“Have you met before?”
I grab the railing and squish the hoop skirt up the stairs and into the trailer. I don’t want to lie, and I don’t want to tell the truth. Instead of doing either, I yank at the corset strings as I walk behind the screen.
“Seemed like he knew you.”
“Probably felt sorry for me. Almost fainting and all.” I toss the cursed corset onto the bench. How did women ever wear these things? When I pull the underdress over my head, I see red marks where it cut into my flesh. I fold what I can and place everything on the bench, except for the hoop skirt. That, I hang up.
I hear the wardrobe mistress come in, and I quickly finish undressing before she can get back here. I don’t want another uncomfortable dressing experience.
“Putting on my clothes,” I call out, hoping she stays on the other side of the screen.
She doesn’t and comes in all in a huff to look over the clothes. “You only needed to wait a moment. Did you rip anything?”
“Wasn’t her fault,” Vincent pipes in. “She was suffocating.”
I’m in my own clothes and rushing out before she can respond when I bump into Vincent, still in the process of undressing. “They have an area, you know. You don’t need to do it in the middle of the trailer.”
“It’s cooler out here.” He pouts and slips into his jeans. “Why don’t you come with me tonight? You’ve been moping around since Roy left.”
“I’m not moping, and you know how much I hate parties.”
“You can’t fool me, love. I know you’re worried about him.”
“Of course I am.” Worried is not nearly strong enough of a word. Terrified sums it up nicely. “Are you and Jason going to…”
“What?” he asks.
“You know…sex,” I whisper, hoping Gavin doesn’t hear.
“Oh, sex,” he practically yells. “I hope to have scads of it.”
Gavins lifts his eyebrow the same way Roy does. Two peas in a pod, those two are.
“Be careful,” I say, sounding prudish. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
Vincent has veered off, back to where they’re filming. “He wants me to watch him work. Ta-ta, love.”
“He’ll be alright,” Gavin says. “Haven’t known Jason to hurt any of his boys.”
I stop and look up at Gavin. “He’s not one of Jason’s anything.” Why am I lashing out at him when he’s only trying to help? “I need to tell you something.”
He does that eyebrow thing again.
“Jason’s having a party tonight and Vincent’s invited. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Aye, girl. And we’re hoping his egotistical nature will rear its ugly head.”
“He’s using again?”
Gavin opens the Suburban door for me. “Not yet, but he’ll slip up and do something stupid. Always does, and this time we’ll be there to catch him.”
“And you’ll break his kneecaps?” I say, imitating his Scottish accent.
“Aye.” Gavin pats the dashboard in front of me before driving off. “Don’t be spiraling into worry. Roy has me looking out for ye.”
I turn in the seat to face him. “That day I walked in Jason’s trailer. If I’d fought back, would he have let me go?”
He leans his head back against the headrest. “Without Roy there, you mean?” I nod. “Nae, he’d not have let you go.”
“Gavin.” One, two, three times I snap the thick rubber band hard against my wrist.
“Girl.”
I’m afraid to go home alone. Afraid of what I might do. Seeing Jason again was… provoking.
He takes his eye off the road long enough to look me over. “I have something I need help with.” He taps the dash. “If you think you can manage it, I’d like to get your opinion about the landscaping at the house.”
I look at my wrist, the red marks clearly visible, kind of like the marks on my chest after I took the corset off. Gavin calls Roy’s place the house like there is no other. I know renovations are ongoing and high-tech security systems are being installed. I didn’t know he was redoing the landscaping. The beautiful old trees lining the lane up to the house…Dear God, please don’t let a chainsaw near them.
“Sure. I don’t know much about plants.”
“It’s more the…what did Luke call it?” He slaps the steering wheel. “Middleburg aesthetic I need advice on.”
Luke is the farm manager, and I get a sneaky suspicion I’m walking into a pissing contest. “Have you known Roy long?”
