The Demon Trappers: Foretold (24 page)

‘OK.’ What else could she say?

‘I’ll take you to the bus after the funeral. Jackson will pick you up at the station.’

Clearly this had all been planned without her input.

‘Some reason you’re so eager to get rid of me?’ she asked, her feelings stinging a little.

‘Got things to do and things to think about. Can’t do them if yer here,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk once I get back to Atlanta.’

Talk?
She was hoping for a whole lot more than that. ‘What’s this about?’

‘Not yer concern,’ he said testily.

Now her feelings were really hurt.

‘Whatever, Backwoods Boy,’ she said, and retreated to her room for the night.

The day of her father’s funeral Beck had cooked her breakfast and driven her to the cemetery. In all ways he’d been respectful of her loss. It was Riley’s
turn to show Beck that same respect. She made sure his truck was clean, inside and out, which took over an hour because of all that fine fingerprinting dust. She pressed his dress shirt, tidied his
suit and polished his shoes. He never said a word as they drove to the cemetery, but she knew he’d noticed it all.

The graveyard was small, but there was a fair number of people gathered near the funeral tent. Given Sadelia Beck’s reputation, most of the attendees were just being nosy. Fortunately,
Deputy Martin was screening the mourners, keeping the majority of the press away.

Thank you
, she mouthed as they drove by him, and he nodded in return.

Once she’d parked the truck, her eyes homed in on Justine Armando talking to one of the townspeople.

Beck followed her gaze. ‘I told Justine she was welcome to come to the funeral if she wanted,’ he said, swinging open his door. ‘Don’t read anythin’ into that,
OK?’

‘I won’t.’

While the reporter was dressed in all navy, with a stylish hat, Riley was in
the dress
, as she’d come to think of it, the one she’d worn to both her parents’ funerals
and to all the services for the dead trappers. If worth could be calculated in sorrow, this garment would priceless.

Once Beck had climbed out of the truck, cane in hand, Riley joined him. His face was tight, his emotions under considerable restraint.

‘We’ll get through this together,’ she said quietly. It was exactly what he’d said to her before her father’s funeral. He nodded, but gave no reply.

Donovan stood near the coffin under the blue tent. He was in a suit, not his uniform, and the similarities between him and Beck were more noticeable now. When they stood next to each other,
their height was about the same, though Beck’s hair was sandier than the sheriff’s and he had broader shoulders. The funeral director they’d brought in to handle the services
stood next to Donovan, a thin man with a pinched face.

‘Denver,’ Donovan said solemnly.

‘Tom. Thanks for comin’,’ Beck replied, and they shook hands. He turned his attention to the undertaker. ‘Thank you for steppin’ in and gettin’
everythin’ ready, Mr Bishop.’

‘It was the least I could do given the unfortunate circumstances,’ the man replied.

The pleasantries over, Beck chose one of the chairs near the front of the tent as other mourners filed in around them, including Sam and Louisa. Riley recognized some of the faces from the
diner, including a few of the old guys.

Though the preacher did his best to warn them about the dangers they faced if they didn’t keep their eyes on Heaven, Riley lowered her eyes to the twin inscriptions on her palms, knowing
the man’s warnings were too late for her.

When the preacher had finished his sermon, he looked towards Beck expectantly. Puzzled, Riley watched as Sadie’s son took his position at the front of the coffin. Beck’s face was
pale and lined, the emotional strain almost too much to bear.

Why is he doing this to himself? He doesn’t owe his mother anything.

Beck shifted his weight uneasily. He knew everyone was watching him, but he had to sort out the battle inside his heart. His eyes moved to Riley and he felt a sense of calm
envelope him like a loving embrace. What was it about Paul’s daughter that made him feel like that?

She gave him a nod of encouragement, though she had no idea what he was about to do. Beck cleared his throat and made sure to look at the far end of the tent, over the faces of the mourners. In
particular, he avoided looking at the red-haired reporter.

