Ropes and Revenge (6 page)

It was a business card, coated with a glossy covering that had allowed it to stay intact after being exposed to the elements. On one side, was a phone number written in ballpoint pen. On the other side, were the name, address, and office number of a freelance photographer, a name he recognized.

“Jesus,” he said, his head spinning. He’d been looking for evidence, but he hadn’t truly thought he’d find it. Deep down at the heart of him, he’d started to worry he’d never know exactly what had happened last spring.

But now hope washed through him, making him feel more alive than he had in months. And it was thanks to this woman beside him, the one he’d nearly kicked off his land because he was a narrow-minded asshole.

“I’m sorry.” He reached out to squeeze her narrow shoulder, fighting the strange urge to pull her into his arms and hug her. He was just so damned grateful. “I’m sorry I sent you away. I’m glad you came back.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said her gaze as soft and kind as it had been yesterday. “I’m just glad I could help. Do you know that person? Jenner Sloan?”

“I know of him,” John said, his jaw clenching as rage crept in behind the hope. “He and Lily used to date. Before we were together and for a few weeks while we were broken up, before we got engaged. But as far as I know, she hadn’t seen him in over a decade.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “There’s no way that is a decade old.”

“No, it isn’t.” John turned the card over again. “I wonder if Lily had it in her pocket when her four-wheeler went off the road.”

“I don’t know. The spirit wasn’t very communicative,” Persephone said. “But I got the sense that the card was related to a crime in some way and that the spirit wanted to see justice done.”

John paused, biting his lips as a hundred questions raced through his mind all at once.

In the end, he asked the only one that felt urgent. “That wasn’t Lily, was it? That…cold, angry thing?”

“No,” Percy said, glancing over his shoulder with a sigh. “That was someone much older, who has no interest in peace. I offered to help open a door to the other side, but it didn’t want to pass over.” She shook her head sadly. “Some people insist on holding onto rage, even long after everyone who has wronged them is dead and gone.”

John fought the urge to shiver as the hairs lifted at the back of his neck and that weird, watched feeling returned. “I can’t pretend I understand what you’re talking about, but I understand the rage part. If Jenner had something to do with Lily’s death…”

“We don’t know anything for sure.” Percy’s slim fingers covered his hand, but strangely, the touch was comforting. Since Lily died, John had stood stiff, enduring his mother’s hugs and his brothers’ pats on the back more than drawing strength from them. He knew his family meant well, but touch led to feeling, and feeling led to breaks in the walls that kept him from falling apart. If he was going to stay strong for the kids, he couldn’t afford to crack.

But Percy’s touch didn’t threaten to break him; it simply reminded him that he was human—warm, alive, and lucky enough to have choices to make.

“Promise me you’ll be careful as you move forward,” she continued. “I don’t want to be the reason an innocent man is hurt. I understand you don’t trust the police to treat this investigation with the respect it deserves, but remember that there could be a logical explanation why Lily had Jenner’s card.”

“A logical explanation,” John echoed.

“Maybe she was buying a photograph of his.” Percy crossed her arms over her thin chest. “Or maybe they were friends. Secretly.”

“Are you saying you think my wife was cheating on me?” The idea was so painful he couldn’t seem to keep control of his tongue. No sooner had the thought flashed through his head than it was leaping from his lips.

“No! Not at all,” Percy said, her pale cheeks flushing. “You just need to take time to look at this from every angle. And I— I can help. If you want. I’m obviously not a detective, but I do get hunches about things and a lot of the time they’re right.”

His first instinct was to say no, that he would figure this out on his own, but so far “on his own” had gotten him nowhere but blacklisted by Lily’s extended family for inferring her Cousin Bart might have arranged for Lily to have an accident so he wouldn’t have to share the inheritance when their wealthy grandmother died. Every time John thought about that phone call, his skin went hot with shame. It didn’t matter that Bart had done time for embezzling, had an ugly coke habit, and had only bothered to call Lily when he needed to borrow money. He was a loser, but he wasn’t a killer.

John hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d chased that rabbit down the hole and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep his head on his shoulders if he found even circumstantial evidence that Jenner had something to do with Lily’s death. Talking things over with someone who didn’t have a horse in this race might be a good idea.

And he had other things he’d like to ask Percy, too, things that he wasn’t comfortable asking so soon after having his first encounter with something so far outside the realm of what he’d believed to be possible.

“I would be grateful for your help,” he said. “Thank you.”

Percy smiled shyly. “Good. I’m glad. Maybe we could find a place to talk in town? Somewhere I could get something cool to drink?”

“I can’t get away right now, but would you be free tonight?” he asked. “Around six? You could come to my place so we could speak privately. I can take the kids to spend the night at my mom’s so we won’t have to worry about them overhearing something they shouldn’t.”

“Six sounds good,” she said, rising to her feet with a nod.

It sounded better than good, it sounded like rain after months of drought. Percy had given him the break he’d been praying for every night since Lily had passed, and as they crossed the valley back to the trail, he was surprised how comfortable he felt with her. He barely knew this woman, but he was looking forward to their meeting tonight more than he’d looked forward to anything in ages.

That should have scared him, he supposed, but he was too high on hope to let any negative emotions get in the way. He was finally getting somewhere, finally getting closer to finding out what had happened to his wife.

And to the person who deserved to pay for taking her away from him.

CHAPTER FOUR

Percy

Time and trial had taught Percy to trust her sixth sense. She often had hunches about things, and her hunches usually turned out to be right on the money.

She intuitively knew what stocks her investors should purchase for her portfolio, never traveled on days when the weather turned unexpectedly foul, and had pulled her car over to the shoulder seconds before a crash took place on the road in front of her more than once.

