“You all seem like a nice family,” Joss said. “And I can appreciate where you’re coming from. He’s your son, your brother. But he knows who he is and what he wants. I would never take anything from him that he wasn’t willing to give. I’m not interested in turning Shep Kingston into anyone else. But I also don’t know what else I can tell you about our involvement right now.”
A large, dark-haired man with a military-style haircut stepped forward and wrapped a comforting arm around Riley’s middle, but her expression didn’t soften. She said, “There is no gray area with Shep. You need to decide if you’re in—all in—or out. Or you’ll hurt him, and then I’ll have to hurt you. There won’t be an Amber sequel if he’s thinks he’s fallen in love with you.”
Had he? Had Shep fallen for Joss? Fallen in love with her? She found that to be more realistic, more appealing than she ever would have a few days ago. Who could she be with him? Who could he be with her? Who could they be together?
Joss wanted to find out.
“I don’t have all the answers,” she told his family. “Are things complicated? Yes. Have the past few days been intense? Absolutely. But I’m not leaving Steele Ridge immediately, definitely not until the sheriff finds out who was stalking us through that forest. But I have a favor to ask of you. If you love him, and I know you do, please give us a little time to figure out if we love one another.”
* * *
Fucking Kingston. He’d set not one, but two, traps. The winner had avoided the first, but not the second. And a homemade spear to the thigh hurt like a bitch.
Every step taken back to his four-wheeler and every jolt down the trail toward Steele Ridge had been a misery.
But Kingston had also turned tail and run back to town like a little girl. What he didn’t realize was that their competition wasn’t over.
Not yet.
Not until the winner came out on top.
26
Before Joss left Shep’s cabin, one of his cousins had showed up with a bag printed with La Belle Style on the side and filled with clothes. She’d gratefully pulled on a pair of socks, protecting the blister Emmy had bandaged for her, but the other clothes would have to wait until she had a chance to shower.
Shep’s dad insisted on driving Joss to find the belongings she’d brought from California. He whistled “Camp Town Races” and several other folksy songs as they bumped their way over the blacktop roads from Shep’s cabin into Steele Ridge.
He rolled down the driver’s side window and the breeze ruffled his hair—more salt than pepper. Joss could see where the Kingston children had come by their good looks. Both Mr. Kingston and his wife were very attractive.
Although his whistling was totally in tune, Joss couldn’t stand another second of it. “‘Days Are Short’ by Arlo Guthrie.”
“Hmm.”
“From Hobo’s Lullaby, 1972.”
“Interesting.” He glanced over at her, and kindness shined in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have thought American folk was your genre.”
“I’m not a woman you want to play Name That Tune against.”
His smile—wide and genuine—reminded her of Shep’s when he was truly happy. “I like you, Joss Wynter.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Oh, I enjoy your music,” he said easily. “Overall, I’m a classic rock man myself, although you wouldn’t know it by my kids’ names. Sandy is a big country music fan.”
“She picked great names.”
He laughed. “Not sure the kids would always agree with you. Those names caused them more than a little trouble back when they were all in school. Maggie punched a boy in the nose once because he ran around calling her Mandrell the Mandrake.”
What, she wondered, had kids called Shep? How had they treated the boy who didn’t just march to the beat of his own drummer but drummed a whole new tune? “Emmy Lou Harris and T. G. Sheppard, right?”
“My wife says country music is the best music.”
“Any of your kids have musical talent?”
“Not really. Probably for the best since they’re all so damn good at their chosen professions.”
“Especially Shep. He got me off that mountain alive.” But Joss felt as if she and Shep’s dad were dancing around the real issue here. His family, although mostly hospitable, weren’t exactly platinum members of the Joss Wynter fan club right now. “If you’re planning to grill me, you might want to start now,” she said. “I doubt the drive to town is that long.”
“Should I grill you?” he asked mildly.
He couldn’t be this casual about her relationship with his son when Shep’s sister wanted to dissect her with a pitchfork. “Are you really this laid-back?”
“I’m a simple guy.” He swept a hand over the chest of his plaid shirt. “Just a former stay-at-home father.”
That made her laugh. Ross Kingston was no doddering dad. And he might claim to be chill, but it was no mistake that he’d offered to accompany her into town. He wanted to know things. “My real name is Jocelyn Winterburn.”
“Pretty.”
“That’s what your son said.” She took a quick breath and braced her hand against the truck door, trying to steady herself. “He told me about his ex-wife. I’m not her.”
“Also interesting,” Ross said. “Shep doesn’t usually talk about her.”
“Just because you don’t talk about something doesn’t mean you’re not thinking about it 24/7.”
“Is that the way it is with your band?”
Gut punch. She should’ve expected it, but he was so damn affable. It was obviously his super-stealth secret weapon. The sad smile on his face told her that he hadn’t meant his words to do damage. “Yes,” she finally said softly. “Sometimes things that happen in life are so painful that talking about them tears a new hole each time the words come out. You learn to shut up and stop ripping yourself open.”
