Peony Red (The Granite Harbor Series Book 1)

by J. Lynn Bailey

  “Redwood Memorial.”

  My head pops up off my headrest. “Why?”

  “Warden Young. She’s fine. Just monitoring her.”

  I debate on calling her; just hearing her voice would give me peace of mind.

  I dial her cell number. It goes straight to voice mail.

  “Alex,” I say, “it’s Eli.” I’m quiet for a moment. “I just needed to hear your voice.” My voice cracks open. “I really need to see you. Call me, please, Alex. Call me, so I know you’re all right.”

  January 17, 2018

  “You shouldn’t. You need to stay here. Give her time, man.” Ryan chews on his pen cap, sitting in his truck. “What did Pop say? Give her time and space. She’ll come around.”

  “It’s killing me.” We’re in our work trucks. It’s just after nine-thirty at night and we’re waiting to monitor a popular snowmobile trail, making sure snowmobilers are behaving. “Left a message for her.”

  Ryan stops chewing and rolls his eyes. “You fucking did not. You’re an idiot.”

  “Because you give the best love advice? Besides, I talked to Mer about it after I did it, and she agreed.”

  Ryan pauses.

  “Every time I bring up my sister, you get this weird fucking eye twitch, and you’re quiet. What the hell is going on with you two?”

  Aaron pulls up next to me, our lieutenant with him. “Ready to roll, boys?”

  Ryan hops in with me and gives Rookie a biscuit from his truck.

  “Dude, you do that every time. Rookie is a trained machine. You bringing him biscuits is making him soft.”

  “It does not. He needs a few treats from Uncle Ryan, don’t you, Rookie?” he says.

  “Pathetic.” I shake my head.

  We caravan down to the trail.

  Alex is in my head. She’s so in my head that I can’t seem to shake her. She’s the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning. She haunts my days. My nights. Mornings though are the worst. She still hasn’t returned my call.

  Ryan’s on his phone. “No fucking shit. No fucking way. Look.”

  He moves his phone in my face, and all I see is a picture of Alex.

  My heart stops. “What? I can’t see shit because it’s too close to my face.”

  Ryan scrolls through his phone and reads, “Author of Be with Me, Alex Fisher, plans to attend the Golden Globe Awards as the movie based on the book has been nominated for two Golden Globes. This information comes to us through her rep. Fisher, we’re told, is healing from an injury from a fall she took two days prior. The show will be aired on January 28.”

  A fall? A fucking fall? That’s what her rep said?

  I got the report. Clay tried to choke her. I called her after I read that, too.

  The article, according to Ryan, makes no mention of what happened. Small towns tend to keep small-town business. I’m thankful to the chief and the Belle’s Hollow PD for not breathing a word. That would have been a shitstorm that I know Alex wouldn’t have been ready for, not with all she’s been through.

  Our patrol is quick as the weather has turned frigid in a matter of an hour. Not a lot of traffic, which means snowmobilers are making better decisions. We pack up in our trucks and head home just after eleven.

  At midnight, I fall into bed after a hot shower. Before I turn out the light, I grab Alex’s letter from the drawer in my nightstand. I try to picture her long, dark hair falling into her face. Her quiet words she mumbles as she sleeps. Every time that happened, when the whimpering started, I’d roll into her, moving into her space, her skin to mine.

  I want to be the man who fixes her, makes her whole again. I want to be the man she calls when she gets news like the Golden Globes. I want to be the man to hold her when awfulness happens. I just hope she’s coming through this—us, what she’s been through—all right. But maybe it’s fate that I’m not in her life now and that maybe what she needed from me was to be the man in her life at the time.

  Are you fucking kidding yourself, Eli?

  Go get her, Eli.

  Go fucking get her and tell her you want to be the person she loves forever.

  I keep the letter in my hand, turn off the light, and try to get some sleep.

