by Celia Aaron
This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get close to me. But I’d heard plenty of stories about his conquests, and I wouldn’t be the next. All the same, I had to do this. For Dad. One last gauntlet before I could investigate his disappearance.
I eased down next to him, but not close enough to touch. “It’s going to take time. I still think about her a lot.”
“I know.” He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me into his side. “Shh.” He kissed my hair. “I know it hurts.”
I stared at the door, willing someone to knock. “I think getting out and doing the surveying will help me. Maybe once I get back…” I shrugged and let the carrot dangle in the air.
He ran his hand through my hair, then down to my waist. “You think you’d be ready to talk about it then?” His thumb stroked the bare patch of skin between my pants and my shirt.
I swallowed hard. “I think so, yes. Doing the legwork will help me clear my head.”
“But that will be months.” He sighed and slid his fingers under my shirt.
I froze. “I know.”
“I just thought I’d have the chance to help you through your mother’s passing while it’s still fresh. It’s only been a few months. Is being alone really the best thing for you right now?” He inched his fingers along my skin, sliding up my stomach.
I pulled out my last card. Bursting into tears, I buried my face in his chest. “I just can’t stop thinking about her. Time alone would help me let her go, you know?”
“Shhh.” He rubbed my back, and I could almost feel him smiling. “I’ve got you.”
Not even close. I fake cried with hiccupping sobs as he wrapped his other arm around me.
“I understand.” He kissed my hair. “I can wait. How long will your surveys take? A month?”
“I’ll need at least three.” I could do it in one, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Three?” The frown in his voice iced my insides.
“I want to be thorough, especially since my Ph.D. is riding on this. I hope that’s all right?” I kept my voice meek.
“Well, I suppose that could work. Three months is a long time, but if that’s what you need to get your head clear so that I can help you, then I can live with it.”
I nodded and blinked hard so a tear would wet my cheek, then looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”
His gaze flicked to my lips. “Once the surveying is done—”
“I’ll be back.”
He leaned forward, and I let him brush his lips across mine. Then I buried my face against his shirt again. I hoped my nose would run and leave snot all along the designer check pattern.
“Good.” He held me close. “I want to help you as soon as I can. I care about you so much.”
I sniffled. “I know. You’re so good to me, Frank.”
“That’s my job.” His chest puffed up. “Caring about students and their personal wellbeing is part of it.”
“Thank you.” I lay my head on his shoulder. “I owe you so much.”
“My pleasure.” His erection poked against his khaki pants, fanning out the pleats. He seemed to have no qualms about it. “I’ll get the funds all set up this afternoon. The sooner you get the surveying done, the better. Once it’s all laid out, you can come back. We can…talk through it all until you’re feeling better. Then we’ll both go out and oversee the undergrads on the digs.”
The mental image of him grunting and grinding all over me in a pup tent was a particularly disturbing visual.
I forced a wan smile. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”
“Good.” He stood and pulled me up with him. “I have to prepare for class.” He snagged a box of tissues sitting on a side table. Of course he kept tissue next to the love seat.
“Sure, no problem.” I grabbed my bag and walked to the door.
Before I could turn the handle, he was behind me, his erection pressing against my ass. “I can’t wait for you to get back.” He dropped a kiss on my shoulder.
“Me neither.” I let my breath out on a silent sigh as he backed away.
I pulled the door open and strode down the hall. Once I rounded the corner, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Students passed, completely unaware of the wank session I was certain Dr. Stallings was engaging in just down the hall. Despite the fact that my skin still crawled, and I’d have to shower to get rid of the smell of his overpowering cologne on me, I smiled. I had the funding and the go-ahead to start my search.
Blackwood’s secrets were mine to discover, and I would find them all before my three months were up.
Chapter 4
I settled in at the counter of the small-town greasy spoon. Browerton was the closest spot of semi-civilization to the Blackwood Estate. It had a smaller population than my university, but was a big enough town to be the Millwood County seat.
I’d spent a week back at school getting everything prepared and avoiding any more run-ins with Dr. Stallings. I was prepared to spend my entire three months at Blackwood, flying under Garrett Blackwood’s radar the entire time.
“Usual?” Bonnie sidled up and poured me a cup of coffee.
“Please.”
She turned and shouted through the window to the kitchen. “Ty, two over easy, side of bacon extra crispy, and cheese grits.”
“Heard.” A male voice called back, though I’d never actually laid eyes on “Ty,” and I’d eaten at the diner three times.
I turned my head to the left and studied the cork board at the end of the counter. Livestock for sale, work at a lumber mill, and several faded missing persons’ posters. My father could have been up there, a staple through his description and zero chance of being found.
“So, where you been?” Bonnie leaned on the counter and watched the county road outside through the wide windows. Farm trucks bumped along on the potholes under her curious gaze.
She looked about forty and had a friendly demeanor. I suspected she and Ty were married. Her Southern lilt had more of a twangy tinge to it than I was used to, but I found it familiar and enjoyable all the same. Sometimes I wondered if she’d known my father. I never asked. Stirring up the past too soon would lead to disaster.
