Neve was still Neve, after all.
The trailer door swung open in a sudden whoosh.
Duke startled, nearly dropping the chest. The act of keeping the box from flying from his grasp took place of what would’ve otherwise been a furtive, if futile, attempt to hide it. He was left cradling the box in full view of Kay’s inquisitive stare.
“Hey!” She pointed and strode straight at him, little blond head cocked. “That’s interesting. What is it?”
Duke set it beside him and attempted to ignore it. “Oh, it’s nothing. What can I do for you, Kay?”
“Neve sent me. That cabin’s done, and we need the final seal of approval from Gavin’s in-house man, which, of course, would be you.” She stopped and seemed to consider him. “Okay, so this is maybe not super professional of me, and might even be kind of, um…traitorous?”
Whatever it was, Duke already disliked it. “Kay, I—”
“It’s Neve. You guys are friends, right? She’s happy with the cabin. Proud like she ought to be. But she’s kind of down, too. Off. And I just haven’t known her long enough to know how to help. Or what to say. But you guys are neighbors, and she needs a friend, I think. Something’s weighing on her, and I can’t help.”
“Huh.” He chewed the inside of his cheek and ran a hand through his loose hair. “Neve and I aren’t on super good terms right now. I’m probably not the best person to talk to her.” He smirked. “You might want to try the rancher. She and Tim have been spending quite a bit of time together.”
Kay wrung her hands. “Maybe. Well, I tried.” Then she fixed him with a canny stare. “May I see the box you’re trying to hide? It seems familiar.” Without waiting for permission, she moved to Duke’s other side and plucked the box from its failed hiding spot.
With a word like familiar, Duke didn’t dare stop her.
Kay’s brow furrowed as she traced a finger over the starburst design of the lock. “So strange. I swear, I saw something like this…” She worried her lip.
Duke waited with air trapped in his chest, afraid to exhale.
Then Kay’s pale eyebrows shot toward the ceiling, and her bright, excited gaze swung to him. “Oh, my! Of course! The place where we found the door. Thrift House. Do you recall I mentioned seeing a strange metal thingy?”
“I believe you called it a doo-hickey.”
“Yes! That metal piece had this exact same design, except not attached to a chest. Like, if this lock were a single piece.”
Duke’s heart skipped a beat. The key. It’s got to be the key. “You’re sure?”
Her brow furrowed, this time accompanied with pursed lips. “Someone around here obviously hasn’t noticed my extreme attention to detail. Look, I’m telling you, it’s the same metal, and a strikingly similar design. I assumed it was some kind of weird local art. I mean, part of why I love the Ozarks so much—”
Duke stood and swiped the chest from Kay’s hands in one smooth motion. “Listen, I can’t check on the cabin. I don’t have time. Tell Neve…” Tell her what, exactly? “You know what, tell her I’m not here. I’ll check on the cabin later. Promise.” Then he recalled the deck he’d been so terrified of, and how happy it had made Gavin. Neve was the last person in the world who needed a nose over her shoulder. “Actually, you know what? Tell her I approve. If she says the cabin is done, it’s done, and Gavin’s gonna love every inch of the place.”
Kay stared at him with her mouth slightly open. “I can’t lie and say you weren’t here, but I can let her know you’re leaving. Trust is one of those things you shouldn’t mettle with.” She tapped her chin. “Funny, Neve and I were discussing a closely related topic a few minutes ago. Actually, I might’ve overstepped myself when I asked if everything is okay between you two.”
“What did she say? I mean, we’re okay. I just…did she say?”
“Not exactly.”
Of course not. “Okay, well, by the time you get back down to the cabin, it won’t be a lie. I’ll be long gone. Besides, my opinion doesn’t matter. Hasn’t the whole time I’ve been here. Seriously, have you ever seen a more useless consultant?”
A pained expression crossed her delicate features.
“And anyway, she has Yosemite to keep her company.” He sighed. “It’s okay. I won’t ask you to lie to me, either. But you see my point. Neve doesn’t need me, and this can’t wait.”