  January 18, 2018

  Since Hello, Good-Pie is still sealed off as a crime scene as the State Police are still investigating Randall’s murder, I’m meeting Merit at Café by the Sea. It’s like Denny’s but with fresh seafood and tar for coffee. Betty Lee—better known for her tough, you’ll-take-what-I-make-you demeanor—took over the business just after her father passed away about thirty years ago.

  Merit worked here while in high school because Pop had said she had to get a job. At first, she was the dishwasher and then worked her way up to lead waitress. Then, after breaking Betty’s heart, Merit left for college and never looked back.

  “You’re sure this will work, Mer? I can’t afford to screw this up.” I take a sip of the tar and choke it down, knowing it’ll give me a boost in a matter of minutes.

  “Are you kidding? Bryce is a miracle worker.”

  Her phone vibrates and slides across the table, and she grabs it, reading a text message.

  “Who’s that?” I ask before I put a strawberry in my mouth.

  “Nunya.”

  “Who the hell is nunya?”

  “Nunya business.” She’s looking at her phone.

  “You seem more chipper than you’ve been since you got home.” I take another sip of coffee.

  She shrugs as she sets her phone down, still smiling, and stares at me. “You have your flight booked, right?”

  Yes, even though every time Merit mentions the flight, I almost shit my pants.

  Liz sets our tab down on the table.

  “Warden Young. Need anything else?” She winks.

  “No, no, we’re all set, Liz. Thank you.” I break eye contact with her as quickly as possible because I don’t want her to get the wrong impression.

  Merit’s eyes grow big as Liz walks away. “That is something I haven’t missed about Granite Harbor. How women just fall all over you. Gets old, Young. Gets old quick.”

  Merit reaches for the tab, but I grab it instead.

  “Whatever.”

  I look down at the ticket, and Liz has scribbled her phone number at the bottom. I smirk and look up at Merit.

  “What?” she says, setting her plate aside.

  “Nothing.” I push out of the booth and stand, grabbing my wallet from my back pocket.

  “Warden Young.”

  I turn to the booth behind us.

  “Good morning, Milton. Ruthie.” I shake Milton’s hand.

  “See you caught the bastard.”

  I nod. “We did.” I try to keep things vague when I get questions out in public like this.

  “You’re sure he’s dead?”

  “No doubt in my mind.”

  Ruthie’s elbows are on the table out in front of her. “How’s Alex? We sure miss her around here.”

  Milton gives Ruthie a stern look.

  “What?” she asks her husband.

  “Didn’t we agree we wouldn’t ask Eli about Alex?”

  “Oh, come on, Milton. Everybody knows about the fallout with Grace. Lord help us all. That woman was—still is—hell on wheels.” She looks up at me.

  The mention of Alex’s name sets my heart into a rhythm that cannot be traced back to any past loves. This beat is only for her. “Honestly, Ruthie, I don’t know. I haven’t been able to get ahold of her.”

  “I wonder how’s she doing with all that.”

  Her question is rhetorical, I know.

  “Our sweet little town was shaken to its core. For Randall. And Lila. Her family. My God.” She shakes her head. “Do you know when the service is for Randall?”

  “Friday,” Merit says, walking up behind us. She must have gone and said good-bye to Betty.

  “Well, bless your heart, Merit, it is so good to see you.” Ruthie stands and hugs Merit.


  “How’s your dad feeling? He enjoy the ribs I brought over?” Milton takes a sip of his coffee. “Criminy’s sake. That’ll put hair on your chest,” he whispers as he sets his coffee down.

  “He did. Thank you.”

  “Well, you two take care of yourself and your father.” Ruthie sits back down with her husband at the table.

  I’m in my truck, driving, thinking about Randall. What he must have gone through. And Lila. I’ve never taken this job lightly. I took an oath when I signed on to serve and protect. Part of me feels like I’ve failed. I allowed Clay into our lives. Had him and Randall to my home. Never once did I feel like he was a psychopath. Never. I feel unnerved that I never knew. Is something off in me? Could Ryan tell? Ethan? Aaron?

