,Ieasedontotheshoulderandflippedonthecruiser’slightbarsoothercarswouldgiveussomespace.ThenImadesureIhadmysidearmonmyhipbeforeIgotoutandapproachedthecar.
GriffinhadinsistedIwearavestwhenIwasonpatrolduty.Itwashotontopofmyblackblouse,butmyhusbandworried.SoIworethevest.
Thedriver’ssidewindowofthesedanwasdown,andthesoundofababycryinghitmefirst.Thatunmistakablesoundtwistedmyheart.Sodidthesoundofawomansobbingashardastheinfant.
“Hello?”
Thewomanbehindthewheeldidn’thearme.
“Miss?”Icalled.
Shegaspedandpracticallyjumpedoutofherseatbelt.
“Sorry.”Iheldupmyhands.
“OhmyGod.”Sheslappedonehandtoherheartwhiletheothertuckedalockofblondhairoutofherface.“I’msorry,Officer.Icanmovemycar.”
“It’sallright.”Ileanedtopeekinside.“Iseverythingokay?”
Shenoddedandwipedfuriouslyatherface,tryingtodrythetears.“Justabadday.Actually,areallybadday.Maybethefifthworstdayofmylife.Sixth.No,fifth.We’vebeeninthecarfordaysandmysonwon’tstopcrying.He’shungry.I’mhungry.Weneedanapandashower,butI’mlost.I’vebeendrivingaroundforthirtyminutestryingtofindthisplacewherewe’resupposedtobestaying.”
“Whereareyougoing?”Iasked,castingmyeyestothebackseat.
Herbabycontinuedtowail,hisfaceredandhistinyfistsclenched.
Shereachedforastickynote,holdingitup.“JuniperHill.”
“JuniperHill?”Onlyonepersonlivedonthatgravelroad.
“Yes.Doyouknowwhereitis?”Shetossedherhandtowardthewindshield.“Mydirectionsledmerighthere.Butthereisn’taroadmarkedJuniperHill.Oranyroadmarked,period.”
“Montanacountryroadsrarelyaremarked.ButIcanshowyou.”
“Really?”Thehopeinhersadeyesbrokemyheart.Itwaslikethiswomanhadn’thadahelpinghandinalong,longtime.
“Ofcourse.”Iheldoutmyhand.“I’mWinslow.”
“Memphis.”
Thenamedidn’tsurpriseme.Eloisehadbeenutteringitforweeks.Knoxhadbeengrumblingitforjustaslong.
“WelcometoQuincy,Memphis.”
“Thankyou.”Shebreathedandanewwashoftearscascadeddownhercheeks.
Ihurriedtomycruiser,thenledthewaytoJuniperHill.
Fourhourslater,afterI’dtradedoutthecruiserformyDurango,Iwashome.
GriffinwasrockingHudsonontheporch,abottleheldtomyson’smouth.“Hey.How’ditgo?”
“Good.”Itookthechairnexttohimandwavedforhimtohandmemyboy.Whenhewasnestledinthecrookofmyarm,Ibreathed.
Hudsonhadmydarkblueeyes,butotherwiseIhopedhe’dresembleGriffin.Healreadyhadhisfather’sthick,brownhair.Andevenatonlytwomonthsold,hehadGriffin’ssteadynature.He’drarelyscreamed,unlikeMemphis’sson,Drake.
“RememberthatgirlEloisehiredtoworkatthehotel?MemphisWard?TheonewhowasmovingherefromNewYork?”
“Yeah.”
“Imethertoday.ShegotlosttryingtofindKnox’shouse.HersonisaboutthesameageasHudson.Butnotascute.”
“NochildisascuteasHudson.”
“Exactly.”Ipulledtheemptybottlefrommyson’smouthandliftedhimtomyshoulder,kissinghischeekasIpattedhisback.“Sheseemssweet.AlittlefrazzledbutIguessweallareonourbaddays.”
Griffinshookhisheadandchuckled.“Istillcan’tbelievethatEloiseconvincedKnoxtoletastrangerliveabovehisgarage.He’sgonnagonuts.Thewholepointofhimbuildingthathouseonanowhereroadwastoavoidpeople.”
Eloisehadbeenstrugglingtofinddependableemployeesattheinnlately,andwhenMemphishadapplied,she’dbeensofaroverqualifiedthatEloisehadassumeditwasajoke.Thoughshe’ddoneavirtualinterview,andwhenMemphishadacceptedthejob,Eloisehadbeenthrilled.
