Where She Belongs (29 page)

“There should be a way to change my initials to yours.”

“Except neither of us are Lassiters. Our initials don't belong on the willow.”

“I wouldn't mind.” She pulled at a tuft of grass near her shoe. “You're a good friend, Cassie. Jason is blessed to have you.”

“You bet he is.” Her mouth curved upward into a contented smile. “But I'm blessed too.”

Only a few yards upstream, AJ picked a large stone from the creek bed and heaved it to the bank. Standing upright with one hand on his hip, he wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. As if he knew Shelby was watching him, he turned toward her, smiled a gorgeous smile, and waved.

She responded by tipping the bill of his hat. Cassie wasn't the only one who was blessed.

Shelby yawned as she peeked into the girls' bedroom. Both slept peacefully while Lila sprawled on the floor between them. Lately, the Labrador spent more nights with them than with AJ. If they stayed in the United States, she'd have to find them their own dog.

She padded through the family room to her bedroom and turned on the light. Her bag, the sheriff's report sticking out of the top, lay on the bed where she'd tossed it earlier. After pulling out the papers, she scanned the first page.

Only a few hours earlier she'd promised not to think about Grandpa's death, but her curiosity squashed her resolve. She carried the report to the family room, curled up in the wing chair, then flipped through the pages to the investigation's final account.

She read it through, her stomach tying itself in knots, then read it again more slowly. The report didn't make sense.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the soft upholstery and forced herself to remember that horrible day. The memories came easily, reinforced by all the times she had relived them in the months following Grandpa's death.

She had found him on the concrete floor, a pool of blood around his head. Praying he was okay, she'd pushed him over and pressed her ear against his silent heart.
Open your eyes, Grandpa,
she had pleaded.
Please. Open your eyes.

Uncle Richard appeared and pulled her away. Bits of straw clung to her knees, and the four baby pigs in the corner pen squealed for her attention. But she had barely heard them above her own uncontrollable sobs.

She read the nonsensical words again. Whoever wrote the report must have made a mistake. Flipping back to the initial report, she found the same error there.

Suddenly fidgety, she walked to the kitchen for a drink of water. The mistaken detail was minor, but the investigators should have
known better. Were they just sloppy? Didn't they care about the truth?

The clock on the stove displayed 10:33.

Leaning against the sink, she sent AJ a text.
“Are you still up?”

A few seconds later, her phone beeped.
“Sure am.”

She called him on her way back to the wing chair.

“Hi, Shelby. Long time no see.”

“I read the sheriff's report.” She bit her lip, picturing him massaging the back of his neck as she waited for him to respond.

“You want to talk about it?”

“It's wrong. They messed up.”

“Who did?”

“The deputies who investigated. They're so stupid.” She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. Behaving so childishly was out of character, but irritation at their carelessness boiled her knotted stomach.

“Tell me how they messed up.”

She breathed a prayer of thanks that AJ's tone neither belittled nor downplayed her exasperation.

“It says Grandpa hit his head when he tripped on the pig trough. But that's not possible. The trough was in the pen. With the pigs.”

“I don't understand.”

“Grandpa gave me four pigs to raise for 4-H.” She took a deep breath. “The trough was in the pen. He couldn't have tripped over it.”

“Are you sure? Maybe he moved it.”

“I'm positive. Nanna had gone to Columbus that day. I fed the pigs. I gave them water. That trough was inside the pen.”

“Was your grandpa in the barn?”

“He had been working on a tractor outside the barn. After I fed the pigs, I went for a walk back to the woods. On the way home, I stopped at the barn and that's when . . . that's when I found him.”

“Could he have tripped on something else?”

“Both the initial report and the final report say the same thing. A pig trough. But I know they're wrong.”

“Yeah, it looks that way.”

“The report references photographs, but they aren't here. I want to see them.”

“I don't know, Shelby. That might not be a good idea.”

“I just want to see if there are any photographs of the trough. Or whatever it is they're saying he tripped on. Do you think you could get that for me?”

