“Yeah.” Her dad scrubbed his hands down the tops of his legs to his knees. He looked at Lily, looked away.
“What?”
“You know,” he began, “this—what’s happening now—you know it’s not got shit to do with that gang crap he got into before he joined the marines. He was responsible for that, and he knew it—not for the violence, those people getting killed, but for getting involved with those losers to begin with. This deal, the murder of this girl—it’s different.”
She knew, Lily said.
Her dad went to the porch rail, tossed the last of his coffee into the yard, and he was turning back when both he and Lily were distracted by the noise of car engines. Within a couple of minutes, two SUVs, one shiny black, the other a sun-faded red, came into view and parked in the driveway, near the front of the house.
“What’s he doing here?” her dad said when Erik got out of the new SUV, a Lexus, Lily thought.
“Let it go, Dad,” Lily said. “He’s as worried about AJ as we are.” Then, watching Dru and Shea get out of the older-model SUV, she felt a sinking sense of regret and added, “We need to pull together for AJ’s sake,” and she was admonishing herself now as much as anyone.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Lily told Erik, hugging him tightly as he came up the porch steps. He was as tall, broad shouldered, and strongly built as AJ, and she was loath to let him go. “When you didn’t call me back, I started to worry you’d disappeared, too.” She thought of the times when the boys had been younger and they’d gone off somewhere on the ranch, promising to be home by dinner, how she and Winona had looked at each other when it got to be dark thirty and there wasn’t a sign of them or the sound of hoofbeats. A few times either she, Win, or her dad had saddled up and gone to hunt for them. But that worry paled in comparison, and Erik must have sensed it, because he apologized.
“New job,” he said. “It’s crazy.”
“Ha!” Her dad snorted. “I heard about that. You’re a car salesman, right? Up in Greeley? That where you got the Lexus? Is that why you went to work there? So you could drive a fancy car without having to pay for it?”
“Dad . . .” But even as Lily was provoked by his attack on Erik, she understood it. She wondered if it could be true, that Erik had chosen to be a car salesman over xL’s ranch foreman so he could drive an expensive car, act like a big shot. Although she’d heard him deny it, maybe he preferred living in town, wearing a coat and tie to work, having clean fingernails. Maybe the job of car salesman was perfect for him. Unlike his mom, who was quiet and reserved, Erik was easygoing and sociable to the point of being boisterous. He was perfect for a career in sales.
Lily touched his arm. “I’m glad you’re here now,” she said, meaning it.
Dru had come up behind Erik and regarded Lily now over his shoulder. She hadn’t missed it, Lily realized—the crackle of antagonism that existed between her dad and Erik.
Shea said, “I hope it’s okay that we came. I couldn’t stand sitting at home, waiting around one more second.”
Lily embraced her; it seemed the thing to do, and after a moment’s hesitation, she and Dru shared a hug, too. It was awkward, and it struck Lily it would never have happened under ordinary circumstances.
“AJ called here last night,” Lily said as soon as Dru stepped away from her.
Shea was speechless. A thousand questions haunted her eyes.
Lily quickly related the specifics, and during her recital, all of them, with the exception of her dad, sat down, Dru and Shea in the pair of rockers, Erik and Lily on the swing.
Her dad leaned against the porch rail.
They talked about AJ’s request for his passport, the possibility that he’d been kidnapped. Lily’s dad reiterated his opinion that AJ was still in the area.
Shea said, “We put up missing-person flyers around town early this morning, but we need to get the media involved, too. There’s been almost nothing on television about it.”
“Some councilman and his girlfriend up in Dallas are missing, along with a bunch of money. They’re all over that,” Erik said.
“Well,” Dru said, “I’m listening to all this, what y’all are saying, and my question is if AJ’s around here, if he’s not being held against his will, why doesn’t he just go to the police? I mean, you’ve said he’s innocent, right?” She looked around at each of them.
But Lily saw that no one was looking back. No one was answering. And then it hit her. Dru didn’t know about AJ’s past arrest, the prior history that made him such an attractive suspect now. Shea’s glance collided with Lily’s and seemed filled with pleading. Don’t tell, she seemed to say.
