There were no less than ten boys in the direction she had bobbed her head. I didn’t want to just nod and say “nice”—this boy had my daughter’s heart, temporarily, so I wanted to know which one he was. “Which one?” I whispered, although there was no need. The marching band was louder than any conversation hoped to be.
“Red shirt, brown hair.”
“Glasses?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, Mom. He plays violin. Isn’t he hot?”
Hot wasn’t the word I would have chosen. Grayson Ridge was hot. Mason Walker was a little on the geeky side. A lot on the geeky side. I supposed, in his own twelve-year-old geeky style, he was cute. The more I watched him, the cuter he became.
“You do know around these parts, it’s not called a violin. It’s a fiddle,” I said, sharing my limited knowledge of mountain music.
“Lindsey Stirling doesn’t play the fiddle.” She grinned, then gasped and held her breath when he looked over and waved.
“Wave back,” I said between my teeth so he wouldn’t see me giving her instructions.
She offered a tiny wave as redness crept up her neck and spread over her cheeks. When Mason motioned for her to come join the group, she turned to me for permission and my heart melted. I was proud that she was still considerate enough to seek my permission. My own insides fluttered with memories of the heart-thumping light-headed feeling a boy could bring. Such a wonderfully confusing time.
“Go on. Just don’t leave my sight.”
She leapt up and rushed to join her friends a few rows down from us. It made me happy to see her glide so easily into a group of her peers. She was well liked and genuinely accepted into a large cluster of friends, yet didn’t depend on the acceptance to define her. Maybe I hadn’t done such a bad job of raising this kid of mine after all.
“You know he’ll be the first of many. She’s a cute girl.” Doretha leaned in so she didn’t have to shout over the band.
My eyes grew moist with thoughts of the years, and heartaches, to come. I wanted to save her from the broken heart of a teenage crush, from the emptiness when he doesn’t call.
The crowd erupted with cheers and shouts as Brady O’Reilly scored the night’s first touchdown. Doretha leapt up and shimmied her hips, hooting and hollering for the Panthers. The kids with her did the same. Even Ivy clapped crazily, although she had no idea what she was clapping for. Laughing, I wrapped her in a hug and kissed the top of her head.
A tap at my shoulder startled me for a second, then surprise took over as Rick sat down in Emma’s empty spot. “Mind if I sit here until Emma comes back?”
“Of course not.” I smiled, trying to remember what we had fought about the night before. And then Ivy squirmed, bringing everything back in clear focus. I pushed the argument back down and hoped it stayed there. Tonight was about having fun.
He held out a small bag of popcorn in Ivy’s direction. “Can she have it?”
“Sure.” I took the peace offering from him then offered her a handful. “Can you say thank you?”
She scooped a few pieces out of my hand and jammed them in her open mouth, eyeing Rick suspiciously. I couldn’t really blame her; he hadn’t been exactly warm and cuddly toward her.
Doretha looked over and smiled her approval. She leaned forward, speaking across me. “Hey, Rick, thanks for dropping off those new campaign signs.”
“Thanks for asking for them.”
They went back and forth, carrying on a conversation around me that I wasn’t a part of. I wondered if Doretha hadn’t opened this wound on purpose. Anything to demonstrate how much she preferred Rick over anyone else I might have a soft spot for.
I lifted Ivy off my lap and stood. “I’m going to bow out of talking politics if y’all don’t mind. I’m going to let her stretch a little.”
Rick looked blindsided. “Want me to come with you?”
I shook my head, then smiled my best smile hoping he’d know I wasn’t angry. I just didn’t want to be part of the politics. “No, you’re fine. Keep Doretha straight for me. I’m just going to walk up here with Ivy for a minute. Stretch our legs a little.”
With Ivy on my hip, I climbed the steps and headed for the exit. I put her down behind the chest-high concrete wall and let her play in the gravel a moment. From my vantage point, I could still keep an eye on Emma and see the game. I could also see Cole keeping the bench warm. But my gaze kept going back to Doretha and Rick, who had slid into my place. They had their heads together in a conspiratorial way, although I knew if they were chatting it was hard to hear over the band. Still, something about it bugged me.
