The Liar

30

The country-dark road twisted like a snake as it climbed, and gave her an excuse to ease off the gas. She let the fear show—no point in pride—and the show of fear could be another weapon. Or at least a shield, she thought, as she slipped her hand into her pocket, and prayed she could manage a coherent message.

“Why didn’t you just run?”

“I don’t run,” he said with that same self-satisfied smile on his face. “I navigate. You were just what I needed to make my new ID solid after the Miami job. It didn’t take me long to realize you’d be useless on the grift, but you made for a good temporary cover.”

“Nearly five years, Richard?”

“I never figured to keep you around that long, then you got knocked up. I think on my feet,” he reminded her. “Who’s going to look for a family man, a man with a hick wife and a baby? And I had to wait for the take to cool down. And for Melinda to get out. She made a hell of a deal—you have to give her credit. I’d thought she’d get double what they gave her, and that would’ve been plenty of time for cooling off and covering my tracks. But she always could surprise me.”

“You killed her.”

“How could I? I’m dead, remember? Make this right. Nearly there.”

Nothing back here, she thought, but a couple of cabins—at least that’s all there’d been when she’d left the Ridge.

She hit Send—she hoped—because she had to put her left hand back on the wheel.

“But you’re not dead, and you killed her.”

“And who are the assholes looking for over it? Jimmy. I’m in the clear. I’m going to stay in the clear. And when I pick up what’s mine Monday morning, I’ll be in the clear with millions. Long-range plans, Shelby, take a lot of patience. This one cost me a little more than a year for each five million. That’s a damn good deal in the world of big pictures. Pull up right beside that truck.”

“Who else is here?”

“Nobody now.”

“My God, Richard, whose place is this? Who did you kill?”

“An old friend. Turn off the car, hand me the keys.” Once again, he jabbed with the barrel of the gun. “You’re going to sit where you are until I come around for you. Try anything—anything—I’ll put a bullet in you. Then I’ll go get Callie. I know people who’d pay a premium for a pretty girl her age.”

She hadn’t known he could sicken her even more. “She’s your child. She’s your blood.”

“Do you actually think I care?”

“No.” Her hand was back in her pocket, frantically tapping. “I don’t think you care about anything or anyone. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep Callie safe.”

“Then what’s left of the weekend should be easy on both of us.”

She considered locking the doors when he got out, just to give herself more time to send the next message. But it would only spike his temper. It had to be better to make him believe she was utterly helpless.

It wasn’t too far from the truth.

When he came around, opened her door, she got out compliantly.

“Here’s our little home away from home.” He used a penlight to shine a thin beam, showing the way to a small cabin, roughly built.

Her shoes crunched on the short gravel walk leading to a sagging front porch. A couple of old chairs, a rickety table. Nothing she could see that could be used as a weapon.

He dropped the penlight back in his pocket, handed her a key.

“Unlock the door.”

She did what she was told, and at the prod of the gun, stepped off the dark porch into the dark cabin. She jolted when he turned on the light—couldn’t help herself. It came yellow and dull from the globes on a wagon wheel dropped from the pitched ceiling.

“I call it the Hickville Dump. It’s not much, but it’s ours. Sit down.”

When she didn’t move fast enough he shoved her toward a chair of red-and-green plaid. She caught herself, turned to sit, and saw the blood on the floor, smears of it leading to a closed door.

“Yeah, you’re going to clean that up, then I’ve got a shovel with your name on it. You’re going to bury Jimmy, save me the sweat.”

“All of this for money?”

“It’s always the money.” The excitement, the light that had first drawn her to him, beamed out. But she saw it now for what it was. Hard and false.

“It’s always the money,” he repeated, “but it’s the ride, too. It’s knowing you’re the smartest one in the room, no matter what fucking room. It’s knowing if you want it, you can take it.”

“Even if it belongs to someone else.”