Lily got out of the swing. “I’m going to get the Jeep and drive around. Maybe it’s crazy, but if AJ is nearby—”
Erik got up, too. “It’s why we came over, because we thought—well, we have to do something, right? Even if it’s stupid. AJ’s always loved this place.”
Lily put her hand on Erik’s shoulder.
He met her gaze. “We’ll find him,” he said, and the conviction in his voice heartened her. He wouldn’t give up until AJ was found, and neither would she.
Her dad said he would saddle Sharkey and ride west toward Little Bottom Creek. “It’ll be easier searching that area on horseback.”
Lily was surprised to hear Erik say he’d ride out with him.
“Sure you can take time from your job?” her dad asked, and Lily was irked anew.
“Yeah. I told my boss the situation. He understood.” If Erik was offended, he didn’t let on. “I’ve only been there a short time, but so far this month I’m lead salesman.”
Lily looked at her dad, willing him to say something supportive, but he didn’t, and it was left to her and Shea and Dru to cover his silence with their offers of congratulations.
“I’d like to ride with you and Erik,” Shea said to Lily’s dad. “AJ talked once about a fort y’all built out that way—on past the creek, right? He was going to show it to me, but it got dark too fast.”
Lily’s dad smiled, and glancing at Erik, he said, “How old were you when we built that thing? Twelve, is that right? AJ was nine. It was some work rigging it up in those trees.”
“Yeah,” Erik said, “but it was so cool. We were like the pioneers. We built a raft using cedar logs and ferried all the building materials across the Little Bottom on horseback.”
“You remember when we lost that load of cedar logs?”
Lily’s dad’s eyes on Erik now were warm with affection.
Erik laughed. “Water was high after the rain that spring. AJ and I had to swim like hell to catch the raft. If you hadn’t jumped in, we would have lost it.”
“I’ve still got the plans we drew up someplace.” Her dad’s gaze was loose.
“We should check it out,” Shea said.
“Yeah,” Erik said. “But last time I was out there, it was mostly fallen in. I doubt you could even get up in there now.”
Lily’s dad straightened. “Well, there’s a hell of a lot of ground to cover between here and there. We should get a move on, if we’re going.”
Shea turned to her mother. “You don’t have to stay. Erik can bring me home.”
“No,” Dru said. “If you’re staying, I’m staying. I won’t ride, though. Horses and I don’t get along.”
“You can go with me in the Jeep, if you want to,” Lily heard herself say.
Dru wanted to decline; Lily hoped she would, but after a moment, Dru shrugged and said, “Fine.” It took her another longer moment to act, to come to her feet, shoulder her purse.
Lily addressed her dad. “We’ll go south to the old well site. We’ll check out the cabin, too, and the railroad trestle.”
“All right,” he said, and then he gripped her upper arm a moment, steadying her, telling her through his touch—the best way he knew—that he wouldn’t give up, not on his faith in AJ’s innocence, not on finding him.
Lily searched his gaze, hunting for a sign
of yesterday’s mental fumbling, finding none, and grateful that she didn’t. She had heard that in the early stages, the symptoms of Alzheimer’s, or senility—that sort of brain ailment—could come and go. Her dad seemed strong now, his usual take-charge self. Maybe his lapses were from stress. He hadn’t really known what to do with himself since he’d quit ranching and sold off the herd. She didn’t want to think what would happen if he were to sell off the land, too. Where would he go to live? Town? She couldn’t imagine it. The Texas coast? She’d heard him say he wouldn’t mind settling down where he could hear the ocean. But moving away would kill him, she thought. The xL was part of him.
She followed him around back, Shea, Dru, and Erik in her wake, and before they split up, they exchanged cell numbers and agreed they’d meet back at the house in three hours, earlier if they found something.
Dru waited in the driveway for Lily to back out the Jeep, then climbed into the passenger seat. She fumbled with the seat belt.
“It doesn’t work,” Lily said. “Neither does the AC.”
Dru shot her a look, some mix of scorn and disbelief.
Lily’s jaw hardened. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” she said. “I’m not a maniac.”