“Aye.” He cuts me a sideways look and turns onto the main road. “Ask me what’s on ye mind.”
I need to work on my poker face. “Is it dangerous, where Roy’s gone?”
“Roy’s knows what he’s about. He’ll be fine.”
“Is he punishing someone?”
“Hmph.” I can tell he doesn’t think much of my questions. “He’s doing his job.”
“Has he always been so…intense?”
“He’s mellowed.”
If this is mellow, I can’t imagine what he was before.
Gavin continues, “When I first met him, he was like a demon sent up from the bowels of hell.” He shakes his head and turns right onto Route 50. “I’m a Scotsman; we know about anger. I’d never seen anything like him.”
Gavin’s description of Roy, while dramatic, is not far from the truth. I know he’s gentler with me, but even I sense the seething anger inside him. “What happened to him?” I know I’m stretching Gavin’s patience with my questions, but who else am I to ask?
We travel at least five miles, almost to Roy’s home, and I’ve resigned myself to the fact Gavin isn’t going to answer my question.
“Do you care for him?” he finally asks. “Truly care for him?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”
“Have you seen the scar on his right ankle?”
There are so many scars, most hardly noticeable, but a few are ragged looking. When we were in the shower, I remember seeing what I think Gavin’s talking about. “Does it look kind of like a rope burn?”
He nods. “That’s the one. He was barely five when it happened.”
I’m shocked. It looks too angry, still red and clearly defined, to be so old.
“His mother was a whore,” Gavin says matter-of-factly. “A prostitute who worked Sunset Strip.”
I try to prepare myself for what I know is going to be an awful story.
“I read the report on her. She was a good lass trying to keep her boy close, making money the only way she knew how. They had food, clothes, not bad for a fifteen-year-old runaway who found herself pregnant.”
Only fifteen. My heart sinks.
“They might have been alright. His mother stayed away from the drugs and pimps; she could have easily climbed out of there and lived to see the boy grow up.”
My finger wraps around the band, pulling it tight against my wrist.
“Only Roy knows what happened, and he’s not talking.” Gavin checks the rearview mirror. “The coroner estimated she’d been dead for four to five days. The neighbor called the police when she smelled the body.”
Please tell me he wasn’t left with his mother’s corpse.
“When the police arrived, they found Roy with his ankle zip-tied to the radiator. The report said he was like a feral animal in a trap. It took two men to restrain him.”
“Who would do that to a child?”
“The police never caught the man. His mother was stripped naked, strangled with a belt, and propped up next to Roy.”
His mother was around my age when she was murdered. He was powerless to protect her. I remember Roy telling me he only wants to keep me safe. Something he couldn’t do for his mother.
“Ease up on him a bit when he insists on protecting ye.”
“I didn’t know.”
“How could you? The boy keeps his secrets close.”
I’m not a monster, I remember him saying the night I was dr
unk. He knows what a monster is and yet, I think, he’s afraid of becoming one.
“I would have slapped you silly if you’d told me five years ago he’d move back here. Never seen a man so driven to do anything in his life as he was to buy an estate here.”
I guess he was here while working with Mr. Stanwyck. Strange to think we might have bumped into each other sooner.
Gavin turns onto the lane leading up to the main house at Chadwick Farm, Roy’s estate. Immediately, I see why Luke, the farm manager, is concerned. The old oak trees are still lining the drive, but the wood-plank fencing and shrubs have been bulldozed. The land looks scalped.
The main house is a beehive of renovation activity. Luke, the farm manager, waits next to his old Ford truck while another man I haven’t met before talks with him.
“Before we get out”—Gavin parks the car—“Luke there believes our plans for the entrance security measures are unsightly, unnecessary, and, as he puts it, ‘resemble Gitmo.’”
“Gitmo?”
Gavin clarifies, “Guantanamo Bay. You know, in Cuba, the prison.” I nod. “Flint, the man next to him, handles security infrastructure and systems.”
“Shouldn’t Roy decide this?”
