by Snow, Nicole
Everything that happened today feels more like a novel than real life. After I’m through vacuuming, I pull out my own laptop and transfer everything I’d written in my notebook into a new document.
I find a better distraction here. In no time, I’m buried deep in the story again.
The thing about writing both mystery and romance is, once you’ve got it down, the words can’t fly off your fingertips fast enough. Intrigue comes easy because there’s plenty to work with lately.
I use everything I know about Miller and let my imagination fill in the blanks.
Shane interrupts me a little while later when he asks if I have any lemons.
“I think there’s enough on the counter for a pitcher,” I say, closing my laptop cover.
“Just one pitcher?” he asks. “I wanna make it like May’s lady did. That stuff was delicious!”
I laugh as I walk to the fridge to fetch him a gallon of water. “How thirsty are you, Shane?”
He grins and shrugs. “Nah, it’s just...you’ll see.”
I hold up the bag that contains three big lemons. “There. Perfect for one nice, cool pitcher of lemonade. You know how to use the ice maker, right?”
“Yup. It takes three to make a whole pitcher, yeah?”
“You got it.” I set the lemons on the counter. “I think the secret to the good stuff is throwing the sugar in some water over a low boil so it fully dissolves. Should be something we can handle without any fires.” I smile at him.
“And how many glasses is that?”
I cock my head, staring at him.
What gives with this sudden new interest he’s developed in lemonade mechanics?
Then again, isn’t this the way most ten-year-old boys are? All over the place after they’ve found something new and fun? Thanks, Mother, I think to myself.
“Let’s see...I think that’s plenty for the four of us. Unless you’re really thirsty, you can have my glass. Just give me a sec to get the sugar out and we’ll get started.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” he says, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
I pause. “You don’t want any lemonade now?”
“Nope. Guess I just changed my mind. Sorry.”
I open the fridge door again. “Well, okay. There’s always bottled water in the fridge if you need something else.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
I glance at the clock and am a bit surprised at how late it’s getting. Somehow, we’ve already been putzing around for hours. “Getting hungry?”
He shrugs again. “I can wait. We had a ton of food at May’s and Dad’s still busy on his computer.”
Miller must’ve been out on the patio for a couple hours now. Lauren sits next to him on a lawn chair, quietly reading. I’m pretty sure Shane’s remembering how I almost caught the place on fire this morning with my attempt at breakfast.
Was that really just this morning? So much has happened since then.
Giving my head a clearing shake, I ask, “Do you like pizza?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I’ll order some for supper. What kind do you all like?”
“Pepperoni, and it’s Lauren’s favorite, too. Dad likes everything on his. Plenty of meat and veggies.”
“Okay, two pizzas coming right up. One pepperoni and one supreme with some extras.” I pick my phone up off the counter. “The pizza shop is just up the road, next to the convenience store, so it won’t take long for them to get here.”
“How long?” he asks.
Finding the place with a Google search, I say, “Half an hour, probably. We’ll have piping hot pizza here in no time, or it’ll be free. They still do that in this town.” I show him my phone. “It says so right here. One of the perks of small town livin’.”
He nods, but his gaze goes to the lemons again. “Oh, uh, I forgot to ask...how much are lemons, anyway?”
“The price varies by season, I think,” I say, hitting the call icon. I point to the tag on the bag. “Those were six for four dollars. Cheap for organic in these parts.”
The pizza place finally answers, and while I rattle off our order, Shane runs upstairs. He comes back down and walks out the patio door while I’m giving my card number to the pizza shop employee who’d taken my order.
After the call, I make a fresh pitcher of lemonade, which he obviously wanted but was playing coy with for some weird reason, and set it in the fridge to cool before our pizzas arrive.
Then I set plates, silverware, napkins, and glasses on the counter in case Miller wants to eat on the deck. I can’t help but wonder if he’s really that into whatever he’s doing on his computer.
Serious business, maybe?
Or is he just trying to ignore me thanks to what happened this afternoon?
He probably regrets it.
For all I know, he hasn’t given up on looking for someone else to help. Another fake wife.
There shouldn’t be a pang of jealousy. But of course there is.
This morning he said they just needed to stay here for a few more hours.
Then Mother called. For him.
He said we’d talk about what they’d discussed later. My stomach bunches up wondering what the big secret is.
Maybe she found another place for them to go? Somewhere safer than here.
I couldn’t even guess all the well-connected people she knows to save my life. By helping Miller, she probably thinks she’s helping me like she’s always done, taking the stress and the weight and worry off my shoulders.
Whenever I’ve been afraid to try something before, she’s always been there with a solution.
Why would this time be any different? Only thing I can’t figure out is why she decided to play matchmaker if the plan is to hand Miller a get-out-of-Gwen’s-life free card.
I should be glad about it. Him and his tight-lipped scary business leaving. The kids moving on to happier times.
But I’m not any happier than I was this morning.
I snatch my phone off the counter, but the doorbell rings before I pull up my call log.
Miller shoots in through the patio door like some gladiator. “Expecting someone?”
“Yep.” I drop my phone on the counter. “The pizza guy. I’ll be sure to check his credentials,” I tell him, sass in my tone.