Onlyaweeklater,aftertryingtofindanapartmentandcomingupdry,MemphishadcalledEloisetobackoutofthejob.Exceptmysister-in-lawwasn’tonetobedeterredbyroadblocks.She’dconvincedKnoxtoletMemphisstayathisplaceforafewmonthsuntilanewrentalopenedupintown.
MemphiswasgoingtoberentingthestudioapartmentKnoxhadbuiltabovehisgarage.Theapartmentwasintendedforcompanybecausehedidn’twanttohavepeoplecrashinhisguestroomsliketheydidwhentheycametovisitus.
“Yoursistershouldbethenextmayor.”
Griffinchuckled.“Speakingofmayors.”
AfamiliarblueBroncocamerollingdowntheroadwithPopsbehindthewheel.Sincehe’dretiredearlierintheyear,hemadeitapointtovisitafewtimesaweekandspoilhisgreat-grandson.
“He’sgoingtostealyoufromme,”ItoldHudson.“AndIjustgothome.”
“He’snotalone.”Griffinnoddedtotheroadagain,andsureenough,alineofcarscameourway.“Iguesswe’rehostingdinner.”
Hourslater,afterAnneandLylahadcookedforusall,thehousewasfulloflaughter.PopsandHarrisonwerewatchingafootballgame.Talia,MateoandEloisewereonthedeck.Knoxhadn’tmadeitover,probablybecausehewasathomestewingabouthistemporaryneighbor.
GriffinandIwereonthecouch,cuddledtogetherasoursonsleptinhisfather’sarms.
“Shouldwetellthem?”heasked.
Ilookedintothosebrightblueeyesandnodded.“Yeah.”
“Gatheraround,”hecalled,andwhenthelivingroomwaspackedwithfamily,hegrinned.“Familyannouncement.”
Family.His.Mine.
Ours.
Andeightmonthslater,ourdaughter,EmmaEden,joinedthefray.
WantmoreWinnandGriff?DownloadaBonusEpilogueHERE
TheEdensseriescontinueswithJuniperHill.Turnthepagetoreadapreview.JuniperHill
PleaseenjoythispreviewtoJuniperHill,booktwoinTheEdensseries.MEMPHIS
“JuniperHill.JuniperHill.”Ipluckedthestickynotefromthecupholdertodouble-checkthatIhadthecorrectstreetname.JuniperHill.“There.Is.No.Juniper.Hill.”
Mypalmsmackedonthesteeringwheel,addingawhackwitheachword.FrustrationseepedfrommyporesasIdesperatelyscannedtheroadforastreetsign.
Drakescreamedinhiscarseat,thatwailing,heartbreaking,red-facedscream.Howcouldanoisesoloudcomefromsuchasmallperson?
“I’msorry,baby.We’realmostthere.”Wehadtobeclose,right?Thismiserabletriphadtoend.
Drakecriedandcried,notgivingadamnaboutmyapology.Hewasonlyeightweeksold,andwhilethistriphadbeenhardonme,forhimitwasprobablyakintotorture.
“I’mscrewingeverythingup,aren’tI?”
MaybeIshouldhavewaitedandmadethistripwhenhewasolder.MaybeIshouldhavestayedinNewYorkanddealtwiththebullshit.MaybeIshouldhavemadeahundreddifferentchoices.Athousand.
Afterdaysinthecar,I’dbegunquestioningmyeverydecision,especiallythisone.
Escapingthecityhadseemedlikethebestoption.Butnow…
Drake’sscreamsaidotherwise.
ItseemedlikeadecadeagothatI’dpackedupmylife—ourlife—andloadeditintomycar.Once,I’dbeenagirlwho’dgrownupinamansion.Agirlwho’dhadaprivatejetatherdisposal.TherealizationthattheonlypossessionstrulyminewouldfitintoaVolvosedanwas…humbling.
ButI’dmademychoice.Anditwastoolatetoturnbacknow.
Thousandsofmilesandwe’dfinallymadeittoQuincy.Thesiteofourfreshstart.OritwouldbeifIcouldfindJuniperHill.
Myearswereringing.Myheartwasaching.“Shh.Baby.We’realmostthere.”
Neitherdidheunderstandnorcare.Hewashungryandneededadiaperchange.I’dplannedtodoitallwhenwearrivedatourrental,butthiswasthethirdtimeI’ddriventhisstretchofroad.
Lost.WewerelostinMontana.
We’dcomeallthiswayandwerelost.Maybewe’dbeenlostsincethemorningI’ddrivenoutofthecity.MaybeI’dbeenlostforyears.
IswipedupmyphoneandcheckedtheGPS.Mynewbosshadwarnedmethatthisroadwasn’tonamapyetsoshe’dgivenmedirectionsinstead.MaybeI’dwrittenthemdownwrong.
