What We Found (20 page)

He finally gave me a smile as we neared the resort. “There’s no need to look like that. I can understand what you did. I don’t like it because it’s dangerous for you. But I won’t tell you to stop, because that’s not my place, and because you need to do whatever it takes to deal with your feelings about this.”

I could only stare at him. I’d never heard support like that from anyone, not even my own mother. Actually, especially not my own mother.

He turned in at the resort and paused in the parking lot, looking at me. Finally he said, “Where are you parked?”

“Oh! Employee parking area.” I pointed. “That silver one on this end.” With the daytime employees gone, that section was more than half empty. Kyle pulled in near Mom’s car, with an empty space between the vehicles.

We got out, and he came around the truck to join me. I tried to think of something to say. Something that would make him believe I wanted to see him again, not because of Bethany, but for himself.

He glanced at my car and frowned. “Uh oh.”

I followed his gaze. The back tire was flat, with a gash in it. And the front one looked the same.

Kyle stepped around to the other side of the car. “These tires are okay.” He looked toward the resort. “Too much in view, maybe. Or someone was coming. That’s a bit of luck, or else you might have needed four new tires.” He came back around and stopped a couple of feet from me. “Are you all right?”

I nodded rapidly. “It’s not a coincidence, is it?”

He gazed at me for half a minute. “I guess it could be, but more likely….”

I swallowed and spoke through a tight throat. “You don’t have to be delicate. This was a threat, or warning. Or revenge.” I sniffled. The tires themselves were only an inconvenience, an annoying expense, but a whole lot better than the cut brake lines. But the ongoing malice had a cold knot settling in my stomach.

Kyle rubbed my arm gently. “Somebody is definitely annoyed with you. Bain, I suppose, because you brought his crime to light, although….” He trailed off and shook his head. “I would’ve thought he’d be more direct.”

I sighed and tried to make light of it. “At least I already have the tow truck number in my phone.”

I pulled out my phone and saw a couple of text messages from Ricky. “Bain taken in for questioning this morning!” and then from only fifteen minutes ago, “Still there. Has a lawyer.”

“It wasn’t Bain.” My voice seemed to come from a distance.

“What?”

“Ricky says Bain was taken in for questioning this morning and is still there.” I frowned, thinking back. “I took my car out at lunch. The tires definitely weren’t slashed then. Bain couldn’t have done it.”

Kyle looked baffled. “How many people could want to hurt you?”

“You’d be surprised,” I grumbled. Jay seemed the most likely culprit. But would he have recognized my mother’s car? Maybe, if he’d seen me pull up in it, though I hadn’t noticed him at all that day. This had his kind of pettiness, not actually dangerous, but an annoyance. The brake lines had been potentially dangerous, so slashed tires weren’t an escalation of violence, but the opposite. In fact, if the vandal had done any real damage—cutting these brake lines, or tampering with the engine—he’d also ensured I wouldn’t drive the car in that state. The actions of two different people? Someone who knew how to damage my older car, but not Mom’s newer one? Or simply someone who took out their annoyance on cars, in whatever way seemed convenient?

I shook my head, giving up on the problem for the moment. I called a tow truck and the cops. I didn’t think the police would normally get involved with slashed tires, but given everything else that had happened, I thought I should let them know. I also called my mother to let her know the bad news, so she could make plans for a ride the next morning, in case we couldn’t get new tires in time.

Kyle crouched and examined the tires while I was on the phone. When I hung up, he rose. “It looks like it was a fairly small knife. He had to saw a bit to make that gash.” He shrugged. “Not that that helps a lot, but I guess I feel better knowing that if you have an enemy, he only carries something like a pocketknife. It would have to be a strong one, though, to get through that rubber.”

I didn’t point out that I could also have an enemy who went around carrying a huge dagger—just not this enemy. Or the person could have had a gun, but not wanted to use it on the tires because it would be too loud. I wondered again how Bethany had been killed. Gunshot? Stabbed? Strangled or hit over the head? Not that any of those options would make me feel better.