Miller frowns at me.
I point to the clock as I walk to the door. “It’s after eight. The kids must be hungry.”
He storms past me and beats me to the front door, pulling aside the curtain over the window at the side of the door to peek outside.
The aura surrounding him is so intense the hair on my arms stands up.
Apparently, joking about this doesn’t take the edge off.
God. He really believes we could be ambushed here by someone uninvited, someone dangerous...and I keep running my mouth like it’s nothing.
I actually feel a little bad.
“I-it’s just the pizza man,” I say, trying to downplay it, half-questioning whether that’s true. I’m afraid of my own shadow and sure as hell don’t need him making it worse.
Miller nods after looking out the window, satisfied, then steps back around the partition wall. “Pizza’s here.”
Huffing out a breath, which does little to calm my nerves, I open the door. After adding a tip, I sign the receipt and then take the two warm boxes from the gangly kid holding them. I try to be as pleasant as possible, hoping the delivery boy doesn’t drown in the tension filling the air.
I shoulder the door shut and nearly jump out of my own skin when I spin around and see Miller standing there. Again, I slowly exhale, trying to soothe the anxiety.
His hands come out. “I’ll take those.”
Irritated by both myself and him, I step around him. “No. I have them just fine.”
In the kitchen, Lauren stands near the table looking at us. I’m instantly annoyed by the look of apprehension on her face.
Awesome. He’s making her nervous too with his big,
silent, secretive guard dog act.
With a bright smile, I say, “I ordered pepperoni, honey! I hear that’s your favorite.”
She turns slowly, toward the patio door.
“Go tell your brother it’s time to eat,” Miller tells her. “I’ll grab a knife to slice up any messy pieces.”
Biting her bottom lip, she spins around, then shoots out the patio door.
Ugh.
The last thing I want to do is argue, but I saw how Lauren bolted. Miller sure is talented at pissing me off.
“Did you see that?” I drop the pizza boxes onto the counter. “She’s afraid. You, acting like Charles Manson was ringing the doorbell, and then snapping at your daughter.”
He runs a hand through his hair, flashing me a look. “I didn’t snap at Lauren, babe.”
“Yes, you did! And don’t you babe me. Your tone was just like it is now. Nasty.” I flip open the boxes. “Didn’t you see the look on her face? She was already nervous, the way we’ve been tiptoeing around here ever since we got home. Now, she’s scared.”
“Scared? Of me?” He shakes his head. “No. My kids have never been afraid of me, and never will be.”
“Says who?” I pull a spatula out of the drawer and slam it shut.
“Their old man, Gwen. And I don’t need you or anyone else trying to stick their fucking nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I toss the spatula on the counter, where it rolls to a stop. “Correction: you’re the one who stuck my nose in this whole flipping mess by hiring me. Remember?”
“Like yesterday. Doesn’t give you the right to say anything about my kids, no matter how damn gorgeous you are and how much you care about ’em.”
Already on my way to the patio door to check on them, I say, “Miller. It’s my house. I won’t let anyone be scared or upset or just wound up while staying here.” I step out the door. “No matter who they are. Not even you.”
Deep breath. I zoom away before he can throw more crap at me.
Weird.
Outside, I don’t see Lauren or Shane, so I walk off the patio into the grass, scanning the area. My heart skips a beat when I don’t see them anywhere.
Oh, no.
Oh, Jesus, no, no, no, no.
I don’t even remember my legs moving. Suddenly I’m just running at full speed, rushing to the short wrought iron fence that butts up to the side of the house and separates the backyard from the road.
It’s a tiny relief when I see Lauren’s small silhouette on the other side of it, walking toward the road.
“Lauren, baby!” I shout, almost out of breath by the time I’ve reached the gate. “Wait up!”
As I open the gate, I hear Miller coming, hurdle-jumping the fence. “Where are you going? Where’s Shane?”
We both stop at Lauren’s side. That’s when I know something terrible happened.
Tears roll down her plush little cheeks, red like the middle of a dartboard.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” I ask, kneeling down next to her, clenching her shoulders.
“Where’s your brother?” Miller demands. But he isn’t angry anymore, his voice is too tight.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Daddy. I don’t...”
I can hardly stand to look at him. I’ve never seen anyone go completely pale, his face twisting like someone just stabbed him between the shoulder blades.
Miller looks up, scanning the horizon, his eyes hollow.
He sucks a deep breath and turns his faded eyes to me.
“When was the last time you saw him?” he asks.
Now, I feel the knife, too. It’s a struggle to even speak, to hear him over the rushing sound of my pulse drumming in my ears.
I shake my head. “Half an hour ago, maybe. Around the time I ordered pizza. He was asking about lemonade, so...so I made him some and ordered pizza for supper. He went upstairs and then ran back outside. I thought he was with you but...”
He scans the area, then kneels down in front of Lauren. “Listen, baby girl. Do you know where he is? Any idea at all?”
She shakes her head, another sob tearing free from her lungs. “No, no, Daddy. I just don’t...I can’t...”