“Especially, you moron, if it belongs to someone else. That’s the ride. I’m going to grab a beer.” He sent her a wide smile “Get you something, honey?”

He backed into the tiny open kitchen when she said nothing.

So sure she was paralyzed, she thought, he didn’t even bother to restrain her. She kept her hands clenched together in her lap, the knuckles white. But it was as much a rising fury as fear now.

The lamp, she thought, the one on the table with the black bear hunched by the trunk of a tree. It might be heavy enough if she could get her hands on it.

There’d be knives in the kitchen.

She imagined the Winchester rifle over the fireplace was unloaded. But maybe not.

And there was an engraved plate on the stock that read “William C. Bounty.”

She relaxed her fingers, started to slide her hand toward her pocket, let it lie still again when Richard walked back, sat across from her.

“Isn’t this cozy?”

“How did you do it? How did you survive the boating accident?”

“Surviving’s what I do. Melinda was getting out. I didn’t count on Jimmy busting out, complicated things a bit. I didn’t think he had that in him. But Melinda, I knew she’d be a problem. She always was a dog with a bone, just never let go, so she’d need to be dealt with before I cashed in.”

He settled back, obviously relaxed. “I always figured on the five years—and it was close enough. So . . . a little vacation with the fam, tragedy strikes, and I’d be off the grid again.”

“We’d have been with you if Callie hadn’t gotten sick.” When his eyes gleamed, understanding struck her with true horror. “You were going to kill us. You were going to kill your own baby.”

“Young family’s holiday vacation ends in tragedy. It happens.”

“You couldn’t have gotten away with it. If the authorities hadn’t hunted you down, my family would have.”

“Not if I died trying to save you. It should’ve played out that way. I’d have spent a couple days painting us as a happy little family—people tend to believe what they see. Good-looking couple, pretty little girl. Then we’d make a day of it on the boat. Go out far enough, get some wine in you, wait until dusk.”

He took a slow sip of beer, smiled at her. “I toss the kid over, and it’s easy money you’d go right over after her. I wouldn’t have to put a mark on either one of you.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I’m a winner. I’d scuttle the boat, get my scuba gear. With my new ID and a change of clothes in a waterproof pouch, I’d have made it to Hilton Head in a few hours. Which is what I did—without you along.”

“The squall.”

“Unexpected bonus.”

“You could’ve died out there. Why risk dying?”

“You don’t get it, never will.” He leaned toward her, that light glowing again. “That’s the point, that’s the rush. All I had to do was dump the tanks, catch a cab and pick up the car I had waiting in long-term parking at the airport. Drive to Savannah and my drop box there. Wouldn’t have needed that if I damn could have found the key for my box in Philly.”

He watched her while he took another sip of beer. “You got into that. Where was the key?”

“In the pocket of your leather jacket, the bronze one I gave you for your birthday two years back. It had gone through a little hole and into the lining of the jacket.”

“Well, son of a bitch.” He gave a half-laugh, shook his head as he might over a missed putt on the green. “That key would have saved me some time and trouble. Either way, I’m dead. The way it turned out, you got to play the grieving widow for a while. How did that suit you?”

“I wish it had been true.”

He laughed, toasted her with his beer. “Coming back to the boonies brought some of that sass back. Let’s see if a little housework knocks it back out of you.” He rose, went back in the kitchen.

When he picked up a bottle of bleach and a scrub brush, she got to her feet.

“You want me to clean up the blood?”

“You’re going to clean up the blood, unless you want to clean up your own along with it.”

“I can’t—”

He swung out with the back of his left hand, quick as a snake, striking her across the cheekbone hard enough to send her stumbling back and into the chair again.

She didn’t know why the blow shocked her, now that she knew him. Really knew him. But he’d never hit her before.

“God! I’ve wanted to do that for years!” The furious pleasure on his face iced her blood. He could, and would, do more than knock her down if she bucked him. Even as he stepped toward her, she held up a trembling hand.

