Blood And Bone (23 page)

Des left and closed the door quietly behind him. From outside, his car roared to life. She stood absolutely still, listening to the sound of the rumbling engine fade as he drove out of her life.

Once alone, the silence pressed in on her. All the hurt and shame bubbled up. Hot tears flooded her eyes, ran down her cheeks. Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor, wrapping her arms around her middle and sobbing so hard her entire body shook.

She cried until she was empty, her insides hollow. When she finally sat up and wiped her wet face, the room had darkened, and Bigwig sat in front of her watching with his one good eye.

“Where were you during all the drama, huh?” He let out a mournful meow. “I should have made him take you with him. Keeping you was his idea, and what am I supposed to do with a cat? Besides, you like him better than me, anyway.”

As if to make a liar out of her, Bigwig strolled forward and rubbed his scarred face along her knee. “Oh, you probably just want fed.”

On a shuddering sigh, she pushed to her feet and made her way to the bathroom. She blew her nose, then splashed water from the sink on her face. When she looked up, a red puffy gaze from her makeup-free face stared back at her from the mirror. God, she looked like she’d aged ten years since this morning.

“Never again,” she vowed to herself. And she meant it.

A sharp rap next to his ear jerked Des awake. He blinked, then squinted against the glare of hard morning sun spilling through the windshield. As he sat up, the worn vinyl seat creaked with his movements. The muscle along his shoulder pulled tightly and sharp pain shot up the back of his neck from sleeping propped against the window. His head throbbed from not having slept nearly long enough.

“Good morning?” the impatient, female voice from outside punctured his sleep-fogged brain. He looked up at Shayne standing beside his door, glaring down at him through the window. “Would you like to tell me why you’re sleeping in your car outside my house?”

Damn, he’d overslept. He’d really meant to be gone before she awoke. “Protecting you?”

“Of course you are,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

With a sigh, he popped open the car door and stepped out. His knee locked the minute he put weight on it—from sitting in the same position for so long—and he stumbled a little before grabbing the edge of the car, steadying himself. Shayne’s arms shot out as if to help him, but dropped back to her sides nearly as quickly.

Just looking at you makes my skin crawl.

Those words had hit him hard, playing over and over again inside his skull while he’d watched her cabin through the night. He’d screwed up, badly. She’d been furious at him yesterday. Not that he blamed her. He should have told her the truth from the start. Now, she wouldn’t believe anything he said. Still, he had to try. Even if she continued to hate him—his chest squeezed tightly—he had to warn her about Tic, and make her believe the man was dangerous. Do whatever it took to keep her safe.

After all, sleeping in his car outside her house wasn’t a long-term solution. Now that she’d found him, she’d probably get a restraining order.

“Shayne.” He took a step toward her, but she jerked as if afraid she might spontaneously combust if they made physical contact.
He swallowed hard, and did his best to ignore the dull ache in his chest. “I need you to listen to me.”

“No, I’m done playing your games. I told you last night to go and I meant it.” She folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head to one side.

God, she looked good with dark jeans hugging her slender legs and a snug white blouse peeking out from under a fitted leather jacket. Her straight, black hair fell past her shoulders, framing the sweeping angles of her face. Her eyes were red and a little puffy as if she’d been crying, or hadn’t slept. Maybe both.

Guilt twisted low in his gut. “Just hear me out, then I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Fine. Good. Go ahead. This should be interesting.”

“I didn’t tell Heddi anything about your book, I swear.” She opened her mouth as if to argue, but he cut her off. “And I only agreed to what she wanted so she’d call Tic off. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. I didn’t want him anywhere near you.”

She frowned. “Tic. He was one of the men who smashed my window the other night?”

He nodded.

“You knew, but decided not to mention it to me or to the police?”

Christ, with every word out of his mouth he made things worse.