Miller clenches his jaw so hard I see his temples bulge. He tears his gaze away from her.
Trying to figure out where Shane could’ve gone, I ask Lauren, “Did he go hunting for more golf balls? Go to the clubhouse to sell them, maybe?”
She shakes her head furiously.
“Lauren,” Miller says. “You have to tell me what you know. Exactly what you remember.”
It’s clear he’s trying to hold in a temper, a fear, a fury the entire world should fear.
If anyone took Shane, they’re dead.
No question.
“H-he said he had a plan for us,” she answers, more tears falling from her eyes. “One that would make it so...so we wouldn’t have to leave here. That’s what he told me, Daddy.”
Miller turns his head slowly so she won’t see the curse he mouths. Fuck.
It’s like his inner agony takes over his face, this silent poison oozing out of him. I close my eyes, blinking back tears.
“Wh-hat kind of plan?” I stammer, still desperate to help, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders.
“For making money. He said if we made enough, we could just give it to the bad guys so they’d stop chasing us,” Lauren says, her sad eyes huge in the moonlight. “So then we wouldn’t have to leave. We could just stay here with you and Daddy and May.”
“Bad guys? Oh, honey, no. Don’t ever worry about them. We’ve got you.”
Do we? My stomach spasms as I fold her into a hug, glaring at Miller.
His expression looks like pure anger and shock had a bastard lovechild.
I hate how I can’t think of anything better to comfort her. But my very presence seems to help.
I want to say children don’t have to be told. Some things they can figure out on their own. And as mad as I am, I’m also scared for Shane, for Lauren, for Miller, for myself.
Whatever this is, it’s horrifying to see a grown man with a heart of steel scared for his son’s life.
I can tell that’s what’s going on behind his thousand-yard stare, and frankly, it scares the crap out of me.
Until now, I hadn’t thought something like this would happen. A sudden threat, a kidnapping.
There’s no question Miller loves his kids. For him to have involved them in something, in this, it has to be bad. Really freaking bad.
“We have to find Shane,” he growls finally, turning. “Have to go now.”
He gets a head start, then we run to the front door behind him, into the house, and then into the garage. I usher a sobbing Lauren into the back seat while Miller climbs in Pearl’s driver’s side and starts the car. He doesn’t ask permission, and I don’t care.
He just shifts into reverse the instant the garage door opens, but he doesn’t back out. For a second, his eyes are glued to the rear-view mirror, brow furrowed.
I’m afraid to even look. I can’t hear what he’s saying as he looks at me, my heart beating so fast I swear I’m about to pass right out.
But he moves like lightning, slams the car into park, and throws open the door.
Miller surges out of the car and runs.
12
Truth or Dare (Miller)
The emotions tearing through me as I see Shane running up the street with plastic bags swinging in each hand are so conflicted, I have no fucking clue which one to act on.
I’ve never been so thankful to see my son in my life. At the same time, I’ve never been so pissed at his behavior. And I’ve never been as scared shitless as I was thirty seconds ago.
Thinking I’d never see him again nearly brought me crashing to my knees.
Nearly fucking broke me.
I race out of the garage and meet Shane in the road. My first reaction is to grab him, hug him, press him to my chest so hard I might not ever let go.
Bu
t eventually, I do. Thanking every god and power in this universe he’s safe, he’s alive, and I’ve got a second chance to keep him in one piece.
Then I set my boy back on the ground and tell myself to stay calm. To listen. “Where have you been?”
He bites down on his bottom lip. He knows he’s done wrong before he even sees the look in my eyes.
“Shane.” Still fighting to contain everything bleeding out of me, I say, “Don’t lie to me, son.”
“I just...I wanted to buy some lemons,” he says quietly, scraping his shoe on the ground. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
I grind my back teeth together. “Lemons?”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. At that gas station mini-mart place up the street.”
My eyes go to the bright-yellow citrus swinging in his hand. He’s got a whole big bunch of them, probably twenty or thirty bucks worth of lemons in two bags.
“Why?”
A soft hand falls on my shoulder.
Gwen kneels down beside me and gives Shane a quick hug before saying, “The pizza’s getting cold, guys. We’d better go inside and talk.”
Pizza? Who the fuck cares if it’s cold?
I could’ve lost my son over a goddamn lemon run.
My mind snaps then. It’s not about pizza, I realize.
It’s about where we are.
She’s too smart. From what J.T. said, our location might be compromised. Gwen figured out why I was so on edge even before Shane vanished.
I just move. Pick up my son, lemons and all, and though I haven’t carried him in ages, bring him into the garage.
Gingersnap hits the button to close the garage door, and then we all walk into the house. Lauren is there, waiting in the kitchen, face in her hands, crying.
I’ve never regretted this shit with Mederva more than I do now.
Seeing my kids like this guts me.
I set Shane down and keep an arm around him, pulling my daughter into a hug.
These two are life.
If anything ever happens to them, if anything gets them due to me, I’ll – my throat constricts. I close my eyes against the painful, broken glass sting in my eyes.
“Miller...why don’t we all sit down while the pizza warms up?” Gwen whispers.
I release the kids.
