Gone to Her Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 2) Page 6

  Normally Carly preferred to make scheduled home visits. Unless she had a specific reason to fear for a child’s safety, an expected visit fostered a working-together mood, as opposed to the trying-to-catch-you-in-the-act atmosphere of a surprise call.

  She got out of the Jeep. Thirty feet away, a snarling dog lunged to the end of its chain. Carly flinched.

  Relax.

  She’d been here before. She knew what to expect, but today felt different. Was it because she’d come here with an ulterior motive? Because Darren had been involved with Ted? Or simply because she was on edge about being watched last night?

  Her flats stirred up dust as she crossed the driveway. The dogs stopped barking and paced, dragging their chains through the dirt. She followed the cracked cement walkway to the front stoop and knocked on the door. No answer. A bird chirped from its perch on the gutter.

  She knocked again. Something moved behind the window to her left. Her ears strained for a repeat. Nothing. Could have been a cat.

  Or a child instructed not to open the door.

  Either way, she wasn’t getting inside the house today. She’d have to come back. She pivoted to return to her vehicle and almost collided with the brawny body of Darren Fisher. An ax rested on his shoulder, and sweat stained his T-shirt.

  Startled, Carly pressed a hand to her chest. How did a man the size of the Hulk sneak up on her? “Chopping something?”

  “Wood.” The morning sun angled from its position over the house into his face. He squinted at her. “Did you want something?”

  “I was just stopping by to check on things. See if you had time to review that paperwork I dropped off yesterday.” Which they both knew he’d burned.

  “Things are fine.” He loomed over her. “I thought I’d made it clear we aren’t interested in handouts.”

  He didn’t back off, forcing Carly to take a step backward to reestablish her personal boundary.

  “Are Tammy and the children home?”

  “No.” He lowered the ax and rested its head on the ground next to his work boots. Below stained knee-length shorts, his hairy calves were thick as tree trunks.

  “Where are they?”

  “Tammy took the younger ones to visit her sister in Portland. Gary’s hanging with friends somewhere.”

  A line of sweat trickled down Carly’s chest. “I guess I’ll have to stop back to see them.”

  “Guess you will. If you called first, you’d know if they were gonna be here.” Darren’s eyes grinned as if he was enjoying the game.

  Carly doubted he let them answer the phone. But she played along. Aggression rolled off his powerful body. She would not risk a confrontation without police backup. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

  She walked around him toward her Jeep. She could ask to go into the house to look around, but she had no desire to be alone in close quarters with Darren Fisher. Being alone with him outside was unnerving enough.

  Her visit hadn’t accomplished anything. She slid into the front seat, hit the door lock switch, and took her first deep breath in minutes. Her ribs felt too tight, and she was going to need to freshen her deodorant.

  She shouldn’t have let him bully her. Her supervisor knew she was stopping here this morning. If Carly didn’t report in within an hour, someone would follow up.

  But a lot could happen in an hour.

  She could call for backup now and make him let her into the house, but playing the hard-ass might erode any progress she’d made with Tammy and further irritate Darren. Tammy and the kids might pay for Carly’s power play. Better not to supply him with ammunition. She swept her gaze across the property one more time. There were no signs that anyone else was here.

  She started her Jeep. Cool air rushed from the vents. As she shifted into reverse, she glanced back at Darren, leaning on the ax handle on his front walk. The slight smile on his lips told her he’d enjoyed every second of his intimidation.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Over the meadow, black clouds rolled across the horizon. Seth got out of his car and walked toward the cabin. A cool, moist breeze swept across his face, a precursor to the coming storm. He faced the rushing wind. Oregon didn’t get many thunderstorms, and Seth missed the violent weather clashes of his childhood in New Hampshire. He could feel the energy in the air, trapped in the clouds, restless to get on with the storm.

  A loud and brash storm was exactly what he needed. An impact of fronts to clear the air, to restore the normal balance of moderation to the weather, to his life. An outlet for all the pent-up frustration that had been building for the past few months.

