I nod, but I’ve already made up my mind not to see or talk to him more than I have to. As much as I want to tell myself it was only sex, there is nothing simple about Ford. A clean break is best, for both of us.
“I’d say you can call me if you run into any trouble, but trouble seems to find you and I probably shouldn’t jinx it,” he says.
When my smile threatens to wobble, I give him one last, long squeeze, then turn so he can’t see how hard it is for me to walk away.
He waits on the sidewalk by his front door as I carefully buckle myself into my car and back out of his driveway. As I pull away, he lifts a hand and I reply in kind, but the whole way home I have to wonder if I’m making some sort of colossal mistake. Not the sex, like I thought it was, but walking away.
Chapter Fourteen
Ford
Three days later and I still can’t get Peyton out of my skull. I’d like to think that’s why, as I drive away from my latest doctor’s appointment, I can’t seem to shake my splitting headache. I grumble as I navigate through traffic with Lexie, who Mercy neglected to mention needed a babysitter while she was off doing God knows what.
“Do you always cuss like that?”
I grit my teeth to keep from doing exactly that. “Like what?”
Lexie repeats some of my choicer words and I scowl. I’m such a great influence. It’s easy to forget she’s not one of the guys when I’m relaxed. I haven’t had much experience around kids, but even I know foul language is probably a no-no. “Don’t let your momma hear you talking like that.”
“She wouldn’t care,” Lexie says, and crosses her arms over her chest. “She doesn’t care about anything but her boyfriends. She wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared.”
Dear God, save me from teenage girls. And clueless sisters. Sometimes I miss the desert where my problems were actual minefields, instead of the metaphorical female kind. “You know she would. And if that doesn’t matter to you, I’m here, I would.”
Lexie snorts. “Yeah, right.”
My head twinges and I regret not taking my doctor up on those pain meds he said were a dream for Traumatic Brain Injuries. It hasn’t even been five minutes since the appointment and I’m already feeling tense. “What? You don’t think I care about you?”
“C’mon, Uncle Ford, we barely see each other and even when we do, you act like you can’t wait to leave,” she says with her forehead pressed against the truck window.
“Look, kid, just because I’m not the talkative type doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. You’re family. All I know is if your mother or grandmother heard you swearin’ up a storm like that, they’ll have my hide. So, do me a favor and give me a break for once, please? If not, put me out of my misery already.”
I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes at me.
“What happened to you?” she asks. “Why do you have to go to the doctor.”
I groan mentally. “I got hurt,” I say, missing the days when she had been a baby and the most noise she made was cooing or crying.
“How?”
Glancing over at her, I ruffle her hair and she squeals. “You know you ask a lot of questions?”
“You know you don’t answer a lot of questions?” she shoots back.
The smirk I’d been wearing falls and I scowl. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Guess it runs in the family.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. “You’re just like your mom, I swear to God.”
“She says I’m just like you.” She smiles, but she doesn’t let up. “So, what happened to you?”
I’ve long since gotten used to that question. “My unit was attacked last year. You’ve seen how the war is over there.”
Her face grows serious. “Like on TV?”
“Sort of. Well anyway, the bad guys were shooting at my unit. They shot an explosive at our convoy and it knocked me around a little. Hurt like hell and my head hasn’t been the same since.”
“You hurt your brain?” she repeats, her voice going higher at the end. “How come I didn’t know about this? Are you okay?”
“You’re regretting giving me such a hard time now, aren’t you?”
“Not a chance,” she says, smiling. Then she repeats, “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m gonna be fine, kid. It’s not like I haven’t been hurt before.”
“You’ve been shot at more than once?” she squeals, and I realize maybe I should have kept that little piece of information to myself.
So there goes the whole ride home. Not that I mind, really. It keeps me from being inside my own head too much. And Lexie isn’t all that bad. In fact, she’s a pretty good kid when she isn’t being a brat, which isn’t often. I guess if I’d been raised with a mother like Mercy, I’d be a brat, too. She and I are gonna have to have a long talk someday. This poor girl doesn’t deserve to be shoved off on any willing family member so her mom can gallivant around with every available douchebag.
In fact, I think as I pull back up to the lodge, that’s the first thing I’m gonna do before I check in with Nell. The lodge can wait. I glance over at Lexie who, I’ll be damned, does look a little like me if I squint just right. Mercy has a lot of shaping up to do.
“You go inside and head to the main kitchen and snag something to eat for lunch. I’m gonna go find your mom and have a little chat.”
Lexie pauses before opening her door, her eyes wide. “You aren’t gonna tell her I cussed are you?”
I laugh. “No, honey, I won’t tell her, I promise. Now go on.”
The furor from the police search has died down and operations have gotten back to normal. I’m grateful as I stride through the front door that we haven’t had anyone questioning about what happened. If I’m ever going to finish the upstairs renovations, so I can release the rooms I’m using for myself to be booked, then I’ve got to keep booking percentages high. Even though I believe Peyton about what happened, part of me hopes the woman is never found for my own selfish reasons.
Nell looks up from the front desk. “Welcome back,” she says.
