A Reason To Live (Reason #3)

by CP Smith

  I’d been threatened before—it comes with the territory when you’re dealing with scum—but this was different. This threat was clear and absolute. Whoever this was wanted to harm me. And I couldn’t protect myself against the threat because my observations were with the children, not the adults. Most of the parents or guardians were unknown to me, so this put me at a disadvantage. They could walk right up to me on the street with a smile on their face and I wouldn’t know they were dangerous until they plunged a knife into my heart. Because of this, and the fact that the police couldn’t help me, I knew I had to get away for a while. I needed time to think and consider my options; options that I wasn’t certain included coming home to Fairbanks anytime soon. Not after I received a rag doll in the mail with her eyes gouged out and a noose around her neck.

  Scanning the cemetery, I kept my eyes peeled for anyone who looked as if they were watching me. My Jeep was already packed and my furniture in storage. I was leaving Fairbanks that day to escape the madness for a while.

  After that? . . .

  Will I ever feel safe again?

  Placing my hand on Emma’s picture, I traced the outline of her smile. “I can’t wait around for this person to come after me, so I’m leaving for a while. I’m hoping they’ll think I’ve moved on and give up tormenting me. I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can, Em. I just don’t know when that will be.”

  Picking up the wilted flowers I’d placed on her grave during my last visit, I gasped when I found a naked Barbie hidden beneath them. She was missing her head and had a large red X on her back. The hair on the back of my neck began to rise as I stared at the doll. Turning quickly, I scanned the parking lot. There were no other cars around, which didn’t help to settle my nerves. I was alone in the cemetery with no one to hear me scream.

  Turning back to the doll, I noticed a note tucked beneath it. Scanning once more to make sure I was safe, I bent and retrieved the slip of paper and began to read.

  X marks the spot with a big question mark. I’m coming for you. But when?

  Dropping the note in terror, I spun in circles, looking deeper into the dark corners of the cemetery. The flowering bushes turned sinister, their shadows became murderers wielding knives as I blinked back tears.

  “I don’t know what to do, Em,” I muttered as a single tear ran down my cheek. “I’m so tired of being scared.”

  I stared blindly at her grave and suddenly felt weak compared to Emma, who’d been so brave in the face of the war, determined to defend her country. My eyes blurred with unshed tears as I pictured her as she was before she died: soft-spoken, a little shy, yet resolute to be the best soldier she could be. Her letters home, filled with her trials and tribulations while in Afghanistan, were a testament to how hard she’d worked and how brave she’d been.

  I thought about those letters, filled with stories of her unit and the horrors of war, and pulled them from my purse. I opened one I hadn’t read the night before and scanned it until my eyes stopped on a passage near the end.

  Sergeant Sherman is the bravest man I’ve ever met. He’s the complete opposite of our late stepdaddy dearest. He runs straight into the battle, disregarding his own safety to help those who are injured. I’m lucky, Sage. Really lucky. I couldn’t have asked for a better commanding officer.

  Gray eyes the color of gunmetal flashed across my memory as my sister’s words rang in my head. I closed mine and thought back to that horrible day when Emma Jane came home.

  Sergeant Shane Sherman looked tortured by Emma’s death. I’d tried to reach out to him, but he’d left suddenly. At the funeral the next day, surrounded by friends, I’d watched him stand removed from the crowd, hidden behind sunglasses. Even so, I could tell when he was staring in our direction. I’d been in a grief-ridden daze since we’d heard about Emma’s death, but regardless, I couldn’t help but notice a man that striking in appearance—and grief.

  His dress blues couldn’t hide what lay beneath; a body honed to handle the punishments of war: broad shoulders, a lean waist, and arms that tested the strength of the fabric that held his muscles in check. But it was his gray eyes that captured my attention the most.

  He’d taken off his sunglasses when he approached my mother, and even though pain shadowed their smoky depths, I knew a woman could lose herself in them with no hope of surfacing.

