“Wow,” May exclaimed. “You’re loaded.”
Lily elbowed her daughter, who grinned up at her and giggled.
“Shay, you’ll probably be more comfortable in the bedroom down here.” Wes didn’t seem affected by May’s comment. He pointed to their right, where an open door revealed a bedroom. “It has its own bathroom.”
“It’ll be nice not to navigate any stairs,” Shay said.
“There are two bedrooms upstairs and one down in the basement.” Wes looked from Lily to May.
“I want down,” May said, which left Lily in the room too close to Wes.
She looked at him and then at her dad. Wes didn’t seem to think anything of it, but her dad sort of scowled and, with a grumble, went to his main-level bedroom with his carry-on-size bag.
May headed for the stairs leading down beside the main entrance.
“There are two rooms off the rec area. One’s an office. The bathroom’s in between.”
“Okay,” May yelled as she skipped down the stairs.
Now it was just her and Wes. Lily rubbed the back of her neck.
Wes bent to lift her luggage. “Come on. I’ll show you your room. It has its own bathroom, too.”
Good. She could use a shower before bed. Her hair smelled like smoke.
Upstairs, from the loft, a log banister permitted a view of the lower level. Two doors led off the landing. Wes pushed open the far door and she entered before him. It didn’t feel right with him in here, not in a bedroom. He put her luggage down and went back toward the door. The sudden flash of anxiety that had begun to build faded and was gone before he turned.
“Good night,” he said, and her heart melted all over itself.
He was being so careful with her. As soon as the thought came she wondered why. Why was he being so careful with her?
Was it because he knew she wasn’t comfortable with their age difference? Or had he picked up on something, something in the way she behaved? She had turned him down a few times. Maybe he wondered why, since she also liked him a lot. He probably saw that, too.
“Good night.”
He closed the door.
Alone now, she turned in a circle. The room was neutrally decorated in tans and white, complementing the log furniture and knotty-pine armoire and dresser. There was a flat-screen TV and a computer, too.
Taking the smaller of two bags from the bed, she went to the bathroom just past the dresser and desk. After showering and slipping into her cotton, knee-length black nightie, she crawled into bed, so tired she fell asleep almost immediately.
He entered the dark room. She smelled him. He was tall and big and through the shadows she could see his head was hairy and he had fangs. Like a wolverine. He reached for her, his talonlike fingers clawing the air in front of her. She ran from the room, down a maze of hallways that stretched farther and farther. She felt lost and trapped. She heard him running behind her. Felt him, too. His evil presence.
Then he appeared in front of her. His face leered, light-colored eyes glowing. She dug her feet into the carpeted floor, but couldn’t stop moving toward him. Closer and closer. Her hands came against him. Closer and closer, until his body was pressed hard against hers.
She screamed and writhed to get away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know why. He wasn’t holding her.
Finally, she was running outside. The dirt path illuminated by moonlight ended when she ran out of the trees. Now she ran through tall grass that hindered her escape. A cliff appeared on her left. The roar of rushing water frightened her. The water was dark. The river was wide and deep.
Rock broke away from the cliff where she ran. She slipped.
She was falling through the air. Fear tasted tinny in her mouth. She couldn’t stop the fall.
She was falling. Falling. Closer to the churning water that rushed toward a raging waterfall. She didn’t want to hit the water. It was dark, deep water. And if she fell over the waterfall…
She came awake with a grunt. Her stomach still plunged from the residual effects of the dream. Her heart hammered. She swallowed between gulping breaths.
No way was she getting back to sleep anytime soon.
Flinging the covers back, she dug out her robe from her suitcase and shrugged into it. Maybe some milk would help.
The floors on the upper level and stairs were carpeted, but downstairs the hard wood was cold on her feet. A light was on in the kitchen. Wes sat at the table.
She stopped short when he looked up from the papers he had strewn before him, pen in hand over a legal pad.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt. She stared at him, unable to form a response. The edge of the table concealed some of her view, but she could see he at least wore black fleece pants.
Shaking herself out of her trance, a little confused by the strength of his effect on her, she moved toward the kitchen. “No.” In the kitchen she stopped again. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d try to rummage up some milk.”
He stood up from the table, putting the pen down, and walked past her to open an upper cabinet for a glass. He got a carton of milk out of the refrigerator and poured her some.
Lily rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache building. The dream still had her out of sorts. It made her think of Brandon. He was a free man, living life the way he pleased despite the harm he’d caused to others. It wasn’t fair. She clutched the robe closed where it lay open below her throat.
“You okay?”
She looked up to see Wes holding the glass of milk for her. “Yes.” She took the milk. “Thanks.” Sipping, she kept her gaze low, struggling to push bad thoughts from her mind.
“Why don’t we go sit where it’s warm?” He gestured toward the living room.