I zipped my jacket to ward off the night air, wondering if I needed to pull Ivy’s hood up. It had been years since I worried about stuff like ear infections and sore throats. Maybe part of Rick’s argument had been valid. It had been a long time since there had been a little one to worry about. Just as I was about to reach for her, Ivy picked up a tiny handful of gravel and flung it in the air. A small group of women standing against the wall turned and looked my way.
“Ivy—no, no.” I brushed the rocks from her hand while embarrassment flushed my face. Hopefully, the surrounding darkness cloaked the reddened cheeks.
One of the women, Lori Abbott, reached down and stroked Ivy’s hair. “She’s adorable. So sad about her mother.”
Another said, “It was so hard to believe. I’m scared to be alone in my own house now.”
Megan O’Reilly, Brady’s mother, gazed at Ivy. “Do they have any suspects yet?” Although looking at Ivy, I assumed she directed the question to me.
“I don’t think so. If they do, they’re not sharing that information yet.” I picked Ivy up and propped her on my hip.
Megan reached out and tickled under Ivy’s chin. “It must have been horrible. Finding her mother like you did.”
Before I could answer, the crowd erupted in cheers. Brady’s name and number flashed across the scoreboard.
Lori clapped wildly, punching the air with her fist. Chanting like she had as head cheerleader during our high school days. She grabbed Megan in a hug. “That’s your boy.”
I wanted to thank Megan for letting Brady bring Cole home every day from practice but didn’t. Their small group was too wrapped up in their celebration to remember I was still standing there.
When you peeled away the superficial layers, wiped away the mascara and lip gloss, they weren’t bad people. We probably all wanted the same things—our kids to be healthy and happy, a safe home. The things that mattered. At least that’s what I told myself as I headed back to the bleachers unnoticed. I reclaimed my seat, sliding in between Rick and Doretha, then plopped Ivy back on my lap.
“Everything okay?” Rick asked. He slipped his arm around my waist, and I didn’t pull back. In that moment, I liked what he was offering.
“It’s all good.” I kissed him lightly on the cheek and settled in for the rest of the game.
CHAPTER 16
The next morning, Cole bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen already dressed in his hiking gear. He snatched a piece of freshly cooked bacon from the platter and did a silly little jig around Finn.
“You’re full of energy this morning.” I poured myself a second cup of coffee.
“Ready to get my hike on. Y’all ready?” He popped Emma on the top of the head.
“Ouch!”
“Cole—settle please.” I pulled a plate from the cabinet then filled it with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast. He poured himself a glass of milk then took the offered plate.
He sat down beside Ivy and pretended to grab a piece of her bacon. She giggled then offered it to him anyway. A smile tickled my lips. I knew not every day would be idyllic, but I wasn’t going to let the moment slip away without appreciation.
After breakfast, we gathere
d our gear and loaded the Tahoe. Finn bounded into the backseat, unsure what to make of Ivy and the car seat in his usual claimed spot. He turned his body around in circles, eventually wedging himself between Emma and Ivy. Emma squealed with disgust every time his hairy butt brushed against her. Cole laughed, which made Ivy laugh, which made me chuckle. It was going to be a good day. It was starting out so well, I toyed with the thought of farming the kids off on Doretha for the night and calling Rick when we got back. It’d been a few weeks since we’d been together; maybe it would do us both good.
After dropping Ivy off, we headed for Porter’s Peak. It was a moderate-rated trail we had tackled several times, even Emma. Truth was, we had probably met the challenge and should move on. Deep down both Cole and I worried Emma might not be ready for a more advanced trail and leaving her wasn’t an option.