“We didn’t actually see him, and one of his nimrod friends would have given him an alibi. He would have gone out of his way to make sure we never spoke to the police again. Believe me, I know from experience. The man is a psycho, and the only way I could think to keep him away from you was to go to the person who had put him on you in the first place.”

She nipped the corner of her lip and nodded slowly. “Sabotaging my book was for my own good.”

“I didn’t tell Heddi anything about your work. I never planned to. I figured I’d stall her long enough for you to get what you needed and leave town, but it didn’t work.”

Her mouth pulled into a tight cynical smile. “But your actions weren’t quite as altruistic as you’d have me believe. After all, it’s not like you weren’t getting anything out of the deal. That’s a considerable amount of money your sister stole. It would have taken you years to pay that back, and your grandmother was willing to let you walk away from it provided you gave her what she wanted. Do I have that right?”

His stomach coiled into an icy ball. No matter what he said, everything out of his mouth was suspect. “She would have been suspicious if there wasn’t something in it for me.”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “You have an answer for everything.”

“Would you believe me if I couldn’t explain anything?” he snapped.

She sighed and shook her head. “No. I want to believe you, but I can’t. I can’t trust anything you say.”

She started to move away, but he grabbed her hand to stop her. He wanted to pull her against him, wrap his arms around her and beg her to forgive him. Tell her he was sorry he’d hurt her. Promise he would never lie to her again. If she would just give him another chance…

“Tic is dangerous. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. You want to hate me? Fine. You don’t believe me? Okay. But know that Heddi won’t go away. If I’m not on the job anymore, Tic probably is.” Images of that animal in the parking lot filled his head, but instead of the waitress struggling underneath him it was Shayne. Des’s mouth went dry and the blood in his veins turned icy. “Don’t go anywhere alone. If you see him, get as far away as possible.”

She didn’t try to pull from his grasp, and her expression softened slightly. A tiny flicker of hope sparked in his chest.

“I’ve already taken precautions. I’ve reserved a room at a hotel in Willow Creek for tonight. I can stay there while I finish gathering the rest of what I need. Shouldn’t take too long. You won’t need to feel obligated to sleep in my driveway anymore.”

She might have been trying to lighten the mood, but the words fell flat. He should have been relieved she was leaving. Instead, the ache in his chest squeezed tighter. He could hardly breathe.

“You’re leaving today?” How he managed to form words, never mind string them together in a coherent sentence, he didn’t know.

She nodded. “Yeah. I managed to get most of my packing done this morning. I need to ask a favor though.”

“Anything.”

“Can you take the cat? If I had my own place, I wouldn’t have a problem keeping him, but I don’t think the hotel allows pets.”

“Yeah, I’ll take him. Can you wait until I finish work today?”

“That’s fine. Whenever you can.”

They sounded like a couple in the midst of an amicable break up. Not that he had much experience in the matter. He’d kept most of his relationships superficial. Partly because he had enough people he was responsible for, and partly to avoid moments like this one with Shayne.

Crazy. They weren’t a couple. They’d barely been friends. The sex had been incredible, but beyond that there hadn’t been anything else between them. Why did the idea of never seeing her again leave him empty?

She backed away. “I should be going. I still have a few things I need to get done in town before I leave.”

“Right.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Remember what I said about Tic.”

“I will.”

When she reached her car, she pulled open the driver’s side door.

“I really am sorry,” he called out.

She turned and looked at him, her expression impossible to read. “Thank you.”

Shayne pulled up in front of the abandoned Anderson place and dropped her head to the steering wheel, squeezing her eyes shut. Big mistake. Des’s image, those swirling gray eyes filled with regret, the breeze playing with his too-long hair, filled her head, and the lump making her throat ache swelled.

She swallowed hard, but the knot remained as if it were permanently lodged there. A good cry would probably release the tension, but she’d cried enough, thank you very much. She needed to keep pushing forward. Get this book done, go home and forget she’d ever met Des.

When she’d stepped outside and spotted his car at the edge of the trees, a tiny thrill had ignited in her chest, only to be snuffed out when reality had set in. He was a liar. A user. And she had walked right into his scheme.

