Buried Secrets (New Adult Dark Suspense Romance) (17 page)

She had once saved him, now he’d saved her… maybe she could save him right back again. Is that what couples did, throughout a lifetime? Protected one another, turning around and taking turns rescuing each other as needed? She thought it might be. As time went on, the “me” in a relationship seemed to flip itself over into a far more solid “we.”

But Shane never said a word, didn’t ask her to defend him. His gun was back in its holster, out of sight. Dusty touched his hand, threading her fingers through his, squeezing a reassurance, trying to tell him without words—
you’re safe
. She didn’t know if he understood, but he did squeeze back, gently.

“Come on,” Julia insisted, grabbing Dusty’s sleeve and pulling on it, but her eyes were on the dead wolf bleeding all over the porch. “In the house, now. It’s very late.”

Shane turned to go but Dusty clung to his hand, going up on tiptoe to whisper, “Saturday,” into his ear before letting go. She saw him flash her the briefest of smiles before she followed Julia into the kitchen, still squinting against the brightness.

“It's two thirty in the morning, do you know that?” Julia sat on a kitchen chair.

Dusty leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest, waiting. She heard Shane’s Mustang backing down the gravel drive.

“I talked to Patty Walker today. She let it slip about you working at the Starlite,” Julia went on. “I didn't even know what she was talking about! Who said you could go work in some sleazy bar?”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. Here she’d been nearly killed on their front porch, and all Julia could think about was Dusty’s job at the Starlite?

“I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” Dusty had known they would find out eventually. She was surprised it had taken this long. “I can work anywhere I want.”

“Not while you're living under this roof!” Julia spat. Dusty watched her light a cigarette—another recent habit, or rather, an old one taken up again. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“Why bother?” Dusty ran a tired hand across her eyes. “You don’t listen to me anyway.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I worry about you.” Julia took a long drag on her cigarette, blowing smoke out of the side of her mouth. “You’re out until two or three in the morning, you sleep until noon. Who knows what you’re getting up to—and now you’re running around with Shane Curtis?”

“I’m working,” Dusty reminded her. “The bar closes at two.”

“It’s just not right.” Julia tapped an ash into the ashtray on the kitchen table. “It’s not Christian. Your father and I don’t want you working there.”

“Oh my God!” Dusty pushed away from the sink.

“Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain!”

Dusty sighed. “Where is Dad?”

“He’s on a trip.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to him about it when he gets back.” She headed toward the stairway but Julia’s tone stopped her.

“No, Dusty!” she called. “This isn’t negotiable. We want you to quit.”

“I'm not eight years old anymore!” Dusty turned at her and hissed. “I’m an adult. I get to decide. Not you. Not Dad.
Me.”

Julia’s cigarette winked. “Nick wouldn’t approve and you know it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Dusty snapped, horrified that she would even bring it up. And still, she felt a sudden stab of guilt. “Nick was my brother, not my keeper.”

“Could have fooled me.” Julia leaned back in her chair with a small, tight smile.

“Stay out of my life.” Dusty turned again to go.

“You’re dressed like a streetwalker.”

“Gets me some great tips.” She laughed over her shoulder at her stepmother.

“Dusty, I’m serious.” Julia stabbed the half-finished cigarette out into the ashtray.

Dusty closed her eyes and an image of Nick emerged sitting at that very table, in that very spot, and she winced. “You either quit or move out. That’s what your father and I have discussed and the decision we’ve come to.”

“No.”

“This is our house.” Julia stood, her chair scraping on the tile. “We make the rules.”

“Fine.”

Julia look relieved. “Does that mean you’re quitting?”

“No. I’ll find another place to live.” Dusty turned away from her and started toward the stairs.

“Dusty!” Her stepmother’s voice was shrill and harsh. Almost panicked. “Dusty, get back here!”

Dusty went up the stairs and she didn’t look back.

✝
Chapter Fourtee
n
✝

Julia was right about one thing—Dusty was sleeping until noon and staying out until two-thirty or three in the mo
rning, especially on those nights she was working at the Starlite. She didn’t see her father at breakfast because she was asleep and didn’t see him at dinner because she was working. But they had to talk—so she decided to go to his office. She didn’t tell Julia and she didn’t call her father. She just took the Jeep and drove to Millsberg.

Dusty parked around back and went into the tall, glass building. The elevator was incredibly slow and she checked her cell phone on the way up. No texts from Shane, but she didn’t expect any. He was out in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t even know if he’d bothered to take his cell phone. Thankfully he wasn’t in town to be called in to be questioned about the wolf, because if she knew Buck Thompson, he’d find some way to connect them if he could.

