Not Quite Free

by Lyla Payne

“Well, which is it? Because it can’t be both. I can’t be so different that you don’t want to take me to bed, but so similar that you’re as scared to share anything about yourself with me as you are with everyone else.”

  “Only a fool would not want to take you to bed. You must know that.”

  My eyes fill with tears. This is all so confusing—his words and his tone jibe, and feel authentic as Leo always does. But it’s obvious he hasn’t changed his mind about anything.

  “I know you’re not a fool, Leo Boone. It’s one of my favorite things about you. So until we can be honest with each other about what’s really happening between us, or what happened, then I don’t know. I think maybe we should just take a break.”

  “Take a break? From what, being friends? Caring about each other?” He stands up, frustration pouring out of every inch of him, from his clenched hands to his rigid torso. “You’re in the biggest trouble of your life, Gracie. Someone is trying to kill you. Do you know how impossible it is for me to stand by and watch you go under without pulling you out? Or at least trying to?”

  The reference to my near-drowning the other day hits me hard. Leo saved my life. He’s always been there for me, no matter what kind of danger it puts him in.

  Come to think of it, his life would be a whole heck of a lot easier if I hadn’t wandered back into it eight months ago.

  The thought hurts my heart, as does the realization that it was true of just about everyone in my life. Even me. If I hadn’t caught my fiancé cheating, how different would my world be?

  But then I find myself thinking of Amelia and Jack—what would have happened to them? Would they still be here?

  No, I can’t go down that path of might-have-beens. Things are what they are, but that doesn’t mean I should stand by and let things happen to me instead of grabbing the wheel.

  “It’s not your job to save me, Leo. You have your own life, and obviously your own shit to work through. I’ve got mine. I think it’s best if we go about that separately for a while.”

  He watches me, his eyes red around the rims. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Best for who?”

  “For both of us.”

  “And I don’t get a say?”

  “Not this time. Not right now. This is what I need.”

  He nods slowly after several moments of silence, backing away to put more space between us. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But I respect your wishes.”

  “Thanks. I guess…I guess I’ll see you around.”

  Even though it’s a break in the conversation, a space to escape into, I don’t move. Not for a long time, not until the sun touches the back of my neck with an insistence that says Amelia is going to be awake, she’s going to be worried, and I promised her pancakes.

  “Oh, Gracie,” Leo says the moment I start to turn away. “The shadow I saw that day you flew into the river?”

  My heart catches in my throat. How had I not thought to interrogate Leo? Just the other day, Brick told me that his testimony is the only evidence we have to indicate someone’s after me.

  Oh, right. Debilitating embarrassment.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m pretty sure it was a man.”

  That doesn’t jibe with my suspicion of Gillian Harvey, let alone with the possibility that it could have been Lavinia Fisher’s ghost acting either on her own or on the behest of some still-unknown Fournier.

  My forehead wrinkles. “How sure?”

  “Ninety-nine percent. I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Be careful, Gracie,” he said, his eyes burning into mine. “I’m not the only person in Heron Creek who will miss you like crazy if you leave us in one way or another.”

  I smile through the emotion bubbling up into my throat, into my eyes, and twist away before he can see how this parting is breaking my heart all over again. I want to tell him that just because we’re not going to be friends for a while doesn’t mean we aren’t friends. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love him as much as ever, or want to see him tackle those demons he’s not ready to face.

  I’ll always be rooting for Leo Boone, full pom-poms and short skirt firmly in place. I guess now I’ll just be doing it from the sidelines.

  I’m too tired and beaten down to even cry on my walk home. Leo doesn’t follow me this time. He’s only doing what I asked, but the knowledge that he’s not on my heels makes me feel even more bereft. The sun is up and people mill around the streets of Heron Creek. They’re on their way to church, mostly, and the majority of them have a wave and a good-morning for me, though a few exchange glances with their friends or spouses immediately afterward.

  Being the hot topic of conversation should be second nature to me by now, but today it makes me want to disappear.

  At least the busy streets make it so that I don’t have to worry about being jumped on my way back to my grandparents’ house.

  When I get there, though, the sound of leaves crunching somewhere around the side of the house puts me on high alert. Cade Walters’s warning from the other day surfaces, and I pull the bottle of pepper spray from my sock and curl my fingers around it. If it’s Gillian Harvey, I can’t let her get away. If it’s someone else…protecting Amelia and Jack is my priority.

  Hopefully pepper spray will be enough, at least until my neighbors hear the ruckus I’m about to make.

  Sweat drips between my boobs despite the chilly morning air as I creep around the side of the porch, trying my best to avoid the crunchy leaves that gave away whoever—or whatever—is ahead of me. It could be an animal, but I don’t think so.

  I peer around the corner by the garage, my heart pounding and a scream already gathering, ready in the back of my throat.

  Everything wheezes out of me at the sight of Cade Walters on his tiptoes, peering through the small window on the side of the garage.

  I come all the way around the side of the house before clearing my throat. My hand automatically rises to my hip.