As she mounted the steps to John’s house that evening, she had a strong feeling that she was meant to help this man, and that she was going to be important to helping him get his life back on track. It was a premonition type of feeling, one she had often experienced and instinctively understood.

What she didn’t understand was why her heart stuttered every time she thought about how nice it had felt to touch John’s hand.

Percy had dated a handful of men and slept with three of them—perfectly decent affairs based on mutual enjoyment of each other if not love—but she had never in her life suffered from such an instant case of the flutters. True, John was gorgeous, with a powerful body, a face that would put a Michelangelo statue to shame, and murky blue eyes as intelligent as they were beautiful. But he was also a person in need and suffering from more than his fair share of pain.

Even if it weren’t embarrassing to be in the throes of her first crush at the ripe old age of thirty, the fact that John was clearly still grieving his wife would have made her ashamed of herself.

Pull it together, girl. You know better.

Wiping her damp palms on her slacks, she paused at the front door and took a deep, calming breath, determined to banish the fizziness from her blood before she knocked.

But before she could center herself, John opened the door, his handsome face breaking into an uncertain smile when his eyes met hers. “Hey. Sorry. I was watching for you from the living room window.”

“Oh.” She laughed nervously as she stepped inside. “Sorry to lurk. I was taking a moment.”

“You sound as nervous as I am,” he said, closing the door before shoving his hands into his jeans’ pockets.

“I just don’t want to let you down,” she said, fidgeting with her purse strap. “Why are you nervous? Did you find something in your internet search?”

John shook his head. “No, but I didn’t have much time to look. The boys kept me busy most of the afternoon.” He paused, his broad shoulders bunched beneath his gray long-sleeved tee shirt. “To be honest, I’m still not sure what to make of what happened this morning. I thought some time would help me sort out what I wanted to ask you, but I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of a ghost encounter, no matter how real it seemed.”

“Maybe you’re trying too hard.” She hung her bag on the coat tree just inside the door and resisted the urge to start fussing with the buttons on her shirt now that her purse strap was out of reach. “Sometimes, the harder I try to pin my thoughts down, the more they struggle.”

His shoulders relaxed away from his ears. “That’s kind of what I was thinking. So I was wondering if you might want to play some cards or something before we talk? Just…do something normal for a while?” He winced. “I mean, normal for boring people like me.”

Percy grinned. “You’re not boring. And I enjoy normal people’s normal. But you’ll have to teach me the rules. I am very skilled at forgetting the rules to every game I’ve ever played.”

“Not a problem,” he said with a laugh as he moved deeper into the house. “How about poker? We could play for pennies like I do with the boys.”

“Sounds good.” She followed him down a short hallway to a combination kitchen and dining room where a large oak dining table sat before a pair of French doors.

Outside, the autumn sun was setting, casting the large backyard in a warm orange glow. Bats and balls of all kinds littered the browning grass, and a trampoline encased with black netting sat not far from the house, giving testimony to the fact that this was a home where children were at play.

“You’ve got a great backyard,” she said, crossing to the doors. “I always wanted a trampoline when I was little. I drove my aunt half-crazy begging for one.”

“Every kid should have a trampoline.” John opened the wooden doors of an antique sideboard and pulled out a worn poker set.

“They should,” Percy agreed. “They look like so much fun.”

“What do you mean look like fun?” He set the game on the table and turned back to her with a frown. “Are you saying you’ve never jumped on a trampoline?”

Percy shook her head. “I lived on a houseboat with my parents, and after they died, I went to live in New York City with my great-aunt. She had a tiny apartment in the Village, so no room for a trampoline.” She laughed. “Though I did my best to convince her one would fit in our kitchen.”

“Well, that settles it,” John said, joining her by the door. “We’re not playing cards, we’re jumping.”

“Oh no, I can’t,” Percy protested as he reached past her to open the door, letting a puff of cool autumn breeze into the cozy house. “I’ll break my neck.”

“No, you won’t.” John took her hand and pulled her out the door, the feel of his warm palm surrounding hers sending tingles shooting up her arm. “If my six-year-old can do it, you’ll do just fine.”

“I’m not as rubbery as a six-year-old,” she said, cheeks heating as she followed John across the grass, grateful for the cool air. Hopefully, he would blame the chill for the pink spreading across her cheeks.

He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Sometimes I think kids
are
made of rubber. And thank God for it, or I’d be in the ER every other day. Peyton and Carter live to wrestle and push each other off of things.”

He stopped beside the trampoline, dropping her hand as he reached down to tug off his boots. Percy watched him, strangely mesmerized by the sight of his sock feet emerging from his shoes.

“It’s okay,” he said, winking when he caught her staring. “My feet don’t stink that bad.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” she said, her skin flushing hotter.

“So you’re worried about
your
stinky feet?” he said, grin widening. “Don’t be. I figured someone as pretty as you had to have something wrong with her. Wouldn’t be fair if you were gorgeous and had feet that smelled like rose petals, too.” He reached out, nudging her hip gently with his closed fist. “So get those shoes off your stinky feet and live a little, Spooky.”

Percy’s flushed cheeks caught fire. Not because no one had ever told her she was pretty—they had—but because no had ever made it sound like such an offhand compliment. Like something that didn’t matter all that much. She supposed some women might not appreciate that, but she did. She liked that John seemed more interested in convincing her to have fun than what she looked like.

She liked it so much that she ignored the anxiety swirling through her stomach, pulled off her slouchy brown boots, and followed him through the hole in the net and onto the trampoline.