She took in a deep breath and prepared for her interrogation.
A thickset man wandered down the hall. He stepped into the dining room and paused to take in her shaking form. Elsbeth tilted her head to meet his expression. Bushy thick hair framed the stern lines of his face. Despite his fearsome appearance, she relaxed, thankful he wasn’t one of the many men Clark Preston had brought into the house.
“Your brother says your name is Elsbeth?” His soft tone blanketed her with reassurance. She knew, instinctually that she could trust him. “May I call you Elsbeth, or is there another name you prefer?”
Biting her lower lip, she shook her head. “Elsbeth is fine.”
“It’s a pretty name.” He pulled back a chair and took out a pad of paper from the breast pocket of his blazer. “Elsbeth, my name is Detective Grady. I need to ask you a few questions. Do you think you can answer them?”
She nodded.
He explained her rights, but she had nothing to hide.
“I killed him.”
Detective Grady nodded. “Yes, that’s what your brother said over the phone.”
“My foster brother,” she corrected. “We’re not related.”
He made a note on his pad of paper. “He explained, but I’d like to hear from you what happened and why, if that’s possible.”
It was more than possible.
Elsbeth told Detective Grady everything. Officer Naples’ expression paled when Elsbeth detailed some of the sexual abuse. Eventually, she excused herself, but she returned a few minutes later with two glasses of water. Elsbeth took one and continued.
When social services arrived an hour later, she breathed another sigh of relief, grateful for yet another unfamiliar face.
She told the cops what John Snowden had said about paying off her caseworker. She even mentioned the judge. They asked her for names and a description of John Snowden.
Activity picked up in the library. The men brought in empty boxes. More men joined them. There were very few women. And, as she talked, those men packed the boxes with the contents of Clark Preston’s library.
Another group arrived a bit later. They swept in and out, removing the body, and still, she told her story. Detective Grady shifted in his seat during some of the more graphic descriptions, but his pen scratched over the pad, his writing furious to keep pace.
The woman from social services left to speak with Forest and then came back a few minutes later. “Detective,” she said, “it’s getting late, and the kids need to eat. How much longer will this take?”
He tapped his notebook with the tip of his pen. “I think we’re nearly done.” His gaze felt solid, trustworthy, and nestled into her heart. “Do you like pizza?”
“Am I going to jail?”
He glanced at the social worker and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Those words broke the dam holding back her emotions. Elsbeth cracked, and tears poured down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked as the world disappeared.
It was over. It was all finally over.
But, as much as her belly ached for food, she wanted only one thing. She needed Forest’s hug. She wanted him to say everything would be all right, but he wouldn’t touch her.
Elsbeth cried her agony until she found herself pulled into the embrace of a stranger.
Chapter Thirteen
IT HAD BEEN months since Elsbeth had taken Clark Preston’s life.
As she dressed for her trial, her mind was blank and empty. Judge Johnson, their old caseworker, and a few others they had named, had been arrested that night. John Snowden had never been found, escaping, no doubt, overseas to avoid extradition.
The night she’d killed Clark Preston, Detective Grady had bought pizza, and she and Forest had eaten their last meal in the dining room of that wretched house.
She never got that hug. Forest still wouldn’t touch her. He couldn’t touch her, but he never left her side. Always, Forest was there, supporting her through the darkest times, except when she needed a shoulder to cry on.
“You almost ready?” Forest walked into her room without knocking. He picked up her bag and swung it over his shoulder.
She adjusted her skirt and pulled at the pink blouse. “How do I look?”
“Like you can take on the world.”
Maybe she could. A sense of becoming something new loomed on the horizon. There was only this one thing to do before she could contemplate her future.
“I don’t know about the world,” she said, “but I’m ready to put this behind me. I hate this. I hate this happened to us…to you.”
“It’s the path fate chose for us, Elz,” he said. “We have to walk it.”
“But it’s hell.”
With the investigation, the questioning, and the series of pretrials that had followed, Elsbeth had pulled out of school. She had taken her GED and sent applications to several pre-med programs. Forest had failed the GED twice before accepting he’d have to go back and complete his senior year. He hadn’t wanted to go without her, but she’d convinced him it was the right thing to do. That meant he had to leave her alone with her thoughts every day, his fingers fluttering over hers in an awkward good-bye.
Forest had finally revealed the reason behind his aversion to her touch. The conditioning instilled by John Snowden made him react in ways he wasn’t ready to process. She lost Forest’s hugs because of what John Snowden had done.
Self-defense.
That was the trial strategy. After the cops discovered videos buried in Clark Preston’s things, confirming the story she and Forest had told, there was little doubt as to the abuse she and Forest had suffered. However, there were procedures. She’d been appointed an attorney. Her case, he’d explained, would be dismissed.
She never told anyone how she’d planned Clark Preston’s death. Well, she’d told Forest, but he wasn’t just anyone. Premeditation was a word she understood—as well as the consequences associated with it. They’d made a vow to take that secret to the grave together. There were some questions about the knife. The how had been hidden by the fog of her descriptions. She’d been out of her mind, Forest had claimed, and in many ways, that wasn’t far from the truth.