“Because other people never understand?”
“No, because you still don’t understand. Not what happened. Not truly. Not what you did to cause it. Not how to heal. You know nothing. Understand nothing.”
“Shep wasn’t responsible for Amber’s choice to leave, and you didn’t kill your bandmates. We get caught up in circumstances and assume causation rather than correlation. And that’s a very important difference.”
“Association, as opposed to direct responsibility,” she mused.
“But it’s easier to understand causality. Correlation is messier. So many variables. It’s impossible to control for them all.”
“Are you a scientist?”
“No, a farmer.”
“A very smart farmer.” He drove down Main Street, a charming thoroughfare that she hadn’t had a chance to see since she’d been literally dropped into town. A small sandwich sign sat outside a place called the Mad Batter. Chalked on it was the message, “The most important stages of life aren’t the ones you stand on.”
Shep’s dad made a turn, then studied her. “Do you hold yourself responsible for what happened, Jocelyn Winterburn?”
“I did.”
“And now?”
What did she feel now? The past few days had been so intense—in both negative and positive ways—that she didn’t know what all the feelings flying around inside her meant. As Shep would say, she needed to try to separate the strands. “Now I’m starting to see that although we can influence other people’s behavior, it’s pretty hard to force anyone to do something they’re absolutely unwilling to do. At least not under normal circumstances.”
“And your band willingly put themselves on that helicopter.”
“I feel like you’re trying to tell me something here. Something about Shep.”
“I’d say one of the reasons Amber left and your band boarded that helicopter was because all the parties involved weren’t being honest. Not about what they wanted or how they felt. And when you’re unclear with the people closest to you, it’s infinitely unkind. I don’t know how you feel about my son, a
nd truthfully, it’s not my business right now. But I do ask that you’re honest. With him and with yourself. You both deserve that.”
They pulled up in front of a huge white farmhouse painted with green shutters, and he parked the truck. She was trying to process all the lessons Ross Kingston had packed into a fifteen-minute drive. “Shep is the most honest person I’ve ever met in my life. He doesn’t play games, and I won’t play games with him.”
“That’s all I can ask.” He pointed to the B&B with its peaceful-looking porch, complete with quaint rocking chairs. “Would you like me to go in with you? Or I can just stay here and ride back—”
“Thank you,” she said quickly. “But I’ve been with people nonstop for the past few days. I’ll just pop in and see if my phone and things are inside. Then I’m going back to the vet clinic.”
Shep’s dad opened the glove compartment, which looked like a cross between Whole Foods, REI, and Staples. Very neat. Very Shep.
Ross took pen to napkin and jotted down two phone numbers. “First one is my cell. Second one is Sandy’s. I don’t expect trouble of any sort, but if anything happens, even if you get spooked, dial 911. Maggie will have briefed her officers on what’s what.”
“How will you get home?”
He chuckled. “Believe it or not, we have a rocking little Uber business going on here in Steele Ridge.”
Unable to let him get out without some show of appreciation, Joss put her hand on his forearm. But the thank-you she planned to say turned into something else entirely and she blurted out, “I think I’m in love with your son.”
And whoosh. There went her stomach and her heart on the amusement park ride. The one that dropped two hundred feet. She slapped her hand over her chest and wheezed out, “Is that crazy?”
“I’m not really one to talk about crazy and love,” he said. “I knew during the first date with Sandy that she was the one for me. She’s been the one for me for over thirty-five years, and God willing, she will be for at least another thirty-five.”
“How long had you known her when you went on that first date?”
“Twenty-seven hours and fourteen minutes.”
“Wow, you work fast.”
“We Kingston men tend to know what we want,” he said, resting a steady, fatherly hand on her shoulder. “But for Shep’s sake, don’t say any words you can’t take back unless that thinking of yours turns into knowing.”
* * *
Shep had to hand it to Maggie, her deputies, the forest service LEOs, and the rest of the multi-jurisdictional team that had been put together. They made excellent time, hiking into the national forest with a speed and intensity that left no doubt they were taking this situation seriously. Very seriously.
And they were all looking to him for guidance and advice, making Shep wonder what it would be like to work on a team like this. One where people communicated so fluidly, where people understood and accepted each other’s strengths.
“You doing okay?” Maggie drew even with him on the trail. “You’ve got to be exhausted after the past few days.”
“This is what I do.”
“I get that,” she said. “But you don’t normally guide a group that runs into this kind of trouble.”
“Even with everything that happened, Joss and I were doing okay until Puck was shot.”
“God, Shep, I’m so sorry about that.” She looked up at him, but thankfully her pace didn’t slow. “I forgot to say it earlier.”
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t shoot him.”
“I’m sorry it happened. But we will find this person.”
Shep scanned the trail in front of them, but it was impossible to tell if someone had traveled this way—the more direct route back into Steele Ridge. If someone had, he hadn’t left any blood trace. “Maybe he or she is still up there.”
