Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) (23 page)

Her mouth falls open, and her gaze whips from the carnage behind us to my face. “Oh. Oh, honey.” Another hug presses my face against her breasts. “Adam, would you give me a minute alone with her?”

The scuffle of boots tells me the request has been granted. Once Francine and I are alone, I grip her hands so tightly my knuckles turn white. “He’s dead, Francine.”

“And you feel like a load has been lifted off your shoulders which, of course, you think is wrong.” She chafes my fingers between her own. “Honey, I told you about going through this myself, and that relief inside you is natural. Mark did nothing but make your life miserable. Now he can’t, and you’re hating yourself because you don’t feel any sorrow.”

“You would think I’d at least feel sorry for him.”

“Why? He didn’t do anything to deserve your sympathy, and whatever made him such a miserable person doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone, honey, and like it or not, that’s probably the best thing that could have ever happened to you.”

“But he tried to warn me.” The memory of his halting voice trying to force the words out through all the blood coating his lips is one I won’t forget. His face. The way his body lay so still after breathing his last. Those images are burned in my mind.

Her brows lower into a scowl. “Warn you about what?”

“I don’t know. That’s what Adam and I were talking about when you found me. Mark said something about it not being safe.”

“Well, he wasn’t kidding about that. We need to get you out of this town and back to Juniper Springs where you belong.” She wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Then you can start building a real life.”

I listen to her with one ear while playing Mark’s words over in my mind again and again. He’d known he was dying, and I can’t imagine he would have lied to me then. But why would he have wanted to drop the charges? Mark never backed down. None of this made any sense.

“There she is!” Ike Metzger’s thunderous voice gains my attention. He snags the arm of a uniformed officer I don’t recognize. “Arrest that woman.”

My head spins crazily while I stare at the striped tie resting against Ike’s pot belly which is rising and falling with each of his rapid breaths. “Ike, I’m so sorry.”

His bleary-eyed gaze rests on my face for half a second before he gives his attention back to the cop. “She tried to kill my boy, and while all this was going on, she escaped.”

The more he talks the more I realize he doesn’t know Mark was inside the station. And I don’t want to be the one to tell him. But shouldn’t I? Would it be better coming from me than a stranger?

“Ma’am, do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” The deputy from the Kentucky State Police is looking at me, but it’s a distracted gaze. His job is to deal with the chaos, and it’s clear he has no interest in Ike’s ravings.

“She had nothing to do with Mark’s death,” Francine snaps out each word. “Your son happened to be trying to do one nice thing when he went in there to drop the charges, and Emily had no way of knowing some crazy ass buffoon was going to open fire like that.”

“Francine, wait.” I grasp her arm, hoping to staunch the flow of words, but it’s too late. Ike has turned around, and he’s staring at the station with such horror my heart begins to ache. Though I don’t like the man, I’ve never wished pain on anyone, and what Ike Metzger is facing is nothing short of pure agony.

“What are you saying?” He whips back around to me. “What is she saying? Mark’s in there?”

I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to him, to touch him. Instead, I offer what comfort I can. “Ike, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t!” He points a nubby finger in my face. “Don’t you dare say another word to me. This is your fault. If you’d never left him, this wouldn’t have happened.” Ike begins backing away. “This is your fault, Emily Jacobs, and I won’t forget it.”

The temperature has dropped twenty degrees by the time we finish giving the state police our statements, and the brisk wind chills me to the bone. With Adam’s arm around me, I shiver my way to his truck sitting in the now dark, empty parking lot.

He switches the heater on full blast once we’re inside and revs the engine to get the warmth spiraling through the interior. “You okay?” He gives my knee a squeeze.

“Better now, but still a little shaky. I’ll be glad when I can get out of here.”

“Which is right now.”

“I have to go back to the house first.”

He stares at me like I’ve just done a back-flip off the Golden Gate Bridge. “The house you shared with Mark?”

“I left a lot of my things there. My ID, credit cards, pictures. Things I need.”

A scowl darkens his face, and he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “You don’t think his daddy will be there, do you?”

“Probably not. This has hit him pretty hard.”

