by Beth Flynn
Lucy hurriedly scanned what was written and nodding, penned her signature.
“Please wait here,” he told her after he’d stood and scooted in his chair. “I’ll be right back to collect you and take you home.”
As promised, he returned within minutes. And this was where he would use the information Brooks had provided to stall her.
“Lucy, may I ask you something personal?”
She’d started to stand up but slowly sat back down. “I guess so,” she answered as she swiped a tendril of hair behind her ear.
“Your last name, Renquest. It’s familiar. Would your father be Melton Renquest? The man who went missing and was presumed dead—what was it? Maybe fifteen years ago?”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Yes, and it was eighteen years ago.”
Brooks had been right. It was easy to engage her in conversation concerning her father. Officer Miller refilled Lucy’s cup two times over the course of the next few hours as he brainstormed possible scenarios concerning her father’s disappearance and presumed death. She was more than eager to have law enforcement’s undivided attention. Especially since her father’s body had never been recovered. She believed with all of her heart that he was still out there somewhere. Little did she know that Officer Miller had no interest in her or her father. He was only doing what he was told. Jonas Brooks wasn’t a man to be trifled with, and the biker could easily ruin not only Bruce Miller’s career, but his marriage as well.
He glanced at his watch and said, “Goodness, I need to get you home, Lucy.”
He escorted her out of the building and listened with only half an ear as she promised to gather all of her notes on her father’s disappearance and bring them back to the station upon her return from the cruise.
She stopped short when they got outside and saw Jonas leaning against a pickup truck. He was casually propped against the driver’s door with his arms crossed. She couldn’t stifle the wide smile that lit up her face when she noticed that his motorcycle was in the bed of the truck. I guess I was right, she silently told herself.
“What are you doing here, Brooks?” Officer Miller called out as he led Lucy by the arm toward his squad car.
Brooks casually strode toward them. “I came to offer the lady a ride home.”
Officer Miller shook his head. “Can’t let you do that. I’m responsible for her.”
“It’s okay. I can go with Jonas,” Lucy piped in a little too eagerly.
Miller already knew he wouldn’t be driving Lucy home, but he still had to play the part of a concerned police officer. After a few minutes of haggling, Brooks said, “I believe the lady has already made up her own mind.” He looked at Lucy. “Get in my truck, sweetheart. The passenger side is unlocked.”
Both men watched her dart toward Brooks’ truck and climb in.
Once she was out of earshot, Officer Miller asked, “Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?”
“You’ll find your favorite hooker at your favorite hotel. They’re both paid in full for the next twenty-four hours. Anything after that is on you, Bruce.”
Bruce couldn’t contain his grin as he rolled back on his heels and clapped his hands together, warming them up in anticipation of the things he planned to do with Gloria.
Bruce glanced sideways at Brooks. “Tell me something.” He nodded toward the truck. “What the fuck do you want with a sweet thing like that, Brooks?”
Brooks hmphed. “Do you really give a shit, Bruce?”
The man shrugged. “I might sleep better knowing you’re not going to hurt her. But no, I really don’t give a shit.”
“Just like I don’t give one shit about whether or not you get a good night’s sleep.”
Chapter 20
Lucy was quiet when Jonas climbed into the truck. It wasn’t easy. She was making a deliberate effort to not bounce in her seat as the caffeine saturated her system.
He started the engine and looked over at her. “Thanks for giving me an alibi.”
“No thanks necessary.” She bit her lip before looking away shyly. “I only told the truth.”
She could sense his nod as he pulled out onto the road. The streetlights cast an eerie glow as the sounds of pre-dawn delivery trucks were starting. The sky was dark gray, the air damp and heavy.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” he questioned without looking over at her.
She sat up straighter. “Ask you what?”
“What I was accused of doing?”
“Okay, what were you accused of doing?” she questioned.
“Lighting a guy on fire.”
