Love Lies Bleeding (16 page)

“Yes—”

“I’m looking forward to it, Fritz,” Jackson continued as he opened the cabin door and motioned them both inside.

“But, Jackson—”

He cut her off as he placed the sacks on the kitchen table. “It will be good for us, Samantha. It’s been too long since we’ve done anything
fun
.” He looked over his shoulder at Fritz. “It seems that Fritz and I share a love of music. In fact, he knew my mother.”

“Small world,” Sam muttered, surprised at the mention of his mother. Usually it was a topic he avoided.

“Yes, it is,” Fritz said, hearing Sam’s remark. “In fact, Dr. Van Horn—”

“Please, it’s Jackson,” Jackson said with another glance at Fritz.

“
Jackson’s
mother sponsored a couple of my more talented students while they were trying to get their musical careers started.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw a faint blush spread over Jackson’s face.

“That must’ve been during the time I was living with my father,” he said quickly.

Fritz, noticing the other man’s discomfort, abruptly changed the subject. “Do you play?”

“A little . . . the piano—and only for my own enjoyment,” Jackson replied.

Fritz laid a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you join me and a few other musicians for one of our Sunday jam sessions?”

“I don’t—” Jackson began with a shake of his head.

“It’s strictly amateur,” Fritz said, cutting off Jackson’s objection. “And only for fun.”

“Okay—well, maybe some weekend, I will.”

Sam shot a look at Anne. Although it appeared that she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, Sam noticed her lips were tightly shut, as if she were fighting the urge to speak out. Sam would love to know what she was thinking. Did she approve of this sudden camaraderie between Jackson and Fritz? Sam had figured out that Anne had a bone to pick with Fritz over his involvement in her son’s life. Maybe that was it? Or maybe Anne resented Jackson strolling in and usurping her position as boss-in-charge?

Sam gave a mental shrug. Either way, it didn’t make a difference. She was still the pawn.

Suddenly Jackson stopped unpacking groceries as his attention traveled to her paintings, now propped up in a corner of the living room.

Striding over, he picked one up. “Where did these come from?”

A heavy silence filled the room. Sam looked first at Fritz and then at Anne. It was as if they were both holding their breath, waiting for her to fly off the handle.

“Dan sent them,” she said smoothly, and arched an eyebrow. “Dan’s redecorated my office, and Dad was planning to donate them to charity. Know anything about that?”

Jackson flushed, letting Sam know her question had hit the mark. “I’m sure it would’ve been to a good cause,” he answered defensively. He picked up the other painting and started down the hallway. “Since there isn’t any place to hang these, why don’t we put them in the closet, out of sight,” he said, opening the hall closet and stuffing them inside.

Sam looked at Fritz and Anne again. Anne’s mouth was so tight, her lips had disappeared.

“Are you looking forward to Fritz’s party tomorrow night?” Anne asked as they walked down the gravel path.

Jackson, needing to contact his office, had stayed back at the cabin instead of joining them. And all Sam felt was relief.

“What do you think?” Sam asked snidely.

“Not so much,” Anne replied, “but it might do you good.”

“I’m not going.”

“Dr. Van Horn wants to go.”

“Fine. He can go without me.”

“How are you going to get out of it?”

Sam chortled. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty good at getting out of stuff if I really try.”

“I
have
noticed,” Anne replied with a grin, “but I still think it would be good if you at least tried.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll take you shopping tomorrow. There are a couple of shops in Pardo that will have something suitable.”

Sam shuddered. First shopping for groceries, now clothes. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on. It won’t kill you.”

Sam stole a glance her way. “Will you be there?”

Anne gave a snort. “Not likely. In case you haven’t noticed—I’m one of the hired help around here. I don’t get invitations to parties.”

“Well, I’m not going in any case,” Sam said stubbornly, then stopped. “Fritz has never mentioned it, but is there a Mrs. Thorpe?”

“Nope. He’s never been married.” Anne kicked a pebble with the toe of her shoe and sent it flying down the road.

Sam resumed walking. “Girlfriend?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Anne replied, falling in step with Sam.

“As charming as Fritz is, one would think he’d have someone special in his life.”

Anne stopped short and placed a hand on her hip. “Why all the questions about Fritz?”

