She stood there cradling four tomatoes in her arms, watching him. “Okay. Thanks?”
“Not a problem.” And he turned and walked away. He didn’t look back but knew she’d stayed where he’d left her, watching him leave. He had no doubt she thought him a little unusual, maybe even a bit wacky, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now. Now he just needed to get away and breathe. This family curse was going to be a bitch.
***
As the sound of Dash’s truck faded away, Matty stood in the garden. Not sure what to think about what had just happened, her mind was blank. Then Isis nudged her little red Ridgeback nose against her thigh and Matty shook off the confusion.
For a moment there she would have sworn Dash was going to kiss her. His eyes had dropped to her lips and he’d gotten that distant but focused look that guys get when they see something they want and have every intention of getting. But then he’d gone cold and left faster than a clown at a funeral.
With a shrug, she turned and started toward the house. After dropping the tomatoes on the patio table, she went to make sure the chickens were in their coop for the night, then headed inside to make dinner and mull over everything she and Chen had talked about.
Two more eggs were waiting for her, which reminded her of Dash’s suggestion to donate them to the pancake breakfast. There hadn’t been any eggs in the fridge when she’d arrived, so she figured Brad must have some way of dealing with the extras. But since she didn’t know what that was, Dash’s idea seemed like a good one. At this rate, she was going to have over a hundred and fifty eggs; she was good with the ingredient, but she wasn’t that good.
Once she’d put the eggs in the fridge and washed the tomatoes, she reread Brad’s notes for the fourth time then picked up her phone to call him. His voice mail answered and she left him a message asking him to call or e-mail her if he had any suggestions for the excess eggs and letting him know that, if he didn’t, she was going to give them to the pancake people.
Looking at the tomatoes on the counter, she sighed. It would have been much nicer to have company for dinner. Well, it would have been nice if Dash had agreed to stay for dinner. She didn’t know him at all, but she felt a little greedy for his company. Not in an obsessive way, but more like she just knew they would get along and have a good time together. There was an attraction, yes, but there was also something more—something telling her that they might actually like each other, too. And it would be nice to have a friend around.
Not wanting to slip into maudlin thoughts about how she had no friends and no one to keep her company, she opted to make a fresh salad rather than the more elaborate pasta and chicken she would have made had Dash agreed to stay. And when she finished her utilitarian meal, she finally sat down to do what she had come up there to do in the first place. She started writing.
CHAPTER 4
MATTY DREAMED THAT HER BARE ARMS were being hit by little pieces of ice over and over again. Even in sleep, she knew that didn’t make much sense. But the cold and wet sensations kept assaulting her like little sharp daggers. Finally, in half-awake, half-asleep frustration, she flung her arm up over her head, only to be fully awakened by a yelp from Bob as her elbow met his snout in the process.
She opened her eyes to find the yellow Lab staring at her, smiling with a lolling tongue. Isis stood behind him while Rufus and Roger leaned their bodies against the wall. Rolling her head to the other side, Matty found Lucy standing on the bed next to her. It wasn’t ice; it was little doggy noses. Wet doggy noses. Maybe this was the reason Brad had lined up all the dog beds in the kitchen downstairs.
Still, despite the morning greeting, she was hard pressed to feel bad about having moved all those beds up to the room in which she slept when she turned to her side and reached for Bob. His smile grew bigger, if possible, and his tail started to wag in circles as she rubbed his nose and apologized for accidentally whacking him. Like most Labs, he didn’t seem to mind and he leaned forward trying to lick her. She drew her head back—she didn’t mind the love, but licks weren’t her favorite—and caught sight of the clock. Ah, that would explain why all five of them were staring at her. It was thirty minutes past their allotted breakfast time, as dictated by Brad.
Mumbling her apologies to the dogs, she climbed out of bed and before she was even at the bedroom door, five sets of paws were clamoring down the stairs, toenails clicking on the hardwoods. It was a cacophony and the chaos made her laugh. Maybe Brad wasn’t so strange after all to have five dogs—waking up laughing was not a bad way to start the day.
She watched the five of them absentmindedly as they ate. Judging by the thermometer outside the kitchen window, it was already hot and no doubt going to get much hotter. She thought about making coffee, but decided if she was going to get outside at all today, she should do it now. So, after letting the dogs out to do their thing, she changed into her summer uniform of shorts and a tank top, brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and slipped on her flip flops. By the time she was back downstairs, all five dogs were ready to come in.
She checked their water, and the cats’ food and water, and made to head out. She paused at the door and glanced at a set of keys hanging on a small hook. She had seen Brad’s big fancy truck in the carriage house garage but hadn’t felt the need to drive it. Her little convertible was comfortable and easy to maneuver on the country roads, but it was also black on the inside. The interior of Brad’s truck was beige, a much better choice in the heat. Not to mention that it was parked in the garage and hadn’t already spent the morning baking in the sun, unlike her little coupe.
Making her decision, she slipped the keys off the hook. She hadn’t driven a truck in a long time and it would be fun to cruise the backcountry roads in such a big vehicle. She might even roll the windows down and put on some country music—wouldn’t Charlotte love to see that.