“Still didn’t stop him from blaming you.” He makes a u-turn, taps his brakes three times, and lets out a long breath. “Gary and Francine are behind us,” he offers when I look over my shoulder.

“What about Harry McAllister? He was shot.”

“He’s at the hospital. They’re keeping him overnight, but he’s going to be fine.”

Relieved, I put my head back against the rest. “I don’t even know if Sheriff Abernathy had any family or if anyone will mourn him.”

Adam rests his hand on my leg. “Don’t take that grief upon yourself, Emily. What happened back there was a tragedy. People will be digging themselves out from under this for months, but if you start wondering if someone is even going to be missed, you’ll lose sight of what’s important. That you survived. I know it sounds cold, but you can’t stop living.” His voice thickens. “When I saw you go down like that in the station…” The words trail off.

“You thought I’d been hit.” Finishing his sentence, I unbuckle my seatbelt to slide closer to him.

“I’ve been a cop for ten plus years, and I don’t ever remember being that scared.”

I thread my fingers through his. “Let’s just get out of here. I can come back later for the rest of my things.”

Without questioning my change of mind, he turns the truck again and taps his brakes again. “Once you do, you’ll never have to see this town again.”

“That’s only true if I wait to come back for Mark’s funeral.”

The truck swerves off the road. “Mark’s funeral? You’re going to his funeral?”

His tone has me edging away from him. “I’m not sure. I’ve thought about it.”

“When you came to Juniper Springs, you were running from him, and now you think you should pay your respects?”

“Mark did the right thing in the end.” Defensive, I scooted back to the passenger seat and locked the seatbelt in place.

“And because of that you owe him? Is that what you think?”

“I think now isn’t the time for this discussion and that it’s none…” I stop and look out the window.

A long silence falls before Adam finishes my sentence. “Of my business. Right. I’m not involved in this at all. I believe you made that clear before you were transferred to Broomtown. Guess I should have listened.”

“Do we really have to talk about this now? We both just went through hell and barely survived. Weren’t you the one telling me to focus on that survival?”

“I didn’t say wear it like widow’s rags. Don’t feel guilty for being alive, Emily.”

“Maybe this isn’t about guilt, Adam. Maybe I want to close a chapter of my life, and I think the best way to do that is to say goodbye to Mark one last time.”

“You didn’t do that when you were holding his hand right before he died?” He winces once the question is out and smacks the dash with the palm of his hand. “Dammit. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. You shouldn’t.” I cross my arms and focus on the window. “But it’s not because you didn’t mean it.”

“It’s been a long day, Emily.”

“Is that your idea of an apology?” Anger courses through me, and it’s not just because of Adam’s words. I’m angry that Mark’s death gives me a sense of hope for the future, that I do want to attend his funeral out of guilt, and that Adam nailed it. Deep inside, I want to feel more, something besides relief.

“Would an apology even help? You seem hell bent on being pissed off.”

The darkness of his tone opens my mouth again. “Just drop me off at Francine’s house when we get into town. I think I’ve had all the comfort from you I can stand.”

“You want comfort? Then explain to me why you feel this sudden urge to see your ex off into the great beyond.”

That stiffens my back. “I don’t owe you an explanation. You think because we had sex, you have some sort of claim over me now? That you can call the shots in my life?”

“Someone needs to because you hadn’t made very good choices before you got to Juniper Springs.”

His words slap me in the face, but I hide the recoil. “That’s what drew you to me, isn’t it? You thought I was a lost lamb and needed protection. The sex was just a bonus.” I see the sign for Juniper Springs. Only five more miles. And I think about staying quiet. We’ve both already said too much, but I’m hurt. Ripped apart by his words, and he hasn’t flinched at anything I’ve said.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be happier at Francine’s tonight. Wouldn’t want you to think I was after another bonus.”

By the time we arrive, the air inside the truck is so thick with tension I need oxygen. I don’t speak to him when I climb out, and he only waits long enough for me to slam the passenger door before roaring off.

I swipe away the tears making tracks down my face as the taillights disappear.