  The posture, and the confrontation, suggest that my fear of him is low or nonexistent. The trembling of my hands and the sweat that continues to slick my skin say the opposite. I wonder which reaction to trust, or if my gut is simply no longer sure of anything—or anyone—at this point. Frank and Carlotta, the one who’s still alive in France, both told me to trust no one, after all. Not even the people I think are harmless. Not even the people I love.

  While I could never seriously consider the possibility that Mel, Will, Leo, or even Travis are secretly trying to get rid of me on behalf of the Fourniers, there are plenty of other people in town I don’t know that well.

  Cade Walters included.

  It’s almost comical how quickly he launches away from the house when he hears me clear my throat. His hands go into his jean pockets, and he’s so rosy cheeked, half the women in town would probably swoon. It could be embarrassment, or maybe it’s just due to the cold.

  “Graciela, hi. I…jeez, I know this goes beyond the nosy neighbor thing, but I thought I saw someone lurking around and I didn’t want to worry your cousin.”

  The explanation sounds rehearsed. It could be true, of course, or it could be the excuse he cooked up in his head before sneaking over here this morning.

  “You thought you saw someone…”

  “Yeah. Like I said, a woman. Middle-aged.”

  Leo saw a man push me in the water. Cade saw a woman wandering around our property.

  Of the two of them, I know which one I trust more. But just because Cade has some serious creeper qualities doesn’t mean he’s lying about what he saw, or why he’s here.

  And it doesn’t mean he isn’t, either.

  “Okay, well, did you see anyone?”

  “No. Must have gotten away, or maybe I was seeing things.” He shuffles toward the sidewalk that will take him back to his house. “Y’all have a nice Sunday. Come over for an after-church snack and drink later, if you want.
Bring your cousin.”

  When he’d first moved to town, Cade had appeared as smitten with Amelia as everyone else in her life. He seems to have backed off with the advent of Brick Drayton, or maybe it’s the baby that’s kept him away.

  Or maybe he decided that trying to woo the cousin of the woman he was sent to town to murder is a clear conflict of interest.

  “I’ll ask her,” I say, though the twisting in my stomach promises that neither one of us is going anywhere near his house. Besides, the place gave me the creeps long before Cade started to. After all, it wasn’t too long ago that I found Amelia tied up in the kitchen and Cade’s grandmother, Mrs. Walters, dead on the floor. That isn’t the kind of thing you can just forget. Of course, it wasn’t Mrs. Walters’s fault that she was controlled by Mama Lottie. But she’d always been nasty to us, too—much too interested in what we were doing.

  Sometimes Cade gives off the vibe that the apple doesn’t fall all that far from the twisted tree. He’s a writer, of course. That buys him a lot of leeway in the strange behavior category, especially the way that he watches. But now, as I stand shivering in the yard, sweat drying on my skin as I watch him traipse down the street, up his driveway, and disappear, I think that maybe there’s more to him than that.

  Inside, I say good morning to Millie and tell her my run was good, leaving out the part about Leo for now. I’m not ready to think about it, let alone talk about it. I escape to the shower, making it quick. Once I’m clean and warm, I towel off, toss on some comfortable Sunday clothes, and take my laptop back downstairs to the kitchen table.

  Amelia is feeding Jack, a cup of coffee waiting on the table for when she’s done, a banana peel next to it. She raises her eyebrow in a silent question as I fix myself a cup of coffee and then sit across from her with my laptop.

  “What kind of vibe do you get from Cade Walters?” I ask.

  She thinks about that for a moment, wearing a tiny frown as she gazes down at Jack. When she looks up to meet my gaze, her expression is muddled. “I’m not sure. He seems nice enough, if a little eccentric. But lately he’s been a little…skulky.”

  The word choice makes me laugh, even as she confirms my own recent feelings. “I know what you mean.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I just caught him impersonating Peeping Tom in our garage.”

  “You what?” She lifts up Jack, patting his back firmly against her shoulder.

  “Yeah, it’s weird. And this morning, Leo told me that he’s sure it was a man he saw at the boathouse with me the day I fell in the river.”

  “You went running with Leo?”

  “No. I saw Leo while I was running.”

  “Hmm.” Her gaze rakes my face as she tries to decide whether to ask how it went. We both know she’s going to. “Did you two talk?”

  “Yeah, but don’t get your hopes up. We’re going to take a break.”

  One eyebrow goes up. “From what? Being friends?”

  “No, not from being friends. Just from hanging out. We’ve both got a lot going on.”

  She opens her mouth, then closes it, settling Jack in for the second half of his breakfast. In the end, she decides to leave it alone. It’s not like her, but I’m grateful. The last thing my overly-emotional self needs right now is to talk about how I just shoved Leo to the fringes of my life.

  “What are you doing with your laptop?”

  “Seeing what I can find on Cade.”

  “You think he’s lying about the woman? That he could be…what? Working for the Fourniers?”

  I shrug, hearing how ridiculous it sounds coming out of her mouth. “I don’t know what I think. All I know is that we’ve been giving him a pass, and with everything that’s been going on, maybe we shouldn’t be.”

  What I don’t say is that once I’m in jail, it will make me feel better to know that my cousin and her son are safe here without me to look after them. If Cade really is just a concerned neighbor, so much the better. Grams used to say that nosy neighbors are a blessing. If you leave your garage open, if someone breaks in…if someone is watching, that can’t be a bad thing. I suppose there’s logic there. It just seems sometimes that Cade takes it to the next level.