Which reminded her of her promise. She dialed her friend and they caught each other up while Matty checked on the other animals. As she chatted with Charlotte about the progress she’d made on her book the night before and filled the rabbits’ water, she made mental a note to herself to put the cooler Brad had left for them in their cage when she returned from town. Apparently, rabbits didn’t do well in the heat, another ding against them in her mind, so Brad had a special air-conditioner type device made for them.
She also knew she needed to collect the chickens’ eggs, fill their feeder, and clean their water dish, but for now she simply let them out to wander their enclosed garden. Ending her call, she popped back in the house to wash her hands and as the cool inside air hit her, she broke out in goose bumps, her skin already damp from the heat despite the early hour. She was glad that the dogs and cats didn’t mind staying inside because she was pretty sure that the phrase ‘dog days of summer’ was coined on a day like this one.
After climbing into Brad’s truck, adjusting the seats and mirrors, and getting a sense of the massive machine around her, she cruised into town with the windows down and the country station turned up a little too loud. From talking with Chen, she knew now that the man she’d met behind the counter at Frank’s Café the day before was indeed the curmudgeonly Frank. And so, after finding a parking spot in front of the café and heading inside, she gleefully introduced herself to him, much to his dismay, when she ordered her iced mocha and, at Chen’s recommendation, an egg, bacon, and cheese bagel.
She took a corner seat at a table for two and watched customers come and go. Two police officers arrived and ordered lattes, and an older woman greeted them by name, Marcus and Carly; the three chatted as they waited for their drinks. Two young women, maybe high school aged, sat in another corner leaning over breakfast plates, engrossed in their conversation. Judging by the looks on their faces, Matty was pretty sure they were talking boys. Other people came and went and by the time she finished her breakfast, she felt like she had a slightly better sense of the town.
She swung back by the health food store to pick up some baking s
upplies and it was close to eleven by the time she headed home. She had her windows rolled down again and the music playing as she plotted her day. She knew from experience that the outlining and drafting she’d done the night before, as well as her energy this morning, meant she was in for a productive day. She would work for several hours, take a break in the afternoon for some food, then work for several more before nighttime. Once she was at a good place to stop, she’d pour herself a glass of wine, make a leisurely dinner, and wind her brain down before going to bed.
She was debating the benefits of a bath in the evening as she rounded a corner a few miles away from Brad’s. She slowed for a moment to take in the scene before her—an old, stone farmhouse surrounded by white-fenced fields filled with quietly grazing horses. She half expected a man riding a horse with a pack of hounds to come into view. Windsor, and the surrounding area, really was quite beautiful, she acknowledged to herself.
She was savoring the rare moment of complete contentedness—enjoying the smells of a country summer, the feel of the clean, humid air on her skin, and the wind blowing her hair. A smile formed on her lips, but just as it did, something came crashing down into the bed of Brad’s truck.
“Holy shit!” Matty cried as she slammed on the brakes. The truck came to a screeching halt, and having ducked on instinct, she sat hunched in the driver’s seat. Her heart was racing and she had no idea what could have made that kind of noise or had that kind of impact on the truck—enough of an impact that she had not only heard whatever it was hit the truck bed but had actually felt the weight of it depress the back end of the huge vehicle. Completely at a loss, she stayed hunched down, waiting. She heard nothing but a song about riding a cowboy still playing on her radio. She felt nothing moving in the back.
Her stomach was tied in knots, but after a few moments, she knew she needed to get out and check the truck. She gave a fleeting thought to driving to the shoulder, since she was stopped in the middle of the lane, but decided it was more important to find out what exactly it was that had landed in the truck before she moved anything.
Putting the truck in park and turning the ignition and music off, Matty congratulated herself on at least having the presence of mind to put the emergency flashers on. Tentatively, she craned her neck to see if she could see anything through the back window, but all she saw was the inside of the tailgate. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and peeked around the side. She couldn’t see anything from where she sat, so she slowly exited the truck and inched her way toward the back, keeping as much distance as she’d need to jump out of reach should something leap out at her, while staying close enough to see inside the truck bed.
She had just passed the rear passenger door of the extended cab when something came into view. She paused and stared. She took another bigger step toward the bed of the truck, then frowned. Finally, she approached the side and took it all in. She wasn’t sure what she had expected; really, she’d had no idea. But never in a million years would she have thought to find this. As she stood in the middle of the lane, the sounds of cows lowing in the distance and tractors at work in nearby fields filtering into her brain, Matty stared at what was, undoubtedly, the decomposing body of a man.
CHAPTER 5
MATTY FOUND HERSELF GAWKING in shock until the sound of another vehicle snapped her back into action. Not wanting an unsuspecting driver to come upon her parked in the middle of the road, she walked away from her truck, and the body inside it, to flag the driver down. She needed to call the police and she needed to set up some flares to warn other cars. She hoped the driver of the approaching vehicle could help with at least one of these two things.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized the grill of the massive diesel truck slowing down as it approached her. She watched as Dash pulled to the side of the road behind her.
