Hard Silence (11 page)

The women were still talking as they walked off, leaving Jeff to follow behind and wonder how a two-week visit had become the whole summer.

“This is Cassidy. She’s staying with Jeff, and she needs a job.”

Jeff heard the rushed explanation, saw Lex’s widening smile, and then Abby...sitting next to Lex. His arm was stretched behind her along the back of the upholstered bench. She knotted her napkin around her fingers while she managed pleasantries.

Her dark eyes settled on him. “Hello.”

Jeff nodded a greeting then turned to his sister. “Let’s get a table. The hostess is waiting.”

He walked away without making sure his sister was following, barely aware of the muted conversation behind him. The hostess showed him to a corner booth and out of habit he took the seat against the wall. It gave him a full view of the room, including Lex’s table. Jeff fought the urge to switch sides.

“Lex seems like a good guy, and he’s kinda cute in a serious sort of way. It might be fun to—”

“I don’t think you should work for him. If you’re already talking about his looks, it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“So I can only work for old, ugly guys? That’s going to seriously hinder my employment chances.” She looked over her shoulder. “Is he married to Abby?”

“No.”

“Are they an item?”

“It’s none of my business,” Jeff growled. He looked up from the menu in time to see Abby staring at Cass. Lex touched her hand, stealing her attention.

Once they’d ordered, Jeff faced his sister. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Stop staring.”

“I will if you will,” she said.

“I’m not.”

“How many times has he touched her?” she asked.

Five. That one there makes six.
“I’m not paying attention.”

Cass tossed her napkin at him. “Liar.”

Their food arrived, and they ate in silence. He hoped the subject was dead. He should have known better.

“Have you gone out with her?”

“None of your business.”

“You
have
,” she teased. “So why is she sitting with Dr. Do Me?”

Jeff sipped his tea. “I swung too hard.”

Cassie’s eyes widened. “You
like
her.”

Across the room, Abby snatched up the check. It wasn’t a date. And she hadn’t smiled at all. She certainly hadn’t laughed. That shouldn’t relieve him, but it did. “I blew it.”

He shouldn’t want to run to the door and open it for her. And it shouldn’t make him happy that Lex
didn’t
do it.

“I think this was a business meeting,” Cass offered. “They were sitting like that so they could both see the computer and the photos were of him working.”

“She’s probably designing his website,” Jeff said as he paid their bill.

They got to the car. Lex drove past them, alone. Abby backed her SUV onto the street and went in the opposite direction, toward home.

“Do you want a tour of town?” Jeff asked, trying to remember his responsibilities.

“I want you to catch her,” Cass urged. “Get in. Get in.”

Using all his surveillance skills, Jeff kept a respectable distance as he tailed his neighbor home. As they passed her driveway, he slowed to a crawl and watched as she drove up her driveway in the dark.
Why would she turn off her headlights to go home?

“Tell her you’re sorry,” Cass said as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Fix this.”

Once they were home, she went upstairs to her room, carrying the paper with her. Jeff went to his office. After adding the two new victims to his wall, he printed what little information he’d been sent. It was a grim pattern—filthy bones, tattered clothes, ragged holes. Two more large men hidden away for years, waiting on fate to expose them.

He sat back in his chair and stared at his notes and then turned toward his computer, intent on working. Instead, he stopped in midspin and stared at the photograph of the tree, silvery in the fog, hanging where it could remind him of the beauty in the world.

Abby.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her wide, wild stare from the other side of her front door. She’d been terrified. Not of him, but she had very definitely pushed him away.

Why? And how did he fix it?

He should apologize. Whether her panic was his fault or not, they’d had a lousy date. He’d caused that by general lack of planning and time-management. Showing up on her doorstep unannounced risked compounding the disaster. Besides, he was leaving tomorrow.

Flowers. He pulled his computer into his lap and searched for the only florist in Fiddler. Of course it had a website, and of course Abby had designed it. Roses—maybe they would break the ice and they could start over when he got back.

Until she panicked again. And she would if he couldn’t figure out why.

Jeff stared at the vacant spot on his wall and then at the roll of butcher paper leaning in the corner. It would be easy to diagram, all he had to do was—

Geez, Crandall, get a grip. She’s a bad first date, not a criminal.

Still, he taped the brown paper to the wall and got a marker.

What did he know? Deceased father, absent mother, animal lover, teetotaling, vegetarian, intelligent, rescuer, creative, selective mute, reader, photographer, OCD. She’d lived in Tacoma before she’d moved here.

What did he guess? Hyperthymesia and agoraphobia.

Relationships. He snorted and shook his head. Everyone in town, but the closest were Maggie, Charlene and Tiffany. Faye. Carter and Lex. The Romanellis.