Drake’stinyvoicecracked.Thecryingstoppedforasplitsecondsohecouldrefillhislungs,thenhejustkeptonwailing.Throughtherearviewandthemirrorabovehisseat,hislittlefacewasscrunchedandflushedandhisfistsballed.
“I’msorry,”Iwhisperedastearsblurredmyvision.TheyfelldownmycheeksandIcouldn’tswipethemawayfastenough.
Don’tgiveup.
Myownsobescaped,joiningmyson’s,andIeasedoffthehighwayfortheshoulder.
ButGod,Iwantedtoquit.Howlongcouldapersonholdontotheendoftheirropebeforetheirgripslipped?Howlongcouldawomanholdherselftogetherbeforeshecracked?Apparently,theanswerwasfromNewYorktoMontana.Wewereprobablyonlyamilefromourfinaldestinationandthewallswerebeginningtocrumble.
Asobmixedwithahiccupandthetearsfloweduntilmytireswerestopped,thecarwasinparkandIwashuggingthesteeringwheel,wishingitcouldhugmeback.
Don’tgiveup.
Ifitwasonlyme,Iwouldhavegivenupmonthsago.ButDrakewascountingonmetoendure.He’dsurvivethis,right?He’dneverknowthatwe’dspentamiserablefewdaysinthecar.He’dneverknowthatforthefirsttwomonthsofhislife,I’dcriednearlyeveryday.He’dneverknowthattoday,thedaywhenwe’dstartedwhatIhopedwouldbeahappylife,hadactuallybeenthefifth-worstdayofhismother’slife.
Don’tgiveup.
Isqueezedmyeyesshut,givingintothesobsforaminute.Iblindlyfeltalongthedoor,hittingthebuttontorolldownthewindows.Maybesomecleanairwouldchaseawaythestinkoftoomanydaysinthecar.
“I’msorry,Drake,”Imurmuredashecontinuedtocry.Aswebothcried.“I’msorry.”
Abettermotherwouldprobablygetoutofthecar.Abettermotherwouldholdherson,feedhimandchangehim.ButthenI’dhavetoloadhimintohiscarseatagainandhe’dcry,likehehadforthefirsthourofourtripthismorning
Maybehe’dbebetteroffwithadifferentmother.Amotherwhowouldn’thavemadehimtravelacrossthecountry.
Hedeservedabettermother.Andabetterfather.
Wehadthatincommon.
“Miss?”
Igasped,nearlyjumpingoutofmyseatbeltasawoman’svoicecutthroughthenoise.
“Sorry.”Theofficer,aprettywomanwithdarkhair,heldupherhands.
“OhmyGod.”Islappedahandtomyheartastheothershovedalockofhairfrommyface.Intherearview,Ispottedthefamiliarblueandredlightsofapolicecar.Shit.ThelastthingIneededwasaticket.
“I’msorry,Officer.Icanmovemycar.”
“It’sallright.”Sheleanedin,peekinginsidemycar.“Iseverythingokay?”
Iwipedfuriouslyatmyface.Stopcrying.Stopcrying.“Justabadday.Actually,areallybadday.Maybethefifth-worstdayofmylife.Sixth.No,fifth.We’vebeeninthecarfordaysandmysonwon’tstopcrying.He’shungry.I’mhungry.Weneedanapandashower,butI’mlost.I’vebeendrivingaroundforthirtyminutestryingtofindthisplacewherewe’resupposedtobestaying.”
NowIwasramblingtoacop.Fantastic
TheramblingwassomethingI’ddoneasakidwhenevermynannyhadbustedmedoingsomethingwrong.Ididn’tliketobeintroubleandmygo-toresponsewastotalkmywaythroughit.
Dadhadalwayscalleditmakingexcuses.Butnomatterhowoftenhe’dscoldedme,theramblinghadbecomeahabit.AbadhabitI’dcorrectlaterinlifeonadaythatdidn’trankinthetoptenworstdays.
“Whereareyougoing?”thewomanasked,glancingatDrake,whowasstillyelling.
Hedidn’tcarethatwe’dbeenpulledover.HewastoobusytellingherthatIwasahorriblemother.
IscrambledtofindthestickynoteI’ddropped,showingittoherthroughtheopenwindow.“JuniperHill.”
“JuniperHill?”Herforeheadfurrowedandsheblinked,readingthestickynotetwice.
Mystomachdropped.Wasthatbad?Wasitinasketchyneighborhoodorsomething?
