by Sharon Sala
Ike silently suffered the indignity of the mouth swab, then waited until the tech was gone before he turned on Caine.
“Are you through harassing me?”
Caine rebutted. “This isn’t harassment. This is part of an ongoing investigation.”
“Into what? Me? You people don’t have anything on me, and you know it, so what’s this latest gig about? If you’re trying to set me up for Lorena’s murder, you’d better think again. I have a rock-solid alibi, remember?”
“From your son.”
Ike leaned forward. “Who would personally cut my throat if he thought for a second that I’d hurt his mother.”
“Tit for tat?” Caine asked.
Ike flushed. Lorena had died because her throat was slashed. Even if they’d had a witness, that witness was gone. They were fishing, but without a motive, not to mention evidence, they couldn’t pin it on him.
“Merely a poor choice of words,” Ike snapped. “This is beginning to sound like an interrogation, in which case I need to call my lawyer. So unless you have something else to discuss with me, I think we’re done.”
Caine hadn’t needed to talk to Pappas. He’d done it to let the man know he wasn’t off the hook, and for now, his job was done. He nodded to the agents at the back of the room, who promptly escorted Pappas out of the building.
When it came time for Beth and Ryal to leave, Lou wouldn’t let Beth say goodbye, only that they would see each other again soon. It took away enough of the impact of why she was there that Beth was able to leave with a smile on her face.
But the moment she was alone in the pickup with Ryal, the tension returned. They’d been cordial in front of Lou, but she didn’t feel cordial. The silence between them was awkward. Something needed to be said, but for the life of her she couldn’t come up with how to begin.
Ryal knew she was uncomfortable, but so was he. It had taken years to come to terms with how to live without her, and he wasn’t always happy about the outcome, but it wasn’t his call. Now all of a sudden she was back in his life as abruptly as she’d left, and as prickly as a porcupine every time she looked at him.
He wondered what she was thinking but didn’t want to ask. They were going to be spending a lot of time together during the next days, maybe weeks, and they needed to be able to do it without making each other miserable. But even if he wasn’t sure what needed to be said, this silence couldn’t endure.
“Beth, I know you’re uncomfortable with me, but I want you to know it’s not necessary. We don’t need to talk about the past unless you want to. I don’t have any hard feelings, and I hope you don’t, either.”
Beth resisted the urge to glare. “Uncomfortable is hardly the word I’d use, but it’s not just you, Ryal. It’s the whole ugly mess.”
His eyes narrowed as he slowed down for a curve in the road.
“I don’t know everything that happened, but I know enough to realize you’re lucky to be alive.”
“Pretty much, and I have Uncle Will to thank for that.”
“That’s not what I heard. You were pretty damn brave, Beth, but then, you always were.”
The unexpected praise brought tears to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.
“Mama used to say that a person never knows what they’re capable of until they’re faced with adversity.”
Ryal cast a quick glance at her.
Beth turned toward him, and for a moment their gazes locked. She was the one who looked away.
Ryal sighed. So much for that hoped-for truce.
Beth had seen a question in his eyes, and by keeping her silence she felt as if she’d somehow let him down, but there was no footing between them. Every time she looked at him she felt hot and achy…as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath. She needed to change the subject.
“Where are you hiding me?” Beth asked.
“Remember my grandpa Foster?”
“Your mother’s daddy?”
Ryal nodded.
“We’re staying at his place, because it’s the highest house on Rebel Ridge and completely isolated.”
“Oh, Ryal, I don’t know. What’s he going to think about people just moving in on him?”
“He won’t mind. He died about a little over a year ago.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Ryal shrugged. “How could you?”
Beth frowned. She didn’t like his attitude. “What does that mean?”
Ryal frowned back. “Don’t use that tone of voice with me, Lilabeth. It means, how could you know when you no longer lived here? It means how could you know when you broke contact with everyone and everything you left behind without a damned word? Not to me. Not to Lou. Not to anyone. That’s what that means.”
Beth flinched. The anger in his voice was impossible to miss. But he wasn’t the only one who’d felt hurt and betrayed.
“I didn’t want to go!” she yelled, and then groaned. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I thought you would fight for me. But you didn’t. I thought you would come get me. But you didn’t. No one wrote back to me no matter how many letters I sent. No one called. After that, I got the message. There wasn’t anything to come back for.”
Ryal stomped on the brakes and slammed the pickup into Park. The morning sun coming through the windshield highlighted the dust motes in the air between them, but the heat was nothing compared to the heat of the anger between them.
“I didn’t know I needed to fight for you until it was too late. I woke up one morning and you were gone. All of you. No one even knew which direction you’d gone until months later, when Lou finally got a letter from your dad. I begged for the address. I wrote a dozen letters to you in one month’s time and every one of them came back unopened.”
Ryal’s face began to blur. Beth swiped at the tears running down her face. If what he was saying was true, then that meant her parents had lied to her a thousand times over, blocking both her letters and his.
“I don’t believe you!” she screamed.
