Holly Grove Homecoming

by Carey, Carolynn

  She’d known, of course, how unrealistic those daydreams were, but that didn’t keep her from dreaming them. But now, even if she succeeded in finding Eric’s abuser, Eric was beyond her help.

  A tear dripped into her wine. She turned it up and drank the entire glass without stopping, as though drinking her tear would somehow internalize her grief in such a way that Eric, wherever his soul might be, would know that he was indeed missed.

  Her tears flowed even more freely after she drank the wine, but the bitter ache of grief lessened somewhat, so she poured herself another glass. She’d just finished the bottle when her doorbell rang.

  “It will be Trooper, I betcha,” she said to FluffBall, who’d curled up in her lap. Aware that the wine had gone to her head, she continued to address the cat. “Let him ring. Isn’t that what you say, Fluffy? Ring-a-ding-ding. I don’t care.” She laughed out loud.

  “Carly?” His voice sounded from the front of the house.

  She frowned. “Thought I’d locked that door,” she murmured.

  “Carly? It’s Trooper. I let myself in. I need to talk to you.”

  “Ish Trooper,” Carly told FluffBall, who now stared toward the front of the house. “He let himself in. Shoulda tooken, I mean took, his key away from him.” She cocked her head to one side and listened to his footsteps growing louder as he strode down the hall toward the kitchen.

  She frowned when he paused in the doorway. “Why are you here?” she asked, enunciating each word carefully.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Course not.” Carly laughed and held up the empty wine bottle. “Nothing to drink.”

  Trooper stared at her for a minute. “I hope this isn’t about me.”

  Carly squared her shoulders and pursed her lips. “Not about you at all. Go away.”

  “I need to apologize first. I was wrong to check up on you. Whatever you’re doing is your own business and I had no right to try to make it mine. The thing is—”

  Carly interrupted him. “Apology accepted. Sit down. Have a glash—I mean a glass— of wine with me.” She tilted the bottle and peered down into it. “Forgot. Darn thing’s empty. Get more out of the cabinet.”

  “I’ll pass,” Trooper said. “Thanks just the same. And thanks for accepting my apology.” He walked across the room. “I’ll take you up on the invitation to sit down.”

  “Hokay,” Carly said. “Where’s the wine?”

  “I didn’t want any and you don’t need any more. I’ll get you a glass of tea. It may not work as well as coffee, but it might help you feel better.”

  Carly rested her head in her hands while waiting for Trooper to finish his chore. She heard ice clinking in a glass followed by the gurgling of liquid being poured over ice. She didn’t look up until he set the tea in front of her and took a seat opposite her.

  What’s this?” He picked up Eric’s death certificate and Carly felt fresh tears build in her eyes, then spill over. She grabbed a paper napkin to wipe her face.

  Trooper skimmed the certificate before placing it back on the table. “Friend of yours?” he asked with a frown of concern.

  Carly shook her head. “No.”

  Trooper’s frown deepened. “He’s not a friend, yet you’re crying for him. I assume this was in the envelope your private investigator left for you.”

  Carly took a sip of tea, then sighed. She could feel herself sobering up, and she wasn’t crazy about the sensation. “His name is Eric Duran. He was from Holly Grove. Did you know any Durans?”

  Trooper wrinkled his brow. “No, I can’t think of any. Does he have anything to do with why you moved to Holly Grove?”

  Carly ignored Trooper’s question, then pulled in a deep breath and spoke slowly. “I gave him my word I wouldn’t divulge his secrets, but I was going to tell you this afternoon anyway. Then I get this.” She laid her hand on top of the death certificate. “It’s almost as though he’s telling me to go ahead and tell, that nothing can hurt him now.”

  Trooper placed his hand on top of hers. “You didn’t tell me anything, Carly. You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”

  She looked into his eyes. “I would have told you though. I would have told you because you had a right to know. And I would have broken my word to Eric because it was the right thing to do. But I would have felt guilty about doing it. Now I won’t. I think Eric would be glad to know that. I think perhaps he does know that.”

  Trooper continued to hold her gaze. “Carly, exactly who is Eric Duran?”

  Carly sniffed, then sighed. “He was a runaway who was terrified of a man here in Holly Grove, a man who’d sexually abused him and then convinced him that if he ever told anyone, his family would be murdered. Eric believed the man because he confessed to Eric that he had already killed three people and made it look like a double murder and suicide.”

  Because Trooper’s hand still rested on top of hers, Carly felt sudden tension stiffen his fingers. She turned her hand under his until they were palm to palm. “I don’t know the man’s name,” she said before he could ask. “I begged Eric to tell me, but he was terrified the man would find him and kill him. His fears weren’t logical, but he was usually high so his fears always outweighed logic.”

  “How did you come to know Eric?”

  Still grasping his hand, Carly told him the entire story, of how Eric had come to her attention when he came to the aid of a girl being accosted, of how she’d tried to help get him off the streets and of how, one evening when he was particularly high, he’d confided in her about his life in Holly Grove.