  The strum of an acoustic guitar and Carly’s clear voice sounded from inside the cabin. Seth stopped. He recognized the opening notes of “Patience.” Normally Carly and her family stuck to the folk songs her mother loved, but when she was alone, she’d sing anything that came on the radio. Perfect pitch, she’d called it, the ability to reproduce the notes. She’d hear a song and pick the melody out on her guitar a minute later. The first time he’d heard her he’d been entranced, but she’d just shrugged off the talent as ordinary. For a man who couldn’t carry a note ten yards if he had the support of the entire Seahawks offensive line, it was hardly ordinary.

  One of the things he missed most, living alone, was the sound of Carly singing. She sang when she folded laundry, when she cooked, in the shower, and any other time her hands were occupied and her mind free. The house had been too damned quiet since she’d left. He’d started turning TVs on in different rooms to block out the silence.

  He waited until the notes faded before climbing the wooden steps to the covered porch. He peered through the screen door. Carly sat on an overstuffed chair, the guitar across her lap as she adjusted a tuner and plucked a string.

  He knocked on the doorframe. The notes stopped. Carly got up and came to the door. Instead of letting him in, she joined him on the porch. Crossing ten feet of rough wood, she leaned on the railing and closed her eyes. That cool breeze whipped up again, rustling the tall meadow grass and ruffling Carly’s loose curls. Bare feet and denim shorts showed off long, long legs. The outline of her bra showed through a thin white T. Under those simple clothes was the body he still craved. He’d had no urge to date since Carly had left him. He didn’t want another woman. He wanted her.

  But as his life had shown him, he couldn’t always get what he wanted. Personally, he thought Mick Jagger was a liar. Seth getting what he needed wasn’t a guarantee either.

  She faced him, leaning her butt against the railing and hooking her thumbs in the front pockets of her shorts. “I texted you to pick Brianna up at my mom’s. You didn’t need to drive back here.”

  “I must have missed that message.” Actually he’d ignored it. Carly wanted to make their divorce as easy as possible. Seth wanted the opposite. “It’s no trouble.”

  “What time will you bring her back?”

  “Is nine all right?”

  “There’s no school, so it’s fine.” Carly tilted her head.

  For the span of one long minute, he just looked at her, as if he were saving up the sight for later. Her warm brown eyes searched his face, and Seth struggled to find the words to express the pain, the missing her, that was lodged in his heart.

  But Carly broke the moment. “Why are you here, Seth?”

  “I just wanted to see you for two minutes without fighting.”

  “All right. You accomplished your goal.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “Maybe we should quit while we’re ahead.”

  “I was never very good at that.” Thunder cracked. Seth walked to the railing and stared out over the meadow. “I love a good storm. Shame we hardly ever get them.”

  “Not me.” Carly shivered. “You’ll be careful with Brianna, right? If the weather looks too bad . . .”

  “It’s a thunderstorm, not a—” Seth stopped himself from mocking her fears. He met her gaze. No yelling. No criticizing. No friction. He could do this. �
�Of course I will. Nothing is more important.”

  She blinked away, but not before he saw surprise in her eyes. That was something, he supposed. He could change. Every little thing didn’t have to be a confrontation. Whatever else he’d done wrong, he could stop doing it.

  “Carly—”

  She raised a hand. “Don’t do this, Seth.”

  “You know I still love you.” He moved closer, until he could smell the floral scent of her shampoo. Her eyes filled with sadness.

  “Love was never our problem.” She dropped her gaze.

  Seth put a finger under her chin and lifted it. Her eyes darkened. He forgot about easing his way back into her heart and dropped his lips to hers. The taste of her overwhelmed him. He pressed closer, his body yearning for more than an appetizer. His hands cupped her jaw as his tongue swept into her mouth. She opened for him, her head turning to give him room.

  He slid a hand down her arm and around to her lower back, urging her hips to press against his aching need.

