“Tomorrow’s Sunday. I need you here at 7AM,” Dale called after her, moving back toward the grill he’d been cleaning. “6:59 would be better.”
“Okay,” she shouted behind her, flying past the dumpster and into the parking lot. She didn’t get more than a few steps when she spotted the bus to Marshall in the distance, pulling away from the terminal curb, earlier than usual. She stopped running, her shoulders slumped forward. There wouldn’t be another bus until tomorrow morning.
“So… you and Onewolf, huh?”
The voice caught her off guard but what it said scared her, reminding her of Pete. She whipped toward it, hands clutched in a death grip around the strap of her purse. “Excuse me?”
Michael sat on the trunk of a car she recognized as having once belonging to his father. It was an old muscle car, lovingly restored. Painted a gun metal gray that sparkled in the afternoon sun. The color of it matched his eyes perfectly. He looked up from the book in his lap, shooting her a smirk. “You. Tommy. Two little love birds and all that shit.”
“Are you following me?” She thought about the pair of panties she found in the woods that morning. Her panties. Dried stiff, cover in… she took a step toward him without even realizing it. “Are you? Was it you outside my window last night?”
His face changed, the smirk that rode his mouth falling into a frown, his gaze darkening to the color of soot. “What?”
Something about his face, the stillness of it, scared her. Forced her to take a step back, away from him. “Never mind,” she mumbled as she dug into the pocket of her apron. “Here, I think you left this by mistake.” She pressed the money he’d left her into his hand before turning to leave him to whatever it was he was doing. She caught movement from the corner of her eye a split second before she felt his hand clamp roughly around her bicep, stopping her retreat. She looked, first at where his hand connected with her and then at his face—too scared to move.
“Are you in trouble?” he said to her, his hand still firmly gripped around her arm. She thought about everything that had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours. Her fight with Tommy. Her mother’s latest boyfriend making advances toward her. The underwear she found in the woods outside her bedroom window. Stolen from her room. Defiled and discarded.
Yes. For just a moment, she was certain that she could tell him. That he would help her. Believe her. And then she remembered who he was. The things he’d done. The trouble and pain he’d caused his parents. “No.” She yanked her arm out of his grip. “And even if I was,” she said, following up her denial. “What would you do about it? Make promises to help me and then abandon me like you did your little sister?”
The look he gave her told her that mentioning Frankie was a mistake. His face had been still—almost passive—before, but now… now there was nothing passive about the way he was looking at her. Just as soon as she saw it, the expression was gone, replaced by his usual neutral countenance.
“We can’t all be saints, Melissa.” He smirked at her again, sliding off the trunk of the car he was sitting on to stand over her while she fought the urge to take another step back.
She opened her mouth to answer, shame instantly staining her cheeks. “I’m not—”
“Hey!”
Relieved, she turned toward the voice that called out behind her to see Wade standing in the parking lot, not more than a few yards away. “Hey, Wade,” she said, finally able to take that step back she’d been fighting. “What are you doing here?”
“Jed and Shelley decided on a movie after lunch and three’s a crowd. I was just drivin’ by and I saw…” Wade’s gaze strayed over her shoulder, finding Michael’s. “You need a ride home?” he finished, a slight frown creasing his usually smooth brow.
“She’s not going home,” Michael said behind her. “She’s going to Marshall and she missed her bus. I was just about to offer her a ride.”
She turned to find him looking down at her, his face passive again. Eyes quiet. How had he known she’d been on her way to Marshall? What was he doing here, sitting in the parking lot nearly three hours after he’d left the diner? Had he been waiting for her? If so, what for?
Before she could ask, Wade spoke up. “I’ll take you, Melissa. Wherever you want to go,” he said behind her, sounding both confused and concerned to find her in the diner parking lot, talking to Michael O’Shea, of all people.
“I’m not a bad guy.” Michael said to her. Something lurked behind his words. Something that said he didn’t even believe himself when he said them.