  Trooper listened without saying a word while she repeated Eric’s story about the man who’d abused him and then threatened both Eric and his family if he ever told, about how Eric had turned to drugs and finally had run away and then, at last, how Eric had disappeared one night, another runaway who had run yet again, this time dropping far out of sight.

  By the time she’d finished her story, Carly felt cold stone sober. She would have welcomed another drink but realized she needed to keep a clear head because she still had one detail to relate to Trooper and she didn’t want to mess it up.

  Trooper had long since reclaimed his hand and leaned back in his chair, watching Carly without a modicum of emotion on his face. Finally she stopped speaking and waited for him to say something. He sighed before he spoke. “I understand your reluctance to tell me what you knew since you’d given Eric your word, but I’m glad to know you had decided to tell me. His story confirms some of my suspicions, and I’m very sorry you didn’t locate him while he was still alive.”

  “Me too,” Carly murmured. “I had planned to ask him again to tell me the name of the man who abused him. Whoever he is, if he’s still living, he needs to be stopped. Who knows how many other young men he may have abused?”

  Trooper shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “A name would have been nice.”

  “Well…” Carly began.

  Trooper opened his eyes and stared at her. “What?”

  “I may have the man’s nickname. Once, when Eric was really high, I asked him again for the name of the man and he said he couldn’t tell me the man’s name because Pap would kill him if he told.”

  “Pap?”

  Carly moistened her lips. “I think it was Pap. It sounded like Pap. But when I asked Eric if Pap was the man’s nickname, he clammed up. The next time I went to visit him in the shelter, he was gone.”

  “You think he ran again because he’d said the fellow’s nickname?”

  “I do, yes.”

  “If that’s why he ran, then you must have heard the name correctly.”

  “I think so too, and ever since I moved to Holly Grove, I’ve listened to conversations around me, hoping to hear of someone called Pap. I’ve read the local newspaper. I even went to the newspaper office and researched back issues, but I’ve never run across that name. And of course I couldn’t ask anyone about it for fear that whoever I asked might
alert the man, and who knows what he might have done then.”

  “You’re sure Eric wasn’t referring to his father?”

  “I’m sure. His father died when he was a baby.”

  “What about a stepfather?”

  “No. Eric’s mother didn’t remarry, at least not when Eric lived here. I tried to find his mother when I first arrived in Holly Grove, but I discovered that she’d moved away after Eric disappeared. Apparently she married a man from Nashville and no one knows her new last name.”

  “Then we can’t find her to tell her about Eric’s death.”

  “I suspect she gave her son up for dead a long time ago, but she has a right to know what happened to him. I’ll ask Jeff to see if he can locate her.”

  “Are you sure Eric didn’t tell his mother what had happened to him?”

  “He didn’t tell anyone at all until he told me. Or so he said, and I believed him.”

  “So that leaves us looking for a man who may or may not be nicknamed Pap?”

  “That’s about it.” Carly picked up her empty wine glass and stood. “I’m tired, Trooper, and I’m upset. I don’t want to spend tonight alone. Would Myrna mind very much if you stayed with me?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll phone and tell her what the circumstances are. She wouldn’t want you staying alone tonight.”

  “Thanks.” Carly knew her smile was weak, but she had already decided that she had to put her grief aside if she was going to find the man who had abused Eric.

  And she would find him. She had no doubt of that. Especially now that Trooper knew as much as she did and the two of them could work together.

  Carly started straightening up the kitchen while Trooper called Myrna. He talked softly and Carly caught only a word here and there, but she gathered that he was explaining to Myrna that Carly had received news of the death of an old friend. He soon hung up and turned back to Carly. “Myrna sends her condolences and says she’s happy you won’t be alone tonight.”

  Carly nodded. “Thanks, Trooper.” She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. He took two steps, which brought them face to face. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.

  “We’ll find the bastard who abused Eric, and I suspect we’ll find that the same man killed Larry Abbott and my parents. We’ll start making plans tomorrow. But tonight you need to rest.”

  Carly wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “Tonight I need to forget, Trooper, and I need to feel safe and wanted. I need you to make love to me.”

  His hands slipped from her shoulders and around her back until he could pull her close. “Keeping you safe and making love to you are the two most important things in the world to me right now.”

  Carly kept her head pressed against his chest for a few more seconds, then looked up into his face. “Let’s go to bed, please,” she said before taking his hand and gently pulling him toward the guest bedroom.

  She didn’t have to ask him twice.

  Chapter 19

  Lying with Carly snuggled up close to his side, Trooper had expected to sleep through the night, especially after two bouts of extremely satisfying lovemaking. He’d gone to sleep with a smile on his face. He awoke with every muscle tensed, screaming to move, to run, to escape the scene that was forever burned into his consciousness. A scene that consistently invaded his dreams.

  He sat straight up, breathing hard, wondering where the hell he was. Not in the mountains of North Carolina obviously.

  “Trooper?”

  Carly’s voice pulled him all the way out of the dream. His heart rate started slowing, but the room was still dark, and although he was groggy, he finally managed to speak. “I’m okay. Sorry I disturbed you.”

  Her fingers trailed a slow path down his back. Nothing erotic. More for comfort, he decided. Then the mattress shifted as she sat up beside him. “Don’t worry. You didn’t disturb me. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Did I say anything? In my sleep, I mean.”

