Mariah chuckled, CJ shook his head, but Greg just looked at Carrie, really looked at her with those piercing, green eyes. He didn’t retract his hand. If anything, he squeezed Carrie’s a little, making her heart jump. There was a hardness to his expression, a new determination, but it wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t even aimed at her.
He motioned to his grandma and said in a voice she’d never be able to hear, “Let’s take ‘em down. Let’s take ‘em all down.” Then he smiled. A true, genuine smile.
Finally.
Carrie felt the tension leave her muscles. “Okay.”
* * * * *
“There you are, Simmons.”
Oliver jerked up, pulse pumping. He dropped the sheets of paper behind his leg. “Sir?”
Chief Dario gave him a strange look. “Why are you behind the counter?”
“I’m…filing some reports?” Oliver hadn’t meant to say it like a question. He was a horrible liar, but he kept going like an idiot. “I was doing research on a neighborhood in my new area. I…wanted to see the last time it had residents.”
“Have Ashlee pull the report for you—assuming you can find her.” The patrol chief looked around. “Where did she go anyway?”
The bathroom. Exactly two minutes ago. She usually primped for five. Oliver’s time was ticking.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll ask her when she comes back. Thanks.”
“Oh, by the way,” Chief Dario said, “I’m giving you Jamansky’s office. Dump anything you don’t want.”
Jamansky. The guy Oliver had ratted out.
He nodded quickly.
“And I’m assigning Portman and Bushing as your new partners.”
Oliver went still. “Both? I thought I was getting a new recruit.” Someone he could mold. Portman and Bushing were young—too young to be in uniform—but they’d already been trained, informed, corrupted. Plus, there were two of them.
Two!
“With things escalating in Chicago,” the chief said, “I received word that Central Office won’t be replacing Jamansky and Nielsen, so we have to make do with what we already have. That means that you get Portman and Bushing starting today.”
“Today?” Oliver squeaked. “Sir, wouldn’t it be easier for me to keep working on my own?”
The chief of the Kane County Unit eyed him. “Why don’t you want a partner, Simmons?”
No one had ever asked him before. Oliver knew he wasn’t well liked. If it wasn’t for his late father, an old sheriff, he wouldn’t have scored the government position after the Collapse. He’d assumed he’d never been given a partner because no one would shed a tear if he disappeared in some sweep gone bad. With this promotion, apparently he was no longer expendable.
“I just know we’re short on officers right now,” Oliver said. “I-I-I’ll be fine alone. Plus, the three of us would have double the territory but only one car. We’d have to work all hours of the day just to cover it.”
“And I care because…?”
“Because we’ll make mistakes,” Oliver said, thinking fast. “Maybe you could give me the dogs instead.” Jamansky’s dogs were waiting for a new trainer anyway, and the dogs couldn’t give away Oliver’s secrets.
“No. It’s a done deal. Portman and Bushing are young and naive. I expect you to whip them into shape.”
With that, Chief Dario walked out of the front office. Oliver should have chased him down and argued further, but he had a bigger task at hand. He checked over his shoulder, saw the bathroom door still shut, and shuffled through the files.
Woodland Drive. Woodland Drive. Where is it?
“What are you doing?” Ashlee said.
Oliver jumped, knocking over a plant. He scrambled to set the plant upright, but it was a fake. No damage done. Carrie would never tolerate a fake plant.
“What is it with you men going where they don’t belong today?” Ashlee opened the counter and clomped into the desk area, heels snapping on the tile. Her blonde hair was freshly combed, her red lipstick freshly obnoxious.
“Sorry,” Oliver said, shutting the cabinet. “I found what I need.” He hadn’t, but he couldn’t risk her finding out what he was doing.
She folded her arms. “I was in the bathroom two lousy minutes. You couldn’t have waited?”
It was five, and no.
Heading into the common area, he shoved the papers into his back pocket. Unfortunately, Ashlee wasn’t done ranting. She’d been a beast to work with ever since David Jamansky’s arrest. If she knew the arrest was Oliver’s fault, she would have clawed his eyes out.