She looked over to the sitting area and only then noticed the gas fireplace was running, the sound of a fan blowing warmth into the room subtle and soothing. It was too appealing to resist. Plus, what else would she do other than lie awake in bed?
She sat on a big chair nearest the fireplace, holding her glass. The fire held her gaze.
The dream still had her in that in-between state, still unable to separate it from the here and now. Dreams like that always reminded her of that night.
Drinking at a Bozeman bar. Meeting Brandon. He was another conquest. He was someone interesting enough to pursue. It hadn’t taken much back then. As long as the man wasn’t timid and seemed to be halfway ambitious both physically and professionally, she was interested. And an opportunity to go on a new adventure was always irresistible to her. Brandon had said he liked to hunt in Argentina. She’d never been to Argentina.
She’d left with him and he’d knocked her unconscious when they’d reached his car. No one had seen him do that and no one had any reason to be suspicious.
She’d woken to the beginning of a nightmare.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Snapped out of her downturning thoughts, she looked over at Wes, who’d taken a seat on the sofa that faced the fireplace.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why not?”
“I had a bad dream.”
She watched him contemplate her response. “Not surprising after what happened.”
At first she thought he was talking about the rape. Then she realized he meant the fire.
She looked away. She’d much rather have nightmares based on that. But this nightmare had been based on something real. Waking in that cabin, bound, cold. Frightened, not knowing where she was. And then Brandon had come into the room. He’d smiled when he saw that she was awake. And that’s when the horror had begun.
Lily shut her eyes and fought the demons in her mind. She was so tired of fighting them. Again. She’d been doing so well until the parole hearing. It was so disheartening.
“It wasn’t the fire,” she said, weary. She didn’t understand why she felt a need to reach out to someone. To Wes. She’d never felt that way before. She’d never trusted anyone
enough to reveal such a dark secret about herself.
“What was it?” he asked.
She didn’t look at him. “I didn’t go to the prison to visit a friend.” Did she really want to tell him this? Yes, her heart cried. She did. She needed to. She needed to get rid of it some how. She turned her head to look at him. “I went there to testify at Brandon Gates’s parole hearing. He raped me fifteen years ago.”
Wes’s expression didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry, Lily.”
“It’s the reason I left Honey Creek. I couldn’t face anyone after that, not when I was so…not when my reputation was so…” She couldn’t finish.
“It’s okay. I understand.” He moved over on the couch. “Come over here and sit by me.”
Both a command and an offer of support, she found she couldn’t resist. She put her glass on the coffee table and stood and moved to the couch, sitting next to him. He put his arm behind her on the back of the couch. She scooted closer and let her head rest between his chest and biceps.
“I met him at a bar and when I left he knocked me out and drove me to a cabin near Trout Creek. I escaped just before dawn.”
Wes reached over with his free hand and slipped it between her clenched ones on her lap. She let him, feeling him first give her hand a small squeeze before simply holding her.
“There were several other women who came forward after his arrest. He got the maximum sentence and wasn’t eligible for parole until now. The parole board granted his release. The victims’ officer told me he went back home to North Carolina. He’s a free man.”
“I’m so sorry, Lily. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that.”
“It changed me,” she went on. “Something like that would change anyone.” Strange, how it felt good to tell someone about it. Even Bonnie Gene didn’t know the details. “I came back to Honey Creek for about a month, but I couldn’t stand how I was treated. The same as before, but I wasn’t like that anymore. So I packed my things and drove to Bozeman. Got a part-time job and stayed until the trial was over. After that, I moved to Sacramento.”
She looked up at Wes and saw unspoken questions in his eyes. He moved his hand from the back of the couch to her shoulder. She knew what he was wondering.
“I was desperate to feel normal again. I was too ashamed to tell anyone. It was bad enough having to talk about it in court. I needed some kind of relief. I thought if I went back to the way I was before I was raped that I could put it behind me and go on as if it never happened. So one night I went to a bar. It was scary at first. That’s how I’d met Brandon. But facing my fears would help me heal, right?
“I made a mistake thinking I could do that by picking up a guy and sleeping with him. It backfired on me. The intimacy. I wasn’t ready. It only intensified my trauma. The guy was nice, but he didn’t have much going for himself. He didn’t have a job. He drank too much. By the time I found out I was pregnant, he’d moved. I sent him a letter telling him about the baby, but he never responded or tried to contact me.”
She stared at the fire again, sighing as contentment washed over her. It felt so good to rid herself of the burden.
“What was Gates like during the hearing?” Wes asked.
“Docile. Nothing like he was fifteen years ago. Could have been an act.”
“Some sex offenders are nervous about facing their victims during their parole hearings, especially the ones who’ve changed. They want to get out of prison and live normal lives.”
“I’d rather he stayed in prison.”
“I agree, but it doesn’t always work out the way you want. You have to move on.”
“I never questioned I would. I did move on. And I’ll do it again now that he’s free.”