Traffic crawled through town with cars filled with out-of-towners hoping to breathe in the fresh air while snapping pictures of the palette of colors the mountains offered. It would only get worse as peak season blossomed, then it would settle back down after the leaves dropped. Sometimes it picked back up in the winter during ski season, but Jackson Creek was only a stopover for snow lovers, having no ski trails of its own to offer.
Cole’s cell rang as I passed through the last stop light and pressed the gas, anxious to move away from the traffic. “Yeah,” he said as he answered. “What’s up?” He listened for a moment then mouthed the word Brady to me. “Nah. We’re doing the hiking thing. Besides, my mom’s not gonna let me go deer hunting without an adult.” He burst out laughing then nipped it when I cut him a nasty glance. “Yeah, okay. I’ll text you when we get back.” He chatted for another minute or two then hung up.
“He didn’t want to come hiking?”
“Nah. He’s hunting over at the Milters’ property. Asked if I could go with him next weekend.”
I cut my eyes at him. “And you knew my answer to you deer hunting with no adult without even asking. Smart boy.” Dove hunting, squirrel hunting—they were different. The gun was pointed up. With deer hunting, the gun was pointed chest level.
“Well, we’ve got a whole week to argue about it, don’t we?” He grinned wide then punched up his music playlist on his phone and settled in for some of the finest Appalachia music offered. At least I had instilled a love of mountain music in my kids rather than Billboard’s Top Forty.
Once we made it through town, we picked up the four-lane highway. Ten miles out, the road grew more curvy and forested as it turned back into a two-lane that led to the trail head. Porter’s Peak was a four or eight-mile loop that began and ended at a paved parking lot. The trail’s shorter loop, along with a couple picnic tables and a bathroom facility, made it great for families. Today, at least so far, we had the lot to ourselves.
After parking, we climbed out and unloaded the gear. Finn sniffed along the tree line then followed a scent to the trail head a few feet away. He waited anxiously while we slipped into our daypacks. The crisp air smelled fresh and I welcomed it into my lungs and mind, breathing it in through long deep breaths. Although the morning was cool, I knew we wouldn’t be long on the trail before I’d be shrugging out of my zippered sweatshirt. The idea of shedding even more clothes charmed my thoughts.
I checked my phone for a signal. “Y’all go ahead. I’m going to call Rick for a second.”
Cole rolled his eyes. He nudged Emma toward the trail head. “Come on, dork, Mom needs to make a booty call.”
“Cole Logan!”
Emma blushed as much as I did and hurried away, shaking her head like she was trying to dislodge the image. If we survived the hike, I would kill Cole when we got back home.
I prayed for a signal, then breathed a sigh when I saw four bars pop up. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you too. I thought y’all were hiking today.” He stumbled over words, the morning grogginess making him thick-tongued.
“We are. I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over tonight. I’m thinking of maybe farming the kids off…if you know what I mean.” I gnawed on my bottom lip, anticipating his answer.
He cleared away the morning dryness from his throat. “I’ll bring my toothbrush. And a bottle of wine.”
“I’ll see you around seven?”
“Oh yeah.”
A smile dominated my face. I took a deep breath and tried to un-smile before joining the kids. I didn’t want to give credence to Cole’s remark. I was Supermom. I didn’t need booty calls.
I adjusted my daypack and joined them. “Ready?”
“We’re spending the night with Doretha.” Cole elbowed Emma and they both giggled. He then offered me his hand for a high-five. I reluctantly accepted the gesture, wondering if he was high-fiving because we were ready to hit the trail or because Mom had indeed scored.
We hit the trail with Cole in the lead, flanked by Finn, Emma in the middle, and me bringing up the rear. We hiked a good hour before stopping for a water break. We sat on boulders nestled into a slope overlooking a valley below. The sky faded into the horizon, merging with the mighty Blue Ridge Mountains and created a canvas of varying shades of blue.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Emma said.
“Yes, it is.” I slipped my arm around her shoulder, giving her a gentle hug.
“You think they’re still out there?”
I pulled back and looked at her. “Who?”
“Whoever killed Trish.”