  An Internet search returns more than a few results on our resident New York Times bestselling author. Interviews, blog posts, reviews, sales, publisher pages…it’s a ton to go through, but there’s nothing that’s really unexpected. Nothing personal.

  Instead of making me feel better, it amps up my suspicion.

  Amelia bails before I make it through the first page of search results, mumbling something about doing twenty-seven loads of laundry while Jack takes his morning nap. By the time I finish with page three, having found nothing more interesting than the fact that there is not one, not two, but three Cade Walters fan clubs, I close the computer with a frustrated sigh. It’s not as if I wasted my morning, exactly, but considering my trial prep meeting is tomorrow and Travis and I are getting together later tonight, I definitely could have spent it in a more relaxing manner.

  I feel antsy as I wander the house, picking up and straightening as I go along. The tasks are mundane enough to keep my mind free. They’re also totally unlike me, but I don’t stop to worry about that now. Anything that keeps my hands busy for the next twenty-four hours. Or, better yet, for the duration of the trial that seems inevitable at this point.

  As a bonus, Amelia will have a clean house when I leave. So that’s something.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My phone rings a couple of hours into my impromptu cleaning spree. The ringtone is generic, and the number is a local one that I don’t recognize. I almost let it go to voicemail, but I pick it up on a whim, figuring one more distraction can’t be a bad thing.

  “Graciela Fournier?” a scratchy voice asks in response to my greeting. The sound conjures the image of an old crone from a fairytale—the witch luring Hansel and Gretel to her cottage, perhaps, or Mother Gothel locking Rapunzel in the tower for her own good.

  My heart thuds in my ears, my mouth immediately going dry.

  “I know you’ve been looking for me.”

  “Mrs.…Mrs. Harvey?”

  “Such a clever girl.” The woman coughs, a dry, rattling sound that makes me wonder if she’s got cobwebs in her lungs. Several moments pass before she can catch her breath well enough to continue. “I need to talk to you.”

  “So. Talk.” I force more confidence into my voice than I feel. The desire to hang up the phone and cross myself like a Victorian vampire hunter is strong, but she could know things. Have answers.

  I need them, too.

  “In person. I need to know you’re alone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because what I have to say is only for you, my dear, and there are ears everywhere.” She pauses, then heaves a sigh when I don’t reply. “It will be worth your time, I promise. You want answers about the family, don’t you? About who did in your father—and whether they’re trying to do the same to you?”

  “Yes. But how do I know that’s not exactly what you’re going to try to do once we meet?”

  “The general consensus is that you’re smarter than you look, so act like it. We can meet in public, if that makes you feel better, but nowhere too crowded. I’ve got to watch my own back.” She pauses, and there’s a rustling on her end of the line that suggests impatience.

  I should say no, maybe even tell her to go piss up a rope. I should insist that she tell me whatever she has to say over the phone or not at all. It’s what Travis, Amelia, and anyone with a head on their shoulders and a solid sense of self-preservation would do.

  But they’re not desperate. They can’t feel the fire creeping closer, the water climbing toward their nose. Jail looming, larger and larger.

  “Okay.”

  “One hour. You name the place.” She coughs again, the sound more painful than the first time.

  I close my eyes, resisting the urge to pull the phone away from my ear, and tr
y to think. Somewhere in Heron Creek that’s public but not too crowded.

  “How about the riverfront? There are a bunch of benches that are out in the open, but the jogging paths shouldn’t be too crowded this time of year.” I was also recently attacked there, but that was on a pier. The jogging paths are set safely away from the water.

  Plus, the weather is nice today. Sunny, with the temperature nudging its way into the high forties. There should be at least a few people out and about, taking advantage of those facts. Maybe trying to kill some of their kids’ energy so they can have a relaxing Sunday evening at home.

  “See you there.”

  “Wait, how will I…” I trail off at the sound of a click in my ear, then lower the phone with a sigh. I was about to ask how I would recognize her, but the truth is, she probably knows I’ve looked up pictures of her on the Internet.

  And she obviously knows who I am. If Cade’s to be trusted, which is a big question mark, she’s even been to my house.

  Despite what I said to Travis about how we shouldn’t make assumptions, there’s little doubt in my mind that she’s the one who was watching her own house. Waiting to see who would come after her—which means she would have seen Travis, too. Why is she so insistent that I meet her alone?

  The only way to get an answer to that question, and a whole host of others, is to show up on the riverfront. My stomach ties up in knots at the thought, but at least half of them are due to excitement. For the first time in days, I feel something like hope.

  Maybe there’s a way out of this after all.

  I have a little less than an hour to get ready. Given that I’ve already showered and dressed for the day, it’s too much time. Then again, arriving at the meeting spot early is probably a good idea. That way, I can get the drop on Gillian instead of the other way around.

  There are a few things I decide to do first. One, leave a note for Amelia in case anything goes wrong. The thought of calling Travis crosses my mind, but while it would feel better to have another person watching over me, Gillian was adamant that I come alone.