“Let’s go through the possible suspects again,” she said, pulling out her phone and engaging the voice recorder.
They’d already done this, but Shep understood Maggie’s need to be thorough. They were very much alike that way. “All the people associated with Do or Die.”
“Give them to me one by one.”
“The Bitcher.”
“Lauren Estes.”
“The Bleeding Heart.”
“Bradley Woodard.”
“And the camera guys.”
“Greg and Zach.” Maggie nodded. “I’ve got people contacting the network to get their last names. Who else?”
“Like I said, we came across one of those guys who believes he’s a descendant of Juney Whank Falls. But this seemed personal, especially when Puck was targeted.”
“And you don’t think those people could get personal? They claim they own the mountains and forests.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I would have expected more direct action to get us out of the area.”
“I’d say putting an arrow into your dog is pretty damn direct.”
Shep’s insides tensed as he thought about that arrow jabbing into his best friend. “I think it was meant for me.”
“Even more personal. Shep, who did you piss off the most out there?”
He didn’t take offense at Maggie’s question. His family knew and accepted that he often insulted and upset people. They said they loved him anyway. “Buffalo Moody.”
“Being dead tends to clear him as a suspect for stealing your gear and stalking you through the woods. Who would you say is next in the Anti-Shep-Kingston line?”
“Probably The Bitcher.”
“Tell me what happened with Lauren Estes.”
“She was a brat.”
“And I guess you told her that.”
“I didn’t use the word brat,” he said. “But I didn’t make things easy for her like she wanted. And I sure didn’t fuck her.”
“Hoookay.” Maggie blew out a breath. “And was that something she put on the table?”
“I know you don’t think I’m good with that kind of stuff, but I’m pretty sure she was trying to manipulate me into helping her.”
“And some women think that sex is the foremost manipulation technique.”
“Isn’t it?”
“What?”
“That’s what Amber used to do. Sex if I did the things she wanted me to. No sex if I didn’t.”
“I’m not surprised,” Maggie said.
“Maggie, do you think all women are manipulative?”
“As a woman myself, I’m trying not to take your question personally.”
“You, Riley, and Mom aren’t women. You don’t count.”
“Thanks. I think.” She huffed a laugh. “But no, I don’t think all women are like Amber. Look at Emmy. Or Micki and Evie. Or Tessa, Carlie Beth, Brynne, and Randi. They’re all women who truly care about the men they’re with.”
“So you’re saying Amber wasn’t like them?”
“Amber thought she was marrying a man she could treat like a puppet. When she discovered that wasn’t the case, she wasn’t interested anymore.”
“I should have listened to all of you when you tried to tell me she wasn’t right for me.”
“That was a lesson you had to learn on your own.”
“What about now? Do I still need to learn lessons about women on my own?”
“Is this about Joss Wynter?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if she’s a manipulator,” Maggie said. “I don’t know her at all.”
“But I do,” he insisted.
“Maybe, maybe not. You know the Joss Wynter who’s been out in the woods relying on you a few short days. She’s probably been scared, appreciative, confused.”
“So you think she had sex with me because she was afraid, thankful, and out of her mind.”
Maggie’s mouth quirked up. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“What does it feel like—love?”
“My God, you never ask the easy questions, do you?”
“Amber didn’t love me,”
he said. His time with Joss had convinced him of that fact. “And I don’t think I loved her. I don’t understand love and I’m not sure I can do it.”
“We all question that sometimes when it comes to relationships.”
“How do I know if I even love you, my family?”
“Saying ‘you just do’ isn’t going it cut it, huh?”
“No.”
“Thought so.” She released a long, low breath. “Far be it for me to try to explain something that poets and songwriters have been trying to communicate for centuries, but here goes… If I told you that Jay was being mean to me, maybe even hurting me, what would you say?”
He stopped on the trail and stared down at her. “Jay is hurting you?”
“No!” She grabbed his arm. “It was a hypothetical scenario, just to make you think. How did it make you feel when I said that? How did you react?”
“It made my gut feel like someone had set it on fire.”
“Good. I mean not good, but… What else?”
“I wanted to go find Jay and break his face.”
“He’s bigger than you.”
“So?”
“Yet you would still be willing to confront him if you believed he was hurting me.” Maggie’s lips lifted, just a little.
“Yes.”
“That’s because you care about me. You feel protective and want the best for me. That fire in the gut—that’s love.”
“That is stupid,” he muttered. “That means love hurts.”
“Oh, yeah. Sometimes it does.” Maggie patted him hard on the shoulder and stepped around him to resume the hike. “But every bit of pain is worth it. Shep, you don’t have to question if you love your family. You would do anything for us. You would lay down your life if it came to that. When we hurt, you hurt. When we’re happy, you feel it too. Do I know exactly what love feels like inside you—your head, your body, or your heart? No. No more than I do with Cash or Way or Riley. But I think you love with a fierceness that is both beautiful and scary.”
Striking Edge Page 25