“Yes, you are,” she whispered. “Your parents loved you and you hurt them. Your sister needed you and you abandoned her. Stay away from me.”
She turned away from him, halfway expecting him to grab her arm again but he didn’t. He let her go—but she could feel his watchful eyes on her as she crossed the parking lot, toward Wade.
“Are you sure you want to take me all the way to Marshall?” she said, stopping in front of him, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation. Wade was her brother. Something they’d never actually acknowledged between them. Being alone in a car with him for an hour would more than likely lend itself to awkward conversation. But she needed to get to Marshall. “I mean, I can pay you. Give you gas money—” she reached into her apron, fingers closing around the zippered pouch she kept her tips in.
“Keep your money,” he said quickly, hand up to fend her off. “I mean, what else have I got to do on a Saturday afternoon?” Wade smiled at her as he pulled the passenger door open for her and she got in, anxious to get away from the way Michael was looking at her.
He cast a glance over his shoulder at Michael as he slammed it shut. “See you around, O’Shea,” he said, offering the other young man a wave as he rounded the back of the car and got in to start the engine.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Melissa took a glance in the rearview mirror. Michael stood where she’d left him, watching them drive away—his expression as unreadable as ever.
EIGHT
“LET’S JUST GET IT out of the way—whaddya say?”
They’d been driving in awkward silence for nearly thirty minutes and it was killing her.
Melissa looked up from her lap, where her hands kept twisting and untwisting themselves in her apron. “Get what out of the way?” she said, even though she was sure she knew exactly what he was talking about.
Wade cut her a quick glance, his expression bland as he rolled his eyes. “Come on, Melissa—it’s just you and me here.” He winced a bit, suddenly looking as uncomfortable as she felt. “Your mom. My dad… our dad,” he said, leveling his gaze on the road again. “We’ve never really talked about it, is all. Don’t you think we should?”
We’ve never really talked, period. “What’s there to talk about?” She shrugged, forcing her fingers to stop their incessant twisting. “My mom’s a whore and your dad had the misfortune of knocking her up on while he was home from college for Christmas break.” She marveled at how unaffected she sounded. How hardened she’d become against the facts that shaped her life. Billy Bauer had been nineteen—Jessup’s golden boy. Kelly, only fifteen but already so beautiful it was almost painful to look at her, had been nothing but a walking, talking pile of trouble. No one knew what kind of promises had been made. What kind of plans. How they really felt about each other.
All they knew was that they’d been involved for a short time before Billy had gone off to college and for a while, off and on, afterward. When Kelly turned up pregnant, everyone naturally assumed that he was the father and a paternity test had confirmed it. Rather than come home and marry her, Billy came home already married—wife and newborn son in tow.
With his wavy, light brown hair and clear, hazel eyes set over a firm, square jaw, Wade looked like a younger version of their father. Sometimes, it made looking at him hard. Now was one of those times. She shrugged again to ward off the sudden and unwelcome sting of tears. “You’re my brother. Talking about it isn’t going to ma
ke it any more or less true.”
Wade shot her a sheepish grin. “As such, I’d like to invoke my brotherly rights and ask you a question.”
He looked so relieved, so happy that she felt her own trepidation fade and she found herself grinning back. “Okay.”
“What’s going on between you and Michael O’Shea?”
The grin on her face changed shape, feeling more like a grimace. “Nothing,” she said, looking away again.
“I gotta tell you… what I saw this afternoon didn’t look like nothing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable again. “It looked like a whole lotta somethin’.”
“Then you were looking at it wrong,” she said, hoping her tone was firm enough to close the subject. No such luck.
“Look, I’m just sayin—he’s bad news. Dad—Billy—has had him in holding at the station so many times he practically lived there. Drunk and disorderly. Assault. Trespassing. Robbery… you know he ran away a while back, before his parents died.” He stopped talking for a moment, waiting for her to nod before continuing. “They found him in Dallas, ODed on heroin in a closet in some rent-by-the-hour motel. Same room his real mother died in.” Wade shook his head. “Michael O’Shea is screwed beyond recognition, Melissa. A nice girl like you wouldn’t last five minutes with a guy like that.”