“I don’t know—habit I guess. I’m accustomed to knowing the details.” Sam shrugged. “I’ve always had a closed circle of friends—people I’ve known since childhood.”

“Okay,” Anne relented, “according to the story, he had an unhappy love affair.”

“Really?” Sam’s thoughts focused on Fritz’s stories about Blanche. “Anyone from around here?”

“I don’t know—if someone mentioned a name, it didn’t stick.” She shook her head. “I’ve got enough going on in my own life without spending time speculating on the lives of others and wondering about what happened in their pasts.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me that this cabin has a notorious reputation?”

Anne fluttered a hand. “Nothing more than a lot of old rumors.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“No. Are you?”

Sam stopped walking and thought about it. Yes, she was, she realized with surprise. For so long, her repertoire of emotions had consisted of apathy, fear, anger, self-pity, and panic—there hadn’t been anything else.

“Yeah, I am. I’d like to know if Blanche was as wicked as Fritz suggested.”

Anne shot her a stern look. “Fritz told you about Irene Brighton and how she reacts whenever anyone mentions Blanche. You’ve got to know that she isn’t the only one. People around here still pale at the mention of Blanche’s name. I wouldn’t go around—”

The chirping of her cell phone interrupted her. Taking it out of her pocket, she flipped it open. “Yeah, Caleb.” She listened to his response. “Right now?” She paused, her lips curving into a frown. “Can’t you stay?”

After hearing what Caleb said, she snapped the phone shut. “Damn. The repairman’s here to fix my washer. I’ve been waiting on him for two weeks, and he had to choose this morning to show up.” She looked back toward Sam’s cabin then down the road in the other direction. “I just live a short distance down that trail,” she said as she gestured toward a path leading off the left. “It will only take a few minutes to explain what’s wrong with the washer.” Pointing to a log lying off to the left of the road, she took Sam’s arm and began to lead her toward it. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll be right back?”

Sam jerked her arm away. “No. You know how I feel about being outside. Let’s walk back to the cabin.”

Anne shoved her hands in her pockets. “Caleb has to leave for his summer job, and I don’t have time to walk you back to the cabin. If I don’t go now, the repairman will leave and it will be another two weeks before my washer’s fixed. Do you know what it’s like having a teenage boy, and no washer?”

The thought of Anne abandoning her terrified Sam. She’d be alone, out in the open. “I’ll walk back by myself.”

“No, not after the fall you took a couple of days ago. Come on,” Anne said, tugging at Sam’s arm again and leading her toward the log. “I’ll be right back.”

Realizing it was pointless to argue, Sam let out a long sigh and eased herself down on the log. She’d wait until Anne was out of sight and walk back to the cabin. Satisfied that her charge was settled, Anne spun on her heel and took off at a run down the path.

Sam watched with envy as Anne’s long legs covered the distance. Would she ever be able to move like that again?

She had begun counting to ten when a sound in the brush startled her. Her attention flew to the nearest pine, and she let out a shaky breath as she watched a squirrel scamper up the tree. He disappeared from sight, and silence fell around her. She glanced over her shoulder while a chill crept up her bare arms as though she felt someone watching her.

Alarmed, Sam decided she’d waited long enough. Pushing to her feet, she took a faltering step in the direction of her cabin.

The howl of an animal in pain suddenly split the silence.

Turning, she hurried as fast as she could toward the sound. As she rounded the bend, she saw two teenage boys—a blond and a redhead—standing by Greg Clemons’s fence, laughing and focused on what lay on the other side of the fence.

Craning her neck, she peered around them, but didn’t see anything.

The red-haired boy nudged the blond with his shoulder as he nonchalantly tossed a small rock in the air. Stopping, he grasped the rock and, cocking his arm, hurled it over the fence to a spot in the corner.

“Missed,” the blond called out.

The redhead lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug and bent to pick up another rock. As he did, Sam noticed Roxy cowering in a corner of the fenced-in area.

The dog had scooted as close to the fence as possible. Her pink tongue lolled out of her mouth as she panted, her thin ribs moving like a bellows. Terrified brown eyes met Sam’s across the distance.

The boy cocked his arm again.

“No!” The word tore out of Sam’s mouth before she could stop it.