  My attention was glued to him as he shook my mother’s hand and gave his condolences in a hard, husky voice. When he’d turned briefly to me, I’d held my breath, uncertain of what to say for once in my life. However, he didn’t speak; he’d just nodded once without making eye contact and then turned to leave. Before I could thank him for watching out for Emma while she was under his command, he’d disappeared into the crowd. That was the last time I’d seen him, but it wasn’t the last time I’d thought about him. Whenever my mind wandered to those awful first days after Emma’s death, Sergeant Sherman always made an appearance.

  “You said he lived in Trails End,” I whispered as I stared at Emma’s grave. “Where the bears are . . . Maybe I could disappear there for a while?”

  I looked over my shoulder one last time and surveyed my surroundings. Turning back to Emma’s grave, I stared at the offending Barbie for a moment and then kicked it to the side. Then I leaned down and placed the fresh flowers I’d brought on her grave, running my hand lightly over her headstone one last time.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Don’t worry about me, pipsqueak. I’ll be just fine.”

  ***

  The wind kicked up from the valley below as Shane looked down at Trails End. He was standing on a lookout just down from Grizzly Pointe after a long day of cutting trees for Max. The town seemed full of life as he watched; the end of a long summer’s day was behind them as they settled in for a cooler evening. He could see the Carnies arriving for the annual carnival. Large flatbed trucks hauling a Ferris Wheel, Bumper Cars, Swing Slides, and Hurricane Rides crept toward the field near the inlet of Crystal Lake.

  What had once been a sleepy lumber town had grown in size since his return from Afghanistan; thanks in part to the press that Max and Mia received after opening their nature preserve and fighting off a cop turned killer. Alaskans had fed off the stories coming out of Trails End and came in droves to see the bears. Once here, they discovered they liked this bit of paradise in the wild. Some liked it so much they were building luxury cabins so they could spend their weekends in what Mia had dubbed Pleasantville in the Alaskan Frontier. They even had new commerce. Two souvenir shops had opened in the last three months, and with whitewater rivers close by that boasted 3-5 grade rapids, an older Scotsman by the name of Gregor MacGregor had opened Trails End Rafting Excursions six months ago. Not to mention, with the influx of new visitors and weekend vacationers, Smith Mercantile had begun adding on to their establishment to handle the supply and demand. With construction almost complete, they now boasted an even bigger selection of food and wares.

  All this attention and influx of people amused most town folks who knew all along that Trails End was a little piece of heaven on earth. Even Shane found it comical.

  “Are we done for the day?” Buddy asked Shane as he continued to stare at the town.

  “Yep. Max is back, so I’m heading down to have a drink with him and Mia.”

  “Thank Christ for that,” Buddy mumbled under his breath.

  “What was that?” Shane asked, a grin pulling at his mouth.

  “Nothin’. It’ll just be good to have Max back, is all.”

  Shane smiled at his obvious relief. Max had put Shane in charge while he was on his honeymoon, and Shane had made sure that the boys met their daily quota, and then some. He’d worked the boys ten hours a day since the sun stayed higher and longer in the sky this time of year. They were exhausted, but he knew they wouldn’t complain when they got their paychecks.

  Clapping Buddy on the back before he turned and made his way to his truck, Shane climbed in and groaned. His back ached and his m
outh was dry. All he wanted to do was go home and let the day drain away. Especially today of all days. It had been one year exactly since Private Emma Jane Sloan had died under his command, and he was feeling raw again. He’d spent the first six months after arriving home licking his wounds and readjusting to civilian life. The last six he’d found a way to put some of the war behind him by keeping busy. But the 18th of July would forever be branded into his soul; a reminder he’d fucked up and as a result, a kid lost her life.

  As much as he’d like to go home and lock the door from the outside world, unfortunately for him, Max and Mia had arrived home earlier that afternoon and Shane had promised to meet them. So, he went home, showered, and then headed to town to pretend he didn’t have a care in the world like he did most days.