He taped her note at the top of the chart.
This was a mistake. I’m sorry. Please leave me alone.

Bullshit.

* * *

Remains Found. The remains of Ron Thomas, a missing Atwell man, have been found near Temple Cave in Dismal Falls.

Wallis skimmed the remainder of the article to make sure her name wasn’t mentioned. Once she reached the end, she deleted the alert, closed the browser, and leaned back into the desk chair, careful to keep her back straight and her shoulders square. One hand curved around the glassy, smooth mug. It was lipstick-red lacquer, and coffee heated the surface as the scent of Irish cream tickled her nose. The other set of fingers tightened around the chair’s buttery leather arm. Hale had custom ordered it for her last birthday.

Damn that bitch.
Wallis tightened her grip on the mug as she ground her teeth together.
She’s been an obstacle since the day she was born.

The crash of pottery brought her husband from his office. “Are you all right? Stay there, you’ll cut yourselft. I’ll get a towel and a dustpan.”

She kept her feet curled away from the mess on the floor and stared at the top of her doting husband’s sandy-blond head. His hair was thinning, and she wasn’t sure she cared.

“I’m sorry, Hale. I must’ve put it too close to the edge of the desk.”

Ruined red shards clanked together in the dustpan. “It must have had a flaw in it, given the way it shattered.” He looked up with a smile and ran a gentle thumb along her chin. “We’re lucky it didn’t cut your pretty face. I’ll have a talk with the artist. She should have tested it better.”

“You take such good care of me,” she purred.

“Let me finish work and we can go for a drive and watch the sun come up.”

He dumped the ruined mug and towel into the trash and returned to his office. Sure she was alone, Wallis unwound her feet from the base of the chair. Her beatific smile dissolved as she drummed her fingers on the desk.

The sharp tapping reminded her she was hitting her nails rather than the pads of her fingers, and she angled her hand until the noise was heavier. Tapping her nails ruined her polish. She’d had enough of ruined nail polish in her life—manicures cracked by washing dishes or bathing children, or ruined by digging in the garden. She hadn’t done those things in decades, and she was proud of it.

She knotted her delicate hand into a hard fist and struck the table, careful to keep it quiet enough Hale wouldn’t hear. First Beau and now Ron.
That
was no coincidence, was it? But then they’d found Abe, too, and
she
didn’t know anything about him. After all these years, maybe it was time for the earth to vomit a few of her secrets. As long as they didn’t tie everyone to her, she’d be fine. Maybe it was a coincidence.

Maybe.

Chapter Nine

Abby squinted in the sunshine and propped her foot on the bottom rail of the fence surrounding her paddock. As she watched George and Hemingway in the pasture, sweat trickled down her spine, soaking her shirt, and her shoulders ached from mucking out the stables and the barn. Behind her, Jane’s bell clanged as the cow grazed in the grass that made her milk so sweet.

It had taken two days to realize Wallis hadn’t been in Romanelli’s, that she wasn’t coming to wreak havoc and revenge. Slowly the color and sound had returned to Abby’s world, and the fear had faded. In its wake had come a renewed commitment to her original goal...and a profound embarrassment.

She sneaked a glance at the house on the hill. Jeff had pushed his way into her life and made her warm, made her laugh—made her talk. And moved himself from the last spot on her List to the middle, behind Toby, Faye, Maggie and Gray.

And when she’d been unable to face him, he’d met someone else. Cassidy. Even though she knew it was for the best, Abby couldn’t stop the disappointment.

She heard the engine before she saw the car. Shading her eyes with one hand, she frowned as the bright yellow van crept into view. Why on earth was the florist coming here? The delivery guy must be lost again.

She shook her head. Despite having lived in Fiddler his entire life, the kid still got turned around outside the city limits. It drove his grandmother nuts.

He stopped in the yard and emerged with a vase of roses, their deep red dark even in the sunshine. Someone was getting pretty flowers once the driver got his bearings.

“Hi, Abby,” he said as he thrust the bouquet at her. “It’s about time someone sent you these.”

Me?
She balanced the gift in one hand while she used the other to search her pockets for a tip. She didn’t have anything. “Come up to the house.”

“No need. I’m glad to come out here for something other than directions.” He waved as he left. “Have a great afternoon.”

The flowers’ musky sweet scent filled her nose and clung to the air as she carried them into the house and sat them on the table. The sunlight through the window caught the facets in the vase and cast rainbows across the cabinets. They were beautiful. The weariness left her muscles and she felt her face soften and her lips curve into a smile. No wonder women loved getting these. She felt more feminine just having them in the house.