  Thunder cracked, the sound rattling the panes in the windows behind them.

  Her hands hit his shoulders and pushed him away. “No.”

  Seth stepped back. “Why not?”

  “Because it won’t solve anything.” Carly wiped the back of her hand across her lips, then pushed her hair off her face.

  Desperation clawed its way up Seth’s chest. “Then what will? Tell me. I’ll do anything.”

  “Respect.”

  Shocked, Seth forgot his self-control. His voice rose. “What?” He reined in his temper. “I mean. How did I disrespect you?”

  “You don’t value my job.”

  “As that bruise on your chin shows, your job is dangerous. Its value has nothing to do with it.”

  “There you go again disregarding what I do. It’s all right for you to risk your life as a cop, but for me to take chances for an equally important task isn’t acceptable.”

  “I love you. I want to protect you.” There was nothing civilized about Seth’s urge to keep her safe. The instinct was primitive and animalistic and didn’t listen to reason.

  “I’m an intelligent professional. I will take precautions if necessary.” Her cheeks flushed. “When you were a patrol cop, every day when you walked out our door, I had to live with the knowledge that you could be shot or stabbed. I never once asked you not to go. Actually, you never even asked me not to go. You told me I shouldn’t go, that I shouldn’t even want to go, and the sheer act of doing my job made me selfish.”

  “I never said you were selfish.” But on the rest, he was guilty as sin. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to his wife.

  “I’ve said all this to you a hundred times, Seth.” Carly crossed her arms and hugged her middle. “There are kids out there who don’t have anyone who cares if they’re fed. No one tucks them in at night. The most attention they might get in the course of a day is a backhand. And you know what’s really sick? They start craving the backhand because at least it’s something.”

  Seth should have quit while he was ahead. He was always pushing, wanting more, in a hurry. Patience was a virtue he clearly did not possess.

  “I know these kids need help, but why does it have to be you?”

  “Because I care.” The gaze she leveled at him was full of determination.

  “I know you do.” Seth turned. “I wish you cared about me and Brianna as much as you care about strangers.”

  “That’s not fair!” Anger lit her eyes.

  So much for having one conversation with no yelling.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “This is going nowhere, Seth.” She turned away from him. “Go get Brianna. Spend time with her. She misses you.”

  But Carly didn’t. She’d made that clear.

  “I miss her too,” he said.

  “You can drop her off at the main house when you’re done.” Carly fixed her gaze firmly on the meadow. “She wants to sleep over with my mom.”

  Seth spun and walked off the porch. The black clouds in the distance hung, ominous and unchanged, in the night sky. The storm needed to let loose and get the violence out of its system. When it blew away, the air would be clearer.

  If only his fight with Carly could blow over at the same speed. But it wouldn’t. He was a caveman who would likely never be truly civilized. Neither of them would yield, and the strife between them would linger until there was nothing left but anger and bitterness.

  Maybe she was right. They should give up and move on. But while life with Carly was difficult, life without her seemed empty and worthless.

  Carly knelt on the grass above her father’s grave. The camp lantern on the ground next to her cast a yellow glow across the smooth granite.

  “I really need to talk to you about Seth.” With her forefinger she traced his name engraved into the gray stone. Her eyes welled with tears.

  Clouds lingered in the sky, and humidity thickened the air with moisture and insects. In the darkness, below the tall hill of the cemetery, the Rogue River bubbled and rushed over rocks. If the moon had been out, its light would have gleamed on the turbulent current and highlighted the public park sprawled on the other side of the water. The small copse at the water’s edge had been one of Dad’s favorite fishing spots. He’d never cast from that bank again. Maybe it was best that Carly couldn’t see it.

  “Why do I love a man I can’t live with?” she asked him. A mosquito buzzed around her face, and she waved it away.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  “Of course not.” Carly swiped a hand across her cheek and looked up at her sister. In cutoffs, an In-N-Out Burger T-shirt, and flip-flops, Stevie didn’t look like a cop. “It’s not like he’s going to answer me.”