“I had to go back to school and get all my permits and funding lined up.” I sipped my coffee, singeing my tongue as the caffeine worked its way into me.
“You think you’ll find anything out there in the woods?”
The sizzle of bacon and the smell of grease and butter wafted in the air. I warmed my cool hands around the coffee cup and looked up into her thoughtful brown eyes.
“I hope so.”
“Aren’t you scared to be out there all alone? What if something gets you? You know there was this kid from the county high school that swears he’s seen Bigfoot tracks out in the woods. He makes these plaster cast things—”
The door behind me opened, and Bonnie straightened, throwing her shoulders back to maximize her curves. “Sheriff Crow.”
“Mornin’, Bonnie.” The sheriff sauntered in and dropped his hat on the counter next to me before sliding onto the stool to my left. “Mornin’, miss.”
“Hi.” I glanced into his light blue eyes. Intelligence sparkled in them, and I hated the feeling of a pink blush creeping into my cheeks.
He gave me a friendly smile. “I’m going to go ahead and hazard a guess that you’re the girl, I mean woman—” He shook his head at himself. “Sensitivity training clearly didn’t take, sorry about that—from the university looking for Choctaw artifacts?”
“That’s me.” I tucked a lock of brown hair behind my ear. “How’d you know?”
He arranged a napkin in his lap as Bonnie poured his coffee. “Everybody talks in a small place like this. A mosquito can’t sneeze on one end of town without me hearing a ‘bless you’ on the other.”
“I see.” I had the irrational fear he’d ask to see my permission papers and somehow know I’d forged Garrett Blackwood’s signature. My stomach churned, suddenly angry at my or
der of coffee with a side of subterfuge.
“Where you from?” He held up his hand to stop Bonnie’s steady pour of sugar into his cup. “That’s good, thanks.”
“Stewartville.”
“Up near Tupelo?”
“That’s right.” I pressed my hands against my cup so hard I feared it would break. Revealing too much about myself wasn’t an option, but lying to the sheriff wasn’t high up on my list of priorities, either.
“And getting a degree in something?”
“Ph.D. in archaeology.” I nodded.
“Makes me wish I’d gone to get some actual schooling.” He gave me a wistful look.
“And leave us here with old Sheriff Pennington?” Bonnie crossed her arms over her chest. “God forbid.”
“He wasn’t so bad.” The sheriff shrugged.
“Yeah, back when he was a younger man, he was fine. But when he got the fits those last few years.” She shuddered. “That was a mess. We were lucky you were here to carry on his duties, even though you were just a deputy.”
He grinned. “You’re just trying to flatter me into a bigger tip.”
She fought a smile and lost. “If you say so.”
He turned back to me. “Be careful out in the woods. The snakes will be hibernating, but there are other nasties out there. It’s turkey season, first of all. So there will be hunters out and about. Then wild boars that could skewer you clean through. I’ve heard about panthers from hunters here and there. Never seen one though. And don’t wear white. We don’t want someone mistaking you for a white-tail deer and taking a shot. You have a cell phone, right?” He took a drink as Bonnie put in his order.
“Yes.” I studied him as he spoke, the clean line of his jaw, the slight salt mixed into the dark pepper of his hair. He was handsome, and the allure of men in uniform wasn’t lost on me. Early forties, but still had the verve of a younger man, the same sort of twinkle in his eye and easy smile. I knew from scouring newspapers that he’d become sheriff two years prior, after the then-sheriff died.
“Good service?” He glanced to the cell phone I drew from my pocket.
“So far, but I haven’t been off the main road much.”
“It might get dicey if you get deep into the woods. Here.” He snagged a napkin and wrote down a phone number. “This is my direct line. If you get into anything you can’t handle, give me a call. If you lose service, I suggest you go back the way you came. There’s no need to take risks.”
“Are you going to Blackwood?” Bonnie slid my plate in front of me, the yellow egg yolks jiggling as the plate came to rest.
“Yes.” I didn’t want to share too much of my plans. There was no way to know who to trust. “There and a few surrounding homesteads.”
“Any spots in particular?” Bonnie took her usual spot against the counter, her eyes on the road. “Those woods are haunted, you know?”
“Bonnie.” Sheriff Crow shook his head and laughed lightly. “Nothing’s haunted. Don’t try to scare her.”
Bonnie drew her expertly arched brows together and put her hands on her hips. “Then how do you explain the screams? People all over say they hear screams in those woods at night. If you see that Garrett Blackwood, run. Understand?”
“Why?”
She crossed herself, her neon pink fingernail scratching across her starched top.
“Bonnie, you aren’t Catholic.” The sheriff quirked his lip up in amusement.
“Doesn’t matter. That man is bad news. Steer clear of him. Him and that Blackwood are cursed, if you ask me.”
I conjured the limited image of Garrett Blackwood in my mind—the wild eyes through the window and the dirty fingernails on the door. Other than our brief run-in, I knew nothing about him other than what I’d found out in my research, which was enough to place a shroud of suspicion over him.