WhenI’dtriedtofindarentalinQuincy,thepickingshadbeenslim.Theonlyoptionshadbeenthree-orfour-bedroomhomes,andnotonlydidInotneedsomuchspace,they’dbeenoutsideofmybudget.ConsideringthiswasthefirsttimeinmylifeI’dhadabudget,Iwasdeterminedtosticktoit.
SoI’dcalledEloiseEden,thewomanwho’dhiredmetoworkatherhotel,andtoldherthatIwouldn’tbeabletomovetoQuincyafterall.
Whenshe’dpromisedtofindmeanapartment,I’dthoughtmaybeaguardianangelhadbeenlookingoutforme.ExceptmaybethisstudioapartmentonJuniperHillwasreallyashantyinthemountainsandI’dbeshackedupnexttomethdealersandcriminals.
Whatever.Today,I’dtakethecrackheadsandmurderersifitmeantspendingtwenty-fourhoursnotinthiscar.
“Yes.Doyouknowwhereitis?”Itossedahandtowardthewindshield.“Mydirectionsledmerighthere.Butthereisn’taroadmarkedJuniperHill.Oranyroadmarked,period.”
“Montanacountryroadsrarelyaremarked.ButIcanshowyou.”
“Really?”Myvoicesoundedsosmallasanotherwaveoftearscrashedopenthedam.
Ithadbeenawhilesinceanyonehadhelpedme.Thelittlegesturesstoodoutwhentheywererare.Inthepastmonth,theonlypeoplewho’dofferedmehelphadbeenQuincyresidents.Eloise.Andnowthisbeautifulstranger.
“Ofcourse.”Sheheldoutahand.“I’mWinslow.”
“Memphis.”Isniffledandshookherhand,blinkingtoofastasItriedtostopthetears.Itwasuseless.IwasexactlythetrainwreckIappearedtobe.
“WelcometoQuincy,Memphis.”
Ibreathedanddamnthosetearsjustkeptonfalling.“Thankyou.”
Shegavemeasadsmile,thenhurriedbacktohercar.
“We’llbeokay,baby.”TherewasasliverofhopeinmyvoiceasIscrubbedatmyface.
DrakecontinuedtocryasweeasedofftheroadandfollowedWinslowdowntoaclusteroftrees.Betweenthemwasanarrowdirtroad.
I’dpassedthisroad.Threetimes.Exceptitwasn’tarealroad.Certainlynotaresidentialstreet.Sheslowed,herbrakelightsglowingred,andturneddownthelane.Dustflewfrombeneathhertiresasshefollowedthetrail,drivingfartherandfartherawayfromthehighway.
MywheelsfoundeverybumpandeveryholebutthebouncingseemedtohelpbecauseDrake’swailingsimmeredtoawhimperasIfollowedabendintheroadtowardahillthatroseabovethetreeline.Itsfacewascoveredindarkevergreenshrubs.
“JuniperHill.”
Wow.Iwasanidiot.HadIstoppedandlookedatmysurroundings,Iprobablywouldhavefiguredthisout.
Tomorrow.Tomorrow,I’dpayattentiontoMontana.Butnottoday.
Theroadwentonforanothermile,followingthesamelineoftrees,untilfinallyweroundedonelastcorner,andthere,inameadowofgoldengrasses,wasastunninghome.
Nomountainshanty.Noquestionableneighbors.Whoeverownedthispropertyhadpluckeditstraightoutofahomedecormagazine.
Thehousewasasinglestory,stretchedlongandwidewiththehillasitsbackdrop.Theblacksidingwasbrokenupbyenormoussheetsofcrystal-clearglass.Whereanormalhousewouldhavewalls,thisplacehadwindows.ThroughthemIcouldseetheopenkitchenandlivingroom.Onthefarend,abedroomwithawhite-coveredbed.
Thesightofitspillowsmademeyawn.
Detachedfromthehousewasawide,three-stallgaragewithastaircasethatrantoadooronasecondstory.Eloisehadsaidshe’dfoundmealoft.
Thathadtobeit.Ourtemporaryhome.
Winslowparkedinthecirculargraveldriveway.Ieasedinbehindher,thenhurriedoutofmyseattorescuemyson.WithDrakeunstrapped,Iliftedhimtomyshoulder,hugginghimforalongmoment.“Wemadeit.Finally.”
“Hewasjustsickofhiscarseat.”Winslowwalkedoverwithakindsmile.“Ihaveatwo-month-old.Sometimeshelovesthecar.Mosttimes,notsomuch.”
“Drake’stwomonthstoo.Andhe’sbeenatrooper,”Ibreathed.Nowthathe’dfinallystoppedcrying,Icouldbreathe.“Thishasbeenalongtrip.”