He reeled as if she’d just slapped him, then took a deep breath, put the pickup in gear and started driving.
The silence between them was painful, but the longer it stretched, the less likely it became that it was going to end on a good note.
Beth took a slow, shuddering breath and swallowed back tears, refusing to let him see her cry. She made herself focus on the view and started recognizing houses tucked back in the woods, roads cut into the hills that wound upward before they disappeared from sight. She’d been gone ten years, and yet nothing here had really changed. The only industry in this part of Kentucky was the mines. A majority of the population lived below the poverty line, and it showed—in the run-down houses and in the ramshackle cars parked in front, some with wheels, some without.
When she realized they were near his old family home, she began to get nervous. Surely she wasn’t going to have to face all of them now. He took the turn she remembered and resisted the urge to argue.
The road was shaded by trees on both sides, but the underbrush was gone. It looked neat and well cared for. When the house she remembered suddenly appeared in front of them, she felt sick. The one-story clapboard house was still there, but it appeared that they’d added on a room, a wraparound porch, narrow gray shutters and a fresh coat of white paint. But all she could remember was the last time she’d been here with him, when they’d made love beneath the waterfall in the woods below the house.
Ryal slammed on the brakes and killed the engine, but he wouldn’t look at her.
“I need to pick up my stuff. Would you like to come in and use the bathroom before we head up? It’s about an hour’s drive to Grandpa’s cabin.”
Beth wanted to say no, but she knew better. “I guess I should.” But when she reached for the door, he stopped her.
“I’ll get that. The door sticks, and you’ll hurt your hands.”
He bounded out of of the truck and around to the passenger side before she c
ould disagree, opened the door and put a hand under her elbow to steady her as she slid down from the seat.
She started to say thank-you, but he turned his back on her and walked away. She followed him up the stone walk to the front porch.
He unlocked the door, and then stepped aside.
“After you.”
The hair rose on the back of Beth’s neck as she walked past him and into the house, only to be greeted by silence.
“The bathroom is still down that hall and to the left,” he said, and left her standing in the living room.
It took a few moments before she could make herself move. She didn’t recognize anything about the place. Not the furniture, not the layout—nothing. Walls had been moved. Everything was more open, and the furniture was all different. That was when she remembered Uncle Will saying Ryal made and sold furniture for a living. She wondered if he’d made any of this. It was simple, but beautiful.
Finally she came to her senses and headed for the bathroom. When she got back, he was standing in the living room with a suitcase in his hand.
“I’ve already loaded up the perishables,” he said.
“Where’s your family?”
“They don’t live here anymore. Dad died the year after you left. Mom moved down the mountain to be closer to my oldest sister—you remember Meg, right? James is married, and Quinn lives on his own. I live here alone. Do you want a drink or anything?”
She shook her head.
He thrust a packet into her hands and then walked out the door, leaving her to follow.
Startled, Beth looked down at what he’d handed her. A handful of unopened letters tied up with a ribbon. She recognized the handwriting, and then her name. Her stomach knotted as she saw the dates on the postmarks.
Sweet Lord…he had written to her after all.
She looked up. He was standing at the door, waiting for her to exit. She started to say something, but his expression was cold, and enough had already been said between them. She lifted her chin and walked past him.
Ryal watched her walk out of the house with her head up and her shoulders straight. He could tell by her stride she was pissed, but so was he. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t been prepared to feel old anger and pain, and obviously neither had she.
“God help the both of us,” he muttered, then locked the door and followed her to the pickup.
Pappas was at his favorite restaurant, sipping ouzo as he waited for his meal to appear. The man sitting across from him neither ate nor drank. Instead, he sat watching Pappas like a rat watching a cobra.
Moe Cavanaugh was middle-aged, skinny and going bald, but his skills had nothing to do with age or looks. His reputation for finding people who didn’t want to be found was well-known, and when he’d gotten the call to meet Pappas, he’d relished the opportunity. He didn’t like the man, but the money he paid out was worth a lot of angst. Now he sat, patiently waiting for Pappas to speak.
Pappas knew Moe was getting antsy, but he liked to keep people who worked for him a little off guard. To draw out the suspense, he took another slow sip of ouzo, then glanced at Moe and slid an envelope across the table.
Moe quickly picked it up and slipped it in his jacket pocket as Ike began to speak.
“I need you to find someone for me. Her name is Beth Venable. She’s an artist of sorts…illustrates children’s books. I gave you her address, but needless to say, she’s not there. The Feds had her in protective custody, then lost her, so mind how and where you do your searching, especially online. You don’t want to let the Feds know you’re looking. When you find her, I’ll take it from there.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Moe said.
“Time is an issue,” Ike said. “Find her quickly and there’s another ten thousand in it for you.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do my best,” Moe said. “Is there anything else?”
Ike’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he saw Adam walk through the door. He hadn’t expected to see him. They were still at odds, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Adam was tailing him.
“That’s all. You can go,” Ike muttered.