“You’ve done well for yourself. And for May. It’ll only be a matter of time before everyone else in town sees that.”
She tilted her head up and smiled. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For listening. For being here. Now. Tonight.”
Leaning toward her, he put his fingers against her jaw and urged her to move her head closer to his. She let herself get lost in the warm desire of his amazing blue eyes. He lowered his head, bringing his mouth oh so close to hers. Hot, sweet anticipation tickled her senses. She closed her eyes to it, and felt his lips touch hers. He kissed her softly. His breath came faster and she became aware of her own breaths. She parted her lips, tentatively, uncertain but curious. He pressed firmer.
She spread her hand on his bare chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Need mounted to a feverish pitch and she sought more of him. She opened her mouth more and heard him suck in a breath of air before he slid his tongue into her mouth. He toyed with her, pulling a gruff sound from her. She wanted him.
Wanted him.
Enough to get naked with him.
Have sex with him.
This kind of urge hadn’t overcome her since her younger days. And that thought snapped her back to full awareness.
Breaking away from the kiss, she stared up at him, as breathless as he was.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“Wes.” She wasn’t ready for this.
He slid his arm from behind her and stood. “Sorry.”
“No…it’s okay.” She stood, too.
“I’m going to get back to work,” he said, stepping back.
“Yeah. I think I’ll go back to bed.” As if she’d ever get to sleep now.
“Okay. See you in the morning.”
“Okay.”
As she headed for the stairs, she couldn’t remember ever feeling this disconcerted with a man.
Or this desired by one.
Chapter 8
Karen Hathaway opened the front door of a baby-blue-and-white modular home in dire need of repair. She was in dire need of repair, too. She wore faded jeans that were too tight and a bright pink T-shirt that molded to her body and exposed her stomach, which hung over the rhinestone belt at her waist.
“Mrs. Hathaway?” he said.
“Yes?”
“I’m Sheriff Colton. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“About what?” She blew a bubble with her chewing gum, smacking the glob back into her mouth when it popped.
He cleared his throat. “You ran into Lily Masterson at the Honey-B, isn’t that right?”
“I heard about you two. Is she trying to get you to come after me now?”
“Did you confront her?”
“Yes, and I threw a glass of water in her face. Did she tell you that, too?”
“I need to talk to you about some things that have happened since then. Is now a good time?”
Her eyes became slits between bags of excess skin that trembled as she chewed her gum. “What things?”
He removed his notebook from one of his pockets along with a pen. “Your husband had an affair with Lily in the past, is that right?”
“You know it is. Everybody in town knows it.”
“And are you still angry about that?”
“I wasn’t until I saw her in town. I don’t want her here, prancing around and tempting my husband.”
Her husband had looked a lot better back then than he did now. Lily wouldn’t have been with him otherwise. She was an attractive woman. “Then you have good reason not to want her in town.”
“You bet I do.”
“Did you send her roses with a note?”
“No. Why would I do that? Send her flowers.” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t send her flowers.”
“Her truck was also vandalized. Someone painted the word whore on it several times.”
Wes saw in Karen what he would call smug irritation. No awkwardness or anxiety that would give away her guilt. “Are you accusing me of doing that, too?”
“I’m asking you if you did.”
“No.”
“Are you aware that the library was set on fire last night?”
“It was?”
Did he imagine how hopeful she sounded? Before comin
g here he’d done a background on her and discovered she’d had a juvenile record in Bozeman along with a robbery charge that had been dismissed in court. He waited for her to answer his question.
“No, I didn’t know anything about that.” She paused. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. The fire was put out before it did much damage, and Lily wasn’t hurt.”
Her expression drooped almost imperceptively.
Wes remained focused on his purpose. “Where were you between eight and ten last night?”
“Here.” Her smugness had returned.
“Alone?”
“No, I was with my husband.”
“Is he here now?”
“No. He left a half hour ago.”
“Is he at work?”
“He has the day off. Said he was going fishing.” She didn’t appear to care one way or the other.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hathaway. That’s all I need for now.” He put away his pad and pen.
She looked stunned by his abrupt dismissal.
“Good day.” He nodded once and left the house.
Andy Hathaway was a middle-school janitor who spent his time off at the Corner Bar. Just past ten in the morning, Wes took his chance that he’d find Andy there now, not fishing.
Parking in the only space left in front, Wes glanced around at the quiet street and entered the bar. There were three men at the bar, one of them Andy.
“Sheriff,” the bartender, Jake, greeted.
Wes said hello and stopped beside Andy. “Andy, will you join me at a table?”
Andy looked up, his reddened eyes startled. “What for?”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
The other two men at the bar looked from Wes to Andy. The bartender slowly wiped the bar surface.
“About what?”
“Come on over and I’ll explain.” Wes walked to a table a good distance from the bar and sat.
The Librarian’s Secret Scandal Page 11