“FromNewYork?”sheasked,glancingatmylicenseplates.
“Yep.”
“Thatisalongtrip.”
Ihopedithadbeenworthit.BecausetherewasnowayIwasgoingback.Forwardstepsonly,fromnowon.Thecitywasamemory.
“I’mthechiefofpolice,”shesaid.“YouknowEloiseEden,right?”
“Um…yes?”HadItoldherthat?
“Fulldisclosure.MemphisisauniquenameandEloiseismysister-in-law.”
“Ah.”Damnittothemoonandback.Thiswasmynewboss’ssister-in-law,andI’djustmadeanepicallyhorriblefirstimpression.“Er…whatarethechances?”
“InQuincy?Prettygood,”shesaid.“You’llbeworkingattheinn?”
Inodded.“Yes.Asahousekeeper.”
BeforeWinslowcouldsayanythingelse,thefrontdoortothehouseopenedandaprettybrunetterushedoutside,smilingandwaving.
Eloise.Herblueeyessparkled,thesamecolorasthecloudlessSeptembersky.
“Memphis!”Sherushedmyway.“Youmadeit.”
“Idid,”Ibreathed,shiftingDraketoextendmyhand.
WhatevermakeupI’dputontwodaysagoatourhotelinMinnesotahadwornofffromfatigueandtears.Myblondhairwasinasloppyponytailandmywhiteteewasstainedorangeatthehemfromanenergydrinkthathadexplodedonmethismorning.IlookednothingliketheversionofMemphisWardwho’ddoneavirtualinterviewwithEloiseweeksago.Butthiswasme.Therewasnohidingreality.
Iwasamess.
Eloisemovedrightintomyspace,ignoringmyofferedhandtopullmeinforahug.
Itensed.“Sorry,Ismell.”
“Notatall.”Shelaughed.“YoumetWinn?”
Inodded.“ShewaskindenoughtohelpmewhenIgotlost.”
“Ohno.”Eloise’ssmiledropped.“Weremydirectionsbad?”
“No.”Iwaveditoff.“I’vejustneverdrivenonadirtroad.Ididn’texpectit.”
Upuntilthistrip,Ihadn’tdrivenmuchatall.Yes,I’dhadacarinNewYork,butI’dalsohadadriver.Thankfully,I’dspentenoughtimebehindthewheelgoingtoandfromtheHamptonstofeelcomfortablemakingthisjourney.
“Canwehelpyougetunpacked?”Winslowasked,pointingtowardtheloft.
“Oh,that’sokay.Icanmanage.”
“We’llhelp.”Eloisesqueezedthetrunk’sreleasebutton.
TheduffelbagsandsuitcasesI’dshovedinsidepracticallyjumpedout.Yes,allofmybelongingsfitintomyVolvo.Butthatdidn’tmeanithadn’tbeenachoretostufftheminside.
Sheheftedabackpackoverhershoulder,thenliftedoutasuitcase.
“Really,Icandothis.”Myfaceflamedredatthesightofmynewbosshaulingoutmythings.Thebagshecarriedhadmyunderwearandtampons.
ButEloiseignoredme,marchingtothegarage’ssteelstaircase.
“Trustmeonthisone.”Winslowwalkedtothetrunk.“ThesooneryoujustgoalongwithEloise,theeasieryourlifewillbe.She’spersistent.”
Likehowshe’drefusedtolistenwhenI’dhadtodeclinethejoboffer.She’dorderedmetogettoMontana,promisingwe’dhaveahomeoncewearrived.
“I’mlearningthis.”Igiggled.ItwasthefirstlaughI’dhadin…well,inalongtime.
IheldDrakecloser,breathinginhisbabysmell.Standingthere,withmyfeetontheground,Iletmyselfbreatheagain.Foroneheartbeat.Thentwo.Iletthesolesofmyshoesbewarmedbytherocks.Iletmyheartsinkoutofmythroatandreturntomychest.
Wemadeit.
Quincymightnotbeourforeverhome.Butforeverswerefordreamers.AndI’dstoppeddreamingthedayI’dstartedrankingmyworstdays.There’dbeensomany,ithadbeentheonlywaytokeepmovingforward.Toknowthatnonehadbeenasawfulasthefirst-worstday.ToknowthatifI’dsurvivedthatone,Icouldendurethesecondandthethirdandthefourth.
Todaymarkedthefifth.
IthadstartedatagasstationinNorthDakota.I’dpulledoverlastnighttogetsomesleep.Twentyminutes,that’sallI’dwanted.ThenI’dplannedtogetbackontheroad.DrakehadbeenzonkedandIhadn’twantedtowakehimupbyhaulinghimintoaseedyhotel.