Reluctantly, Kay left.
Duke snatched the rental car keys from the kitchen counter and caught the morose stares of Darcy and Hannah. “Oh, stop,” he said, crouching and scratching them each behind the ears in turn. “Don’t judge me. I’m loyal when it’s warranted. You know that, Hannah.”
Darcy let out a muffled sneeze and laid her head back down.
Hannah continued to stare at him.
“You think I’m jealous, don’t you? I know that look. But I’m not. And anyway, I bet Tim Hux’s brain isn’t much bigger than his shiny, oversized belt buckle.”
Hannah blinked.
Duke bit his lip and switched his attention to her chin, aiming for the spot just beneath her collar. “You’re right, that was low. I take it back. He’s probably a smart guy. After all, most weedy, sly people are. Now, that I won’t take back, because it’s true, and you can’t puppy-shame me into believing otherwise.”
Hannah seemed to give up on him, yawning in his face and flopping back down to snuggle into Darcy’s side.
By the time he arrived at Thrift House, so had an unexpected sprinkling of rain and a cover of dark blue clouds that promised more. He parked the car parallel to the rickety old fence and jumped from the vehicle. The rain picked up speed, and Duke tucked the chest under his arm in an attempt to keep it dry.
Thrift House’s shutters were closed. No exterior lights offered aid as Duke weaved through the piles of junk, squinting past the raindrops smattering across his face as he searched for the key in the unhelpful twilight.
From stack to stack, desperately trying to recall where Kay had been the day she’d found the key, Duke searched. The rain became a force as the clouds rolled directly overhead. It soaked through his shirt and weighed down his hair. With his free hand he pulled it back and behind his shoulders, but every time he bent to inspect another item in the near darkness, it draped forward, despite him, wet strands sticking to his cheeks.
“Damn it. C’mon.” On to another stack. And another.
Maybe Kay is mistaken. There’s nothing here. But between the rain and the lack of light, Duke couldn’t be sure he’d checked every pile, every stack. Plus, it couldn’t be much bigger than the palm of his hand. Shit, what if someone bought it? He clenched his fists. The storm brought with it a strange sense of urgency. He forced himself to take a breath—and take stock of himself.
Acting like a madman. Looking for a mystery in a storm so he could unlock some kid’s candy stash from 1890. He ran his hand through wet strands and cursed. He turned toward the car.
That was when he saw it. Tucked up against the side of a wooden crate nestled in the mud, he’d never have noticed, relying on color to guide him. The tapered spines of the starburst design stuck out like a hand taking hold of the crate. Creepy but noticeable.
Duke rushed for it, again with a sense of urgency he couldn’t begin to explain. Excitement swelled. Giddy with it, he snatched up the key and laughed. Holy shit, he’d found it. Right here in the dirt all this time. He didn’t bother breaking down Krandall’s door to purchase the piece. Hell, if it opened the damn box, he’d leave the box and key behind once he had his hands on the secret within.
He folded himself into the dry car. The quiet interior lent a somberness to the act of opening the chest, a marked contrast from his fevered search in the pouring rain, heart pounding. He set the chest facing upward on his lap. He didn’t need to study the strange lock. He practically had the design memorized.
He turned over the key. Exactly as Kay had described it. As though the lock mechanism from th
e chest had come apart from it. Same material, same design, only inverted. Where a piece on the lock was long, the key had a corresponding prong, shorter and likely meant to slide together. He slid his finger along a spire and found one side slightly flattened. Same for the key.
With trembling fingers, Duke positioned the key over the lock in his best estimation of how they fit together, and pressed. Gently at first, then with more force. A give beneath his fingers made his pulse skip.
The prongs seemed to melt together, forming a single three-dimensional starburst. At the connection, some hidden lever made a faint click.
Stunned, Duke lifted the lid, from which lock and key broke off and stayed attached to the front of the chest. Duke saw, finally, why they were unable to devise a way to break in. A false hinge. The box didn’t open at the obvious crease, but a different internal hinge, accessed only when the prongs from the key applied pressure against the metal pieces, altered their arrangement, and allowed for leverage. To attempt to open the chest at the false hinge, in turn, put pressure on the actual hinge and made opening it an impossibility.
