Next of Kin (9 page)

Beth had seen a question in his eyes, and by keeping her silence she felt as if she’d somehow let him down, but there was no footing between them. Every time she looked at him she felt hot and achy…as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath. She needed to change the subject.

“Where are you hiding me?” Beth asked.

“Remember my grandpa Foster?”

“Your mother’s daddy?”

Ryal nodded.

“We’re staying at his place, because it’s the highest house on Rebel Ridge and completely isolated.”

“Oh, Ryal, I don’t know. What’s he going to think about people just moving in on him?”

“He won’t mind. He died about a little over a year ago.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Ryal shrugged. “How could you?”

Beth frowned. She didn’t like his attitude. “What does that mean?”

Ryal frowned back. “Don’t use that tone of voice with me, Lilabeth. It means, how could you know when you no longer lived here? It means how could you know when you broke contact with everyone and everything you left behind without a damned word? Not to me. Not to Lou. Not to anyone. That’s what that means.”

Beth flinched. The anger in his voice was impossible to miss. But he wasn’t the only one who’d felt hurt and betrayed.

“I didn’t want to go!” she yelled, and then groaned. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I thought you would fight for me. But you didn’t. I thought you would come get me. But you didn’t. No one wrote back to me no matter how many letters I sent. No one called. After that, I got the message. There wasn’t anything to come back for.”

Ryal stomped on the brakes and slammed the pickup into Park. The morning sun coming through the windshield highlighted the dust motes in the air between them, but the heat was nothing compared to the heat of the anger between them.

“I didn’t know I needed to fight for you until it was too late. I woke up one morning and you were gone. All of you. No one even knew which direction you’d gone until months later, when Lou finally got a letter from your dad. I begged for the address. I wrote a dozen letters to you in one month’s time and every one of them came back unopened.”

Ryal’s face began to blur. Beth swiped at the tears running down her face. If what he was saying was true, then that meant her parents had lied to her a thousand times over, blocking both her letters and his.

“I don’t believe you!” she screamed.

He reeled as if she’d just slapped him, then took a deep breath, put the pickup in gear and started driving.

The silence between them was painful, but the longer it stretched, the less likely it became that it was going to end on a good note.

Beth took a slow, shuddering breath and swallowed back tears, refusing to let him see her cry. She made herself focus on the view and started recognizing houses tucked back in the woods, roads cut into the hills that wound upward before they disappeared from sight. She’d been gone ten years, and yet nothing here had really changed. The only industry in this part of Kentucky was the mines. A majority of the population lived below the poverty line, and it showed—in the run-down houses and in the ramshackle cars parked in front, some with wheels, some without.

When she realized they were near his old family home, she began to get nervous. Surely she wasn’t going to have to face all of them now. He took the turn she remembered and resisted the urge to argue.

The road was shaded by trees on both sides, but the underbrush was gone. It looked neat and well cared for. When the house she remembered suddenly appeared in front of them, she felt sick. The one-story clapboard house was still there, but it appeared that they’d added on a room, a wraparound porch, narrow gray shutters and a fresh coat of white paint. But all she could remember was the last time she’d been here with him, when they’d made love beneath the waterfall in the woods below the house.

Ryal slammed on the brakes and killed the engine, but he wouldn’t look at her.

“I need to pick up my stuff. Would you like to come in and use the bathroom before we head up? It’s about an hour’s drive to Grandpa’s cabin.”

Beth wanted to say no, but she knew better. “I guess I should.” But when she reached for the door, he stopped her.

“I’ll get that. The door sticks, and you’ll hurt your hands.”

He bounded out of of the truck and around to the passenger side before she could disagree, opened the door and put a hand under her elbow to steady her as she slid down from the seat.

She started to say thank-you, but he turned his back on her and walked away. She followed him up the stone walk to the front porch.

He unlocked the door, and then stepped aside.

“After you.”

The hair rose on the back of Beth’s neck as she walked past him and into the house, only to be greeted by silence.

“The bathroom is still down that hall and to the left,” he said, and left her standing in the living room.

It took a few moments before she could make herself move. She didn’t recognize anything about the place. Not the furniture, not the layout—nothing. Walls had been moved. Everything was more open, and the furniture was all different. That was when she remembered Uncle Will saying Ryal made and sold furniture for a living. She wondered if he’d made any of this. It was simple, but beautiful.

Finally she came to her senses and headed for the bathroom. When she got back, he was standing in the living room with a suitcase in his hand.