Today’s trial would determine her guilt or innocence—or at least the official version.
Forest opened the door and led her outside to the crispness of the spring morning.
She stopped and inhaled. “It smells so new.”
He smiled. “It does, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. A new beginning, I suppose.” She spun in a circle, soaking in the sun. “I feel like we’ve walked through hell together and survived.”
“Something like that.”
“Is there hope for us?” Would the scars ever heal?
Forest pointed at the sky. “Do you see that?”
The heat of the sun warmed her face. “The sun?”
He shook his head. “No, the sky. Do you see the sky?”
“What about it?”
“It reminds me of you. Not this sky, but the summer sky. It’s a deeper blue, I think.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I was in the basement, I would spend hours looking out that tiny window.”
“Forest…”
She hated the swell of memories brewing in his gaze. He had the palest blue eyes, and they shimmered now with a glaze of tears, turning them nearly silver.
“Let me finish.” He took in a deep breath and then continued, “There was always that small patch of the outside world. When things were at their worst, I would stare out the window and think of you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah,” he said with a half-laugh. “You kept me sane.”
“How?”
The summer had been hardest on him. She’d been forced to serve, but Forest had survived torture.
“They ruined me, but through it all, I kept thinking, Elsbeth is so strong. Your belief that things would get better was as endles
s as the summer sky. I wanted to be like you.”
“Oh, Forest, I’m not like that. I’m emotionally ruined.”
“You’re beautifully broken, and you were my summer sky, my light in the darkness.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I was going to wait to give this to you, but I wanted you to see it before court. I want you to have something to look forward to.” The corner of his lip pulled up into a smirk. “I might have peeked.” He shoved the envelope into her hand.
An official seal on the front had her heart beating. “It’s a thin letter.”
Thin letters were bad. Rejections came with thin letters.
“Open it.” A grin filled his face.
With shaking hands, Elsbeth ripped the paper and read the first line. “Oh my God!” She fell to her knees and sobbed.
He knelt beside her. “I’m going to build you a hospital, Elz. I’m going to build you the biggest and best hospital in the world. This”—he jabbed the paper—“is your future.”
“Oh, Forest, you can’t build me a hospital, but I really appreciate the thought.”
His face cracked a smile. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do. We’ll start with your tuition, and I’ll make the rest.”
Whatever. She didn’t care. She’d been accepted into one of the prestigious six-year programs. She was going to be a doctor. Her dream was becoming a reality.
Self-defense.
That was what the official documents stated, and because she was a minor, the records would be sealed. None of this would follow her into her new life.
Forest’s future would start tomorrow. He’d officially turn eighteen and be free of social services. He’d already put a deposit down on an apartment, and he had his bags packed. Nothing could hurt them now.
Forest might be averse to her touch, but she didn’t care.
Elsbeth hugged him tight. “It’s over, Bean! It’s finally over.”
She’d taken to calling him Bean more often than not, and he didn’t seem to mind. The nickname suited him.
Her lawyer pulled her aside after the hearing. “Congratulations,” he said. “I have something for you.”
“You do?” Her heart had never felt so full.
Elsbeth had no idea how she would meet her goals, but she knew two things. She wasn’t going to jail, and in a few short months, after she figured out finances, she would begin an entirely new path.
The grin on Forest’s face had her suspicious. Whatever was happening, he was in on it.
Her lawyer pulled out a stack of papers. “Well, your brother came to me with an idea.”
“Bean, what did you do?”
He grabbed the papers from her lawyer and held them to his chest. “Well, I thought you needed a way to wash away the past. And seeing how you’re going to be a doctor…” He gave her the papers.
She read the top of the page. “A name change?”
“Yeah.” He puffed out his chest. “I was thinking…why not put all of this behind you? Start out fresh. New name, new life, new you.”
“But I have no idea what name I would use.”
He took the papers and turned to the second page. “I was thinking Skye Summers.”
An odd-sounding name. “Why…”
But then his words about the basement came back. The summer sky that had gotten him through the toughest times. Her hope, as limitless as the summer sky, had brought him peace. His summer sky.
“Oh, I love it.”
Forest kissed the bridge of her nose. “My summer Skye.” He leaned back, his touch too fleeting. “It suits you.”
It did, and she loved what it meant—to him and to her. “And you’re my little Beanpole.”
He coughed into his fist. “Maybe not so little anymore, but I was thinking of changing mine.”
“How about Bean?”
“I like Forest,” he said. “Forest Summers.”
The expectant look on his face had her heart leaping.
“Like brother and sister?”
He nodded. “But you can call me Bean.” His gesture encompassed the sky. “It’s not a summer sky, but it’s nearly as blue.”