  “No, nothing but a groan or two. You were having a bad dream obviously. Why don’t we go to the kitchen and get something to drink. I hate staying in bed after I’ve had a nightmare.”

  Trooper pulled in a deep breath and exhaled. He was sorry he’d disturbed Carly. His presence was supposed to have helped soothe her sorrow over the loss of her friend. Some comfort he’d been. He ran a hand over his face. “What time is it?”

  “Almost five. Neither of us is going to go back to sleep. Come on, let’s get up.”

  She patted his arm once, then rolled to one side and reached to turn the bedside lamp on low. He turned his head to watch her get out of bed. And to admire. Her bare back. Her firm buttocks. Her long legs. She really was beautiful.

  She walked a few steps to the chair where she’d left a robe. She picked it up and slipped her arms in before turning around. That was his cue, he supposed. He swung his legs off on the other side of the bed, then bent to retrieve his shorts from the floor where he’d kicked them. He pulled them on before turning.

  Morning-after behavior, he supposed. But that was okay. Carly’s smile was one of fondness. He tried to return it, but his lips were simply too stiff, so he crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  She returned his hug, then stepped back so she could look into his face. “What’s not to understand? I’ve had my share of nightmares, especially before my stalker was caught, but even after he was in prison, the terrifying dreams went on for over a year. You’re not three months away from your trauma. You need to cut yourself some slack.”

  His lips finally stretched into a smile. “That’s what the shrinks kept telling me.”

  “But you weren’t buying it?”

  “Not by a long shot. Why should I? I came out alive. Three others didn’t.” He dropped his arms to his sides. He knew from experience that this was a conversation that tended to go in circles and he had no desire to hop on that merry-go-round again. “Didn’t you mention going to the kitchen for something to drink?”

  To her credit, Carly seemed to tune in immediately to his feelings. “Absolutely. I can make some coffee if that interests you.”

  “Sounds great. Shall I jog down to the bakery and get us some Danish?”

  “Not for me, thanks. I’d prefer an omelet because I need some protein. What about you?”

  “Not a bad idea. I seem to have used up a lot of energy over the last few hours.” He grinned.

  “Same here,” she responded, matching his grin. “Some coincidence, huh?” She looped her robe’s belt. “I’ll let you wash up in the bath across the hall, and I’ll go to the other bathroom, then meet you in the kitchen.”

  “Okay.” He paused, then leaned in for a quick morning peck on the lips. “See you soon.”

  * * *

  Less than an hour later, Trooper had helped Carly polish off a large egg, cheese, and green pepper omelet with whole wheat toast and orange juice. Now both sat cradling a final cup of coffee. Trooper hated to interrupt their comfortable silence, but he suddenly felt the need to talk about what had happened in April. Interestingly, Carly was the only person he’d ever wanted to confide in. He cleared his throat. “Have you ever been to North Carolina, Carly?”

  She looked across the table at him with slightly widened eyes. “Sure. I’ve been to Charlotte several times, and my family vacationed at the Outer Banks one year.”

  “Anywhere else in the state?” Trooper asked. He dropped his hands into his lap and grasped his thighs, hoping to will away the tremor that usually set both his voice and his hands to shaking when he tried to talk about April.

  Carly frowned, then shrugged. “We also visited Biltmore House one year around Christmas, so that means we were near Asheville.”

  “But have you ever been back in the mountains where the roads are narrow and curvy and sometimes the gaps are so deep you have to look up to see the sky?”

  “No. I’v
e been through the mountains, of course, but only on the interstate. Even that was a little scary considering they had just cleared a rock slide.”

  Trooper rubbed his hands along the tops of his thighs. Fortunately, his palms were sweating less than usual, and his voice was almost steady. “When you get off the main highways and onto the backcountry roads, you simply drive out of one curve into another with the land jutting straight up on one side and dropping off into a ravine on the other. I still wonder how work crews managed to build those roads back when they didn’t have much more than picks and dynamite to work with.”

  “It obviously would have been a challenge,” Carly agreed. Trooper could see that she was watching him closely, wondering where he was going with this story. He wondered himself, not where he was going, but whether he could tell the story all the way through this time.

  He’d given verbal accounts a couple of times when he was in the hospital. He’d even written an incident report later, but after that, his mind had rebelled. He hadn’t been able to talk about April again until today. Strangely, telling Carly—while not easy—seemed like the right thing to do. He moistened his lips and began talking again.

  “The bastard who’d kidnapped little Audrey—I’m assuming you read about what happened?”

  Carly nodded. “I did. She was three years old if I recall correctly.”

  “That’s right. And her kidnapper was on meth, which gave him courage and sapped any common sense he might ever have possessed. If he’d been in his right mind, he would have known he couldn’t get ransom from her parents. They were upper middle class but far from wealthy enough to raise two million dollars.”

  “That was the ransom demand?”

  “Yes. Audrey’s parents called the FBI right away. The father knew there was no way he could come up with the money, and he assumed we would be able to get his little girl back in one piece.”