6
Unlike your son, Dru thought, shifting her glance from Lily’s. She set her purse on the floor at her feet. It was heavy with the weight of a .38 Special revolver. It belonged to her; she was licensed to carry it. Her instructor in Houston had called her a natural, a crack shot. She’d never repeated his praise; she wasn’t proud of it. She wasn’t into guns, had never imagined owning one, but when the man who professed to love you, the one you snuggled up to in the night, the one who had made you laugh and made you feel safe for thirteen years, could suddenly and with little provocation back you out of your house at gunpoint, you have to rethink things. You can’t go on in the same way, trusting the world, or the people in it, who in the end will only break your heart and try to kill you.
Shea didn’t know she had the .38 with her, and she wouldn’t like it, but Shea was still young enough to have faith in people, especially those she loved. She believed her father when he said he’d dealt with his issues and was no longer subject to violence. She thought she knew people and what went on in their heads. Dru couldn’t afford to be so naive. Not when it might be her daughter’s life on the line. Unlike Shea and Jeb Axel, Dru didn’t believe AJ was close by. He wasn’t that dumb. He’d have left the area, even the state, by now. If Dru thought he was anywhere near here, she’d have found a way to keep Shea home.
The Jeep bounced over a cattle guard, and Dru put her hand on the dash, bracing herself. It surprised her that the Axels owned a vehicle that was so old. Circa 1980 was Dru’s guess. It was an even greater surprise to see Lily Isley at the wheel, much less dressed in worn jeans and faded brown western boots. Old Gringos, from the look of them. Her hair was caught in a messy ponytail. Her shirt was creased. She looked disheveled, half-panicked and exhausted, but even so, she was an attractive woman. Queenly was the word, Dru thought, along with regal and cold.
“Dad taught me to drive in this Jeep,” Lily said. “AJ, too.”
Dru propped her elbow on the window ledge.
“I know you don’t like my son, but you’re wrong if you think he had anything to do with Becca’s death.”
You don’t like my daughter. Dru thought of tossing that bit into the mix. She thought of saying how it made her feel, knowing Lily didn’t think Shea—who was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside, and who was filled with a zest for life and possessed of an uncommon faith in it—was good enough for AJ. But Dru sensed Lily was struggling to keep her composure, and it bothered her, enough that she kept still.
“There’s no motive.” Lily’s voice was firmer than before.
“I took a meal over to Becca’s family yesterday evening,” Dru said. “They’d just come back from the morgue in Dallas. They were called there by the police to identify Becca’s body.”
Lily glanced at Dru, shock and horror mingling in her expression, and Dru knew she hadn’t thought of it before, the terrible necessity for Becca’s parents to make a firm identification of their child’s body. “While they were there, the medical examiner—” Dru stopped to consider. Had Joy told her in confidence? But even if she had, the media wouldn’t respect the Westins’ privacy.
Dru felt the weight of Lily’s gaze.
“Becca was pregnant,” she said.
Silence. Quick impressions of Lily’s eyes pouring disbelief, the white of her knuckles as they gripped the Jeep’s steering wheel.
“It’s true,” Dru said. “The ME told Joy—Becca’s mom—she was five weeks along.”
“It isn’t—? You aren’t suggesting it was AJ’s?” Lily’s eyes darted to Dru’s, back to the road. “My God, you must know how much he loves Shea. He would never betray her.”
“But he did. Becca told Joy she and AJ were seeing each another again, starting back in March.”
“No,” Lily said.
“She was happy about it.” Dru went on. “I guess AJ was, too, until Becca told him she was pregnant.” Gene’s theory that a baby would have interfered with AJ having his cake and eating it, too, passed through Dru’s mind. She wouldn’t repeat it; she wouldn’t add to Lily’s anguish.
“It’s not possible.” Lily was tight-jawed, grim.