I was thinking too much. I drew in a deep breath and tried to blink away the spots flickering before my eyes.

Kyle edged closer, lifted his right arm, and hesitantly put it around my shoulders. “I’m sorry you got caught up in things. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this.”

I agreed with him there.

But what if it had never happened? If Jay and I hadn’t taken that particular turn, Bethany could still be lying in the woods. She might not have been found for weeks or months—or ever. And without that evidence, her murderer would likely go free.

What would have happened between Jay and me if we hadn’t had the interruption to his plans? How long would it have taken me to understand the kind of man he was? How much might I have been hurt first?

And if I hadn’t taken that path, I wouldn’t have met Nancy and Daniel, or seen the beautiful hawks and falcons, or met Kyle. I gazed into his eyes and said, “I’m not sorry.”

His hand tightened on my shoulder. I wanted to turn to him, lean my head on his shoulder, feel his arm slide around me in more than a brotherly gesture. We gazed at each other a long time. Was that the same longing I felt echoed in his face, or just my wishful thinking?

He drew me fractionally closer. Was he going to kiss me?

An engine growled behind us. Kyle glanced over and dropped his arm. I turned to see the tow truck. Damn small towns with prompt service.

Kyle smiled. “I guess I get to take you home after all. Unless—I was thinking we could go somewhere. Get some dinner. Finish talking about … stuff.”

“Sure, I suppose.” I imagined gazing across the table at Kyle in some quiet little bistro, his understanding gray eyes on me as we talked about anything and everything.

“The best place for private conversation is someplace noisy. How about the pizza parlor?”

The dream image shifted, but the alternative wasn’t worse. “Okay.” I grinned. “My brother will be jealous, though. I think Mom’s making a vegetable casserole tonight.”

“We’ll bring him the leftovers.” He winked.

A police car pulled up a minute later and an officer took a report.

“Do you think there’s any chance of fingerprints?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Yeah, we’ll get the CSI team right on that.”

I took that as a no.

The tow truck hooked up my car, and Kyle and I climbed back into his truck. By the time we walked into the pizza parlor, the dinner rush was over and my stomach was grumbling.

We found a tiny table in the corner, and the waitress came over with a basket of breadsticks. Kyle looked across the table at me. “Do you want a glass of wine, a beer?”

“Um, amber ale, I guess.” I reached for a breadstick and took a nibble.

“Iced tea for me,” Kyle said.

If I’d known he wasn’t going to order alcohol, I wouldn’t have either. But it would look silly to take back the order now. As the waitress walked away, I tried to make a joke of it. “You’re going to let me drink alone?”

“I don’t drink anymore.”

The rumors came back. Gail at the festival saying Kyle had a drug problem. Eslinda refusing to confirm or deny. I felt my face warming and hoped Kyle couldn’t read my thoughts.

“Guess I might as well get this out of the way.” He looked down and sighed, then lifted his gaze to mine. “After I lost my hand, I was on some really strong painkillers.”

“I would hope so.”

He grinned. “Maybe, but I stayed on longer than I should have. Then I got some anxiety medication, because I was having trouble dealing with it. And then I found out that alcohol made it even better.”

I kept my gaze on his face, but it didn’t escape me that the arm in question was tucked out of sight under the table, while his remaining hand rested on the table, playing idly with his napkin.

“My mother is an alcoholic. Bethany was an alcoholic and addict. So it’s not like I didn’t have those warnings.” He shrugged, but I sensed tension in the set of his shoulders and the tight skin around his eyes. “I never drank in high school, because I hated what it did to my mother and sister. It wasn’t easy to get alcohol in Afghanistan, so I didn’t bother. But when I came back, I went kind of crazy with it. I knew better, but I did it anyway.”

“It must have been hard.” I couldn’t think of anything better to say.

He shrugged. “Life often is. Anyway, I don’t drink anymore. Or take drugs except over the counter stuff when I really need it.”

I nodded and opened my mouth, still not sure what I wanted to say. The waitress came back and dropped off our drinks. I looked at the golden liquid in my glass and wished I hadn’t ordered it.