Chapter Seventeen

My skin is icy, and even the warm fire flickering in Francine’s fireplace isn’t taking off the chill. I wrap my arms around my body and pace.

Francine brings a tray of tea out from the kitchen and sets it on the coffee table. “It’ll be all right, Emily. When Adam gets in a snit, he needs time to cool down.”

“You weren’t in the truck, Francine. We said some things…” I don’t finish. There’s no use in rehashing the verbal swords we’d drawn.

She sighs and plops down on the sofa. “I didn’t say he couldn’t be an ass. All men can, but both of you just went through hell. We all did. Maybe some breathing room might be a good thing.”

“He’s angry because I mentioned going to Mark’s funeral.”

Her face screws up like she’d rather eat a live snake. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“Adam thinks it’s out of guilt.”

“And by not answering my question, you’re agreeing with him.” She strums her fingers on the table. “Guilt can be a powerful motivator, Emily, but you have to decide if you’ve given Mark enough of your life.”

“He’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

“No, but he can certainly hurt your relationship with Adam.”

My frozen legs carry me to the window, and I move the curtain aside to look out into the darkness. “I don’t think we have a relationship.”

“Bullshit.” She takes a sip of the tea I didn’t see her pour. “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. There’s more there than just sex no matter what you told him.”

I whirl around to look at her. “How did you know I told him that?”

Trying to look innocent, she shrugs. “The radio might have possibly been on.”

“Francine! You heard everything?” My cheeks heat at the thought.

Her nose buried in the mug, she nods. “If it helps, I was yelling at you both to be quiet.” She continues before I can respond. “And there’s something my momma always told me and Art. If you’re embarrassed for folks to know what you’ve said in private, then you shouldn’t have said it to begin with.”

I join her on the sofa, muscles so tight it hurts to sit. “I was angry. We both were.”

“Good thing you recognize that. Now shouldn’t you be telling this to Adam?”

“Being angry doesn’t negate what I said, Francine. I came into this town scared and unsure, but I got my feet back under me here. I don’t want to go back to that girl I was when I arrived. Maybe that’s who Adam wants, though, someone he can protect and keep close to him like a wounded bird.”

Francine snorts and thunks her mug down. “Honey, since you and Adam got together, Mark has been dangling over your heads like a worm on a hook. That danger is out of the way, but if his warning is to be believed, more is coming. And time might not be on your side. So don’t waste minutes or hours bitching about who thinks what or who feels this and that. Just talk it out. I mean, if you care about him at all.” She adds the last sentence with a sly note in her voice.

“He and I haven’t done a lot of talking, at least not about anything that really matters. Most of our conversations were about Mark. Now that he’s gone…”

“You’re scared you may not have anything in common with him or anything to keep the two of you together.”

I sigh, no longer wondering how she knows me so well. It’s like everyone in this town has some kind of sixth sense about me. “I don’t think he trusts my judgment.”

In all honesty, he’s got no reason to trust me. My thoughts skid to a halt. But it wasn’t like he’s given me his backstory, either. Trust runs both ways. I wonder if anyone’s ever told him that.

Anger punches me in the stomach, and I’m on my feet and at the door in a second. “You know what, his judgment isn’t always perfect, either, and I’m really tired of men accusing me of things I haven’t done or felt or trying to tell me what to do. If I want to go to Mark’s funeral, Adam is just going to have to deal with it because no one is going to live my life but me.” I’m halfway across the yard before Francine calls my name again. When I turn around, she’s pointing to the diner.

“Your car’s parked in the front. Adam put gas in it the next morning after you came to town.”

That stops me. I look from her to the back door of the diner. “Why would he do that?”

“I guess he figured you might want options.”

“He never told me.”

“Probably never came up seeing as how close the two of you have been getting.”

I don’t know what else to say so I give her a nod and take off. So he did a good deed. That isn’t going to stop me from giving him a piece of my mind.

The Volvo sputters to life, emits a series of guttural coughs, and finally settles into a rhythmic hum. I pat the dashboard. “There’s a good girl.” Backing out of the parking lot, I catch a glimpse of Art standing by the plate glass front door of the diner. He tips two fingers to his head as I step on the gas.