And again it was more rage than fear.

But she let only the fear show. “I just meant I need a bucket. I need a bucket of water and—and a mop. I can’t get it cleaned up with just the bleach and a brush. That’s all I meant. Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say so?”

She let her head hang, and thinking of never seeing Callie again, her family, never seeing Griff, let tears come.

Let him see the tears, she thought, let him think that’s all that’s in me.

“You start sniveling, I’ll give you worse than a love tap. Go find a damn bucket. Make a move I don’t like, you will be mopping up your own blood.”

She went into the kitchen, scanning, scanning. No knife block, but surely there was a knife in a drawer. And there was a good cast iron skillet still on the stove, and a coffeepot. Filled with hot coffee that would make a weapon.

She looked under the sink, considered her options there, then in a skinny closet. There she found a broom, mop, bucket. Some old cord, some rusty chain, butane lighter fluid, bug spray.

She considered grabbing the bug spray, aiming for his eyes with that as the pepper spray was in the purse she’d left in her car. But he was nearly on top of her.

She took out the mop, the bucket, filled the bucket with hot soapy water.

She carted it over to the largest smear of blood.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hold it,” he advised.

“I’ll do what you tell me to do. I just want to get through this, Richard, but I need to use the bathroom.”

He narrowed his eyes. She kept her gaze downcast, her shoulders slumped.

“Right there. Door stays open.”

“If you won’t give me privacy, at least don’t look at me.”

She walked to the tiny bathroom—razors maybe in the old medicine cabinet? A window too small for her to wiggle through if she had the chance.

She put the seat down on the toilet while he hovered in the doorway.

“Just don’t look at me!” She let out a choked sob. “The door’s open, you’re standing right there. I’m just asking you not to watch me. For God’s sake.”

He leaned against the jamb, cast his eyes up to the ceiling. “Awful dainty for someone one step up from an outhouse.”

She smothered her sensibilities, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties. And shot her hand in her pocket.

Please God, if you’re listening, let this make sense. Let this go through.

When she was done, heat flushed her face.

“Jesus, look at you, sweaty, splotchy, your hair like something a rat wouldn’t nest in. I don’t know how I ever got it up with you.”

She dipped the mop in the bucket, wrung it out, began to wash up the blood.

“And what’s your pithy comeback? Hurt feelings.” He made crying noises. “God, you’re weak. You think that asshole you’re fucking now’s going to stick?”

“He loves me.” Saying it, knowing it, steadied her.

“Love? You’re a handy piece of ass. It’s all you ever were, all you’d ever be. A handy piece of ass who’ll splash around in some backwoods creek.”

She froze, and slowly lifted her gaze. “You spied on us, on me?”

“I could’ve taken you both out.” He lifted the gun, pointed it at her head. Said, “Pow, pow. But I wanted to lay it on Jimmy’s plate. A nice, tidy circle.”

“But you killed Jimmy.”

“Unavoidable alteration in plans. Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. I always do. Put your back into it, Shelby.”

She went back to mopping, and began to make plans of her own.

• • •

GRIFF GOT HUNG UP talking construction with Derrick, lost track of some time. He had Shelby’s champagne, but he didn’t have Shelby. A glance around showed him Bitsy was back—a little damp-eyed as she danced with her future son-in-law.

Shelby was probably dealing with some other small crisis, he thought, but set out to look for her.

“Hey, Griff, hey!” Crystal came over, pointed at the glass of champagne. “Is that up for grabs?” She took it, drank deep. “I need it after drying Miz Bitsy up. She was watering like a leaky pipe.”

“Looks like you and Shelby got it done.”

“Oh, it was just me—that’s why I was looking for you, but I got waylaid a couple times. It’s a hell of a party! Shelby had to run home for a minute. Get Fifi for Callie. She should be back by now, I guess.”

“When did she go?”