She’d gotten lucky there. Someone at the church had called Julia early the next morning with some sort of church emergency—probably a typo in the newsletter, but what did it matter? She’d left Dusty in charge of calling the sheriff about the wolf. Buck Thompson wasn’t in, so she gave her statement to Deputy Matt, who dutifully recorded that she’d heard a growling noise outside and had taken her brother’s gun with her to see what it was. He sent animal control from Millsberg over to collect the wolf, just like Shane said they would.

Her father’s secretary, a portly woman named Irene who used to give them Werthers candies from a jar, wasn’t at the desk outside of her father’s office. The jar was still there though so Dusty unscrewed the lid and took a piece of candy. Still Werthers. The buttery sweetness on her tongue brought back memories of her and Nick playing hide and seek up here.

Dusty looked into her father’s office. The door was shut but the glass windows were frosted. You couldn’t see much, but you could see shadows. He had someone in there with him. She saw the outline of her father’s profile, and someone else, a man sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Knowing she would have to wait, Dusty sat in one of the waiting room chairs and took her iPhone out, ready to connect to her father’s office wi-fi and play some Candy Crush when the yelling started.

“Christ, Walker, I can only pull so many strings! You want to rig a goddamned election now too? Having a guy killed wasn’t bad enough?”

Her father’s voice.

Dusty’s head came up, eyes wide.

The man’s response was too low to hear.

“If
that law is passed.
If.
There’s no guarantee, Guy.”

Again, the response was too low for Dusty to understand. She made the connection instantly though, knowing exactly who was in her father’s office—Guy Walker, the man running for sheriff, going up against Buck Thompson. The one she’d seen drunk at the Starlite—the one who called Sam a “feeb.”

“Well I’m glad you have it on great authority.” Jay Chandler’s voice was full of sarcasm. “Look I know how much you’ve got tied up in it. I’ve got my whole damned life staked on this thing. I did this because I had two kids heading into college and college is damned expensive. Now I’ve got a dead son and my daughter… is a problem.”

A problem? Is that what she was to him now?

This time she heard Guy’s voice—not slurred with alcohol today—loud and clear.

“Look, Chandler, if I don’t win, there’s no deal. If there’s no deal, your company is out all of the investment money.
All of it.
Every dime.”

“We’ll still go forward.” Now it was her father who was hard to hear. “It’s a done deal. Halcion Oil and Pharmatech are merging.”

Guy laughed, a hard, harsh laugh. “But the fracking deal will be dead in the water and your stock will fall like a stone. We both know Buck Thompson can’t be bought. Unless you’d like to arrange a simpler solution, like we did with—?”

“No!” Her father roared. Dusty shrank back in her chair, glancing around the office. It was completely private up here. Her father’s office was in a corner of the building, a large empty board room on the other side of his secretary’s desk. There were other offices on the top floor, but they were all on the opposite end of the building.

“Buck Thompson is a friend,” her father said. “Don’t even go there.”

“Then I have to win.”

Dusty stared at the shadows of the two men, both of them standing now, her father behind the desk, the other man in front of it.

She heard her father’s deep sigh. “Then there’s only one sure way, short of buying the damned election outright. And I’m not doing that.”

Dusty couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew they were both on the Millsberg city council together and that they’d been a part of approving the fracking business. Her father had been furious about the injunction, calling it a major setback. But what did that have to do with Guy Walker running for sheriff?.

And what did Guy Walker mean—
a simpler solution?

“You got a better idea then?” Guy asked.

“Find the animal that killed my son.” Dusty’s father sighed, voice low but not so low she couldn’t hear him. “You kill it, you make Buck Thompson look like a fool—and you get elected.”

Dusty didn’t hear Guy’s response, mostly because her ears were ringing and her face was hot. She felt faint.

“I don’t care—get a cougar from a zoo and shoot the fucking thing in the head!” Her father yelled. “You don’t have to actually find the damned thing—people just need to believe you did!”

Again, she couldn’t hear the other man, but it didn’t matter. Dusty got up, unsteady on her feet, catching hold of the edge of the chair.

“Guy, I’m done!” her father snapped. “I’m not doing one more thing for you. It’s bad enough we’ve got the fucking Indians snooping around and a dead body buried out there somewhere!”

A dead body?

Dusty took a step toward the door. She had to get out of there.

“I know! I know!” Her father’s voice was closer now, heading toward the door. She saw his shadow coming around his desk and her heart lurched in her chest. “They better not find it or we’re both dead.”