She gulped before asking, “Did you?” She quickly held up her left hand as if to block his reply. “You know what? You don’t need to answer that. You couldn’t have. You were with me.” Satisfied with her assessment, she relaxed her back and felt her shoulders hunch. She looked at her lap and fidgeted with the nails on one hand.
“Is something wrong?” Jonas questioned.
She shook her head without looking at him. How could she admit to him what she was feeling? How could she even admit to herself the overwhelming sensation of incredible loss at the mere thought of parting ways with Jonas Brooks? She felt a hand brush her shoulder.
“How about some breakfast? Our favorite spot is open twenty-four hours and I doubt anyone is in our booth at this time of the morning.”
Lucy couldn’t contain her smile after hearing Jonas say our favorite spot and our booth. Her insides warmed at the sentiment.
She must’ve taken too long to answer because he offered, “Or I can take you home if you need to get some sleep before you leave for your cruise.”
Lucy perked up and looked over at him. “Are you kidding? I’m so high on caffeine right now, I couldn’t sleep if you hit me over the head with a hammer. Breakfast sounds wonderful.”
A few minutes later, they found themselves at the same Waffle House they’d eaten at just two days earlier. They fell immediately into comfortable banter as Jonas marveled for a second time at the amount of food Lucy consumed. Her appetite rivaled his own. He kept an eye on the door and the clock above it. Shasta should be showing up soon, a silent indication to Brooks that the coast was clear and everything had been set in place. Just when he was beginning to wonder if she’d run into a snag, the door opened and Shasta breezed in. She scanned the restaurant and gave Brooks a quick nod before taking a seat at the counter. Satisfied that it was safe to leave with Lucy, Brooks declined a refill on his coffee and asked the waitress for the check. He was getting ready to slide out of the booth when he realized Shasta was walking toward them. What the fuck? She’s not supposed to interact with me, he thought.
“Hi, Brooks,” Shasta said as she stood over their table. Lucy looked up and smiled at the pretty woman.
“Shasta,” was all Brooks said.
“I’ll be leaving soon for college. I guess I just wanted to say goodbye since I don’t know if I’ll be seeing you again.”
Brooks didn’t know why she felt the need to talk to him, but as he noticed her waiting for an introduction, it occurred to him. She was curious about the woman who’d caused him to spend an arm and a leg to make his grandfather’s old cabin livable. The woman who was behind the reason for her excursion to the library. And the woman who was obviously the reason for his refusal to kiss her on her sister’s porch.
Before Brooks could make a formal introduction, Shasta smiled kindly at Lucy. “I guess you already know I’m Shasta. I’m an old school friend of Brooks’,” she lied.
“I’m Lucy. And I guess I’m a new friend of Jonas’.”
Shasta’s smile was replaced with a thoughtful frown as she looked from Lucy to Brooks and back to Lucy again. “Who is Jonas?”
Chapter 21
They were back in the truck and Lucy was giggling.
Jonas gave her a sidelong glance and said, “I told you before, nobody calls me Jonas.”
“Yeah, I get that, Jonas, but I didn’t realize that nobody even know
s your first name.”
Breezing past her comment, he asked, “What time do you need to leave for the other coast?”
“I’m supposed to check in at the Port of Miami at two and the ship leaves at five. I was going to give myself a safe two and a half to three hours for the drive over. So I planned on leaving here no later than eleven. Why?”
“If you’re not concerned with getting some sleep before you leave, I thought you might like to spend the morning with me. I’d like to take you somewhere.”
She spun around so that her back was against the passenger door, the seat belt pulling tight across her chest. “Sure,” she replied, hoping the one-syllable word didn’t reveal the thrill that spiked inside her.
He nodded without looking at her. “It’ll take at least an hour to get there and an hour to get back.”
She looked at her wristwatch. “There’s plenty of time, depending on if you plan on us doing something once we get there and how much time that would take.” She almost gasped when she realized how that might sound, and she could only hope he wouldn’t notice the insinuation or the resulting blush that was creeping up her neck.