“Everything good?”
“Quiet as a church,” she replies.
“Have you seen my sister?” I ask.
“Not a peep. She must be busy.”
Oh, I’ll bet she is, I think as I head to my rooms. I can only hope she hasn’t snuck in whatever loser she’s currently seeing. But the living room is empty when I open the door.
“Mercy?” I call out. God knows, I don’t want to find her twisted up somewhere half naked with some dude going at her. I’d rather dig my eyes out with a spoon. “Mercedes!”
She isn’t in her room or the bathroom either. I curse and dig out my phone. She answers on the third ring.
“I was just about to call you,” Mercy shouts over roaring wind.
“Where are you?” A motorcycle revs through the line, and I have to count to three to keep from shouting. My headache kicks up a notch as foreboding causes my stomach to clamp down around the sandwich I’d had for lunch. “Mercy, where the fuck are you?”
“Don’t be mad,” she says.
“You only say that when you’ve done some shit that you know is gonna make me mad. Now, your daughter is worried that you don’t care about her. You’re not here, and I want you to tell me where you are.”
Murmured conversation sounds over the phone line, and I pace back and forth through the living room to keep from going off on her.
The revving motorcycle quiets, followed by static, and then Mercy saying, “I’m with a new friend of mine, we’re goin’ out of town for a couple days. I need you to watch Lexie for me, but don’t worry, she’s a good kid and she can take care of herself. Since that whole thing with the woman on the boat is over with, she’ll be safe there with you. I promise it’ll only be a couple days, a week at the most.” I’ve been through a lot, but my mind goes perfectly blank at the thought of taking care of a teenage girl by myself for
an entire week. At a loss for words, I can only rub at my eyes as Mercy continues, “She goes to school online, so all you have to do is make sure she does her assignments on time, and don’t let her watch too much TV.”
“You can’t seriously be leaving her here with me to run off with some guy,” I say very quietly, very calmly into the phone.
“C’mon, Ford, don’t be a wet blanket. It’s only for a couple of days and she can practically take care of herself. Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you when I’m heading back that way!”
She disconnects the call before I can say anything else.
“Uncle Ford? Is something wrong?”
I turn to the entryway and find Lexie standing there with two plates full of stuffed bell peppers and rice. She’d gotten me a plate and I hadn’t even asked for it. For some reason, the gesture touches me. I put my phone back into my pocket and help her with the plate. She takes the seat next to me at the little counter bar.
“No, everything’s fine. Thanks for bringing me a plate, kiddo, I’m starving. It smells good.”
Lexie nods, her face solemn. “Was that Mom on the phone?”
The flavorful rice turns to chalk in my mouth. “Yeah, sweetheart, it was.”
She sighs. “What did she say?”
Damn you, Mercy. “I told her to take off for a couple days and stay out of our hair. She’s been driving me crazy, and I figured she hasn’t been much better with you.” The lies roll off my tongue with practiced ease. The poor kid thought her mom didn’t want her. I couldn’t let her know Mercy’d left without a second thought.
Lexie brightens a little. “You did?”
At her reaction, I know I made the right choice. “Well, you’re the one who says we barely know each other. This will give us the perfect opportunity.” I nearly choke on the words, and for some reason Peyton comes to mind. For someone who didn’t want shit to do with anyone, I’m putting down those roots left and right for all the females who won’t leave well enough alone.
“Are you sure, Uncle Ford? Maybe we should call her and tell her to come back.”
I get to my feet and get us both Cokes from the mini fridge. “Now I’m insulted. I thought you’d like getting free run of the place.”
“You mean I can do whatever I want?” she asks with a squeal.
“I didn’t say that, but yes, if you can show me you’re responsible with your schoolwork and help out around here if I need you to, I don’t see why you won’t be allowed certain freedoms.” The words come so naturally they surprise me.
She rolls her eyes about the schoolwork, but seems pleased with the rest. “Do you think I can go hiking around the lake by myself?”
I think of the woman on the boat with a stirring of unease. “We’ll see. I’ll have to teach you some basic safety measures before you’re allowed to go anywhere by yourself, but I’ll consider it.”
Lexie stuffs her face with a healthy forkful. “Cool,” she says around the bite.
“Now eat. Then I’ll give you a tour of the grounds and teach you how to pull your weight.” I barely keep from wincing at the tone in my voice. I remember my father saying something damn near identical to me when I was younger.
Fuckin’ Mercy.
The whole reason I wanted the lodge was because it’s smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. I was supposed to live the rest of my days in relative peace and solitude. Instead I’ve got a nosy receptionist, a feisty niece, a hairbrained sister, and a bombshell blonde all working together to make sure I never have another moment’s peace.
One week, I remind myself. One week and then they’ll all be out of my hair and everything will go back to normal.
Chapter Fifteen
Peyton
The weekend brings with it new tourists, families with children eager to make messes, wives with bottles of wine and cheery friends, and church socials with lots of laughter. The bustle keeps me so busy, I barely have time to think about the woman on the boat, let alone get back to the lake for another look. Whenever I think I have a moment to spare, Alice calls me back with another task.