Nappinginthecarhadbeenarecklessdecision.I’dthoughtIwassafebeneaththeparkinglot’sbrightlights.Myeyeshadn’tbeenclosedformorethanfiveminuteswhenatruckdriverhadknockedonmywindow,lickinghislips.
I’dspedawayand,hopefully,runoverhistoes.
Myhearthadhammeredforthenexthour,butoncetheadrenalinehadwornoff,soul-deepexhaustionhadburrowedundermyskin.I’dbeenafraidoffallingasleepatthewheelsoI’dpulledoverontheinterstatetohopoutandjoginplaceunderthestars.I’dstretchedforallofthirtysecondsbeforeabughadflownundermyshirtandlefttwobitesalongmyribs.
Thestinghadkeptmeawakeforthenexthour.
Atdawn,I’dfoundanotherturnofftostopandchangeDrake.WhenI’dliftedhimoutofhisseat,he’dspitupallovermyshirt,forcingmetogivemyselfababy-wipebath.Anynormalday,itwouldn’thavebeenabigdeal.Butithadbeenonemorestrawandmybackwasclosetobreaking.
Duringourlastgasstationstop,he’dstartedcrying.Withtheexceptionofafewshortnaps,hehadn’treallystopped.
HoursofthatwailandIwasfried.Iwasweary.Iwasscared.Iwasnervous.
Myemotionswerebattlingeachother,fightingtotakefirstplace.Fightingtobetheonethatpushedmeovertheedge.
Butwe’dmadeit.Somehow,we’dmadeit.
“Let’sgocheckoutournewspot.”IkissedDrakeashesquirmed—hehadtobehungry—thenshiftedhimtothecradleofmyarm.Withonehand,Iheftedoutthenextduffelinthestack,butI’dforgottenhowheavyitwas.Thenylonstrapslippedfrommyfingers,thebagploppingtotheground.“Ugh.”
“I’llgetit.”Adeep,ruggedvoicesoundedfrombehindme,thencamethecrunchofbootsongravel.
Istood,readytosmileandintroducemyself,butthesecondIspottedthemanwalkingmyway,mybrainscrambled.
Tall.Broad.Tattooed.Gorgeous
WhyhadIkeptdrivinglastnight?Whyhadn’tIstoppedatahotelwithashower?
Iwasinnoplacetocrushonaguy.ThenewMemphis—momMemphis—wastoobusygettingformulastainsoutofhershirtstopreenformen.ButtheoldMemphis—single,richandalwaysupforanorgasmortwoMemphis—really,reallylikedsexy,beardedmen.
Hebentandpickeduptheduffelbeforegrabbingthelargestsuitcasefromthetrunk.HisbicepsstrainedthesleevesofhisgrayT-shirtashecarriedthembothtowardthegarage.Narrowhips.Sinewedforearms.Longlegscoveredinfadedjeans.
Whowashe?Didhelivehere?Diditmatter?
Drakewhinedandthatsoundsnuffedthelaserbeamthathadbeenmygazeonthisguy’ssculptedass.
Whatthehellwaswrongwithme?Sleep.Ineededsleep.
Beforeanyonecouldcatchmestaring,Idroppedmychinandrushedafterhim,pausinglongenoughtosnagthediaperbagfromthebackseat.
Themetalonthestairsgavealowhumwitheachstep.ThemanhadalmostmadeittothelandingwhenEloisepoppedout.
“Good,you’rehelping.”Shesmiledathim,thenwavedusallinside.“KnoxEden,meetMemphisWard.Memphis,thisismybrotherKnox.Thisishishouse.”
Knoxsetdownthebagsandjerkeduphischin.“Hi.”
“Hi.ThisisDrake.Thanksforrentingusyourapartment.”
“I’msureanotherspotwillopenupintown.”HeshotEloiseaglare.“Soon.”
ThetensionrollingthroughtheloftwasthickerthantrafficonEastThirty-FourthfromFDRDrivetoFifthAvenue.
Winslowstudiedthehoney-coloredfloorswhileEloisenarrowedhergazeatherbrother.
MeanwhileKnoxdidnothingtodisguisetheirritationonhisface.
“Is,um…isthisplacenotforrent?”ItwouldbeonparformydaytoarrivesomewhereIwasunwelcome.
“No,it’snot,”hesaidasEloisesaid,“Yes,itis.”
“Idon’twanttocauseanytrouble.”Mystomachchurned.“Maybeweshouldfindanotherplace.”