For a moment, the beauty of the mountains, the tranquility of the land evaporated, leaving me feeling violated. I hated the sonofabitch, whoever he was, for taking away that calm.
Cole tossed a rock over the edge of the mountain. “Well yeah, if they haven’t made an arrest yet, they’re still out there.”
I stood, stretching my legs. I’d avoided talking to them in depth about Trish’s murder but could now see maybe that had been a mistake. “Okay, here’s the deal. Trish’s murder probably wasn’t random. Whoever killed her probably went there with the intention of killing her.”
Emma’s face wrenched with confusion. “Why would someone want to kill her?”
“We don’t know. My point is, whoever killed Trish had a reason for killing her. Not you. Not me. Whoever went to her house that morning went there with a purpose and killing Trish was the purpose. Does that make sense?”
“She means there’s probably no psycho serial killer guy lurking around somewhere out there.” Cole pointed his water bottle toward the valley.
Emma nodded, apparently more comfortable with her brother’s explanation than mine. I ruffled her hair then repacked Finn’s portable water bowl. “Ready to get back at it?”
We headed out, moving toward the north face. About two and a half hours in, I was feeling every bit of my age. With about two miles left, I unzipped my sweatshirt and wrapped it around my waist. Sweat already trickled down my face, spilling onto my cheeks and neck. I sucked each breath in deeper and deeper, the chilled air cooling my burning lungs. Emma was doing a better job at keeping up than I was. “Break,” I managed to squeak out before Cole and Finn rounded the next bend.
I leaned over, pressing my hands into my aching thighs. Whatever made me think I was able to hike an eight-mile moderate-rated trail with no preparation?
“You okay?” Emma asked. Cole and Finn backtracked a few yards and joined us.
Nodding, I sipped from my near-empty water bottle. I used the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe the moisture from my lips. While I stood there catching my breath, I spotted a series of holes in the slope. The forest floor had been dug out in places, leaving several gaping root holes. The trail of cavities grew thin and ended under a bushy cluster of mountain laurel. But on the other side of the laurel was a plentiful bed of ginseng, roots, red berries and all.
I glanced around, trying to get my bearings on our location.
Porter’s Peak was part of the Pisgah Forest, that much I knew. Whoever was digging this spot of ’seng would have to have a permit to dig on federal land. Trish had told Tiny Cormack she had a permit. I wondered how many permits the Ranger’s office issued.
Cole peered over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
I pointed to the holes. “Someone’s been digging ginseng.”
“Isn’t that illegal on federal land?”
“Unless you have a permit.”
Finn’s ears perked up then the dog let out a woof that rattled us all. Cole reached out to rub his head and quiet him but Finn persisted. Emma moved toward me, fear growing in her eyes.
Suddenly, a blast ripped through the forest, followed by another, shattering the silence. Cole knocked Emma to the ground hard then scrambled to pull me down. Finn barked viciously at the trees, baring teeth between snarling growls. Another shot rang out, this one closer. Emma screamed for me, crying hysterically. Cole was crouching, partially covering Emma with his own body, peering over her shoulder to get a look at the shooter.
My heart was throbbing in my throat, pounding in my ears. Every smell, every sound painfully amplified. Leaves rustled in the distance, footfalls growing nearer.
“We’ve got to get to better cover.” I yanked at the both of them, shoving them toward a massive boulder about twenty yards down the trail.
Shots followed us as we scrambled toward the giant rock, zinging off the trees. I ran alongside Emma, covering her head with my arms while Cole yanked Finn by the leash. We dove behind the makeshift cover with more shots trailing us.
Frantic, I dug the Tahoe keys out of my pocket and shoved them at Cole. “Go!”
“What? No!”
“Cole—go. Take Emma and Finn. Go get the car. I’ll be right behind you.”
He was shaking his head, crying. My son was crying. “I’m not leaving you.”
Tell Me No Lies (An Ava Logan Mystery Book 1) Page 13