‘The preacher said some fine words for Sadie. I need to say a few more.’ Another throat clearing. ‘Some of ya . . . you knew Sadie when she was younger. I’ve heard she
was a great deal of fun and had a sense of humour. By the time I showed up that was pretty much gone. Least ways I never saw it.’

His heart pounded inside his chest. Why was he up here? Why did he feel driven to do this?

‘The Sadie I knew wasn’t a good woman. She was mean as a snake and lived in a bottle. I don’t think she ever met a guy she’d turn down.’

A couple of old ladies gasped. Maybe he’d been too honest, but somehow he knew Sadie wouldn’t disagree.

‘By the time I was sixteen and had to leave town I’d seen so much of the bad that I didn’t think there was much better out there. I was sure I wasn’t worth a damn. Some
of you here tried to help me along and I’ll always think well of you for that.’ His eyes were on Donovan now.

‘The one thing that Sadie taught me was that I didn’t want to be her. I wasn’t gonna become someone who hated life so much that I’d destroy all the joy in it.’ His
eyes moved to Riley. ‘I was lucky – I met some good folks in Atlanta and they showed me a much better way.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘They taught me I
was
worth a damn and
that Sadie was the one who was missin’ out. So I guess what I’m sayin’ is that even if Sadelia Beck wasn’t a good person or even a good parent, she taught me more than she
ever realized.’

His legs began to shake: he tried to control them and failed. ‘So I thank you for comin’ here today. I doubt she’ll find peace where she’s headed. That wasn’t her
way, but at least we said a proper goodbye.’

Beck made it back to his seat, but not a moment too soon, his stomach roiling and sweat beading on his forehead.

Riley leaned over and whispered. ‘I never could have done that.’

‘I had to,’ he whispered back. ‘I’m leavin’ all of it behind, here in the dirt with her. I’m startin’ over from now on. Nothin’ is gonna hold me
back.’

Riley slid her hand into his and squeezed it. ‘God, you’re awesome, you know that?’

‘No, I’m just me.’
And for today that’s enough.

The preacher ended the service with another prayer, though he seemed rattled by Beck’s candid farewell. Mourners trailed by the open coffin and then stopped to speak to him and Riley, one
by one. Louisa dropped a kiss on his cheek. Then Justine was in front of him, her deep emerald eyes glistening with moisture.

‘Often the worst times of our lives are the ones that shape us the most,’ she said. ‘I am truly sorry for your loss, Beck.’

She didn’t kiss him, but touched his arm fondly, then departed after he murmured his thanks.

When it was only the two of them, Beck made his way to the coffin where he gazed down at the face of a woman who had given him life, and then made it a living hell.

Why couldn’t you have loved me? I was never that bad.

A sob lodged in his throat. ‘Rest in peace, Momma,’ he whispered, and then placed a kiss on her cold forehead.

I don’t know if I can ever forgive you, but that doesn’t keep me from lovin’ you.

After they’d changed clothes at the motel and Riley’s luggage was stowed in the truck, Beck gave her directions to Waycross and the bus station.

She bought her ticket and then returned to wait with him until the time came to board. This was his opportunity to show her how much had changed between them. If he hadn’t just buried his
mother, Riley would have expected a blazing kiss. At the least, she expected some acknowledgment that he felt the same as she did.

‘Thanks, for everythin’,’ he said. He took hold of her shoulders, gave them a squeeze and then placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Riley felt disappointment, then anger in rapid succession.

‘So that’s it?’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘After all that’s happened between us, that’s
it
?’

‘For now.’

Her mouth closed with a click of her teeth, her jealousy roaring again.

He seemed to know what she was thinking. ‘This isn’t about Justine or that angel. It’s me. I need some time to get things sorted out, get my head on straight. That’s why
I’m stayin’ down here until I do.’

‘There’s nothing to sort out, Beck,’ she replied. ‘It’s all been settled.’

‘Not in my mind. I can’t go forward until . . . I know some things.’