Dusty opened the outer office door, slipping as quietly into the hallway as she could and closing the door behind her. She practically ran down the hall and around the corner to the elevator, pushing the button like mad, trying to make it come faster, hoping she didn’t run into Irene on the way down. She didn’t want her father to know she’d been anywhere near his office, that she’d overheard…

What had she overheard, exactly?

The only phrase that stuck with her was—
a simpler solution.

Just what did that mean?

“Luh-Lee said last cuh-call.” Sam handed the tray of beer over the counter to her.

Lee was talking to his brother at the other end of the bar. Guy Walker wore a three-piece suit and a wide smile, surrounded by guys drinking beer on his tab and slapping his back to congratulate him. Not on winning the election—that was another week away—but on organizing the hunt that killed the Clinton Grove cat.

“You've moved up in the world.” She gave Sam a smile.

Sam shrugged. “Juh-just part tuh-tuh-time.”

“You'll be taking Lee's place soon, if you keep it up.” Dusty winked at him as she carried the beer over to the pool tables to tell the guys they had to wrap up their game. She saw Sam look back at her shyly, beaming under her compliment.

Dusty threaded her way through the crowd towards the pool tables. It was packed, even for a Saturday at nearly two in the morning.

“Hey, it's the lady with the beers!” Ryan called to her. “Gimme one!”

“Need your money first, pal.” She held her tray just out of his reach.

Ryan pushed his glasses up on his nose before digging in his pocket for cash, paying for Jake and Nate too. They were finishing up a game of nine ball.

“Sorry guys, last call.” She left the drinks on the table, turning to go, but someone caught her arm.

“Hey, aren’t you glad?” Jake asked, eyes searching hers. “They caught it.”

“I heard.” She nodded, giving him what she hoped looked like a genuine smile.

“Poor Buck Thompson.” Nate lined up a shot, his long, dark hair tucked behind his ears. “No way he’s gonna get re-elected now.”

Dusty glanced over at the bar, at the aw-shucks grin on Guy Walker’s face, and knew it was true. It had taken him twenty-four hours to organize, advertise and get news coverage on the hunt. They’d found a cougar and killed it yesterday just before sundown. The picture in the paper was full color, the blaze of a sunset behind their heads, Guy Walker front and center holding a Sako Kodiak rifle and looking very stern and sheriff-like.

“Walker says he’s gonna have it stuffed and mounted in his new office.” Jake leaned over to take his shot—he had no problem with hair hanging in his eyes since he didn’t have any. The light over the billiard table made his head shine just like the cue ball.

Nate rolled his eyes. “Well, Shane will be surprised when he gets back.”

“I’ll say.” Ryan snorted, tipping back his beer and taking a long swig.

Dusty looked at him, meeting his eyes, seeing something there.

“You think it was that cougar, Ryan?” she asked, cocking her head at him.

“Dunno.” He shrugged, taking another swig of his beer. “I guess I have my doubts.”

She didn’t blame him. She had her doubts too.

Aside from the Starlite and kids out using the path, Larkspur had become a ghost town after curfew. Driving on Rogers, on her way to Sam's, the traffic light went red, then green, then yellow, and no one else was there to stop for it. The neon lights of the Starlite flashed in the distance, but everything else was closed for the night.

Dusty was alone on the road. It was eerie. The only light came from the Jeep's own headlights. She began looking for Wanda Road as she neared the cemetery. She knew it was near Clinton Grove, separated from the graveyard by a stretch of woodland.

She glimpsed red and blue lights flashing in her rearview mirror. Puzzled, she steered the Jeep to the side of the road and rolled down the window in the cold night air. The deputy approached her wearing a heavy coat over his uniform.

“Hi, Dusty.” He leaned down, using his flashlight so he could see her but not shining it directly into her eyes. “Where you headed?”

“Sam's.” Dusty pulled her coat around her, shivering. It was getting cold. “Sam Lewis. I'm eating dinner over there.”

“I didn't recognize the car,” he apologized. “We're supposed to check out anything suspicious and I couldn't read your plates. The bulbs around them are burnt out.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Dusty apologized, looking at him in the light from the flashers. “I thought it was all over?”

“Better safe than sorry, that's what the Sheriff says,” Matt told her. “We caught a pretty big cougar. Pretty sure he was causing all the trouble. Sorry about stopping you.”

We?
Of course everyone knew it hadn’t been Buck Thompson or anyone in his office who had been responsible for catching the Clinton Grove Cat.

“I know you’re just doing your job.” She gave him a hopeful smile. “Can I go or… are you going to give me a ticket?”

“No, just get those bulbs fixed, okay?” He took a step back and she saw him give a little shiver too. “It’s expecting to storm. I’m glad it’s over.”