“I’m hoping you can come up with a compromise. We don’t need to be riling up the neighbors any more than we already have.”
Like the helicopter pad and private airfield Roy is building. A couple farms have them, but everyone is worried Roy is some type of gun smuggler or worse. Ridiculous, but in an area where the same families have lived for generations, anyone new is always met with wariness.
I heave out a long sigh. “I can’t promise anything.”
I trudge over to Luke and Flint, knowing I look preposterous with my hair still braided up like Princess Leia.
“Daisy.” Luke motions towards the other man. “This is Flint, one of Mr. Blackwood’s team.”
“Ma’am.” Flint nods. “Gavin says you’re to be consulted.” His Southern accent is faded around the edges. “If you’ll come with us, we’ve got the design drawings set up inside.”
I follow them through the large front doors propped open with paint cans. The floors have a covering on them to protect the hardwood. Men on ladders are repairing the plaster walls. I smell fresh paint. As we walk into the library, I’m pleased to see it’s mostly untouched.
Flint points to the library table. The very table a few days ago where I sat and tried to use my feminine charms on Roy. I suppress a strong desire to giggle and, instead, keep my face serious.
He rolls out a rendering. “So this is what I envision for the long driveway.”
I immediately see why Luke likened it to a prison.
“Here’s the fencing.” Flint uses a closed pen to highlight the areas. “It’s black iron with sensors for any type of manipulation.” He rolls his hand. “Like someone trying to cut it, or climb, etc. It’s seven feet high with anti-terrorist posts.” He must see my questioning look. “We reinforce them to prevent someone from driving over them.”
I study the drawing. When you pull off the road to the entrance—or, as Flint calls it, the driveway—you’ll immediately have to go through a black iron gate. Along the drive, fencing will be on either side like a long livestock pen, and before you reach the house is another gate.
“I don’t understand why you’d have this section fenced in. I mean, if someone wanted to get to the house, couldn’t they drive where there isn’t any fencing, like through the pasture here and right up to the house?”
“I should have said before.” Flint smiles like he’s a proud father. “This fence will contain the property. I don’t have it on this drawing.”
The farm manager gives me a pained look, like he’s begging for someone with common sense to stop this insanity.
Gavin comes over and gives the drawing a quick glance. “The area fenced by the drive contains the intruder,” he explains, pointing at the two gates. “Here and here. We can control who gains access to the house.”
“It’s a trap,” Flint further explains.
“And what happens if you decide they’re enemies?” I ask.
Like he’s talking about what’s for dinner, Flint says, “It’s the perfect killing zone.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Luke wince. I’m with you, buddy.
“And this has to do with landscaping, how?” I ask Gavin.
Luke, the farm manager, steps forward. “I thought the…” He waves his hand around the drawing. “Could be covered up by trees and shrubs.”
I lean on the table trying to envision Luke’s idea. “And the oak trees?”
“Beautiful damn nuisance. We should cut them.” Gavin nods at Flint. “Roy insisted they stay.”
Are they afraid someone will drive up in a tank? “Well…Luke’s right. You have to do something; otherwise, this is ugly. Like an installation or something.” I point to the entrance. “It’s going to take a lot to make the fence blend it.” I look up to Gavin. “It won’t be cheap.”
“Roy’s only concern is keeping his family safe.”
I nod, now knowing why it’s so important.
“Will you be happy with it?” Flint asks me.
Like I’m the decision maker? I don’t even live here. I liked it the way it was. The last murder in Middleburg was before I was born. A wealthy heiress killed her polo-playing lover. This isn’t a place known for crime.
“Is the fence non-negotiable?” I ask, using Roy’s term.
“Aye,” Gavin answers.
“Right, well, trees and shrubs make the most sense. You could mulch under the fence and around the landscaping. Plus, it will look lovely if you plant evergreens mixed in with trees, and the shrubs as undergrowth. It won’t seem so contrived.” I try and gauge Luke’s reaction. “Will it make your work harder?”