“Oh, I don’t know exactly since I was dealing with the leaky pipe, then Miz Bitsy’s sister—they call her Sugar?—she came in so the two of them were leaking together. I guess it’s been about twenty minutes or so. She should be back or on her way.”

Maybe it was the dregs of all that had happened, but the dread just dropped over him like a shroud. He yanked out his phone, intended to call her, and it signaled an incoming text in his hand.

“It’s Shelby.”

“There you go.” Crystal patted his arm. “She’s just letting you know she’s on her way back, I expect. No call to look so worried, honey.”

But when he brought up the text the bottom dropped out of his world.

“Where’s Forrest?”

“Forrest? I just saw him over that-a-way flirting with a pretty blonde. I—”

But Griff was already moving, and fast. He cut across the dance floor, ignoring those who called out a greeting. He spotted Forrest, and what he felt must have showed on his face. After a casual glance in his direction, Forrest’s eyes went cold.

He turned away from the blonde without a word.

“What happened?”

“She’s in trouble.” Griff held out the phone.

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“Christ.”

“What’s BB Road?”

“Black Bear Road. Wait.” Forrest clamped a hand on Griff’s arm before his friend could take off. “You’re not going to find her driving hell-bent all over the hills.”

“I’m not going to find her standing here.”

“We’re not going to be. Nobby’s over by the bar there. Get him. I’m calling it in.”

“I’m going after her, Forrest.”

“Not saying different, but we’re going to go with the best chance of finding her. Get Nobby.”

They pulled Nobby outside, and Clay and Matt with them.

“We’re going to do this smart,” Forrest began. “Two men to a team. The sheriff’s putting more together right now. We’re going to blanket the area west of town. Odds are he’ll keep to the back roads. Clay, you look here.”

Clay clamped a hand on Forrest’s shoulder, leaned in to look at the map on his phone. “You and Nobby are going to cover this section here. You keep your eyes peeled for that vehicle, that license plate. Matt, you sure about this?”

“Hell yes.”

“I’m going to have you go into town, hook up with the sheriff, he’ll—”

“What’s going on here?” Viola stepped outside. “What’s happened? Where’s Shelby?”

Griff only waited a beat. “You’re wasting time figuring out what you should say or not, Pomeroy. Richard’s alive—I don’t know how—and he has her. We’re going after her.”

The color drained out of her face, made her eyes blaze like blue fire. “Boy, if you’re putting a posse together, your granddaddy and I are going to be part of it.”

“Granny—”

“Don’t Granny me,” she snapped at Forrest. “Who taught you to shoot?”

“I’m going now,” Griff said.

“Nobby, set it up from here, will you? Griff and I are going.”

“Callie,” Viola called out.

“She’s fine, Griff checked, and we’ve got a man there sitting on the house right now.” Forrest kept going, opened the lockbox on the side of his truck, took out a Remington rimfire rifle, a box of ammo.

“I’ve seen you shoot so I know you can handle it.”

Target shooting was as far as Griff had gone, ever, but he didn’t argue.

Forrest got in the truck, took his favored Colt out of the glove box. “We’re going to get her back, Griff.”

“Not sitting here, we won’t.”

“I’m counting on you to keep a cool head.” Even as he spoke, Forrest punched the gas and they were flying. “We’re going to keep your phone open, in case she’s able to send you another message. Use mine to coordinate with the other teams as they come along. The sheriff’s already pulled in the federals. They got equipment we don’t run to in the Ridge, and better techs. Shelby keeps her head, keeps her phone on, they’re going to track it.”

“He had to be watching her, or be in the house when she went back.”

“We’ll find out when we get her back.”

“He’s going to be the one who killed the woman.”

Forrest’s face was stone as the speedometer inched higher. “I wouldn’t bet against it.”

“I saw him, I think. I got a bad feeling about the guy I saw—when I took Callie to the bookstore, then to the park. He played me.”

“Let’s worry about now.”