The card was a stark white square atop the mounds of soft red curves. Abby pulled it from the stand and looked down at Toby, who was staring at their present while his tail thumped on the floor. Even he seemed happy with the surprise.

The message was simple.
I’m sorry. Jeff.

She stared at the words, and then the gift. “I can’t accept these, Toby. It wasn’t his fault, and keeping them will bring him back over the river.” She put the card back into its plastic pitchfork. Even that was too much evidence to have lying around.

Without giving herself a chance to regret it, she picked up the flowers and stomped down the stairs and across her paddock toward the river. Holding the vase tight, she hopped from rock to rock and inhaled, memorizing the scent and the heavy glass in her hand. Toby and Tug scampered up the hill in front of her and wormed their way under the fence.

“Down.” She whispered the command. Toby obeyed, but Tug was far too young to understand. She momentarily regretted bringing him home at all, then pushed it aside. It would crush Evan if someone adopted
his
dog while he was living at Mrs. Perry’s. She scooped the puppy into one hand and talked to Toby. “Stay. We’re going to have to make a quick escape.”

Standing on the edge of the yard, she eyed the house like it was haunted. “I can do this. It’s the right thing to do.” She took one last look at the roses and acknowledged the unfairness of this whole thing.

Wrestling with Tug, she pushed herself forward and rehearsed her speech.
Thank you, but I can’t keep them. Please don’t ask.

Her foot was on the bottom step when the back door opened and Cassidy walked out. She was in a dress, and her dark hair gleamed in the sunlight. Her makeup was flawless and, even though Abby couldn’t smell anything other than roses, she’d bet Carter’s paycheck that the woman didn’t smell like horseshit.

“Abby?” the girl said, her smile wide. “It’s nice to see you. Are you looking for Jeff? He had to leave town this morning. Poor guy. His plane left early, and he really didn’t want to go.”

He wasn’t sorry about their botched date. He was sorry he’d tried at all. Abby bobbled the vase as she surrendered it, but managed to keep hold of both it and the puppy. “I can’t keep these.”

“But—”

“I. Can’t.” Abby persisted, shoving the flowers forward. “Please.”

Cassidy wrapped her hands around the vase, and her manicured nails stood out next to Abby’s dirty ones. God, this couldn’t get any worse. Once her hands were free, she stepped back into the yard and kept hold of the squirming puppy.

Don’t stand here like a moron. Leave.
She spun on her heel.

“Hang on a minute. Abby?” Cassidy called after her. Abby broke into a sprint, only to fumble with the gate. It gave the other woman a chance to catch up. “Abby, wait. He should’ve—”

He should’ve left me alone, stayed on his porch, and not held my hand. He should’ve gone somewhere else to work. He should’ve been ugly and mean with no sense of humor.
Abby swiped a tear away as she yanked on the latch. Relief flooded her as the gate swung free and, with a snap of her fingers, she called Toby to her. “I have chores to do,” she called over her shoulder as she escaped into the open field.

Once home, she stashed Tug in his kennel and she and Toby went to the house. It still smelled like roses. She had to get out of here.

In the shower, she stood under the hot spray and used the sweetest-smelling soap she owned, until mounds of suds covered her feet and her skin stung and her cuticles ached. Once out, she wiped the fog from the mirror and attacked her hair, drying it by sections until it was sleek and straight, and then put on makeup the way Maggie had taught her.

She picked her blue dress, the prettiest thing she owned, and walked under a cloud of perfume. She changed her truck keys for the SUV keys. Farmers drove trucks. Women drove their SUVs to volunteer at the Humane Society. And she was a woman, dammit.

Before she left, she broke her own rule and opened all the windows in the house. Maybe by the time she came home, the place wouldn’t smell like silly romantic dreams.

* * *

They arrived at the animal shelter, and Toby trotted down the hall to her office and his waiting dog bed.

“Wait ’til you see what we got today,” Bridget Simpson gushed, a wide smile on her face.

“Is it an. Elephant?” Abby joked. Of all her volunteers, Bridget was the most fun to watch with the animals.

“Almost as good,” Bridget teased back before looking her up and down. “You look pretty today. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I was starting to worry.”

Abby shooed her toward the kennels. “Thank you. I’m fine. Show me our new pet.”

Bridget kept walking and talking, shouting over the din that always marked their arrival. “I was hoping I’d be here when you saw her. Abby, she’s just beautiful. I can’t believe anyone would get rid of her. I mean, I never see them in shelters, just on rescue pages and I—”

They’d stopped in front of Tug’s old kennel. Curled in the back, quiet and graceful even in her fright and confusion, was a fawn greyhound.

