Ropes and Revenge (5 page)

“You’re kidding.” A cautiously hopeful light flickered in Layla’s eyes. “You think I’m pregnant?”

“I’m sure of it,” Percy said, “but I’m so sorry to take the surprise away. Sometimes I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Layla said with a nervous laugh. “But now I’m going to have to hit the drugstore for a test as soon as I get off work.”

“You should.” Percy smiled. “Then you’ll have proof that I’m not a nut and can decide whether or not you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Layla turned her head, watching Percy out of the corner of her eyes as she slowly nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll do that.”

“See you in the morning.” Percy started up the stairs to her room, not overly concerned with Layla’s dubious look. When it came to things like this, Percy never doubted whether she was right or wrong. She only doubted whether she was right to show what she could do to the world.

Maybe if she hid her gift, she would fit in better, make friends more easily, maybe even find someone who would miss her when she was gone.

As she let herself into her room and started water for a bath, her thoughts kept drifting back to John Lawson. It was natural to grieve when you lost a loved one, but it sounded like John was trapped in the darkest part of his loss. Even if she’d never met him or seen the pain in his eyes, she would want to help him. She knew what it was like to be sunk so deep in a well of suffering you weren’t sure you would ever find your way out.

No person—living or dead—deserved to hurt like that.

Hopefully, her second trip to the ranch would reveal something that would give him peace, or at least start him on the road to a better quality of life. No matter how rude he’d been, she wanted that for him. For all his bluster, something about the man had touched her heart and made her even more determined to fully embrace life before her time ran out.

CHAPTER THREE

John

Saturday morning, John wrangled Peyton and Carter out of their pajamas and into their karate uniforms. He managed to convince Peyton to eat something healthy and Carter to turn off the cartoons long enough to practice his kata before class and arrived at the community center five minutes early to find a sign on the door saying that Sensei Stone was sick and class had been canceled.

In the old days, John would have fumed as he drove the kids back home. Then he would have spent at least a few minutes venting to Lily about how irritating it was that no one at the community center was capable of sending a damned text to let people know class was canceled before everyone wasted half their Saturday. But now, he was glad the class had been called off.

Now, he would be able to drop the kids at his mother’s house and have two whole hours to search the property before Laura Mae had to leave to teach her pottery class that afternoon.

After seven months of searching and coming up empty handed, John knew his mother thought he was crazy to keep walking over the same few acres of land over and over again, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something out there waiting to be found, a clue he’d missed all the other times he’d skidded down the side of the mountain where the trail had given way beneath Lily’s four-wheeler.

Besides, looking wasn’t hurting anyone.

Or at least that’s what he told himself as he sent the kids up the porch to Laura Mae’s house, ignoring the worried look in his mother’s eyes when she asked him if he wouldn’t rather come in and have a slice of fresh apple pie, instead.

“I’ll get a piece later,” he said, forcing a smile. “I appreciate pie more in the afternoon. Good excuse to have another cup of coffee.”

“All right then,” she said, shoulders drooping. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he said, already turning toward the equipment shed. Five minutes later, he was on a four-wheeler, zooming up the trail.

As a man who appreciated a slower pace of life, most days John preferred to ride Darcy out to the farther reaches of the property. But he was also a practical person. That’s why he’d started using four-wheelers to herd the cattle on the flat acreage a few years back. No matter how much a part of him wanted to cling to the old ranching methods he’d learned from his father, if the operation was going to stay profitable, the Lawsons had to change with the times.

It hadn’t been easy for him, but he’d let go of the past and moved on. He could do that when he had to, when it felt right.

Keep telling yourself that, John.

But when the first anniversary of her death rolls around in a few months and you’re still going out to hunt for things that aren’t there, you’re going to have to admit you’ve got a problem. A big problem and you’re probably halfway out of your fucking mind.

The thoughts were caustic, but they rang true. So true, he almost turned the vehicle around and headed back to his mother’s house to have pie with the boys. But then he saw the four-wheelers parked about a half-mile up the trail and curiosity got the better of him. It wasn’t unusual for Cole and Layla to take a ride around the property on the weekend, but those four-wheelers were parked at the exact spot where Lily had gone off the trail and John intended to find out why.

He had just pulled up behind the other dusty, red machines when he glanced to his left and his curiosity was satisfied.

Layla and Cole were sitting on an outcrop about halfway down the rugged walking trail leading into the valley. They faced the land below, watching a tall, pale silhouette cross the rocky ground toward the gnarled trees that lined the dry creek bed. Even from several football fields away, he could tell the woman was Persephone Styles. The red hair was a dead giveaway though she wasn’t moving as gracefully as she had the day before. Instead, she staggered across the valley, her arms held out in front of her like a sleepwalker.

Or a zombie. A beautiful zombie in a blue dress that looked like it had been woven from a piece of desert sky.

No matter how annoyed a part of him was to find her on his land again, he couldn’t help noticing how lovely she was or ignore the wave of concern that washed through him when she stumbled and fell before lurching unsteadily back to her feet. He didn’t know why Cole and Layla were just sitting there watching a woman who was obviously in some kind of distress, but he didn’t intend to follow their example.

He started down the trail, sending mini-avalanches of pebbles skittering ahead of him. This trail was too steep for even the most sure-footed horses and made for slow-going on foot, but it was the fastest way into the valley.

Still, it took him five minutes to get to where Layla and Cole were perched. By then, Persephone had disappeared into the trees.