The now had fear tearing through his heart, his head, his belly. “He has to have somewhere to go. Shelby said he never did anything without a reason.”

“We’ll find him, and we’ll get her back. Safe.”

Before Griff could respond, his phone signaled. “It’s Shelby. Jesus, she’s got nerves of steel.” He struggled to read the jumbled text as they flew around switchbacks. “Old Hester Road, I think she means Hester.”

“I know where she means. It’s Odd Hester. Scatter of cabins and old campsites, deer stands up that way. Remote. You relay that, Griff, to Nobby, and he’ll take it from there.”

“What the hell does he want with her?”

“Whatever he wants, he’s not going to get it.”

Ice, sharp and jagged, poured in through the tearing fear. “How far away are we?”

“A ways, but we’re traveling a hell of a lot faster than they are. Bring the others along now, Griff.”

He made the relay, yanked off his formal tie.

He wouldn’t lose her. He would not lose her. Callie would not lose her mother. Whatever had to be done, he’d do it. He looked at the rifle across his lap.

Whatever had to be done.

“She’s sending another. Right hardpack track past mulberry stand. Single cabin. Truck. There’s a truck already at the cabin.”

“Might have more hostages. Or it might be his old partner. Let the others know.”

Griff couldn’t say how Forrest kept the truck on the road, not at this speed, not around turns so sharp they could cut bone. More than once they fishtailed or the tires kissed the narrow shoulder.

And still it wasn’t fast enough.

“She’s sending . . . it says . . . William, she means William. William Bunty.”

“Bounty,” Forrest corrected. “I know where it is. She’s guiding us in faster than the fucking feds ever could.”

“How far?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Make it less.” With hands cold as steel, Griff began to load the rifle.

• • •

SHELBY EMPTIED the bucket twice, refilled it.

Stalling, as nothing was going to remove the stains from the old wood floor.

But she poured a puddle of bleach from the bucket on the stain, got down on her hands and knees to scrub at it.

“Now that’s the kind of job you’re suited for.”

“Scrubbing floors is honest work.”

“Loser work. You lived the high life for a while. I gave you that.” He gave her a nudge in the ass with his foot. “I gave you a good taste of the high life. You should be grateful.”

“You gave me Callie, so I’m grateful. You always meant to kill them, didn’t you, the people you ran with, the woman who you lived with—she said you married her. Did you?”

“Not any more than I married you. Thinking I did was about the only really stupid moment she had when we were together. Women, what can you do? They’re wired to be suckers. But she wouldn’t have given up, even thinking I was dead. She’d want the score. She was getting too close. I walked right out behind her, out of that dive where you were singing to a bunch of rubes.”

He shook his head, circled her while she worked. “I saved you from a life of embarrassment thinking you could ever make anything with that mediocre voice. And Mel’s face when she saw me? Priceless. I take back what I said—that was her second really stupid moment. She rolled the window down, said, ‘Jake. I should’ve known.’

“Those were the last words she said, and yeah, she should’ve.”

“She loved you.”

“See what love gets you?” He gave her another little kick. “It’s just another con.”

She sat back on her heels, then rose slowly, bucket in hand. “I’m going to need more than this to bleach out that stain. Is there more?”

“You’ve got plenty, right there.”

“Yes, but I need it to—”

She heaved it up, straight bleach with a faint tinge of blood, into his face.

When he screamed, she had a choice. Go for the gun or run for the door. And she was too fired up to run.

She kicked, aiming for his groin. The floor was just wet enough that she slipped a little, and it took the leading edge off the kick. But she made contact. Even as she tried to grab for the gun, he fired it—wild and blind.

Her ears rang. She ducked, snatching at the mop, hoping to make better contact with his balls with the handle. But his flailing hand got a fistful of her hair, firing stupefying pain into her skull.

She jabbed her elbow into the same tender area, and knew she hurt him, knew she gave him pain. But he was as wild as she was now, and flung her across the room like a rag.