“Of course I can. I'll stop by the sheriff's office first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure you're okay? I can be over there in ten minutes.”

“I think I'm more mad than anything else. Is that weird?”

“No. Not at all.”

“I just needed to talk to somebody. To explain about the report.”

“I'm glad you chose me.”

The huskiness in his voice awakened a dormant yearning. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Me too.”

She said good night and hung up, then crawled into bed.

Grandpa hadn't taken the trough out of the pigs' pen, she was sure of it. But then what had he tripped on? And how did the deputies make such a stupid mistake?

A
J breathed in the familiar mouth-watering aromas of cinnamon rolls and brewed coffee as he entered the bakery. He'd arrived late enough to miss the early Saturday morning crowd, so it wasn't difficult to find an empty table.

Slurping an iced coffee, he spread out the photocopies and studied each one. A deputy at the sheriff's office, a dad whose three teens he'd taught in the past five years, had done him a favor by making black-and-white copies of the photographs he wanted.

Though the copies were slightly grainy, the details were clear enough. The outline of a body drawn on the barn floor was shown from different angles. The dark stain near the head in one close-up could only be blood. At least three of the photos showed a pig trough lying on its side near the outline's feet.

For reasons they'd never know, Thad Lassiter must have taken the trough out of the pen. That innocuous decision had apparently cost him his life.

And forced Shelby out of a protective cocoon where bad things didn't happen. He'd been devastated by his parents' deaths, but he'd learned before then that life was a series of challenges, and there were no heroes.

But Shelby's golden childhood had shielded her from the harsher
realities of life outside the doting family world of Misty Willow. She didn't know the pain of feuding parents who viewed their ping-pong betrayals as a blood sport. Or the loneliness of feeling less important than his dad's latest sports car or his mom's newest diamond.

Only Gran had been there for him. Every time his little boy's heart was broken by another quarrel or an unkept promise. Every single time.

He wished she were here now to soothe the whiplash from the past couple of days. Maybe she could have helped him work out his contradictory feelings toward Meghan and Jonah. Despite the surprise of Jonah's existence, he'd been eager to fulfill his responsibilities to the boy. And he still wanted to do anything he could to ensure Jonah received the best possible care.

Though initially angered at Brett's revelation, AJ also had been relieved.

And disappointed.

The little boy, pale and still beneath institutional bedding, had wormed his way into AJ's heart without a word or a glance. He loved the kid. Brett's newsflash hadn't changed that.

“Hello, AJ. Such a nice surprise.” Richard hovered near the table, his eyes intent on the papers. Barely touching the nearest sheet with his index finger, he gave it a slight twist so it faced him. “What is this?” He attempted to sound merely curious, but bitter indignation edged his voice.

“Morning, Richard.” AJ gathered the papers into a single pile. “Have a seat?”

Richard glanced at the bakery goods on display at the counter, then pulled out the opposite chair. His back as straight as his stooped shoulders allowed, he lowered himself to the seat and held out his palm. “May I?”

AJ handed him the papers, and Richard, with a pained grimace, shuffled through them.

“Why do you have these?” He laid them on the table, then adjusted the stack so it was parallel to the table's edge.

“You've seen them before?”

Richard slowly shook his head. “I was in the barn when the photographs were taken. An experience like that is not easily forgotten.”

“I imagine not.” AJ felt a rush of pity for the old man. After all, Thad was his sister's husband. It couldn't have been easy to see him lifeless on the barn floor. He had probably been the one to break the sad news to Aubrey.

“I remember every detail of that day.” Richard involuntarily shivered. “The smell. The overbearing stuffiness. When I saw him lying there, I tried to revive him. But it was too late. He was gone. Then Shelby came in.” His voice trailed away, and his watery eyes stared again at the bakery display.

“You found Thad?”

Obviously replaying that long-ago day, Richard barely nodded.

Hands clasped around his iced coffee, AJ leaned forward. “Shelby told me she found her grandfather.”