What was there to know? I love you. You care for me. Why make this hard?

‘OK, then when you finally get that head of yours straight, give me a call. Who knows, maybe I’ll answer the phone,’ she said, then whirled on her heels and marched towards the
bus. As she climbed the stairs, out of the corner of her eye she saw Beck staring at her. He wasn’t angry. If anything, he looked lost.

Riley slumped into her seat, feeling like a jerk for going all ugly on him. In an instant, she knew what had to be done. Rushing down the aisle, she nearly collided with the driver as he entered
the vehicle.

‘How soon do you leave?’ she asked.

‘Five minutes,’ the man said. ‘Don’t go too far.’

‘I won’t.’

Riley hurried down the stairs and then crossed the lot to where Beck was waiting.

‘What’s wrong?’ he said, straightening up.

‘You.’ Riley grabbed on to his collar, pulled him forward and kissed him with as much ferocity as she possessed. She put everything into that kiss, all her wild hopes, all her
dreams.

When it ended, Beck’s eyes were glowing with desire. He quickly took in a huge rush of air.

‘Damn, girl,’ he murmured.

Now that she had his attention . . .

Riley carefully tidied his collar and then looked deep into those deep brown eyes.

‘Remember, when we first came to town I told you to ask me if I felt any different about you when it was all over?’

He nodded warily. ‘Do you?”

‘Yes, I do. Get your head straight and come back to Atlanta. Come back to
me
. Because I’m not giving up on you. I can’t . . .’ Her voice broke from the emotions
careening inside her.

He has to know.

Riley carefully touched her forehead to his, like he had in the cemetery, her hands lightly caressing his forearms, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt.

‘I love you, Denver Beck,’ she whispered. ‘I have for a long time.’ Then she stepped back. ‘Now it’s your turn to decide if you love me.’

As Riley walked back to the bus, her heart hammered and her mind whirled.
Ohmigod.
She’d told him she loved him. There was no going back now. Either he felt the same about her, or
it’d all turn to ashes like it had with the others.

She climbed aboard with shaking legs, without looking back. In truth, she was too frightened to do so. It wasn’t until Riley returned to her seat that she looked out of the window.
Beck’s mouth had dropped open in shock. He blinked a few times and closed it.

When the bus pulled out, he was still there, watching her depart. He hadn’t taken off, not like she’d feared. Instead, he’d held his ground despite her actions.

Riley waved goodbye and he returned it along with a tentative smile.

Then she was on the road to Atlanta, leaving behind the man she loved more than life itself. Only time would tell if he felt the same about her.

The bucket of fried chicken sitting between them was mostly empty. The bottle of Jack Daniels was mostly full. That said a lot about the pair of them: Donovan wasn’t much
of a drinker and Beck was still too hungry to waste time sucking down booze when there was food at hand.

They sat on Sadie’s rickety back porch which overlooked a long stretch of open ground. In the distance a hawk soared above the field in hopes of a meal. Sadie had never cared for the porch
which is why Beck had spent countless childhood hours out here. He could dream that he was on a pirate ship or exploring some strange new country, anything to be away from the woman who despised
him.

To his right sat an old battered metal box, the one he’d had Donovan fish out of a heating vent where it’d been hidden from Sadie’s eyes. If she’d found it, she would
have tossed it in the trash. She’d always been that way when it came to anything he valued. Now his personal treasures would be going to Atlanta with him.

Sitting about fifteen feet in front of them was that damned couch, reeking of gasoline fumes, courtesy of a can of fuel. At Beck’s feet was a rolled-up newspaper and a box of matches. At
his request, the sheriff had already let the proper people know that a visit by the fire department was not going to be needed.

‘Some reason you’re going all Viking funeral on this piece of furniture?’ Donovan asked, his face crinkling in humour.

‘I hate the thing. When Sadie had been drinkin’, she’d come home and pass out on it. Usually she’d have some guy with her.’