Her lawyer cleared his throat. “It’s a bit of paperwork, but we can get it done”
She turned to Forest. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
He curled his lower lip inward. “A birthday gift for my sister.” His expression turned troubled, and a flicker of doubt flashed in his eyes. “We’ll always have that, my summer Skye. Won’t we? We’ll always have each other?”
“Always, Bean. We’ll always have each other.” And she believed every word.
* * *
<< THE END >>
* * *
The story of Forest and Skye continues in Heart’s Insanity, Book Two of the Angel Fire Rock Romance series.
* * *
Get your copies of
Book 2 Heart’s Insanity HERE
Book 3, Heart’s Desire HERE.
Book 4, Hearts Collide HERE
Sneak Peak at Heart’s Insanity
THE COOL DECEMBER wind whipped through the air, piercing the thin cotton of Skye Summers’s scrubs. Spencer McAdams’s Queen Anne townhouse stood before her as she twisted the diamond ring he had placed on her finger last night.
Funny, how she found herself here. Her complicated life could have headed in any number of directions, but the broken foster girl of her past was finally seeing all her dreams come true. Skye was almost normal.
With her stomach fluttering, she searched for her key. The day Spencer had given it to her, she’d nearly toppled over, but she rarely came here without him. Within a year, it would be their key.
Today, she planned on surprising him.
His favorite music played through the surround sound speakers, drowning out her grand entrance. A smile ghosted her lips. She would greet him with a kiss and finish with something more.
His shoes littered the marble entryway, and she placed her backpack beside the mess. Spencer had perfected the disorganized clutter of the quintessential bachelor. The tie he had worn last night dangled over the back of a chair, and his dress shirt was draped over the couch. It lay precisely where she’d tossed it last night after ripping it off his body. His tailored pants were still sprawled across the hall, exactly where he’d kicked them off in his rush to get her to bed. The man was such a gorgeous mess.
She snuck down the hall and twisted her ankle as she stumbled over something. A red stiletto? Her stride faltered, and her gaze cut to a silk blouse lying in a crumpled heap. She grabbed the wall for support and stepped over a lacy bra. Another scrap of fabric was bunched on the floor not two feet away. It was a flimsy thong she would never wear.
She fisted her hand against her belly, her palm slick with sweat. With her heart banging against the cage of her chest, beating so feverishly she thought it would explode, she tiptoed. Discordant notes blared through the house, covering the sound of her footsteps. With each step forward, she feared what she would find, but she had to see for herself.
The cries of a woman spilled out of Spencer's master suite. She peeked inside. Spencer had his back to the door, his naked ass gyrating in a primal rhythm as he plunged into the woman sprawled on the bed. Skye’s nails bit into the flesh of her palms as she curled her fingers into impotent fists.
He panted while the woman’s staccato cries rose in counterpoint to his guttural moans. Long, slender legs were wrapped around Spencer's waist, and the woman writhed in orgasmic ecstasy.
Skye wanted to claw the bitch’s eyes out. She wanted to scream, kick Spencer in the ass, stomp on his nuts, or cut off his dick. But she did nothing, not until Spencer looked over his shoulder. Only then did she gasp, mortified that she’d been caught spying.
He didn’t stop fucking, but he did slow his pace. “What are you doing here?” His voice was filled with accusation, as if she had no right to be in his home.
She should have picked up one of those stilettos. Then she could have thrown one
at his head. Instead she backed away.
“Don’t you dare leave!” Spencer called out.
He had his dick buried in another woman, the cheating ass, and he wanted her to stay?
The trail of discarded clothing mocked her as she staggered through a veil of blurred tears toward the front door. She grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, desperate to escape. Her hands shook so hard that she could barely open the front door, but she made it outside where she stopped cold. Her emotions billowed in a turbulent flow. A normal person would have been filled with rage, but humiliation and resignation were much more familiar emotions. She embraced those.
As she stood on Spencer's front stoop, she pulled the diamond ring off her finger. She had half a mind to leave it inside, but she wasn’t setting foot back in that house. Maybe she should toss it in the bushes?
The ring wasn’t hers. Not anymore.
For now, she placed it in the deepest pocket of her scrub pants. She’d give it back later.
Wasn’t it enough that Spencer had shredded her heart? Now, the biting cold was also stealing her warmth. Icy tendrils pierced her flesh and delved deep to brush against her heart. She adjusted her backpack and snuggled deep into her heavy winter coat. The frigid wind clawed at her and then moved on in search of other victims. She was too numb to care, but she was determined to make it through the day, albeit mechanically and in an emotional fog.
To survive her upcoming twelve-hour shift in the emergency department, Skye made a list of things she needed to do. It was a coping mechanism she’d mastered years ago.
Hot cocoa.
Ride Metro.
Work.
Finish her shift.
Home.
Collapse with a movie and a gallon of coffee ice cream.
Pack for trip.
Shit. Spencer was supposed to join her on her mini vacation. Now, she’d have to go alone, and she hated traveling by herself. Like the ring, she’d deal with that later, too.
Ashes to New Page 7