“Bitch, you bitch.”

She rolled. She wasn’t sure how well he could see, hoped he was blind. Desperate, she wrenched off a shoe, flung it across the room, praying he’d follow the sound.

But he walked slowly toward her, the whites of his eyes shattered and red.

“I’m not just going to kill you now. I’m going to hurt you first.” He rubbed his left eye with his free hand.

Making it worse, she knew. Please, please make it worse.

“Let’s start with a kneecap.”

She braced for the pain, then scrambled back in shock as the door where the bloodstains ended burst open.

Richard whirled, blinking his burning, blurry eyes as the bloody mountain of a man rammed him.

Horrible sounds, the grunts, snarls, the crack of fist against bone. But the only sound that mattered was the clatter of the gun as it leaped out of Richard’s hand on impact and hit the floor.

She bolted after it, nearly dropped it again out of hands soap slick with her own sweat.

She swayed up to her knees, bit down, gripped the gun in both hands.

The big man was bleeding, and whatever force had driven him into the room and at the man who’d shot him was eaten away now. Richard had his hands around the man’s throat. Squeezing, squeezing.

“Dead. Thought you were dead, Jimmy.”

I thought the same about you, she thought, and said calmly, coldly, “Richard.”

His head whipped around. She wondered what she looked like through those burning eyes. She hoped she looked like Vengeance.

He bared his teeth, let out a short laugh. “You haven’t got the spine.”

He lunged at her.

• • •

THEY HEARD the first shots as Forrest spun the truck onto the dirt track. All plans to go in quiet, one in front, one in back, while backup poured in behind them, dissolved.

He floored it, fishtailed over the gravel walk as the next shots rang out.

“Go in fast,” Forrest shouted as they leaped out of either side of the truck. “If he’s standing, drop him.”

They hit the door together. Griff swung the rifle up.

But Richard was already down.

She knelt on the floor, holding the gun out, gripped in both hands. There was blood and bruising on her face. Her dress was torn at the shoulder where more bruises bloomed.

Her eyes were cold and fierce, her hair a wild, tumbling tangle of flame.

She never had and never would look more beautiful to Griff’s eyes.

She swung the gun toward them, and he saw her arms tremble. Then she dropped those trembling arms.

“I think he’s dead this time. I think I killed him. I think he’s dead now.”

Griff shoved the rifle at Forrest. His heart started beating again when he had his arms around her.

“I’ve got you. You’re all right. I’ve got you.”

“Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.” He eased back only to pry the gun out of her stiff fingers. “He hurt you.”

“Not as bad as he wanted. Callie.”

“She’s fine. She’s safe. She’s asleep.”

“He said he’d kill her if I didn’t go with him. He said he’d go after her.” She looked over at her brother, who pressed fingers against Richard’s throat. “I had to protect her.”

“You did what you had to do,” Forrest told her.

“Is he dead now?”

“He’s breathing. They both are, but they sure are a mess. It’ll be up to the doctors and God whether they make it.”

“He shot him, shot the big one—Jimmy—and thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. I threw bleach in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough. I slipped on it, I think, when I went to kick him in the balls, and he got me by the hair. He was going to shoot me, but the other one came out like a demon from hell. I got the gun. I got the gun, and the big one, he couldn’t fight anymore he was bleeding so bad. Richard was choking him. I said his name. I said, ‘Richard,’ so he looked at me. I don’t know why I thought that would make him stop. He thought less than nothing of me. He thought I was weak and stupid and spineless. He said that. He said I didn’t have the spine, and he came at me. I had the spine to shoot him three times. I think it was three times. He didn’t go down until the third time.”

Forrest shifted, crouched eye-to-eye with her. “You did what you had to do.”

Her eyes lost the fierceness, went glassy with tears. “You have to take it back.”

“Take what back, baby?”

“That I can’t shoot worth shit.”