  I pull over and grab my binoculars, trying to push the bad thoughts away. I jump out of my truck to scan the lake for fishermen.

  Seeing Randall like that on the floor of the bakery still haunts my thoughts. I’ve learned to separate death. I’ve learned to look at cases with both animals and people as a scientific study.

  I see two fishermen halfway across the lake, and they’re headed in the opposite direction. I’ll check them for fishing licenses and then be on my way. Something, anything, to keep my mind busy. I jump back into the truck and head in their direction to a quiet pullout where I assume I see their truck.

  And Alex. My Alex.

  I stare down at my phone, wanting to call her again, feeling incompetent with her needs, as if I can fix them. But it isn’t my job either. Though I’d gladly take it, she’s not willing to give it up. She can, and will, take care of herself. This is a bitter pill to swallow.

  I dial her number as I park in the pullout.

  It rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. As expected, her voice mail picks up.

  “Hey, Alex. It’s me again. Listen, I know I’m the last person you want to talk to right now, but I just needed … I just needed to hear your voice. And I want you to know I’m not putting my needs before yours because I think you need to hear my voice just as much.” I pause, not ready to end the message. “Heard about your Golden Globe nominations. That’s great. Just great. Everyone in Granite Harbor is real excited for you. Especially Ruthie.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve talked to Lydia, but she might need someone right now. Thought you might want to give her a call. Anyway, uh, I love you.” My insides turn to shit as soon as I let the words leave my mouth. At this point, I don’t care how desperate I sound. I just need her back.

  I hit End.

  I go to get out of the truck, but I stop because I hear leaves crunching. A moose quietly and carefully makes her way from the trees, about twenty feet from the truck. The moose stops and stares at me. I see her breath in the cool morning air, rhythmic, curious. She tips her head up just a bit, as if she’s testing the waters, checking me out. With the light-colored brown face, I can tell it’s a female moose.

  She drops her head to smell the ground and then looks back the way she came. It’s so quiet, and everything is peaceful. It’s cold outside, and there are remnants of snow left on the ground. She stares me down again and then slowly walks past the truck and to the lake for a drink of water.

  Moose season is over in Maine, and I wonder if she knows. Moose are monogamous for the mating season. They only mate with one bull. Did her bull pull through? Did he survive the hunting season? Is she here to give me a piece of her mind?

  Maybe she’s a sign.

  Twenty-Six

  Alex

  January 20, 2018

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “You don’t have a choice.” Bryce throws herself on my bed.

  “I do, too.”

  “Alex, you wrote the book. You inspired the story that’s being nominated.”

  “That’s just it, B. It’s just a story. Just a figment of my imagination. These actors and actresses are getting awards for their acting, not my storyline.”

  “Look, I get it.” She pushes her head up to my pillow.

  I’m at my vanity mirror. Sitting. Staring, trying not to remember that I took someone’s life just five days ago. Trying to put the awfulness behind me.

  “You’ve been through hell. You’ve been through things that most people haven’t, but maybe this will be a change of pace. Something good. Something positive amid all the shit.”

  I give her a devil stare. “You said the same thing about going to Granite Harbor.”

  “Oh, well …” All of a sudden, Bryce’s hands have become the vocal point of her attention.

  “Why are you so adamant about me going? Since when do you appreciate Hollywood?”

  “Because of fate,” she sighs.

  I tilt my head in confusion. “Fate? How does fate have anything to do with this?”

  “So, we’re not going to talk about the big, fat elephant that’s planted his ass right in the middle of your bedroom?”

  I drop my hands to my lap. “What are you talking about?”

  “Eli! For Christ’s sake, Alex. Eli! You haven’t talked about him since you came back. You were so short about it. It didn’t work out. That’s all you said. And then you said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Looking at Bryce, I try to speak. The heartache hasn’t left. It sits in the dark, waiting for me to think about him, waiting for me to loosen up the rope that keeps my thoughts of him at bay.

  “He had a wife.”

  Bryce

  I know all this. I can’t tell her I know all this, but I do.