“The added work will be offset by no longer having to maintain the wooden fencing. We can stay up on the tractor to mow instead of walking the fence line and trimming. It would give the birds and small mammals a refuge. The deer will not like it.” He shakes his head. “Not one bit.”
“The Hunt,” I blurt out. I’d forgotten. “We ride through this land.”
Gavin and Flint look at me with blank expressions.
“Foxhunters,” I clarify, “ride through the farm.”
“So it’s true.”
The men turn to see who it is, but I’m standing with my back to him, biting my lip. I don’t need to see the face of the haughty voice. It’s Charlie’s father and Bobby’s brother. Every time I see him my stomach lurches. Charlie was a younger carbon copy of the older man.
“Mr. Stanwyck.” I’ve turned enough to see Luke walk toward him. “What can I do for you?”
“You can explain why I received this.” He holds up a crumpled piece of paper. “He won’t shut off his lands.”
“We were consulting with Daisy on the best way to handle that.”
I wish Luke had left me out of it. Now I have to deal with him.
I take a deep breath before turning around to face him. “Roy’s traveling, but I’m sure when he gets back you can sort this out.”
Mr. Stanwyck looks like he might spit nails at any moment. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
Like this is my doing? “Look, I know you don’t like me, but I’m trying to help.” My voice is even and controlled while my heart thrashes my chest.
His only response is a slight tick of his right eye.
Luke clears his throat and studies his feet. Flint eyes Mr. Stanwyck like he’s considering mounting his head above the fireplace.
“Ye be the one causing the trouble.” Gavin steps in next to me and levels a stern face at Mr. Stanwyck. “And on private land.”
I’ve never seen anyone put Mr. Stanwyck in his place. And from the look of him, neither has he. The eye twitch intensifies, and his complexion blooms into a mottled shade of red.
“She’s a curse,” Mr. Stanwyck bellows.
I step ba
ck and grab hold of the table to steady myself, remembering how his son cursed me.
“Roy is nothing but an upstart with a suitcase of new money.” He sneers at me. “You think you’ve caught the brass ring.”
Gavin moves in front of me. “Ye remind me of the British, always telling decent folk what they can and can’t do with their own land.” He closes the distance to stand a few feet from Mr. Stanwyck. “If I were ye, I’d be stepping back to where ye came from before my blood rises.”
Luke clears his throat. “Mr. Stanwyck, I’ll walk with you back to your car. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.”
Mr. Stanwyck steps to the side, scowling at me. Emotions move like water across his face, from rage to surprise to fear, perhaps. Is he having a stroke? To my right I catch movement and turn to see Proctor next to me, his face bruised but not swollen. His complete focus is on Mr. Stanwyck.
Luke, who looks like he’s rethinking working here, urges, “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
“Get off me!” Mr. Stanwyck rips his arm away when Luke tries to usher him out. “You haven’t heard the end of this,” he yells and stomps out of the room with Luke following in his wake.
Gavin blows out a long breath. “Girl?” He whirls around to look me over.
I’m surrounded by Flint, Gavin, and Proctor, all waiting for me to say something. What’s there to say? The man hates me. I’m sure he wishes I were dead instead of his son.
“Come with me.” Proctor points toward the hallway to the kitchen. “I want to show you something.”
Given this is Proctor that something could be anything from a severed horse head to a dead body, freshly planted. Gavin and Flint say nothing. Could it be worse than what I’ve already gone through today: Jason showing up at the filming, me almost having a panic attack on set, Mr. Stanwyck showing up spewing the word cursed around like he’s an old-world gypsy? No, I decide, and follow along behind Proctor.
Except for his face, you’d never know he was hurt. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”
He leads me down the path past the gym, through a thicket of dogwood trees until it levels out to a plateau. Sitting atop it, like a decoration on a wedding cake, is a stone gazebo.
Secrets In Our Scars Page 22