It’s the Chinese finger trap of treasure chests. Someone had a lot of time on their hands. And a hell of a secret.
His heart thrumming in his chest, Duke reached inside and retrieved a wax envelope. Inside, papers of every shape and size. Some were small, just patches folded in half. Others were multiples. The paper was old, yellowed, and crumbling away at the corners. Letters, he realized, scanning one of the short notes. He scoured the pages. His heartrate increased with every word.
A minute later, Duke pounded on Krandall’s front door. The rain battered him, ran down his face unchecked, his hair like a wet curtain on either side of his head. He hardly noticed. He lifted his fist to the door. “Krandall! Krandall Beels, open up!”
The porch light turned on, dim in the wild night.
Slowly, the weathered door creaked open, revealing one of Krandall’s eyes as it roved over Duke. “You a madman or what? Take this nonsense someplace else. Thrift House is closed.”
Duke held out his hands. “Wait! Wait. Krandall, listen. I know who you are. This is important. Trust me, please. I need to know where I can find your mom. I have to talk to Cherish. And I need to do it now.”
* * * *
“What do you mean he isn’t coming?”
Kay bit her lip, eyes wide. “Uh, well, he’s…not coming. He left. He didn’t say to where, but something about—”
Neve cut her off with a raised hand. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Forget it. Forget him. Besides, the cabin’s done, isn’t it? Gavin will love it or hate it, and Duke’s opinion has small bearing on the outcome.”
Kay scrunched her nose. “That’s basically what he said.”
Neve glanced out the window. What had she expected? Duke to come see her spectacular finish and give her credit? She forced down the tiny part of her awash in disappointment. His approval shouldn’t matter. “It’s nearly dark, anyway. Let’s call it a day. If Duke’s not too busy tomorrow, he can make the call to Gavin. The sooner the better. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.” A small smile for Tim. “No offense.”
He only smiled back.
Neve put a hand on Kay’s shoulder. “I’m going to the ranch for dinner. Do me a favor and check on the dogs, will you?”
“Sure! Aren’t they freaking cute? They’re like best friends! So cuddly. Who knew pit bulls were so cuddly?”
Neve raised her eyebrows. “I did. I’ve owned a few different breeds and never met one more affectionate than a pittie. They’re loyal to a fault, too, which is the quality that makes them so easily exploited by douche bags everywhere. But raised properly, you’ll have a cuddle buddy for life.”
“I’m more of a Heeler man myself,” Tim intoned.
“Want to talk about a vicious breed.”
He grinned, a predatory thing. “Precisely why I like them.”
She shrugged. Different strokes. She waved good night to Kay, trusting her to close up the cabin for the night, and took off for the path at Tim’s side.
“Snazzy timing, Yosemite.” Neve pointed through the trees at dark clouds gathering in the direction of Red Hill.
Tim took a cursory glance. “Might move off to the south. That happens a lot. Seems like the storms can’t be bothered to climb the mountain sometimes.”
Neve grunted. “I can empathize.”
* * * *
Neve couldn’t put her finger on it.
The rancher said the right things, made the gentlemanly gestures she’d become accustomed to—doors opened, chairs pulled out. But something different—something subtle—settled onto his features. Like a mask. Or, perhaps, the absence of one. She’d always known he had a shady side. A charge in the air and a strange quality to Tim’s manner suggested she might soon find out what he kept hidden. She calculated how long it would take her to jog back to the cabin if his secret turned out to be really dark. Like, murdering hitchhikers or something. With Tim, anything seemed possible. The guy had a poker face like a stone wall.
She appreciated the challenge while, at the same time, missing Duke’s easy unguardedness. He could obviously keep a secret, but he also had an honesty to his face. She’d never been able to read Duke as easily as she read the college twerps she dated, but he didn’t hide his feelings. Or maybe she just plain missed Duke. He was there every day, on the job, but they might’ve been a thousand miles apart. It was her own doing, but it didn’t stop the sudden desire for his familiar company.