He didn’t offer a reply as he headed in the direction of Alligator Alley. Instead of getting on the highway that bridged the two Florida coasts, he made a gradual, slow left into what Lucy thought was a field.
Without giving her a chance to ask, Jonas offered, “There isn’t a road. It’ll feel like we’re in the middle of nowhere, and we will be, but I know the way. You still in?”
“As long as you know the way back,” she countered.
As they made their way across rough terrain, Jonas used the time to distract her from her surroundings. First, by admitting that she’d been right about his bike tire. And second, by engaging her once again in a conversation about her presumed-to-be-dead father. Lucy jumped at the chance to share with him. He gave his full attention to the bumpy landscape but listened with total interest as she shared some of the possible scenarios concerning her father’s disappearance that she and Officer Miller had hashed out.
She stopped only once to ask, “Who in the world would leave an old tire out here in the middle of nowhere?”
Jonas looked at where she was pointing, then at her, just in time to see her startled expression when the so-called tire detected the truck, straightened out of its curled-up position, and slunk back into the swamp.
“Lots of predators in the Glades, Lucy, but don’t worry. You’re safe with me. There isn’t even the slightest chance you’ll be gator bait while on my watch.”
He returned his eyes to the grassy earth ahead and could feel hers as she said, “I know I am, Jonas.” She continued with her oral essay concerning her father, and it occurred to Jonas that maybe he could do some digging on her behalf. Was it possible her ex-accountant/tax attorney father was involved in something clandestine or illegal? Jonas certainly had enough money and the right contacts to find out.
It was on the tail end of an hour when they finally pulled around a thick gathering of trees and a small rustic cabin came into view. He knew it was critical to distract her from looking behind them, toward the back side of the trees, as he pulled the truck up to the front of the cabin. He parked and walked around to open the door for her, but she’d already opened it and was climbing out. He took her by the arm in an attempt to keep her focused on what was in front of them and not behind.
He gave Shasta and Shay a silent thank you as he steered Lucy forward, the dilapidated old cabin already giving the appearance of a worn but cozy dwelling. They were greeted by two flowerpots on the front steps. One had purple petunias, the other a spray of yellow tulips. A new wind chime was hanging from a rusty nail beneath the porch overhang.
Lucy noticed and smiled. “My favorite flowers, and I have a wind chime just like that one!”
Or maybe not so new, he thought.
Before he opened the front door, he turned to face her, his back to the cabin, her back to the truck. He lightly grasped her by the shoulders, as if to steady her, and allowed himself a moment to soak in her appearance. When she had come out of the police station, it was the first time he’d seen her with her hair pulled into a tight bun, and there had been an immediate tugging of his groin. He’d always run with hard and seasoned women. Women who wore lots of makeup, covered their bodies in tattoos, and wore seductive clothing. They were beautiful women, and he’d taken no exception to their appearances. But, seeing Lucy now, with a prim librarian’s bun, no makeup or jewelry, and dressed in plain jeans and a casual blouse caused a carnal ache in his bones. Her glasses now sat in their usual position, perched on a slender and slightly upturned nose. She gazed up at his face in wonder, her innocence and complete trust in him on the brink of being shattered.
He took a deep breath. “Before we go in, I need you to tell me again that you’re not afraid of me and that you trust me.”
She gave him a curious look and without moving away from him, swirled her eyes around the front porch. Shrugging the shoulders he was still holding, she asked, “Why do you think I might be afraid of you? And why wouldn’t I trust you?”
“Because there’s something inside the cabin you might find startling. I just want to ask you to take it all in slowly without jumping to conclusions and then give me a chance to explain.”
Her expression immediately switched to one of concern. “You don’t have a dead body or someone chained to a wall in there, do you, Jonas?”
“Of course not, Lucy. It’s nothing like that. I promise.” His shoulders relaxed, and he managed half a grin.