  Eli called me a few days ago. Tracked me down through my work website. He asked me to help. After I gave him a piece of my mind, I understood. And the heartbreak in the guy’s voice—fuck, it was genuine.

  When Eli told me that this was it for him and that Alex was the one, I believed him.

  I know a crock of shit when I hear one. I can see a crock of shit coming from a mile away. I didn’t even have to look him in the eye to know that he was telling the truth. I felt it in his words.

  Merit, his sister, followed up with a tentative plan. She, too, called my cell phone. Damn small-town folks.

  My job in the plan is to get Alex to Los Angeles to the book signing by way of the Golden Globes.

  Alex

  Why’s she pushing so hard?

  After I tell Bryce the story, she calls me over to the bed, and I climb in next to her.

  “I’m so sorry this happened.” Bryce’s arm tightens around me.

  “I know you are. But it’s not your stuff to take on.”

  “I know.” She pauses. “So, back to the fate thing. Don’t you think that things work out the way they’re supposed to?”

  This makes me think of Kyle. My sweet Kyle. It makes me think of Randall. The awfulness of what happened to them. Lila.

  It’s as if Bryce reads my mind.

  “Awful things happen. But I think it’s people’s choices that screw up fate, if you want to know my opinion. Awful people do awful things, like Clay. Things happen that are out of our control. Kyle died doing what he loved, Alex. But, sometimes, things happen where fate takes a back seat instead of the driver’s side.”

  I wonder how Eli’s doing with all this. I know Randall was a friend.

  “So, this idea of fate and the Golden Globes,” Bryce continues, “there’s a reason your storyline is one of the highlights of the evening. There’s a reason you were invited. And, if I go as your date, I’ll make sure I pick up all the free swag in the green room. I hear they’re giving out Golden State Warriors tickets this year. Not that you can’t afford them, but free is so much better. Another twist of fate? I think so.” Bryce laughs.

  But what if what happened with Grace was the twist of fate that is supposed to push me away? What if that is the twist of fate that people don’t want to look at because it doesn’t bring a happy ending?

  I want to call Eli.

  I should call Eli. Just to let him know that I’m sorry about Randall.

  I miss him.

/>   His voice.

  The way his heart beats when I lie across his chest.

  The look he gives when he’s thinking.

  His hands against my backside.

  Time and three thousand miles separate us.

  What if it’s supposed to be like this? What if me coming back to Belle’s Hollow was the right choice? In the beginning, I made that choice out of emotion. Out of raw feelings. Out of hurt. Heartbreak.

  Bryce’s voice brings me out of my thoughts. I look back to her on the bed, but it isn’t me she’s talking to.

  “Yeah. No, not a good time. Call you back.” She hangs up the phone.

  “Who was that?”

  “Work.”

  “When do you have to go back home?”

  “When you agree that you’ll go to the Golden Globes. It’s in eight days, and if you’re going with me, we still need to find a dress for you. Belle’s Hollow isn’t exactly the best place to find a dress for this black-tie event.” She drops her phone on my bed. “You miss him, don’t you?”

  I shrug.

  “You don’t have to be such a badass with me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Alex, I see it in your eyes. We’ve been friends for how long? Come on, just come back down to LA with me, and we can go from there. You can stay the week. Besides, you need a change of pace anyway.”

  “Well, there’s this manuscript that I need to get right. Apparently, my agent thinks it’s too sad.”

  “Just needs some fixing. Also, why don’t we do a book signing beforehand? Let’s get reacquainted with your fans. Get you into a happy place. Maybe your love story will end on a happier note.”

  Yeah, maybe that’s it. I just need to be in a happier place to edit the book. I need to make some changes. Not so predictable.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Great. I’ll get it set up. Now, can we go to your mom’s for dinner? I’m starved.”

  “Yes. Come on.” I help her up just as Larry opens one eye. “Don’t worry, buddy; I’ll be back.”

  “Hi, Andy. Is Dad awake?” I push my hands on the counter.