Tim, on the other hand, kept everything buttoned down nice and tight. Neve had a hard time reading anything beyond amusement on that rugged face. They sat together over cold beers at the eat-in table in the far corner of the long galley kitchen.
Neve liked the space for its original charm, but also desperately wanted to open it up. “You know, if you’d just let me take down this wall here, you’d have a huge kitchen. I’d make up for the storage with a real snazzy island. Hell, I could even have Finn make it out of the wood from the walls we tear down.” She sipped from the cold bottle and lifted a daring brow at Yosemite.
He chewed the inside of his cheek and sighed.
Not the response she’d expected.
“I’m half kidding. But I’m also half serious.”
He leaned back and studied her.
Here we go. Yosemite had something in his maw, and she was about to find out what. “Go on,” she pushed. “Spill whatever the hell it is you’re chewing on.”
A slight smile. “You’re perceptive.”
“Yeah, well, eye for detail and all that. Every now and then I apply my skills to humans.”
That unnerving stare again. “You know, we had Vince holed up here for a week. A lot of time Laurel and Owen had him on some pretty good painkillers. By nature, he ain’t the talkative type. Or so I gathered.”
The direction he’d gone baffled her. Vince? What did Vince have to do with anything? “A fair assumption. He’s more of a doer.”
Yosemite sat forward slowly and rested his elbows on the table. “He mentioned an odd thing one evening. Not to me. To Miles, my brother. They got to talking about you and the work you were doing. To hear Miles tell it, Vince could hardly get a breath in from singing your praises. He’s mighty impressed with you. The work you do. Your design ideas and such.”
Neve didn’t check her grin. Count pride among her flaws. She affected mock modesty. “Yeah, well, greatness will recognize greatness.”
“And,” Tim added with an odd gleam in his hazel eyes, “the strange little box where you keep your inspiration.”
The sharp turn in the conversation sent Neve careening. The locked chest. He knew about it. By the look in his eyes, he knew more than she did. On the heels of one realization came another. Every dinner invitation and show of friendship had served a purpose. God, I’m an idiot. People don’t like me. How could I forget that? She should’ve known Tim’s suppo
sed interest harbored some underlying agenda. Of fucking course.
Hadn’t she been the one to say Tim Hux didn’t do anything without a reason?
Neve sipped her beer and let Tim talk. She forced herself to take short, even breaths. But that sense of a mask falling away wouldn’t leave her. The feeling that the rancher had a secret had never seemed more ominous.
“I was out of town, you recall,” Tim went on. “And with a ranch to run, Miles forgot about the mention of such a strange box until recently.” His eyebrows furrowed, as though he were truly confused. “When I realized what he’d described, why, I ain’t been so confounded since high school calculus.” Tim stood from the table, slow and deliberate as was his style, and left the room.
Neve didn’t move. No sense in bolting now. She was inches from finding out Tim’s big secret and something about the lockbox. She changed her mind about wanting to stick around when he came back with the chest in one hand and a small caliber pistol in the other. She was on her feet before the thought to run had fully registered.
Tim shook his head. “We ain’t done yet, Neve. I don’t intend to use this anymore than I intend to let you leave without telling me where the box is.”
The sheer fucking nerve. The threat to her person choked her with incredulity. That anyone, anywhere, anytime would force her to bend her will made her see red. She stayed standing, despite the tiny barrel pointed at the lower half of her body. “Oh, we’re done, you psychopath. You have the box, right there in your hands. You’re clearly out of your ever-loving mind, and I’m walking out before something insane happens.”
With speed that belied his easy movements, Tim moved his arm, aiming the pistol to Neve’s left, and fired.
Searing pain like nothing she’d ever known shot through her arm. Her right hand instantly went to the screaming flesh of her arm and came away wet and sticky with blood. Shock took her feet from under her, and she sank to her knees. Her vision swam, but Tim’s boots were clear enough as he stepped up to her.
To the Studs Page 21