“Don’t worry,” Kyle said. “I don’t mind if you drink. In fact, I’d mind a lot more if you avoided it because of me.”

“It doesn’t make you feel….” I waved my hand vaguely.

Kyle grinned. “I have a beautiful woman to look at. I’m not going to pay any attention to what she’s drinking.”

I ducked my head, smiling through my blush. I couldn’t think of a response to that, so I fumbled for something else to say. “It must be hard, though, when there’s so much alcohol around.”

“Gran and Daniel don’t keep alcohol in the house, which makes it easier. I can’t give in to a moment’s temptation when it would take half an hour to get to a bar. But really, I figured out that the alcohol was a way of dealing with stress. So when I feel the urge for a drink, it means I need to deal with some stress.”

I looked across at him. “You’ve had a lot lately.”

“Life again. It happens. I can’t use it as an excuse.”

Had he grown handsomer since I’d met him? His face no longer seemed ordinary, but full of wisdom and character. “I think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t make me into some kind of a hero. I’m really pretty messed up. I just do what has to be done, no more.”

“That’s more than a lot of people do.” I hesitated, remembering his parents at the memorial, how they had dealt with the stress. Had Kyle ushered his mother out not only because of her despair, but because she’d been drinking? “Your mother. You didn’t use the past tense when you said she was an alcoholic.”

“She still drinks. More than ever lately, despite the fact my father bans alcohol from the house. I want to get her help, but my counselor says I need to focus on myself first. I can’t allow myself to think I should be responsible for someone else, or I really will have too much stress. And Mom isn’t ready to change. You have to want it.”

“Your dad is trying to help her?”

He made a face. “He’s trying to control her. Not the same thing.”

“You actually make me grateful for my own mother.”

He grinned. “That’s something. Now, before we order the pizza, I wanted to give you a chance to talk about everything
you’ve
been going through lately. The stuff you said you hadn’t told anyone yet. You can tell me.”

I thought about the details the police had dragged out of me, the way her skin had been green and her hand had lain curled on her chest. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand as the memory of the stench rose up. He wanted to talk about that
here
?

I glanced around at the busy tables, full of laughing families. Teenagers clustered around the videogames in the background, the beeps and shouts mixing with the general roar of conversation. I dropped my hand and took a deep breath. The rich smell of pizza filled my nose and mouth, wiping away that other scent. Maybe this was the right place.

What I’d seen wasn’t the most important part anyway, not now, not to me. The hardest things I hadn’t even told the police—the nightmares, the anxiety I felt whenever I looked at the woods, the way Bethany had become important to me even though I’d never met her.

I looked across at Kyle. “I think you’re right. I think I can tell you.” And I wanted to hear about his experiences as well. If we shared our burdens, maybe they’d feel a little lighter.

Eventually we ordered dinner and by the time it came I was so famished that not even the unpleasant topic could dampen my appetite. We talked about other things as we ate, his time in the service, my time at college, the future. He was getting some of the fundamentals out of the way at the community college while he adjusted to his new situation. He was still figuring out what he wanted to do and what he could do with one hand. He talked about his missing hand easily enough, though after a while I realized he wouldn’t look directly at me when he mentioned it, and he kept the injury hidden under the table.

Family came up eventually, which led us back to Bethany and the frustration of not knowing the truth about her death.

At one point I said, “You seem kind of resigned about the whole thing.”

“Justice works slowly. Even if they make an arrest soon, it could be a year before they get a conviction. I’m determined to see justice done, but in the meantime the rest of us have to live our lives.”

I thought about waiting a year for real resolution. Even if you were convinced the police had the right person, you couldn’t be satisfied until you knew the killer was going to be properly punished. If there was any such thing as a proper punishment. Nothing could undo what was done. And what if he only got a few years, or got off on a technicality or because his lawyer was better than the prosecutor?

“I’ll still be relieved when they make an arrest,” I said. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry so much about someone stalking me and sabotaging my car—assuming the killer and the saboteur were the same person. “I don’t like knowing that a killer is wandering around loose.”