Eloisecrossedherarmsoverherchest,raisinghereyebrowsasshewaitedforherbrothertospeak.Shewastooprettytobeintimidating,yetIwouldn’twanttobeonthereceivingendofthatlook.
“Fine,”Knoxgrumbled.“Stayaslongasyouneed.”
“Areyousure?”Becauseitsoundedalotlikehewaslying.I’dheardmyfairshareofliesasaNewYorksocialite.
“Yeah.I’llgettherestofyourbags.”Knoxbreezedpastme,thescentofsageandsoapfillingmynose.
“Sorry.”Eloiseputherhandsonhercheeks.“Okay,Ineedtobehonest.Whenyoucalledandsaidthereweren’tanyapartmentsaroundtown,Ididsomecheckingtoo.Andyou’reright.Nothingisavailableinyourpricerange.”
Igroaned.Soshe’dpawnedmeoffonherunwillingbrother.Iwasacharitycase.
OldMemphiswouldhaverefusedcharity.
MomMemphisdidn’thavethatluxury.
“Idon’twanttointrude.”
“You’renot,”Eloisesaid.“Hecouldhavetoldmeno.”
WhydidIgetthefeelingitwashardforpeopletotellherno?Orthatsherarelyaccepteditasananswer?Afterall,thatwashowI’ddrivenouthere.
Afteranhour-longZoominterview,I’dfalleninlovewiththeideaofworkingforEloiseandIhadn’tevenseenthehotelpremises.She’dsmiledandlaughedthroughourconversation.She’daskedaboutDrakeandcomplimentedmyrésumé.
I’dtakenthisjobnotbecauseIaspiredtocleanrooms,butsimplybecauseshewastheanti-Father.Therewasnothingcold,ruthlessorcunningaboutEloise.Myfatherwouldhateher.
“Areyousureaboutthis?”Iasked.
“Absolutely.Knoxjustisn’tusedtohavingpeopleouthere.Butitwillbefine.He’lladjust.”
Wasthatwhyhe’dbuiltahomefullofglass?Outhere,hedidn’tneedtheprivacyofwalls.Thelocationgavehimseclusion.AndIwasintruding.
Wedidn’thavealeaseagreement.Assoonasavacancyintowncameopen,IdoubtedKnoxwouldmindlosingmyrentcheck.
Hecamestridingupthestaircase,thethudfromhisbootsreverberatingthroughtheloft.Hisframefilledthedoorwayashewalkedinsidecarryinganotherthreebags.
“Icangettherest,”Isaidashesetthemonthefloor.“AndI’llbequiet.Youwon’tevenknowwe’rehere.”
Drakechosethatmomenttoletoutascreechbeforenuzzlingtowardmybreast
Knox’smouthpursedinathinlinebeforeheretreateddownthestairs.
“Canwehelpyougetunpacked?”Winslowasked.“I’dmuchratherstayherethanheadbackoutonpatrolandwritespeedingtickets.”
“No,that’sokay.Icanhandleit.Thereisn’tmuch.”Justmyentirelifeinbags.“Thankyouforrescuingmetoday.”
“Anytime.”
“Arewestillonforanorientationtomorrow?”IaskedEloise.
“Sure.Butifyouwantadayortwotosettleinbeforework—”
“No.”Ishookmyhead.“I’dliketojumprightin.”
Diveheadfirstintothisnewlife.DrakewasstartingathisdaycaretomorrowandthoughIhatedleavinghimfortheday,thatwasthelifeofasinglemother.
Thedaycarecostwouldswallowthirty-onepercentofmyincome.QuincyhadalowcostoflivingcomparedtolargerMontanatowns,andrentingthisloftatonlythreehundreddollarsamonthwouldallowmetobuildacushion,butunpaidweekdayswerenotanoption.Notyet.
Lifewouldhavebeeneasier,financially,inNewYork.Butitwouldn’thavebeenalife.Itwouldhavebeenaprisonsentence.
“Okay.”Eloiseclapped.“ThenI’llseeyoutomorrow.Comeinwheneveryou’reready.”
“Thankyou.”Iheldoutmyhandoncemorebecauseshakingherhandwasimportant.ItwasoneofthefewlessonsmyfatherhadtaughtmethatIdidn’tloathe.
“I’msogladyou’rehere.”
“Metoo.”
WinslowandEloisewavedastheywalkedoutthedoor.AnotherwhimperfromDrakesentmeflyingintoaction,diggingoutabottlefromthediaperbagbeforewesettledonthecouch.Whilehechugged,Isurveyedmynewtemporaryhome.