Blood rushed through Abby’s veins, and her heart stuttered before it raced away, taking her breath with it. She lost the rest of Bridget’s conversation, and the yipping madhouse of the kennel faded, as she reeled back in time until she was an eight-year-old in Wheeling, West Virginia.

At first glance, she’d loved the dog track in Wheeling with the beautiful and graceful hounds chasing the mechanical rabbit. Then she’d seen how the dogs were treated behind the scenes, what happened when they were too spent to run. She started spending her days at the kennels with the trainers, walking the dogs, stroking their lean muscles, comforting them as she could. It had kept her out of Wallis’s way.

Then Walter Pine had married Wallis and they’d moved to North Carolina.

Walt—her second stepdad and the least attentive. He’d been a nice guy, but completely wrapped up in his wife, which meant Wallis had been happy. While Abby had missed the dog track, she’d enjoyed being left to her own devices, and she’d been able to go to school. Then she’d met Connie Dempsey, her first real friend.

Boone, North Carolina, would have been a good home. But she’d opened her mouth.

A chill crept across her skin, and Abby fought it back. Gritting her teeth, she kept the story from escaping and focused on the greyhound in front of her and on Bridget’s ramblings.

You can do this. Don’t fall apart again. There’s no reason to be afraid. Wallis isn’t here. She doesn’t know. No one knows. Breathe, Abby. Breathe.

“You’re right, Bridget. She’s. Beautiful. Has Lex seen her?”

“Not yet. We have an appointment with him tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Abby forced a smile and pretended her knees weren’t shaking under her dress. “I’m going to my office.”

Keeping her steps soft, but her strides long, Abby hurried to the other end of the building and closed the door.

Connie and Walt. The anniversary of their deaths was later this week. Of all the letters she wrote, theirs was the most difficult. It would have been easiest to write the truth:
Walter Pine did not kill his stepdaughter. I’m his stepdaughter, and I’m very much alive. Check the little girl’s grave. Please give the Dempsey family peace
.

But she couldn’t do that. It would cause a huge stir, and Wallis would know
.
She couldn’t even leave hints about the bodies. Walt was buried. As far as she knew, the bullet that had killed him was rattling around his coffin. So she could only say part of the truth:
Walt Pine was not a killer or a child molester, nor did he commit suicide. Please reopen the case.

But no one ever listened. As far as they were concerned, the case was solved and a monster had taken himself off the streets. They didn’t know anything about monsters.

Connie. Every time Abby thought about her friend, her heart squeezed tight. Connie had seen a real monster in her life. It had been the last memory in her young brain, and she must have been so afraid. Connie should have gone to fourth grade. She should’ve learned her multiplication tables, been on the swim team, gotten her drivers’ license, and gone to prom. She should have grown up, gotten married, and had kids. She should be begging Abby to come home for their high school reunion. Instead, her age-progressed portrait was plastered all over North Carolina in case a miracle occurred.

No matter how many lost stepfathers Abby uncovered, she’d never be able to make up for her little redheaded friend. Evan Gaines reminded her so much of Connie.

Her phone rang, and she smiled as she recognized the number. “Hello, Celia.”

“Hi. I need to move our meeting tomorrow.”

“Is everything okay?”

“No. I’ve just gotten off the phone with Evan Gaines’s grandparents and they can’t take him.”

“Why can’t he stay at Mrs. Perry’s?”

“He was supposed to be a temporary placement. She specializes in challenging kids, and the state needs her to take one more. Since Evan’s not a disciplinary problem, we have to find him a new spot.”

It was wrong to punish a little boy for being good, to keep him in limbo when all he wanted was a home and people who cared about him. That’s all she’d ever wanted, and she had it. Could she offer him the same?

“What about me? Could I foster him?” Abby faced her computer and did a Google search for Child Protection Services and foster parenting applications. “I have the forms right here.”

“Umm, you can try. You’ll have to meet with CPS and have a site visit.”

Her printer was already whirring. “I’ll get everything turned in as quickly as possible.”

As the morning faded into afternoon, Toby slept in the corner while Abby researched, gathered information and completed forms. The pile of printed documents grew larger and larger, and her stomach sank lower and lower.

The minute she opened her mouth, they’d deny her application. Who gave an eight-year-old to a woman who couldn’t talk? She needed an attorney. And she only knew one. She dialed the phone.

“Hi, Maggie. Can I talk to Gray?”

While she waited on him to pick up, her mouth shaped into a smile. She had a new goal. One that had nothing to do with death or fear. This was about life and hope for a little boy. About her ability to do something good for someone while they could benefit from it rather than after the fact.

She couldn’t save herself, but maybe she could save Evan.