Still, he’d seemed sincere earlier.

And what if she was wrong? What if she trusted him, and he lied to her…again?

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

She wouldn’t let herself be sucked in. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe he wasn’t. She couldn’t say for certain, and that alone should be reason enough for her to stay clear of Des.

She got out of the car and reached into the back seat for her camera bag. Anything she needed from town for her book, she wanted to get done today. She still had a few more interviews planned over the next week, but after that she’d be done, and she could head home. Well, to her parents’ home. Still, in a few weeks she’d have her money and she could start over. Fresh.

Funny, the idea didn’t please her as much as it had before coming to Dark Water.

Oh for God’s sake, it was a fling, not true love. That their relationship had blown up the way it had was probably a good thing. What did she think? That they’d get married and live happily ever after? The idea was laughable.

But she didn’t feel like laughing.

Even if they had tried to make a go of it, where would a serious relationship have gone? Did she want to be related, even through marriage, to the likes of Heddra Grey or any of the other crazies in his family? And speaking of family, he was only twenty-eight. Having a family of his own might not matter to him now, but what about once he was in his thirties and his barren, older wife couldn’t give him one. He’d be out finding a
Sandy
of his own, and she’d be right back where she started.

And why was she even thinking about this? They were done.

She gave her head a shake, hoisted her bag over her shoulder and marched to the house. She stopped, snapped a couple of pictures, then started around the side. She didn’t bother with the front door. It had been locked when she’d last visited, and that likely hadn’t changed in a week.

The trees and undergrowth were thicker around the side of the building. The canopy of colored leaves overhead filtered the morning sunlight, casting an eerie gloom over the forest. Tangled ferns and vines wrapped around her ankles and she had to kick her way free.

The back door had long since fallen from its hinges and lay broken, half-buried beneath piles of dead leaves and pine needles. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped through the dark opening and into the remnants of a kitchen. The dirt-encrusted linoleum closest to the door had worn down to mossy wood boards, bubbling and curling f
a
rther into the wide room. Shayne gingerly put her weight on the floor. The boards creaked a little, but didn’t bow or shift. They seemed solid.

Carefully, she moved deeper into the room. Filthy, stained wallpaper, the flowered print barely visible beneath the layers of grime, clung in torn strips to the crumbling plaster walls. Slat and lath peeked out from a huge hole above the stainless steel sink. The few remaining cupboards hung crookedly. Flecks of what little paint remained—probably yellow at one time—dotted their surfaces. The space stunk of mold and rot. Shayne concentrated on breathing through her mouth.

This had been the room Julia and Des had made their escape from all those years ago. Likely, through the door she’d come in. A chill danced along her spine as she imagined the terror of living through that night.

Get your pictures and go.

She snapped another half dozen shots from different angles before leaving the kitchen. There were two doorways from the kitchen into the rest of the house. One opened into the front foyer, the other into a small square hallway with a closed wooden door on the left and an opening into what had probably been the dining room at one time on the right.

Shayne opted for the foyer—the room where Robert had allegedly shot his wife and stepson. After shooting a few pictures, she stood by the front door, lowered her camera and frowned.

The distance between where she was standing and the kitchen was maybe twenty feet. How had an eight-year-old girl managed not only to escape from the house, but also elude her father in the woods, and with a toddler in her arms? Anderson should have been able to close the distance in seconds. Even if he’d hesitated before going into the kitchen, maybe examining Gwen and Christian to be sure they were dead, he still should have caught her easily outside.

The walls creaked from the wind outside. She’d worry about that later. For now, she’d get her pictures and get out of there before the whole house collapsed on her head.

A narrow staircase rose up opposite the front door, and two openings mirrored each other on either side of the front hall. One doorway opened into what looked like the living room, the other a second entrance to the dining room. She took pictures of each room, then tried the stairs. They groaned a little, but held up.