Denial, Dru thought. The last refuge. She thought of her own denial when Joy had insinuated Shea might have played a role in Becca’s murder. Dru had forced herself to consider the possibility, but it simply wasn’t logical. She had seen Shea go to bed around eleven on Tuesday night, and when Dru passed by Shea’s bedroom near seven on Wednesday morning, she’d been curled on her side, facing the open doorway, her hair a dark fan on her pillow. Dru had lingered for several moments, thinking how few mornings were left for her to have her daughter home, to watch her unaware as she slept. But sentimentality aside, if the cops had even the whiff of a suspicion Shea was involved in Becca’s death, wouldn’t they have questioned her personally? Wasn’t it likely they’d have brought her to Dallas and interviewed her there, rather than over the phone? Dru didn’t know. Maybe she only wanted to believe that was how law enforcement operated.
The Jeep slowed, making a right turn onto a narrow, winding lane. Morning sunlight glinted off the caliche surface, heated the air blowing through the car’s open windows. Coming around a broad curve, Dru saw the cabin in the distance. Made of cedar logs with a rusted tin cap for a roof, it slumped, incongruously, in the shadow of a magnificent and towering red oak.
Lily broke the silence. “If you’re so convinced AJ has done all these horrible things, if you think he’s a liar, a cheater, and a murderer, why are you here? Even more to the point, why is Shea? You must hate him. You must wish him dead.”
Moments passed in an awful, sinking silence. Shea didn’t know about AJ’s betrayal of her, or the baby that had been the result. It hadn’t been Dru’s intention to hide the truth, but arriving home last night with the pizza, she’d found Shea sitting with Erik and Kate in the great room, and the atmosphere had been so charged with tension and anxiety—Shea’s fear had been palpable—that Dru had lied when Shea questioned her about her visit with the Westins. They were coping, Dru had said. They hadn’t mentioned AJ or Shea, she had said.
Lily pulled up to the cabin, near what was left of the front stoop, and turned off the Jeep’s ignition.
“Shea doesn’t know about Becca’s pregnancy.” Dru didn’t look at Lily when she said it, but at the sad, broken face of the small house. The front door hung askew from a single hinge, and the glass was missing from the windows on either side. They seemed to stare like shattered eyes.
“No one really knows who built this place,” Lily said. “It was here when my great-grandfather bought the land. Dad has always thought it was the home the original settlers built. They were German people who came west. There’s a rock out back, part of the foundation for the original
barn, we think, that’s got the year 1862 carved in it.”
Dru glanced at Lily, wondering what to make of her impromptu history lesson. Maybe it was a distraction, or a way to keep her emotions in check. Dru felt almost sick with her own stew of feelings.
“I’m going to look inside. You can wait out here if you want to.” Lily got out of the Jeep, tucking the keys into her jeans pocket.
“No, I’m coming, too.” Dru looked at her purse, thinking of the .38. But in the end she left it and followed Lily. Somehow toting the gun didn’t seem justified.
The air inside the cabin smelled musty. They had only crossed the threshold when something swooped by them, a black blur that shot through the open doorway. Dru didn’t know how she kept the frightened cry she felt scrape her throat from coming out.
“Bat,” Lily said, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head.
Dru did the same, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.
Neither of them moved for several moments.
Light through the broken-paned windows shafted the worn pine floor, turned the dust they’d disturbed into glittering swirls. Across the room, a carved cane-bottom rocker, surprising in its delicate stature, sat before the yawning, blackened maw of a rough-hewn limestone fireplace. The chair looked out of place. Dru would bet there was a story in it, one that would intrigue her. She would have asked about it under other circumstances, if she and Lily were friends, say. If they were here for any other reason than to hunt for Lily’s son, who might be a danger or endangered. Which of the scenarios was the correct one was the million-dollar question.
There were two bedrooms on either side of the front room, and Dru and Lily looked in both of them. In the second one, a pretty, old four-poster bed, missing a foot post and its mattress, was pushed against the far wall. Along with the rocker, the bed was the only other furniture in the house. There was no sign of AJ. No indication he had been here, or that anyone had, not in a long time. Walking out, Dru noted that her footprints and Lily’s were the only ones tracking the dust on the floor. And outside, only the tread from the Jeep’s tires, and their own shoes, matted the scruffy apron of grass that led to the cabin’s door. She glanced at Lily and was startled to find her looking back.
The Truth We Bury: A Novel Page 8