He’d gone to my university, graduating with top marks in history and ancient cultures. I found a picture of him in the school yearbook. Deep blue eyes and dark brown hair—he smiled at someone off camera when the photo was snapped. I couldn’t reconcile that smiling face with the glimpse of the man I’d gotten at the Blackwood estate.
After graduation, he’d taught for a few years at a university in Alabama on a tenure-track position. Something happened in his sixth year, though, and he abruptly left school. Rumors were that he’d been embroiled in a scandal with a married female professor, but other than hazy rumors, I had nothing to go on. What did interest me was that he’d returned to Blackwood at around the same time as my father’s disappearance.
“What makes you think Blackwood’s cursed?” I leaned forward, desperate for more of the urban legends that might shed some light on my father’s fate. Bonnie wasn’t the first person who mentioned screams in the woods near the Blackwood Estate.
Sheriff Crow huffed out a breath. “Superstitious nonsense. Wind in the trees or some kind of animal. There aren’t any ghosts, Bonnie. And Garrett is just a quiet guy who likes his space. That’s all.”
She leveled her gaze at me. “I wouldn’t be caught in Blackwood after dark, and neither should you.”
“That’s good advice.” He arched a brow at Bonnie. “Even if we’re giving it for different reasons. The ghost talk is ridiculous, and Garrett isn’t a bad guy. You should be out of the woods by sunset because you don’t want to get lost or stay out in these temperatures. Always know where the road is. You got a compass?”
I pulled one from my pocket. “Sure do.” I had two others stowed in my backpack.
“Good. Always check it when you get out of the car.”
I wanted to tell him I could survive in the woods for days, that I’d prepared for handling anything that came my way, that my dad had taught me how to shoot, skin rabbits, read a compass, and build a fire by the time I was twelve. That I had a knife and a gun, and knew how to use both. Instead, I nodded and smiled along like he was giving me the keys to the kingdom.
“How do you even know where to look?” Bonnie still didn’t seem too keen on me exploring alone.
“The Choctaw generally preferred level spots near strong water sources, so I’ll scope those out first.”
“So along rivers and such?” Bonnie crinkled her nose.
“Right. I’m going to start surveying in those areas, see what I can see. All the history I’ve managed to dig up points to a possible Choctaw village at the southwest edge of Blackwood where the trees open up onto a grassy field.”
Sheriff Crow scratched his chin. “I think I know where you mean. It’s a flood plain, more or less. Dark dirt there, good for growing, but I’ve never really dug down. Garrett gave you permission to dig?”
My mouth went dry and I took a sip of coffee before responding. “Yes, well, he gave permission for me to survey. I won’t start digging until the spring when I’ll have undergraduates out here to help me. But, of course, I have to find something first. Some sort of clue to point me in the right direction. If I can find some arrowheads or pottery—any artifacts, really—at a few spots, then I’ll be able to start digging.” I swallowed hard. “With Mr. Blackwood’s permission, naturally.”
“Right.” He thanked Bonnie as she set his plate in front of him, the grits swimming in butter. “Like I said, if you need anything or get into any issues out there, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
Though I felt more than prepared for my task, it was comforting to know I had backup if I ran into any trouble. “Will do.”
“Eat your breakfast. I’ve interrupted you for long enough.” He gave me another smile, the wrinkles around his eyes barely making an appearance. “Bonnie might take my head off if I talk until your food gets cold.”
“You do like to talk, Sheriff.” She grinned and twirled a lock of hair around her finger, the flirtation obvious and only slightly awkward. “Good thing I don’t mind listening.”
“Bonnie,” Ty called from the back.
She rolled her eyes, then disappeared through the narrow door into the kitchen.
&nb
sp; I sliced through my eggs and scooped them onto my toast as two men from a logging truck walked into the diner. They exchanged bleary-eyed “good mornings” and sat down at the bar. I’d only taken a few more bites when the door opened again.
A man in an ill-fitting navy suit hustled in. His collar hung loose around his neck, as if he’d lost a great deal of weight but still felt he could wear the super-size clothes. He gave me a lopsided smiled and plunked down next to Sheriff Crow. Something about his gray hair and sagging face seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
“Sheriff.”
“Mayor.” Sheriff Crow took a long pull from his cup. “You aren’t going to the winter market opening?”
Mayor. I’d seen him before in news clippings, but he’d been a much larger man. He must have dropped the weight recently. He was only forty-five but looked more like a shrunken sixty.
“Of course.” He shot a glance to the kitchen door. “Where’s Bonnie, and who do we have here?” He turned to me.
“This is Elise from the university. She’s doing the—”
“Digging. Right?” The mayor leaned backward so he could see me past the sheriff. “Out on the western side of the county?”
“Yes.” I took a bite of cheese grits. “I’m surveying out there and digging if the property owners agree.”
He drew his gray brows together. “Just don’t bother anyone. I have enough complaints to deal with around here.”
“Len.” Sheriff Crow clapped him on the back. “Come on. She may bring more visitors to the county. Money, too. What if she finds some sort of, I don’t know, village or something? Good press.”
I took a swig of my coffee to try and fight off the awkward the mayor’s words had created.