Maybe after tonight’s Art and W(h)ine event, I’ll be able to sneak off to Bear Lake and give it a quick walk-around. No one has seen anything in the days since I left the lodge, but it’s still cold out. There aren’t that many people eager to brave the chill in the air for the views.
“Tourists prefer to see the views from the comfort of their toasty rooms,” Alice says, walking over to the table to help clean up after a party of five.
“I’m sorry?”
“You were talking to yourself. About the weather, I think.”
I blush as I wipe down the tables. “I’m sorry.”
Alice grins and wipes her hands on an already paint-streaked apron. “Don’t worry about it. We’re all a little crazy.”
Pausing, I wipe my hand across my forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I guess you’ve probably heard what happened.”
“There were rumors. I’ve heard you witnessed a murder!” She said it in that small-town way where people don’t want to be interested in something horrendous, but clearly are.
“Sometimes it feels like a nightmare instead of reality.”
“They also said your parents were killed and you were there. That must make it awful hard for you to go through something like this again.”
She isn’t wrong. “I understand if you don’t need more drama here. I promise I’ll do my job and won’t bring any trouble.”
“You don’t have to apologize to anyone, least of all me. I’ve never seen anything like that and I wouldn’t begin to know how you’re feeling. The best medicine is to keep yourself busy.”
“Well, you’ve certainly been helping with that,” I tell her, smiling to take the edge off the remark.
“You’ve been a wonderful help. We’ve only got the last party today and then I’ll let you go for the afternoon. You deserve a break after all the hard work you’ve been doing.”
I stow away the paints on the cart. “You don’t have to do that. I’m grateful for the work.”
Alice makes a sound in her throat. “Don’t go contradicting me now. Get this cleaned up and the party room prepped, then you can clock out. I know you’ve got some work to do at your house anyway.”
She isn’t wrong. In exchange for a break on the rent, Alice is allowing me to fix up the place piece by piece. A coat of paint here, some cleaning there. I don’t mind the extra work because she was right, it did keep me busy. You can’t worry if you don’t have time to stop long enough to do it.
“Thank you, Alice, you can’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“No need to thank me. Don’t forget to take out the trash.”
An hour later, I pull up the drive to the little house Alice has graciously rented out to me. I know I won’t be able to get out to the lake before dark. Not when my feet are screaming, and my eyes are so gritty I can barely see straight. For such a small town, Alice’s little shop is sure doing brisk business.
I heft my purse onto my shoulder with a can of mace in one hand and the keys to the house in the other. I leave the porch light on all day and night, just in case, and the halo of yellow light comforts me as I ascend the steps.
My heart tumbles to my feet, and my stomach jerks like it’s been hooked by a fisherman when the door to the house comes open as smooth as silk at a brush from my hand. Frozen in place, I try to remember my steps from that morning. I could have sworn I locked it. It’s not like me to leave without triple-checking the locks, and then once more for good measure. My ears strain at the crack in the door to listen.
I don’t know whether I should turn and run or dig in my purse for my phone. The fact that I should know better brings frustrated tears to my eyes. When my fingers can move, I go for my phone first as quietly as possible. I key in 9-1-1, just in case, then push open the door with my foot. The resulting squeal from the hinges sends spiders crawling up and down my spine. My thumb trembles over the sen
d button.
The house is such that I can see straight through to the back door, with an open kitchen and living room area. The two small bedrooms and bath are off to my right, the doors open and the interiors beyond bright and sunny with afternoon light. I take a careful step forward and flip on the hallway and living room lights.
I don’t know if I should be relieved there are no sinister shadows or even more worried. Had I really forgotten to double-check the locks? Was I that distracted? I carry my phone and the can of mace through every room, my heart still thundering in my chest, even when I confirm the house is empty save for me.
After I lock and bolt the door, check all the windows, and do the same to the back door, I then go through all my things. It’s a precaution, probably a useless one, but I won’t be able to settle until I’ve looked at everything and then looked at it again.
When I finish the living room, kitchen, and bathroom, I cancel the call to the police, and go to my room. It’s the larger of the two, if you’re being generous and manages to fit a full-sized bed with a night stand and skinny dresser. Because of the frantic schedule at work, I haven’t had the chance to unpack yet, so I go to the closet where I’ve stowed my suitcase.
I nearly crash into the floor when my feet go out from under me. I manage to catch myself on the doorframe, knocking my wrists and bruising my knuckles in the process. Once I’m steady, I carefully get to my feet and pull the cord for the closet light.
For a moment, I think I’m seeing things because I’m so tired, and my nerves are shot from the adrenaline of finding the door open. But after opening and closing my eyes, the scene in front of me doesn’t change.
Water drips from my suitcase and onto the floor in a puddle that had caused me to slip on the worn linoleum. My lungs convulse for oxygen as I reach out a tentative hand for the zipper. I’m half-expecting to find the body of the woman inside, broken and crumpled to fit. Instead, when I unzip, a wet ball of clothes tumbles from the interior and lands at my feet in a soggy plop.
Traitor (Last to Leave Book 1) Page 10