Thewhitewallswerepitchedwiththerooflineandathickwoodenbeamthecolorofthefloorsranthelengthofthespace.Threedormerwindowshadbeencutintothesidefacingthehouse,givingmeaviewofJuniperHillandtheindigomountainsbeyond.Alcovesandhalfwallscreateddifferentcompartmentsinthefloorplan.
Acrossfromthecouchandbehindashortpartitionwasabedcoveredinapatchworkquilt.Thekitchenwasononesideoftheloft,nexttothedoor,whilethebathroomwasatitsopposite.Thespacewasjustlargeenoughforashowerstall,sinkandtoilet.
“You’llhavetohavebathsinthesink,”ItoldDrake,takingtheemptybottlefromhismouth.
Hestaredupatmewithhisbeautifulbrowneyes.
“Iloveyou.”Ihadn’ttoldhimthatenoughonthisdrive.Wehadn’thadenoughmomentslikethis,justthetwoofustogether.“Whatdoyouthinkaboutthis?”
Drakeblinked.
“Ilikeittoo.”
Iburpedhim,thendugoutababyblanket,settlinghimonthefloorwhileIrushedtobringinthelastcoupleofloadsandunpack.
Hourslater,myclotheswererefoldedandputawayintheoneandonlydresser.ThedrawersbuiltintothebedframeIusedforDrake’soutfits.ThesmallclosetwasstuffedbythetimeIhungafewcoatsandsweaters,thenstowedthelargesuitcasesstuffedwithsmallersuitcasesstuffedwithbagsandbackpacks.
I’dboughttwosandwichesatthelastgasstationI’dstoppedat,thinkingtherewouldn’tbetimetomakeagrocerystorerun,soIatemydryhamandswiss,chasingitdownwithsomewater,andwentaboutgivingDrakehisfirstkitchen-sinkbath.
HefellasleepinmyarmsbeforeIplacedhiminhisportablecrib.Isummonedenoughenergytoshowerandwashmyhair,thencrashedwithinsecondsofmyheadhittingthepillow.
Butmysonwasn’tmuchforlettingmerestthesedaysandjustafterelevenhewokeuphungryandfussy.Onebottle,onecleandiaperandonehourlater,heshowednosignsofsleep.
“Oh,baby.Please.”Ipacedthelengthoftheloft,walkingpasttheopenwindows,hopingtheclean,coolairwouldsettlehimdown.
ExceptDrakewasnothavingit.Hecriedandcried,likehedidmostnights,squirmingbecausehejustwasnotcomfortable.
SoIwalkedandwalked,bouncingandswayingwitheverystep.
AlightfromKnox’shouseflippedonasIpassedawindow.Aflashofskincaughtmyeyeandstoppedmyfeet.
“Whoa.”
Knoxwasshirtless,wearingonlyapairofblackboxerbriefs.Theymoldedtohisstrongthighs.ThewaistbandclungtotheVathiships.
Myneighbor,mylandlord,wasn’tjustmuscled,hewascut.Hewasasymphonyofrippledmusclethatsanginperfectharmonywithhishandsomeface.
Puretemptation,poisedatthewindowofawomanwhocouldnotaffordtostrayfromherpath.
Butwhatwastheharminalook?
Ihoveredbesidethewindow’sframe,stayingoutofsight,andstoleanotherglanceasheraisedatoweltodrytheendsofhisdarkhair.
“Noteverythingabouttodaywasbad,wasit?”IaskedDrakeasKnoxstrodeoutofhisbedroom.“Atleastwe’vegotagreatview.”
OrderJuniperHillAcknowledgments
ThankyouforreadingIndigoRidge!Specialthankstomyeditingandproofreadingteam:ElizabethNover,JulieDeaton,KarenLawsonandJudyZweifel.ThankyoutoSarahHansenforthestunningcover.ThankyoutoallthemembersofPerry&NashforbeingthebestsuperfansIcouldaskfor.Ahugethankstotheincrediblebloggerswhoreadandspreadthewordaboutmybooks.Andthankyoutomyfriendsandmywonderfulfamilyforyourunconditionalloveandsupport.AbouttheAuthor
DevneyisaUSATodaybestsellingauthorwholivesinWashingtonwithherhusbandandtwosons.BornandraisedinMontana,sheloveswritingbookssetinhertreasuredhomestate.Afterworkinginthetechnologyindustryfornearlyadecade,sheabandonedconferencecallsandprojectschedulestoenjoyaslowerpaceathomewithherfamily.Writingonebook,letalonemany,wasnotsomethingsheeverexpectedtodo.Butnowthatshe’sdiscoveredhertruepassionforwritingromance,shehasnoplanstoeverstop.
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