She found herself wanting to defend Michael, to explain things someone like Wade couldn’t possibly know. What living like that was like. What it did to you. Who it made you into.
We can’t all be saints, Melissa…
Remembering what Michael said to her instantly shamed her but instead of defending him, she asked the obvious. “How do you know all that?” She knew that Michael got into trouble often, that he’d been a constant source of pain and embarrassment for the couple who adopted him but she’d never heard the details until now.
Wade cocked another shoulder at her, shooting her a sheepish grin to go with it. “I work at the station sometimes—filing and taking calls. I might have looked at his record.”
For some reason, the admission made her angry but she kept it to herself. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I barely know Michael O’Shea and I plan on keeping it that way.” She looked out the window, the WELCOME TO MASHALL sign a red and white blur as they blew past it. “Besides, I don’t have time for that kind of stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Boys. I’m too busy working and taking care of Jason and Riley,” she said, slightly panicked at the hard knot of bitterness she heard in her own voice.
“… So then, those rumors about you and Tommy are completely unfounded?”
His question tugged at her, demanded an immediate denial but, despite the fact that the small knot of panic exploded into full blown fear, she simply shot him a puzzled look and did her best to remain calm.
“Tommy? Tommy Onewolf?” She turned back toward the window so he couldn’t see her face. “Not even,” she said, forcing as much disgust into her voice as possible.
He’s said rumors. That meant people were talking. Speculating. About her and Tommy. Just like they had about her mother and Billy. How long before the rumors reached her father’s ears? Last night she’d been sure she didn’t care if he knew but now…
“Is this about what Jed said last night?” she said, careful to keep her tone even. “He was totally wasted. You know how he gets when he’s been drinking.”
“It’s not the drinking that makes him act that way.” Wade muttered it, just loud enough for her to hear and it stained her cheeks red.
“I never asked for that… for him to follow me everywhere.” She looked at him. “I wish he’d just go on and marry Shelley already and leave me alone.”
“Yeah, like marrying her would help…” Wade’s voice trailed off. “You know Shelley’s just a substitute, right?”
“A substitute?” she said as the car slowed, the sparely populated roadside becoming clogged with buildings and cars. Marshall was ten times the size of Jessup. It had fast food chains and two high schools. Melissa had never traveled any further than here. For her, this is where the world ended. “A substitute for what?”
“For you.” Wade shook his head, exiting off the highway and onto Marshall’s main street. “He loves you,” he said, suddenly sounding uncomfortable again. “Has since we were kids. Sometimes, I think maybe too much.” He made a left onto Pinecrest before taking an immediate right into the bank parking lot. “Look, Michael. Tommy—none of it’s any of my business but Jed doesn’t see it that way.”
Melissa’s memory suddenly flashed on that day in the woods outside the church. Her eleventh birthday—the day Jed had pushed her down for rejecting him. He’d been standing over, fist clenched. Glaring down at her with more pent up anger and frustration than she’d even seen before.
You’re gonna be my girl, Melissa. Mine…
Wade was still talking, pleading his friend’s case. “He loves you—he just doesn’t know how to show it without acting like a total asshole.” He pulled the car into a slot outside the bank and put it in park before turning to look at her. “He’d never hurt you. I’d bet my life on it,” he said, sounding so sure, for a moment, she almost believed him. “But Onewolf is another matter altogether.” He was warning her. Pushing the boundaries of his friendship with Jed as far as he dared. Funny, he wasn’t lodging any veiled threats at Michael O’Shea. For some reason, the thought of Jed attacking Michael didn’t worry her. Not even a little bit.