“Paperwork is my job, Officer Simmons,” she said. “Next time let me do it, or Mayor Phillips will think I’m useless and have me canned.”
She was useless. Still, he acted penitent. “Sorry.”
Oliver ran out into the rain to his car, knowing he’d only accomplished one of three goals—and he’d waited half an hour for the chance to do it. Maybe he would have to pull the fire alarm. Either that or drug Ashlee, because one way or another, he had to get that file.
six
CARRIE COULDN’T BELIEVE HOW seriously Greg took cards, like it was another project he needed to tackle. With each new card, he rubbed his clean-shaven jaw as if he held the fate of the world in his hands. They lost the first game ten to three, but halfway through the second, he changed strategies.
“You can’t trump Carrie’s card,” May said.
“Isn’t Carrie’s strategy to win?” Greg asked.
“Of course, but…”
“And we’re partners, so any points I take she gets, right?”
“Yes, but it’s rude,” his grandma said pointedly.
Rude was pushing it, but Carrie had an amazing hand—assuming Greg didn’t switch suits. Still, she kept quiet. In spite of May’s permission, she and Greg were fiercely obeying the “no table talk” rule. Of course, they’d been obeying that before the game had ever started.
“She’ll forgive me,” Greg said, and then he stole the trick from Carrie. His own partner. She reminded herself that the goal was to win, and after another few hands, May and CJ were losing for the first time all day.
As they played, Carrie kept catching herself stealing glances at Greg. He really was beautiful to look at—Amber’s word, not hers. The angles of his jaw. The thick brows, so full of expression. She didn’t even know she was an eyebrow admirer, but Greg’s dark eyebrows defined his face. His brown hair had dried to a messy thatch that somehow looked stylish. It had grown out some since she cut it, but it was still shorter than other men’s in the clan who had reverted to medieval-length hair. Would he ask her to cut his hair again? Back then, she couldn’t get him to leave her alone. Now?
Worry less. Love more, she told herself.
But then he played the jack of diamonds, trumping her card. Again.
She huffed.
His eyes lifted, giving a questioning look as if to ask what was wrong. You tell me, she wanted to say back. One minute he was her best friend, the next, he had vanished. Heck, he had no problem avoiding her even as she sat two feet away. She needed his advice right now, needed to know how to handle things with Oliver, Sasha, and everything else, but he was acting as distant as the others.
His thick brows lowered, truly concerned that something was bothering her. So she talked herself off the cliff. Something was off with Greg, but in all fairness, something was off with her, too. Had been since Jenna’s death. She’d never felt so unsteady.
Or paranoid.
She offered him a tiny smile which seemed to appease him.
However, it wasn’t until the next round that she realized that he was actually staring through his cards and not at them. The longer it went, the deeper the worry lines creased his tan forehead. Something was bothering him.
Maybe he wasn’t the lousy best friend.
Maybe she was.
The next time he glanced up, she tried to communicate like he had. What’s wrong?
As he stared at her, she s
aw more worry. If his grandparents hadn’t been there, she would have asked him what had happened in town, but then he slipped out a card and stole the next trick.
May threw down her cards. “CJ and I have been partners long enough. It’s time for a change. I say we do ladies against the men.”
Carrie looked up, shocked that May’s competitive side could outweigh her matchmaking desires.
“Nice try, Grandma,” Greg said. “We’re not changing partners.”
A burst of pride shot through Carrie—pathetic as it was—that he wanted to keep her.
“But…” his grandma started to protest.
Greg looked at her. “Scared?”
She harrumphed. Those two were so similar it was scary.
“Speaking of partners, Carrie,” CJ said as he dealt the next hand, “have you told Greg about Oliver yet?”
She froze. No. CJ knew she hadn’t.
“What about Oliver?” Greg said.
What happened to CJ breaking the news for her? Things were strained enough between her and Greg. Either CJ was unable to remember his earlier offer, or he was content to throw her under the bus.