“Hey, what’s up?” A guilty look flashed behind Cole’s pale green eyes. “I thought the boys had karate this morning.”

“So you thought it would be a good time to sneak around behind my back?” John asked, his voice hard though he wasn’t really angry. At least not as angry as he would have thought he’d be. He was actually glad to have the chance to apologize to the woman he’d treated so badly yesterday.

Assuming she hadn’t passed out from heat stroke by the time he got down the trail.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” Layla said, her fingers tangling nervously together. “Percy is staying at the hotel and asked for my help. I thought it couldn’t hurt to—”

“It’s not your fault,” Cole interrupted, putting an arm around Layla and hugging her closer to his side. “I supported bringing Percy out here. And that was before I had evidence that she’s the real deal.”

John scowled, dividing his attention between his family and the clutch of trees where Persephone had disappeared. “So you believe in ghosts now?”

“I don’t know,” Cole said defensively. “But I believe in her. She knows things, John. I don’t know how, but she’s legit and it seems like she just wants to help.” He shrugged, his gaze shifting back to the valley below. “I figured she couldn’t make things any worse.”

“Unless she gets heat stroke on our land and decides to sue when she ends up in the hospital,” John said. “Didn’t you see the way she was staggering around down there?”

“She said that might happen.” Layla looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with one pale hand. “She said sometimes she gets a little off-kilter, but that we shouldn’t worry because it’s a normal part of the process.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” John muttered before adding in a firmer tone, “and I’m not leaving her alone to take a fall and bleed to death from a head wound while you two explore your spooky sides.”

He started down the trail before he could say anything he’d regret later. No matter how strangely Cole and Layla were behaving, they were family, and they’d been there for him in so many ways since Lily died. No matter how anti-new-age-weirdness he was, he could agree to disagree with the people he cared about the most. And maybe agree to disagree with Percy Styles, assuming she really was simply trying to help.

“Come on, John,” Cole called after him. “I know this isn’t your thing, but give it a chance. You might be surprised.”

John didn’t reply or slow his pace down the trail. He wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing when a woman was clearly in trouble. He refused to let anyone else be hurt on this property, not on his watch.

It took another fifteen minutes to get down to the valley floor, but there was still no sign of Percy and no movement from the tangled trees crowded along the dry creek bed where, come spring, there would be a ribbon of muddy water rushing toward the river at the property’s far edge. John hit the flat ground at a jog, fear making his pulse leap and his hands ball into fists. Percy was a slim woman and he had no doubt he could carry her back up the trail if he had to, but if she was in serious trouble they might not make it back to civilization in time.

As he ran, he cursed himself for not grabbing his canteen and first aid kit from the four-wheeler’s saddlebag. He should have thought of that before he came roaring down the mountain with nothing but his hands to back him up.

He should have grabbed his gun too. Just in case.

As he pushed his way through the thick, gnarled branches, the cold, uneasy feeling that always found him when he was wandering this part of the property settled across his skin. It was a watched, cornered feeling, like an animal stuck in a trap, sensing the hunter closing in. It made no sense, but it was a sensation that had haunted this stretch of land since Lily died.

Haunted.
The word rattled around in his head in a different way now. He still wasn’t ready to believe in ghosts—certainly not to believe his wife was one. But when he finally caught a flash of blue and spotted Persephone kneeling on the ground, her eyes closed and her thin fingers probing the gnarled bark of the tree in front of her, he didn’t rush to her side.

He hesitated, curiosity outweighing his concern.

She didn’t look as disoriented as she had before, but her movements were still jerky and she didn’t seem to notice the sound of his footsteps rustling the dry fall leaves. She was entirely fixated on the bark, clawing at a chunk of mud stuck in one particularly deep crevice until it turned to powder beneath her fingers. As the dried earth began to give, she clawed faster, tearing one of her fingernails, sending blood spilling down the back of her hand.

John started forward again. He didn’t know what he’d do if she fought him, but he had to keep her from hurting herself. He was only a few yards away when she peeled a rectangular piece of paper from the dried mud.

A moment later her breath shuddered out and her eyes opened, her lashes fluttering as she fell backward. John broke into a run, but he was too far away to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Percy? Are you okay?” He dropped to his knees beside her, bringing his hand to her forehead, which was beaded with sweat despite the cool November day.

The moment his skin touched hers, an electrical shock surged through him, freezing his lungs. He suddenly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. He could only sit absolutely still as a cold deeper than anything he’d ever felt flooded through his veins. It was like a colony of bees made of ice were swarming beneath his skin, and for a moment, he swore he could hear someone else’s thoughts in his head, speaking a language he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t understand what the voice was saying, but he could feel the anger in the words, rage vibrating every harshly hissed syllable. A sense of urgency hummed through his cells in response, making his pulse race faster and faster.

His heart was hammering in his chest and his lungs screaming for oxygen when suddenly, as swiftly as they had come, the cold and the voice were gone.

John sucked in a ragged breath, feeling like he’d barely broken the surface of whatever had happened in time.

“You felt it,” Percy whispered. “Didn’t you?”

John looked down to find her watching him with her jade green eyes. He pulled his hand from her forehead, but he couldn’t think of how to respond. His mind was still buzzing with shock and his tongue felt fat and useless.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, pushing up to sit cross-legged in the leaves.

John forced himself to swallow past the strange, smoky taste filling his mouth. “What was that?”

“A witness,” she said, lifting the card she held. “Someone who wanted us to find this.” She turned the card over in her dust-covered hand, examining the front and back before passing it over to him.