“Everything okay, Matty?” he asked as he climbed from the cab of his truck and came toward her.
“Um.” She hadn’t really thought this through, how to explain the situation. She was fine, but the situation was not.
“Matty?”
She saw a look of genuine concern in his expression and his hand came up to her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
She focused on his eyes. “I’m okay, but there’s a problem with my truck and I could use some help.”
She saw a look of relief flash in his eyes. “What is it? A tire? The engine?”
“Um, not quite. There’s a—” she paused then stuttered out the rest of the sentence, “a body in the bed of my truck. A human body. A dead human body,” she added, noting that her hands were a little shaky when she waved in the direction of the truck bed.
Dash blinked. “A body?”
She nodded. “It fell.”
“Fell?”
She nodded again then looked up. “I think from there,” she said, pointing to a tree not far from where they stood. His eyes followed her wobbly finger and he looked up, too.
“A body?” he repeated.
She nodded again. “And I need to call the police and set up some flares to warn anyone else who might come along.” That sounded reasonable.
“Why do you think it fell from there?” he asked. It wasn’t the most important question she thought he might ask, but somehow, in the way that people deal with stressful situations, it made sense.
“Because it looks like there’s a red sock on the branch about two-thirds of the way up and the body is wearing one the same color.”
Dash looked at her and for a second, she wondered if he thought she was crazy. But then he nodded and walked back to his truck. He was making a call and carrying flares when he came back.
“Here,” he said, handing her two of them. “I’m trying to reach Ian, the county sheriff.”
“Not the police?”
“We’re in an unincorporated part of the county, Ian’s team has jurisdiction here, but I’m sure he’ll call in the police.”
Matty didn’t really know what that meant; well, she knew what jurisdiction was, but it was safe to say that who had it in which parts of the county was a bit of knowledge she never thought she’d need to know. Dash walked ahead of her, away from their trucks, gesturing that he’d lay the flares furthest away. She nodded and lit and laid the other two closest to where they were parked.
When the flares were all lit, they met at the front of his vehicle. She went to lean against it then jumped as the heat of the metal made contact with her bare skin.
“You okay?” he asked. “Can I get you anything? I have some water and soda in the cab. It will be cold,” he offered.
She shook her head, though distantly she remembered sugar being good for shock victims. Not that she was actually going into shock, but it wasn’t every day that a body fell from the sky into her vehicle.
“Ian MacAllister is on his way. He should be here in about ten minutes,” Dash said.
“The sheriff?”
Dash nodded. “Used to be the deputy chief of police but the last sheriff just retired and Ian was asked to run and was voted into the position. He’s a good guy, good at what he does.”
Absentmindedly, Matty nodded. They stood in silence waiting for him to show up. The heat from the road snaked up her legs and curled around her body; she began to feel sweat beading on her skin. Remembering the hair band on her wrist, she swept her hair up into a ponytail and tied it up off her neck. Dash moved toward his cab, came back with a cold bottle of soda, and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” She wasn’t much of a soda drinker, but now that it was in front of her, the thought of the cold, sweet drink made her mouth water.
“You’re welcome. I’m going to have a look,” he said, taking a step forward.
“Dash,” she put a hand on his arm, stopping him, “I wouldn’t recommend it. Between the heat, the rain, and the bugs, he’s not a pretty sight.”
“How do you know it’s a he?” he asked with a small frown.
Involu
ntarily, her lips twitched in morbid humor. “That red sock I mentioned earlier?”
He nodded.
“It’s all he’s wearing.”
Dash looked at her for a long moment, then, without a word, walked to her truck, leaned over the tailgate for a few seconds, then walked back.
“An interesting getup for a walk in the woods,” he said, returning to her side. “You seem to be doing okay with all this though?”
His question was part concern and part curiosity. Matty let out a little huff of air; it was a sad commentary on her life that the sight of a dead body didn’t upset her more. That’s not to say she was completely okay with it, but it didn’t send her screaming into the hills.
“Yeah, well it’s not the first dead body I’ve seen,” she answered. “You?”
“Not mine either. I was in the military right after college; they paid for vet school. You?”
“I grew up in the projects of New York City. It was a violent area. And now, because of what I do, I have a lot of friends with interesting jobs that let me tag along every now and then.”
She felt his eyes on her.
“I thought Brad grew up in Greenwich?”
“Brad did grow up in Greenwich. I grew up, with my mom-who-used-to-be-the-Brooks’-housekeeper-until-I-came-along, in the Bronx.” Her voice was more caustic than she’d intended. On the rare occasions she talked about her father’s family, she was always careful to keep her tone neutral, void of any emotion.
“I see,” he said. “I was wondering why Brad never mentioned you. I take it you aren’t close?”
“I’ve spoken to him three times in my life, and two of those conversations weren’t good,” she responded, intentionally lightening her tone.
Dash stared at her for another moment, then walked to the cab of his truck and returned with his own half–finished bottle of soda. Twisting the top off, he took a long sip.
“If you don’t mind my asking, if you and Brad aren’t close, how did you end up here?” he asked, closing his drink.
These Sorrows We See Page 4