  “No,” Stevie said in a soft sigh.

  “I know it’s been six weeks, but I can’t get my mind around the fact that he’s never going to be here again.” Carly sniffed. “I could sure use him now.”

  “Rough day?”

  “Seth came by.”

  “I figured.” Stevie dropped on the grass and crossed her legs.

  “God, he can still make me feel like I’m eighteen. How do I stop that?”

  Stevie shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

  “I’ve loved him since the first time we met.” Carly turned her head to stare at the second half of the stone. “I hate that Mom had her name and birth date engraved on the stone. It’s like she’s all ready to die.”

  “I know. I tried to talk her out of it, but she said she felt better knowing the spot next to him was marked for her.”

  “That’s all I ever wanted, to have what they had.”

  “Everyone wants what they had.”

  Carly glanced back at the headstone. She did know what it felt like to love someone enough to want it to be forever. Unfortunately she’d fallen for the wrong man. “Let’s blow something up.”

  Stevie grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

  Carly dried her eyes with the hem of her T-shirt. She dragged her backpack across the ground and opened the zipper.

  Stevie looked over her shoulder. “Whatcha bring?”

  “Roman candles and bottle rockets.” Carly had already set up Dad’s homemade launcher, a board outfitted with a metal chute, a few feet away.

  “I can’t believe we’ll never do this with him again.” Stevie’s voice was wistful.

  Since they were little girls, their father had taken his two daughters out on the summer holidays and treated them to small, and illegal, fireworks displays.

  “I always felt so wicked when we did this,” Carly said.

  “Me too. He was such a stickler for every other law on the books, but fireworks turned him into a kid.”

  He’d had other traditions he shared with James and Bruce, but the fireworks had been for Stevie and Carly only. He’d probably thought the boys would blow themselves up too. Carly thought about Bruce dunking her in the lake with all the matu
rity of a ten-year-old. Dad had been right. Bruce was twenty-three, and Carly wouldn’t trust him with fireworks today.

  “We’ll shoot the rockets over the river. Less chance we’ll set something on fire.” Carly angled a bottle rocket into the chute.

  Stevie straightened the bronze badge grave decoration that marked her dad as a cop. “I have something to tell you.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “Zane asked the medical examiner to look at Dad’s death again.”

  Carly froze. “He doesn’t think . . .”

  “There’s no evidence Dad’s death was anything other than a heart attack. All we have is some suspicious behavior and Mom’s feeling. Reopening the case was her request.”

  “Most people in this town would believe one of Patsy Taylor’s feelings over a DNA report,” Carly said.

  Stevie snorted. “So true.”

  “Didn’t the boy who died in May die from a heart attack?” Carly’s mind spun.

  “Yes.” Stevie nodded. “The new drug that’s circulating seems to kill via cardiac arrest.”

  “Could be a coincidence.” But Carly didn’t believe it, and Stevie’s silence said neither did she. Carly looked back at the gravestone. “I just can’t believe anyone would hurt Dad. He was such a good guy.”

  “Nobody deserved a white hat more than Dad, but even in Solitude, criminals don’t like cops.”

  Carly considered another strange event. “Have you heard from Roy?”

  Roy Krueger had been their father’s second-in-command in the Solitude PD. After their dad died, Roy had taken over the department for ten days before quitting and leaving town.

  “No,” Stevie said. “His house is empty, his car is gone, and his cell is disconnected.”

  “I can’t believe he just quit.”

  Stevie lifted a shoulder. “He said he didn’t want the stress.”

  Thoughts of stress and crime brought Darren Fisher to Carly’s mind. “After the incident with Ted Warner, did you search Darren Fisher’s place?”

  “No,” Stevie said. “We know he was associated with Ted, but we didn’t have probable cause for a warrant. There are times when the Fourth Amendment can be a pain in the butt.”