Weak-kneed, Forrest rested his brow to hers a moment. “I take it back. Get her out of here, Griff. I got this.”

“I’m all right.”

Rather than argue, Griff just picked her up.

“You came.” She touched his cheek. “I knew you would, somehow. I didn’t know if the texts were going through, or who I was texting for sure. I’ve got them alphabetical, so it was going to be you or Forrest or Granny, maybe Grandpa. I knew if they got through, you’d come. You’d fix it.”

“You fixed it yourself before I got the chance.”

“I had to— Someone’s coming.” Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “The lights. Someone—”

“Backup. You’re safe now.” He turned his face into her hair. “You’ve got the whole damn Rendezvous Ridge Sheriff’s Department and God knows who else coming.”

“Oh, that’s all right, then. Will you take me to see Callie? I don’t want to wake her up. I don’t want her to see me until I’ve cleaned up, but I need to see her. Well, my God, that’s Grandpa’s date-night car. Set me down. Set me down so they’re not scared.”

He put her on her feet, but kept an arm around her. When he felt her shivering, he stripped off his jacket, draped it over her shoulders as her grandparents got out of the car.

“I’m all right. I’m not hurt. I’m—” The rest was muffled against her grandfather’s shoulder. She felt him shaking, knew he wept. Wept with him a little as others drove up.

“Where is the bastard?” Jack demanded.

“Inside. I shot him, Grandpa. He’s not dead—again—but I shot him.”

Jack took her face in his hands, kissed her wet cheeks.

“Let me see the girl.” Viola pulled her away, studied her face. “You were born to take care of yourself and yours. You did what you were born to do. Now we’re going to take you home and . . .”

She paused, steadied herself. “Griff’s going to take you home,” Viola corrected. “Your mama and daddy are at Suzannah’s with Callie. Just staying there while she sleeps. They need to hear your voice.”

“I’ll call right away. I had my phone in my pocket. He never knew I had it. He never knew much about me, I guess. Sheriff.”

Her head felt too light, and the dark circled for a few seconds as Hardigan strode up to her.

“I shot him. He was going to kill me so I shot him.”

“I want you to tell me everything that happened.”

“She gave Forrest the outline,” Griff interrupted. “She needs to get away from here. She needs to see her daughter.”

Sheriff Hardigan tapped his cheek where Shelby’s was bruised. “He do that?”

“Yes, sir. It was the first time he ever hit me. I guess it’s going to be the last time.”

“You go on home now, darling. I’ll be around to talk to you tomorrow.”

It took some time. Clay rushed up, picked her up off her feet, held her suspended as if he’d never let her go. There was Matt, who thrust his phone out to her after he’d hugged her so she could speak to Emma Kate.

“Tell Forrest I’m taking his truck.”

Griff drove away from the cabin, from the blood, from the lights, then just stopped at the turn onto the road.

He drew her over against him, held on.

“I need a minute.”

“You can take all the minutes you want.” She started to relax against him. “Oh hell, Griffin, I forgot to tell them. Richard has a key in his pocket—or I guess that’s where it is. It was in that picture frame, the one holding the picture of me and Callie I gave him. He said he was going Monday morning to the bank, and I think he means one of the banks right in the Ridge. It’s where he put the jewelry, the stamps, too, I guess. He put it right in the bank in Rendezvous Ridge.”

Keeping his eyes closed, Griff just breathed in the scent of her hair. “Who’d have figured to look for it there?”

“I guess he was canny in that way. I have to tell them.”

“You will. Tomorrow’s soon enough. They’ve waited five years. They can wait one more night.”

“One more night. I want a hot shower and a gallon of water, and I want to burn this dress. But I want to see Callie more than anything.”

“That’s first on the list.”

“Do you know the way to get back to the Ridge from here?”

“I haven’t got a clue.”

“That’s all right.” She took his hand in hers. “I do. I know how to get us home again.”