“Carrie?” Greg said pointedly. “What about Oliver?”
Sighing, she told him about Oliver getting a new partner and everything that might entail, including full-time guards—or thirty-four people moving back into his grandparents’ house. Greg muttered something about his day just getting better and better, but he never blamed her which was a relief.
“Havin’ a partner is unacceptable,” Greg said. “Oliver’s gotta get out of it.”
“I don’t think he has a choice,” she said. “It’s not like he can tell them what to do.”
“Well, somebody has to! They think they own everything and everybody.” He slammed a fist on the table. “Somebody has to stand up to them!”
Every eye went to him, including his mom who startled awake at his outburst. Carrie was about ready to drag him from the room and ask what happened, but he immediately backed down.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just meant that if Oliver stands up to his boss, he’ll back down. His boss is spineless.”
“Yes, but so is Oliver,” his grandma said.
Carrie whirled around. “May!”
“Well, he is,” she said unapologetically.
Sadly, Carrie couldn’t refute it. Oliver spent half their conversations apologizing. How would he stand up to the chief of patrols? But if he didn’t, they were stuck living like they had the first year when tempers flared and sicknesses took Carrie’s parents and so many others.
“Carrie wants to tell the clan at the meeting tonight,” CJ said.
“I’d rather she didn’t,” Greg said.
“Why?” Carrie asked in surprise. Greg always wanted to discuss things in his adult meetings. Out-in-the-open was his style, planning for every just-in-case situation.
It took a moment for him to answer, and when he did, he spoke each word with care.
“After all that’s happened, now is not the time for things to look strained with Oliver in any way.” His gaze lifted to her, and he lowered his voice. “The clan still hasn’t forgiven us for what happened, Carrie. If they find out about this, they never will.”
Jeff.
Jenna.
Her throat swelled.
Jeff had insisted that Carrie lead Oliver along for the safety of the clan, but she refused. Maybe if she hadn’t fallen for Greg instead, Jeff would have simmered down, but instead, he grew resentful and tried to return her couch, a symbol of him breaking ties. Carrie still couldn’t believe one stupid, ugly, ripped couch had caused so much grief—nor could she fathom why Jeff insisted his pregnant wife help him move it, especially when she had been suffering so much with illness. While the rest of the clan danced oblivious at Mariah and Richard’s wedding, Jenna fell, hit her head, and never opened her eyes again. Jeff went on a rampage, attacking CJ and nearly killing Carrie and Greg—plus Zach, who got in the way. Luckily Jeff’s rifle hadn’t been loaded, but some injuries went deeper than the skin.
Greg stared at Carrie.
The clan still hasn’t forgiven us.
Us.
The word tugged at her heart. She wasn’t the only one being shunned.
Before Jeff left to find his parents in North Dakota, he claimed Jenna’s death wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own, but that didn’t matter. People were blaming Carrie because she chose Greg.
And possibly…
…because Greg chose her, too.
Maybe that’s why he’d been avoiding her. Not because he hated her, but because the more time they spent together, the worse it looked. Jenna was dead, Jeff was gone, and Oliver was getting a new partner.
She and Greg locked eyes across the table, each lost in a horrible past and a potentially worse future.
Greg broke away first. “This has to get settled quietly—and soon. I gotta head back into town on Monday to clear up some things. I’ll track Oliver down then and try to convince him to stand up to his boss.”
“Actually,” Carrie said, “Oliver’s coming here Monday.”
“Why?” Greg asked.
Only then did she realize her mistake. “He’s…uh…” She tucked a lock of hair behind her suddenly hot ear. “He’s taking me for a short drive. I guess some trees in town are blooming. He says they’re really pretty.”
It sounded so dumb. Especially as Greg’s eyes popped open.
“He what?”
“Is that safe?” CJ asked.
“No!” Greg said. “It’s not. What is he thinking? What are you thinking, leavin’ the neighborhood?”