Moe was out of the chair and through the door before Adam was halfway across the room, but Adam recognized him. By the time Adam reached Ike’s table, he was curious.
“May I join you, or are you expecting someone else?”
Ike leaned back, eyeing his flesh and blood with a wary air. He wasn’t going to make it easy for Adam. The little bastard had insulted him.
“I didn’t know we were back on speaking terms.”
Adam flushed, but he didn’t apologize. “I didn’t ask for a hug. I asked if I could sit down.”
Ike grinned. “Spoken like a true Pappas. Yes, sit your ass down before you make a scene.”
Adam sat. He was still suspicious of his old man, though he had nothing but a gut feeling to go on.
“Have you already ordered?” Adam asked, as he hailed a waiter.
“Yes.”
Adam pointed toward Ike. “I’ll have what he’s having, and bring me a coffee,” he told the waiter, who quickly sped away to adjust the table order.
Ike shook his head, as if in disbelief. “A Greek who doesn’t like ouzo. Shameful.”
“Half Greek, half Italian,” Adam said.
Ike bowed his head in acknowledgment. It was a subtle reminder that Lorena’s unanswered murder was still between them.
Adam leaned back and crossed his hands over his belly. Ike grinned. His own father had always done that when pondering the way to broach a subject.
“What’s funny?” Adam asked.
Ike pointed. “My father always did that, too—crossing his hands over his belly as you do. Must be the Greek half of you.”
Adam smiled, then regretted it. He didn’t want his father to think he was off the hook.
“So who did you send Moe Cavanaugh after?”
“Your mother’s killer.”
Adam blinked, stunned by the answer. “You know who he is?”
Ike shrugged. “I’ve been thinking…maybe it was wrong to assume it was a man.”
Adam leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“Right now, nothing,” Ike said. “But I would have found out by now if it was one of my enemies, and I can truthfully say I don’t think it was. What do you know about the people your mother associated with?”
Adam frowned. “I know some names, but I don’t know much else.”
“And neither do I. Know your friends and your enemies, I always say, because it is often the friend who will betray you first.”
Adam’s thoughts were racing as he fiddled with a spoon; then he blurted out an apology before he could rethink it. “I think it is time to say I’m sorry for accusing you of having anything to do with Mother’s death.”
Ike stifled the urge to grin. Now was not the time to gloat.
“Thank you, son. That means everything to me.” Then he saw the waitstaff approaching with their food and quickly changed the subject. “Ah…here comes our meal. It’s time we eat and forget about the harsh words. There should be no bad blood between father and son, right?”
“Right,” Adam said.
Ike smiled. Now he could gloat.
Eight
The packet of letters in Beth’s hands was a ticking time bomb. If she opened them, the contents were going to destroy the memories she had of her parents. The lies they’d told her to cover up her mother’s indiscretions were bad enough, but to accept that they’d purposefully destroyed the relationship she’d had with Ryal proved they’d been selfish and self-serving. They’d sacrificed her happiness to make sure she never learned what her mother had done.
Beth was appalled at their lack of concern for her. Part of her wanted to throw the letters out of the window and pretend they’d never existed, but she couldn’t. Even though it was too late for her and Ryal, she needed to know, for her own self-worth, that he hadn’t walked away
from her after all.
Ryal’s silence was worse than when they’d been yelling at each other. The anger and abandonment they both thought they’d gotten over had been resurrected with a vengeance. Beth couldn’t imagine what the coming days would be like, isolated together, miles away from everyone and everything. They would be forced to face whatever feelings they had left, whether they liked it or not. She stifled a groan. Right now she didn’t know who she was more afraid of, the man who wanted to kill her, or Ryal. Still lost in thought, she was unprepared when Ryal suddenly slammed on the brakes.
From out of nowhere, a deer had suddenly bounded out of the trees onto the road in front of them. As Ryal braked, Beth flew forward toward the windshield. It was instinct that made her jam her hands against the dash to keep from ramming her head into the glass.
Within seconds, she realized what she’d done, but it was too late to take it back. The pain in her hands was so intense that all she could do was double over in the seat, moaning as she cradled her hands against her breasts. The wounds that had just begun to heal had broken open and were bleeding again.
Ryal panicked. When he heard the moan he thought she’d hit her head, but then he saw her protecting her hands, then saw the blood, and felt sick, realizing what had just happened.
“Oh, my God, Beth…sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He jumped out of the truck, pulled a first-aid kit from behind the seat and then ran around to open her door.
Beth was white-lipped and shaking, and when their gazes met, he saw tears.
“Ah…honey…Beth…I—”
Her teeth chattered from the pain as she tried to reassure him.
“It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t fasten my seat belt.”
The fact that she wasn’t letting herself cry made him feel even worse. If it would have taken away her pain, he would have cried for her.
“You didn’t fasten it because your hands were too sore. And I didn’t help you because I was feeling sorry for myself. I would give anything for this not to have happened.”
“It’s all right,” she said.