“I’ve already loaded up the perishables,” he said.

“Where’s your family?”

“They don’t live here anymore. Dad died the year after you left. Mom moved down the mountain to be closer to my oldest sister—you remember Meg, right? James is married, and Quinn lives on his own. I live here alone. Do you want a drink or anything?”

She shook her head.

He thrust a packet into her hands and then walked out the door, leaving her to follow.

Startled, Beth looked down at what he’d handed her. A handful of unopened letters tied up with a ribbon. She recognized the handwriting, and then her name. Her stomach knotted as she saw the dates on the postmarks.

Sweet Lord…he had written to her after all.

She looked up. He was standing at the door, waiting for her to exit. She started to say something, but his expression was cold, and enough had already been said between them. She lifted her chin and walked past him.

Ryal watched her walk out of the house with her head up and her shoulders straight. He could tell by her stride she was pissed, but so was he. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t been prepared to feel old anger and pain, and obviously neither had she.

“God help the both of us,” he muttered, then locked the door and followed her to the pickup.

Pappas was at his favorite restaurant, sipping ouzo as he waited for his meal to appear. The man sitting across from him neither ate nor drank. Instead, he sat watching Pappas like a rat watching a cobra.

Moe Cavanaugh was middle-aged, skinny and going bald, but his skills had nothing to do with age or looks. His reputation for finding people who didn’t want to be found was well-known, and when he’d gotten the call to meet Pappas, he’d relished the opportunity. He didn’t like the man, but the money he paid out was worth a lot of angst. Now he sat, patiently waiting for Pappas to speak.

Pappas knew Moe was getting antsy, but he liked to keep people who worked for him a little off guard. To draw out the suspense, he took another slow sip of ouzo, then glanced at Moe and slid an envelope across the table.

Moe quickly picked it up and slipped it in his jacket pocket as Ike began to speak.

“I need you to find someone for me. Her name is Beth Venable. She’s an artist of sorts…illustrates children’s books. I gave you her address, but needless to say, she’s not there. The Feds had her in protective custody, then lost her, so mind how and where you do your searching, especially online. You don’t want to let the Feds know you’re looking. When you find her, I’ll take it from there.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Moe said.

“Time is an issue,” Ike said. “Find her quickly and there’s another ten thousand in it for you.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll do my best,” Moe said. “Is there anything else?”

Ike’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he saw Adam walk through the door. He hadn’t expected to see him. They were still at odds, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Adam was tailing him.

“That’s all. You can go,” Ike muttered.

Moe was out of the chair and through the door before Adam was halfway across the room, but Adam recognized him. By the time Adam reached Ike’s table, he was curious.

“May I join you, or are you expecting someone else?”

Ike leaned back, eyeing his flesh and blood with a wary air. He wasn’t going to make it easy for Adam. The little bastard had insulted him.

“I didn’t know we were back on speaking terms.”

Adam flushed, but he didn’t apologize. “I didn’t ask for a hug. I asked if I could sit down.”

Ike grinned. “Spoken like a true Pappas. Yes, sit your ass down before you make a scene.”

Adam sat. He was still suspicious of his old man, though he had nothing but a gut feeling to go on.

“Have you already ordered?” Adam asked, as he hailed a waiter.

“Yes.”

Adam pointed toward Ike. “I’ll have what he’s having, and bring me a coffee,” he told the waiter, who quickly sped away to adjust the table order.

Ike shook his head, as if in disbelief. “A Greek who doesn’t like ouzo. Shameful.”

“Half Greek, half Italian,” Adam said.

Ike bowed his head in acknowledgment. It was a subtle reminder that Lorena’s unanswered murder was still between them.

Adam leaned back and crossed his hands over his belly. Ike grinned. His own father had always done that when pondering the way to broach a subject.

“What’s funny?” Adam asked.

Ike pointed. “My father always did that, too—crossing his hands over his belly as you do. Must be the Greek half of you.”

Adam smiled, then regretted it. He didn’t want his father to think he was off the hook.

“So who did you send Moe Cavanaugh after?”

“Your mother’s killer.”

Adam blinked, stunned by the answer. “You know who he is?”

Ike shrugged. “I’ve been thinking…maybe it was wrong to assume it was a man.”

Adam leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Right now, nothing,” Ike said. “But I would have found out by now if it was one of my enemies, and I can truthfully say I don’t think it was. What do you know about the people your mother associated with?”