Richard slowly turned his head. His pale eyes appeared unfocused before fixating on AJ. “I shouldn't have let her go into the barn.” His quiet, dreamlike voice held little emotion. “Night after night, I hear her scream.”

AJ narrowed his eyes. “You
let
her go into the barn?”

“Such a dear child.” Richard sighed heavily, and his eyes blurred. “Thad's death, and then Aubrey's only a couple of weeks later. The shock was so great, she barely spoke for months. Her parents were right to take her so far away from such heartache.”

“I'm not sure Shelby thought so.”

As if deliberately removing himself from his memories, Richard's eyes cleared. “But she's come back to us, hasn't she?”

AJ shrugged in puzzlement.
Come back to us? What does that
mean?
“I suppose so.”

With a slight smile, Richard stiffly leaned forward and gestured at the photocopies. “You aren't going to show these to her, are you? I doubt she could handle seeing them.”

“No.” AJ swept them away from Richard's side of the table
and folded them in half. “Unless she insists. Then I'll give her the close-up of the trough. She doesn't believe Thad tripped on it.”

“Why not?” Richard asked sharply.

“She said the trough was in the pen with the pigs.”

“She's wrong.” His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes flashed with sudden anger.

“I think
mistaken
might be a better word.” Though it wasn't a surprise that the photocopies seemed to be stirring up painful memories, the old man's behavior appeared odd. Maybe he should give Richard's daughter a call.

“You care about her, don't you?” Richard smiled indulgently, his demeanor swinging like a pendulum to the opposite extreme. “I'm not surprised. She's very much like her grandmother. And you are very much like Sully.”

“I think you have me confused with Brett.”

“I assure you I do not.”

“Since Aubrey dumped Sully, I'm not sure I want any relationship I might have with Shelby compared to theirs.”

“Aubrey belonged with Sully.” The faraway look returned to Richard's pale eyes. “Thad never should have interfered.”

“Two souls, one heart.”

“What?” The pendulum swung back to anger.

“Aubrey loved Thad. Not Sully. They had a good life together until this happened.” AJ tapped at the folded papers.

“Yes. They were happy.” Another pendulum swing as his eyes bored into AJ's. “Don't show Aubrey the photographs. Her heart can't take it.”

“You mean Shelby.” AJ spoke quietly. “Aubrey's dead.”

Richard gripped AJ's arm, his fingers surprisingly strong as he dug into flesh. “We shouldn't have done it, Sully. I told you we shouldn't.”

A shiver raced through AJ's spine as he pulled his arm away. “Done what?”

“Thad won't listen. I tried to explain I wasn't to blame. But he's so angry.”

“Why was he angry, Richard?”

“If Thad tells Aubrey, she'll never speak to me again.” His fist slammed the table. “This is your fault, Sully.”

“Richard, it's me. AJ.” He definitely needed to call Richard's daughter. “What did Sully do to Thad?”

Richard pushed back his chair and closed his eyes.

“Tell me what Sully did.”

Richard took a couple of deep breaths, then opened his eyes. “AJ?”

“Yes, Richard. It's me.”

“Are you going to Shelby's cookout this afternoon?”

“Of course.”

“Please make my excuses.” Richard passed a hand over his forehead. “I don't seem to be feeling very well.”

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“No, that won't be necessary. I'm walking to the bank. Only please, do tell Shelby I'm sorry.”

“She'll understand.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

As Richard walked toward the door, AJ pulled out his cell phone and searched his contacts list. Finding the right number, he hit the send button. When the call went to voicemail, he left a message asking Richard's daughter to contact him.

He unfolded the photocopies, then sifted through them again. They confirmed the investigator's report that Thad had tripped on the pig trough and hit his head in a fatal accident. But the conversation with Richard raised unsettling questions.

What had Sully done to anger Thad? Most likely something to do with the ownership of Misty Willow. But what did that have to do with Thad's death? Even more troubling, though, was Richard's admission he'd found Thad. Just like the newspaper accounts said.

But if that were true, then where was he when Shelby walked into the barn? And why did she believe she found Thad first?