Both boys whirled around and two pairs of eyes watched her with speculation. She felt her own breath suddenly come in rapid gasps.
Teenagers . . . one holding a rock . . .

Roxy howled again, drawing their attention away from Sam.

Now,
said a voice in her head,
get away while you can. Go get Jackson.

The redhead laughed and drew back for the pitch. Sensing his intent, Roxy ducked her head and whimpered, waiting for another rock to strike her.

She didn’t have time to hobble back to the cabin. These boys were torturing the dog, and if a rock hit her the wrong way, she could die before Sam returned with Jackson. Sam had no choice . . . she had to act.

“Drop the rock,” she called out, struggling to keep the fear out of her voice.

“Who the hell are you?” the blond boy asked.

“She’s the gimp living at the old Jones place,” replied the redhead sarcastically as he rolled the stone around in his hands.

Sam swallowed hard and took a step back. A triumphant smile lit the red-haired boy’s face.

No—don’t back down now; don’t let these two little jerks scare you.

Squaring her shoulders, Sam stepped forward. “I’m going to tell you one more time—drop it.”

The redhead cocked his head. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do if I don’t?”

“I’ll march—”

“Limp, don’t ya mean?” the redhead broke in, his lip curling.

“Doesn’t make a difference how I get back to my cabin,” Sam shot back, “but once I’m there, I’ll call the sheriff and report you.”

“Ooo, I’m scared.” The red-haired boy took a half step toward her, still rolling the rock around in his hand, as if he were testing its weight.

My God, he’s going to throw the rock at me!
Sam stumbled back.
“Run,”
cried part of her brain, but she couldn’t, not with her weak leg.

The redhead took another step closer and Sam inched away, her feet sliding on the loose gravel. A desperate bark from the other side of the fence stopped her cold.

Sam knew all about desperation.

Fighting to remember what it felt like to live without desperation, without fear, she pulled around her whatever shreds of courage she had left. She narrowed her eyes and glared at the teenagers. “I’ll also call Greg Clemons. He doesn’t strike me as the type who’d appreciate two punks throwing rocks at his dog.”

The blond’s face lost its grin. He grabbed his friend’s arm. “Come on, Teddy—”

“You dope,” the redhead exclaimed, shaking off the blond boy’s hand. “Now she knows my name.”

“The sheriff would’ve figured it out,” the blond muttered as he turned toward Sam. “Look, lady,” he pleaded, “don’t turn us in, okay? We didn’t hurt the dog—we only scared it.”

Teddy spun to face the blond. “You are
such
a pussy. Even if she does call the sheriff and Greg, they’re not going to do anything to us,” he scoffed.

The blond scuffed the toe of his dirty tennis shoe across the gravel. “Maybe your folks won’t, but mine will. And if Greg talks to my dad . . .” His voice trailed off as he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his frayed cutoffs. “He’s already told me that if I get into trouble one more time—”

He was interrupted by the door of the cabin slamming open. Greg Clemons stood, framed in the opening with his hands on his hips as he sized up the situation.

The boys froze.

“You little shits,” he yelled, spying the rock in Teddy’s hand. With two long strides, he was off the porch and headed toward the boys.

Teddy dropped the rock and, without a glance toward his friend, took off at a dead run into the woods. The blond sprinted with just as much speed in the opposite direction.

Greg caught Sam as her knees buckled.

Chapter Fourteen

A
nne jogged down the trail leading back to where she’d left Sam. The discussion with the plumber had taken longer than she’d expected, and she had a feeling Sam had freaked out while she was gone. She rounded the bend and stopped. There was the log, but no Sam.

Terrific. Now what did she do? Go back to the cabin? What if Sam hadn’t gone back there? She’d have to admit to Jackson—who, after this morning, she confirmed, was a direct pipeline to Daddy Dearest—that she’d lost Sam. She was beginning to think all the remarks Sam had made about her family were true. Dr. Van Horn had appeared so charming during her interview with him, but as he nattered on with Fritz he’d come across as a first-class asshole. He hadn’t even acknowledged the courage it took for Sam to brave going to the grocery store. All he seemed to care about was her new haircut. Brushing a stray hair out of her face, she scanned the road. It was empty. She was getting canned for sure. She had to find Sam.