  When he entered Last Call—the only bar in Trails End established when the town was founded in 1898—he wasn’t just struck by how full it was, he was also assaulted by Joanne Drummond and Suzy Wills’ rendition of “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’” on the karaoke stage. Last Call was an old time saloon with scarred pine floors and a long oak bar, original to the establishment. Ralph Potter, the descendant of the original owner, didn’t stock crap for fruity drinks either. He sold beer, hard liquor, and had a limited menu with one of the best damn burgers he’d ever eaten.

  Shane grimaced when Suzy hit a wrong note and headed toward the bar for a shot of whiskey. He whistled between his teeth at Ralph to catch his attention. Ralph jerked his head, indicating he’d heard, so Shane sat down and turned toward the stage.

  As he watched the Barbie Twins shake their asses, he felt someone slide up beside him, so he turned and smiled a genuine smile for the spitfire of a lady sitting next to him.

  “How’s my boy’s business? Is it still intact or did you run off all his employees while he was on his honeymoon?” Maxine Hunter, Max’s mother and constant pain in Max’s ass, asked.

  “Ten-hour days are good for the men,” he replied.

  “They said you dogged them like a Drill Sergeant.”

  “They needed discipline, Maxine,” Shane grinned.

  “I’m not sure if you noticed this, boy, but you’re not in the Army anymore. The men around here aren’t used to working all day and then having to drop and give you twenty.”

  Shane’s smiled slipped at the mention of his Army days. He pulled it back into place quickly, though, and slung his arm around Maxine’s shoulders.

  “Just making sure Max comes home to a profitable business, is all. The way you keep pushing him and Mia to have kids right off, he’ll need the money.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Surely is,” Shane answered with a wink, but the look on Maxine’s face told him she had a different theory and he was about to hear it.

  “Is that why you helped Gregor free of charge with his rafting tours? Because you’re worried, he won’t be able to feed his kids?”

  “He’s an old man and a confirmed bachelor. He doesn’t have children,” Shane replied. “But he is on a budget.”

  “What about helping out at the nature preserve when you’re not splitting logs for Max? Or working free of charge on Smith’s add-on? Hell, Shane, you practically built that yourself.”

  “What’s your point?” Shane sighed.

  “My point is: you seem to spend an awful lot of time doing for others, and I want to know when you’re gonna start doing for you?”

  Shane removed his arm from around her shoulders when he heard a shot glass hit the bar behind him. He turned and picked it up, then raised a salute to Maxine. “To the nosiest woman I know.”

  “Is that so? . . . Ralph,” Maxine hollered over her shoulder, “give me a shot as well.”

  Ralph complied with her request, and Maxine lifted her drink to Shane. “To the biggest bullshitter I know,” Maxine said with a smile, then threw back the whiskey and choked a little as Shane smiled.

  He followed with his own shot as Maxine caught her breath then nodded to Ralph to fill him up again. “Maxine, you’ve always known this about me, so don’t act surprised.”

  Maxine narrowed her eyes at Shane and then scoffed.

  “What?”

  “Don’t shit a bullshitter, Shane Sherman. You don’t think I’ve seen the pain on your face when you think no one is watchin’? I know when I see a man carryin’ the weight of the world on his shoulders. The man you were at twenty is not the man who came home,” Maxine informed him, getting to the heart of the matter. “I know you probably saw and did things over there that will scar you for the rest of your life, but it’s time to move forward. You were gonna go to medical school and become a doctor, weren’t cha? Now you’re workin’ part-time wherever you’re needed, and half the time you’re not gettin’ paid.”

  “Maxine—”

  “Get on with your life, Shane. The only way to put the past behind you is to look forward.”

  Shane turned toward the stage so she wouldn’t see his reaction. He’d spent the last twelve months pretending he was fine for this exact reason. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to explain how he’d gotten a nineteen-year-old killed. And he sure as hell didn’t want to see the pity on people’s faces when they found out.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Maxine asked, her voice suddenly gentle and comforting. Shane turned his head and saw the pity he’d wanted to avoid. He didn’t deserve it; he’d screwed up and a kid had died. He didn’t want pity or understanding, he wanted to turn back the clock and have Sloan transferred so she’d be home right now on a date with a pimple-faced kid.