She shrugged. “He’s getting me some temporary travel permits in case we’re—”
“With what card?” Greg shook his head. “No. You can’t go. It’s not safe. Please don’t go.”
“It’s just a quick drive, and I’ll be in his car the whole time,” she said. “He’s a senior officer now, so no one will bother us. I trust Oliver. He would never risk it—risk me.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Greg sat back, arms folded, cards long forgotten. “So, he’s takin’ you to see those trees.” The muscles in his jaw worked a moment before he finished. “How nice for y’all.”
“Zach and Amber are coming, too,” she said quickly. “Plus anyone else who wants to. May, you should come. You, too, Greg. Then you could talk to Oliver.”
“Oh, no,” Greg said. “I’d hate to disrupt your…view of the trees. I’ll talk to him after your little drive. Or maybe before, in case he’s occupied after.”
Was he jealous?
That was the only way to describe his dark expression. Greg was jealous of Oliver and their harmless drive that wasn’t even a date to see some inconsequential trees. Why? Any time she got close to Greg, he insisted they keep things at friendship. Half the time he threw her at Oliver anyway, hoping to get her citizenship she didn’t even want.
What right did he have to be jealous when he knew full well she’d chosen him? That, even with everything, she was still choosing him.
She wanted to shake him and say, What do you want from me?
A knock sounded on the front door. May couldn’t hear, CJ couldn’t walk, Mariah couldn’t sit up, and Greg was too busy scowling at Carrie to notice. Even though Carrie was the only non-Trenton there, she stood and crossed the room, happy to escape the tense moment.
She opened the door and saw Ron Marino holding his coat over his head to stay dry. He stepped inside and looked around.
“Are Zach and Tucker with you?” Ron asked, breathless.
“No,” Carrie said. “They went to your house after school to work on their slingshots. Why?”
Ron shook his head vigorously. “Tucker never came home. He said he was staying after school with Zach for the same reason, but I was just at your place, and they aren’t there. Are you sure they aren’t here?”
Carrie’s pulse leapt. “Yes. I haven’t seen either boy since school this
morning. They must have gone somewhere else. Maybe the Dixons?”
“No. I’ve checked everywhere. No one has seen them since school. I went to all the houses. They aren’t there. They aren’t here. I’ve checked the pond. I’ve even checked the abandoned homes.” Ron’s dripping face turned white. “I can’t find them, Carrie. Zach and Tucker are gone.”
Carrie stomach dropped. “No. They can’t be.”
Zach.
“How long ago did school end?” Greg asked, joining them at the door.
Carrie couldn’t breathe. With the storm, Zach and Tucker wouldn’t be trying their slingshots outside. And they weren’t allowed to explore beyond the neighborhood. No one was.
“Carrie?” Greg said. “How long ago?”
The room spun.
She grabbed the wall.
“I came here,” she whispered. “After school, I came to tell CJ about Oliver.” Then the rain started, and they’d been playing cards ever since. She pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. “At least three hours. More like four or five.”
Her worst fears screamed in her mind. The boys had been found. Arrested. Caught. She could see from the terror in Ron’s face that he thought it, too.
Zach was gone.
seven
GREG BLEW ON HIS numb hands to warm up. He’d been searching for Zach and Tucker long enough that the rain had stopped, but still no luck. The whole clan was out looking, scouring every house and wet yard. When those came up empty, they expanded the search to the old cornfields and woods beyond the subdivision.
Nothing.
Chris Marino, Tucker’s older brother, admitted that the boys wanted to test their slingshots on the other side of the pond. Greg headed that direction and beyond, winding down the trail where Terrell traded supplies on the black market. To no avail. The longer it went, the deeper the pit grew in Greg’s gut. If patrolmen had found the boys, there would be no getting them back. Ever.
Soaked and chilled, he headed back to report at his grandparents’ house. Carrie stood by the fireplace to warm up. She had just returned from searching, as her honey-colored braid hung low, wet like the rest of her. Amber stood next to her with red, swollen eyes.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 45