Melissa tugged on the door handle, popping it open so she could stick her leg out. She didn’t want to talk about Jed anymore. “I’m not the girl for Jed,” she said, softening her rejections of his best friend with a smile. “I’m not the girl for anyone. That includes Tommy.” She opened the door wider and slid through it so that she was standing beside the car. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, bending at the waist to look at Wade through the open window.
“You want me to wait? I can—” He sounded like he didn’t want to leave her. Like he wanted to protect her, but she just shook her head.
“No, I’m going to go see my grandma for a bit—she’ll give me a ride home,” she said, straightening before shutting the car door. “Thanks again…”
“Anytime.” He smiled like he meant it, shifting his car into reverse and backing out of the parking lot and driving away.
NINE
“WILL THERE BE ANYTHING else, Ms. Walker?”
Melissa looked at the deposit slip in her hand. Even with keeping out forty dollars, she had almost six thousand saved up. Seeing the sum printed out always made her feel calm. Like she had a plan. A way out. This time, she didn’t feel calm. She felt a sense of inevitability.
She was going to leave Jessup. Soon.
It scared her, knowing that. That she was going to leave behind everything and everyone she knew—well, almost everyone. When she left, Jason and Riley would be going with her.
“No. Thanks, Jenny.” She looked at the bank teller and smiled. “See you in a few weeks.”
She left the bank, walking across the strip mall parking lot to its other side. There was a mom and pop hardware store facing the main road—she’d spotted it when Wade had pulled into the bank.
Finding the aisle with the door locks was easy, but that’s as far as she got. Realizing that installing a new lock on her bedroom door would take more know-how than she possessed, she faltered.
“Help you find something?” The old man behind the counter said to her, scooting around it to shuffle in her direction. He was wearing thick red suspenders and house slippers, a patch with the name George sewed onto the breast pocket of his shirt.
“I need a new lock...” she looked at him and smiled, hoping it made her seem less helpless. “Probably more than one.”
“For privacy or security?” he said, digging his hands into his pants, jiggling his keys while he sized her up.
She thought about the ridiculous, push button lock she had now. “Security. My neighborho
od isn’t the greatest and—”
George nodded his head and harrumphed at her. “You’re Lucy’s girl, ain’t ya?”
“I’m her granddaughter,” she corrected, not wanting this man to mistake her for her mother.
“Know your way around a drill?”
She shook her head. She didn’t even own a screwdriver.
He nodded, pulled his hands out of his pockets. “This is the one you want then.” He reached past her to lift a heavy-looking security chain off the rack. “Come on,” he said, shuffling back to the counter. “Let’s get you sorted.”
SHE walked the few blocks to her grandmother’s house quickly, her shiny new lock buried in the bottom of her purse. She’d told Wade that her grandmother would drive her home but she said it without being entirely sure that she’d be able to. For a moment she regretted her impulsivity. The bus back to Jessup wouldn’t leave until 9PM. She’d promised Mrs. Kirkland that she’d be back to get the twins no later than seven o’clock. If her grandma couldn’t take her home then she didn’t know what she’d do.
Relief washed over her when she turned up the driveway. Parked under the shaded carport of her grandma’s rental was her 1989 LeBaron. She was home.
“Grandma,” she called out, letting herself in through the back door and into a tidy kitchen that smelled of lemons and strong coffee. She took a deep breath, holding it in her lungs. She missed it. Living here. Being safe.
“I’m in here,” her grandma answered back. “Cut yourself a piece of cake and I’ll be right in.” Melissa smiled; picturing her tiny frame hunched over the basket of mending that supplemented the death benefits she received from her grandfather. She remembered sitting with her, patching holes and stitching seams as a little girl, weaving her needle through fabric with a surprisingly steady hand. She missed it. The simplicity of her life here. It’d been only two years since she’d left but if felt like a lifetime ago.
Waiting In Darkness: A Sabrina Vaughn Thriller (The Sabrina Vaughn Series Book 1) Page 5