  Turning back to the bar, Shane picked up his shot of whiskey and threw it back. Then he stood, his face blank of emotion, unable to don his fake façade at that moment, and threw bills on the bar.

  “Been a long day, Maxine. Tell Max and Mia I’ll catch them tomorrow,” Shane mumbled before buzzing a kiss against her cheek and turning toward the door.

  “Shane,” Maxine whispered, regret coloring her words as she reached out her hand and grabbed his arm. “You’re family, you and Max, and I love you like a son. I only want what’s best for you.”

  He turned back and saw the guilt on her face. Christ, she felt sorry for upsetting him and that was almost as bad as pity.

  “I'm all right, Maxine,” Shane lied, “I’ll talk to you soon,” he finished and then squeezed her hand before letting go and moving toward the door.

  Even though it was eight in the evening, it was still bright outside when he pushed through the bar’s door and caught sight of Max. He had Mia pinned against his truck, his massive frame bent so he could devour her mouth.

  Shane’s mood had deteriorated after Maxine’s confrontation, so he tried to move past them unnoticed. Unfortunately for Shane, Mayor Madison took that moment to holler out a greeting to the newlyweds on his way to the bar, causing Max to turn.

  Escape eluded him.

  When Max looked up at the mayor’s greeting and caught him leaving, Shane called out, “I see the honeymoon isn’t over.” He turned up his smile, his façade firmly back in place, and then winked at Mia. “When you get tired of the big guy, you know where to find me,” he crooned, his voice as smooth as honey.

  Max didn’t comment on his proposition, per usual, he just pulled Mia into his side and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders while he glared.

  Keep them off balance and they won’t ask questions.

  “You do like playing with fire,” Mia giggled, her crystal–blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

  “I like playing with fire, bears, black-haired beauties with . . . What the fuck does your T-shirt say?”

  Looking down at her shirt, Mia giggled. “Property of Thor, God of Thunder,” she answered, then turned and smiled like a lovesick fool at Max.

  “Subtle, Max,” Shane chided.

  Max shrugged and pulled Mia in closer to his side.

  “So, how are my bears?” Mia asked as she and Max moved toward him.

  “Booboo’s a pain in the ass becaus
e he wants to be fed six times a day.”

  “Booboo is not a pain in the butt. He just likes spending time with you. I think he follows you for a reason. I just haven’t figured out that reason.”

  “He’s a pest.”

  “You love him, admit it.”

  Shane grinned. He was fond of the damn bear, but he’d never admit it.

  “What about Nala?”

  “I spotted Nala with her new cub day before yesterday. She won’t let me close enough to see if it’s a girl or a boy, though.”

  “Finally. I’ll head out tomorrow and see if I can find her.”

  “Take Jake with you,” Max ordered.

  “Max, I’m perfectly capable of—”

  “Falling off a cliff, I know. Not. Without. Jake,” Max warned.

  Shane had heard this song and dance since Max and Mia had hooked up. She was the clumsiest woman Shane had ever met and she kept Max on his toes because of it. In fact, her clumsiness brought the two of them together just a few months after he’d returned home.

  Just as they reached him and Max put out his hand to shake Shane’s, he heard Maxine call out, “Are you pregnant yet?”

  “We’ve only been married two weeks,” Mia gasped in reply.

  “And?” Maxine answered, moving in for a hug from her son.

  With both Max and Mia holding Maxine’s attention, Shane saw his opportunity to make an escape before Maxine could corner him again. Stepping back, ready to call out he had an errand to run, his progress was halted when he felt a presence behind him.

  “Excuse me, Sergeant Sherman?” a soft, sweet voice asked from behind him.

  Shane whipped around at the sound of her voice. A voice so similar to one he hadn’t heard in exactly one year. Auburn hair threaded with copper highlights glistened in the late day’s sun. It surrounded cat-like pale-green eyes that had haunted his dreams, and he froze. His heart rate began to accelerate at the sight of Private Sloan’s sister, and the need to retreat was overwhelming.

  “Sergeant Sherman, I’m—”