This was the first time she’d seen anything close to resembling a smile since meeting him. She had an instant déjà vu of another grin but couldn’t find the concentration necessary to pin it down.
“I believe you, and I’ll digest whatever this big mystery is, and if I think it requires explaining, I’ll give you the chance.”
“It’ll require explaining all right,” he muttered under his breath.
He opened the door and stood back as he waved her in. He closed the door behind them and tried not to hold his breath.
Chapter 22
Lucy walked steadily into the center of the room. Stepping into the cabin felt like stepping into a time capsule. Sort of. The strong scent of cleaning solutions and air fresheners were doing their best to camouflage the smell of abandonment and old wood. She slowly and methodically scanned the single room. On the wall to her left was an antiquated kitchen area. The left side of an obsolete refrigerator butted up to the cabin’s front wall. Next to it was a deep tub sink that was flanked by plywood countertops. There was a screened opening above the sink. A mild breeze lifted a faded calico curtain. She could see an old shed with a rusted tin roof in the distance. The sink had an old-fashioned hydrant that told her water had to be pumped into the cabin from an outside water source. She highly doubted city plumbing had found its way this far into the Everglades. There were no cabinets but instead a series of shelves below and above the sink and plywood counters. They were filled with all kinds of utensils and kitchen items. Plates, bowls, and cups in mismatched ceramic patterns were neatly stacked. Heavy iron skillets took up another shelf. At the end of the counter, a wood-burning stove sat at an angle in the corner, a pile of firewood stacked up beside it. There was a wall that separated the kitchen from another room. Against it was a small wooden table and two chairs. Lucy smiled when she saw the Pillsbury Doughboy cookie jar that matched the one sitting in her kitchen.
Next to the firewood was an opening she assumed led to a back room. A faded homemade curtain was strung from a piece of rope and served as a privacy door. She turned and faced the right side of the room. There was a worn sofa that was flanked by two windows on each side, the same type of window that was over the sink. No glass. Just openings with screens. An old-fashioned lantern sat on a small wobbly table in a corner, a box of matches next to it. A large white cooler served as a substitute coffee table. There were no curtains or other adornments
in the room. She looked down and saw that she was standing on an ancient braided rug. The ends were frayed from years, possibly decades, of use. The hardwood floors were old and pitted but dirt-free. There were no cobwebs or dust bunnies. The cabin had been cared for.
She turned to face Jonas, who was standing with his back against the door. She motioned to the curtained opening and asked, “Do you want me to go in the back?”
He nodded and wordlessly followed her, mentally preparing himself to handle the shock she would experience upon the realization of her situation.
She brushed the curtain aside and slowly walked through the opening that led to the cabin’s back room. Her heart started racing as recognition dawned. The flowers on the porch, the wind chimes, the cookie jar. They didn’t look like items that she had in her home. They were items from her home. Weren’t they?
The entire episode lasted five seconds, ten at the most, but felt like it was happening in slow motion as she captured every detail of her surroundings. It took less than a split-second for her to recognize the chenille bedspread that was supposed to be on her bed. Instead, it was on a slightly smaller bed that sported a rusty wrought-iron headboard, the bedspread’s edges touching the floor. Twin dolls that appeared eerily similar to hers were smiling at her with their backs against the pillows. The only nightstand held a lantern and a battery-operated clock. The clock was sitting on top of two books. The air was so quiet she could hear its faint ticking. She swiveled left and noticed an antique claw-foot bathtub in the opposite corner. It sported the same hydrant mechanism that was at the kitchen sink. What appeared to be a vintage milk crate was next to the tub and displayed what looked like her personal items. Her favorite bubble bath, a decorative ceramic cup with hair ties and ribbons, two candles, and body lotion were settled on its improvised shelves. An old low dresser held a huge ceramic bowl and water pitcher. Just like the kind she’d imagined while reading The Awakening. There was an old wooden chair that was piled high with white fluffy towels. She swung around and faced Jonas, taking in huge gulps of air to steady her speeding heart.
