Buried in a Book (31 page)

Above me, Carson smiled with satisfaction.

“Say good night, Lila.”

I wanted to say so many things. I wanted to beg him to stop, I wanted to speak my son’s name once more, I wanted to spit in Carson’s face. But his hand clamped down over my mouth.

I had lost.

I was going to die.

“FREEZE!” a voice bellowed from across the room, and then, in a matter of seconds, the weight was lifted from my chest. As I sucked in air, I heard scuffles inside the cabin, but I couldn’t move. It was as if I were still being held down. Spots danced before my eyes.

After a few seconds, I heard the voices of several men, and I raised a hand to tentatively touch my throbbing cheek. I could feel the bruised flesh where Carson’s fingertips had dug into the tender tissue.

This awareness—that I could feel pain, that breath was rushing in and out of my lungs—allowed my vision to clear. I had survived. I was alive!

Sean appeared at my side, murmuring words of comfort while he helped me sit up. “Are you hurt? Do you need medical care?” he asked urgently, his eyes searching my body, his hands centimeters from my tear-streaked face.

I opened my mouth, but too many emotions were battling inside, and I couldn’t talk. With trembling arms, I reached
for Sean. He enfolded me gently, but I clung to him fiercely, my tears wetting his shirt.

His lips touched the back of my hands, my neck, my bruised cheeks, my eyelids. They traveled to my forehead and then found my lips.

I kissed him hungrily. He had rescued me. This man, full of strength and intelligence, was my hero. Sean had made certain that I could remain a mother, a daughter, a friend. He had swept in and tackled a coldhearted killer, preserving my life in the process.

My desire for him had existed long before this moment. It was just that now, I didn’t stop to consider whether the time was right or who was witnessing our embrace. The rest of the world fell away in the circle of his arms. I lost myself in the warmth of his mouth, drinking in the taste of him—peppermint, safety, strength.

“MOM!” Trey’s urgent shout forced me to break off the kiss.

I reached out for Trey with both arms, and my son sank down on the ground in front of me and held me tightly.

“Honey, I’m okay,” I whispered.

Trey’s handsome face was creased with worry. I could see the fear in his eyes. Even though it was obvious I was only a little bruised and battered, he had never seen me in such a state. To him, I was the person who never got hurt or sick or succumbed to weakness in his presence. I was the constant in his life, and it had clearly terrified him to hear that I had come so close to death.

“Mom,” he croaked and put his head on my lap. I stroked my son’s hair and murmured soothingly to him, saying a silent prayer of thanks that I had not been separated from my boy.

LATER, AS WE
sat in front of the campfire Trey had built near the co-op’s living quarters, I looked from the flames into Sean’s blue eyes. “How did you know to come for me?” I asked him.

The rest of the police officers had gone back to Dunston, but Sean had stayed behind to make certain that I was okay. Seated with his arms resting on his thighs, he poked at the small campfire with a stick. “We’ve been tailing Knight all day. Followed his car right to the base of Red Fox Mountain but lost him in the forest. He didn’t take the main path, and there are so many trails up here…” It clearly bothered Sean to admit that his suspect had given him the slip. “Luella must have shown Carson how to reach Marlette’s cabin without running into anyone from the co-op. By the time we reached this area and Jasper told us where you were headed, I knew you were in danger.”

Trey gave Sean a nudge with his elbow. “Jasper said you ran through the woods like a deer. Not bad for a guy your age.”

Sean smiled at the playful jest. “I’d be more fleet-footed if I didn’t eat Makayla’s scones every time I came to town.”

Though I was delighted to see the burgeoning camaraderie between Sean and my son, I was unable to share in any expressions of joviality. It was just too soon. “Sean, I need to know…Is Carson going to jail for a long time, or is there a chance that some hotshot lawyer will get him off?”

Sean put his hand over mine. “His prints need to match the ones we found on Luella’s Eros statue if a murder charge is going to stick. He’s facing a string of charges based on what he did tonight, but I want to bury him using as much
indisputable evidence as I can, and a print match could help seal the deal.”

I nodded. Carson’s fate was as of yet undetermined. And what of mine?

As if reading my thoughts, Trey said, “Are you going back to Novel Idea, Mom? I mean—you’ve met some real losers working there.”

“At least one loser, that’s for sure. But yes, I plan on returning—tomorrow, in fact, because Bentley has asked us to come in for a Saturday meeting after all that has happened this week. She also mentioned that she wants to talk to me about something, and I have a feeling it’s important.”

Despite all that had happened, I wanted to be a literary agent. I wanted to discover fresh voices and unique plotlines. I wanted to read the untold stories—those gems brought to the surface so that they glimmered in the light. Stories destined to be shared with the world. “I belong there,” I added, giving Trey a smile.

He glanced beyond the campfire, his gaze finding Iris as she and other co-op members set out food for supper. “I get that.” His eyes returned to me. “But if anyone ever tries to hurt you again, they’ll have to answer to me!”

Sean clapped Trey on the shoulder. “Good man.”

At that moment, Iris approached our intimate little circle and offered me a mug of black coffee and a piece of toast. I accepted the food but caught her by her slender arm before she could retreat.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the red notebook sooner?” I demanded, refusing to let her pull away.

Her birch pale cheeks filled with color. “I’m sorry! I never meant to put you in danger. It’s just that pretty soon after I
showed you Marlette’s birdhouse in the meadow, someone trashed his cabin.” Her arm went limp. “I didn’t know whether I could trust you after that happened. After all, no one else but you and the cops came up here asking questions about him.” She shot Trey an apologetic look.

“So you told my son about the red notebook today just to see if I would go looking for it?”

Iris nodded miserably. “It was a test. If you didn’t search for it, I’d know you already tore apart his cabin and took the notebook, but if you went looking for it with Trey, I’d know that someone else stole it.” She sighed. “I should have hidden the red notebook before the place got trashed. I was planning to tell you everything after you guys got back from the cabin, but I didn’t think…I never thought the person who took the notebook would follow you here. I’m really sorry.”

I squeezed her gently and then let her go. “You were just trying to respect Marlette’s memory by protecting his possessions. You’re the only other person who genuinely cared about him, and I don’t blame you for what happened tonight. Not for a second.” I managed a weary smile.

Sean, who had been prodding at the fire during this exchange, got to his feet and brushed my shoulder tenderly with his fingertips. “Are you up to confirming your statement tonight? Or would you like Trey to drive you to Dunston first thing in the morning?”

Trey’s eyes were wide with pleading, and I knew he wanted to act as my guardian for a while. “We’ll have some supper, and then I’ll decide. I’m not really hungry, but eating will help me feel normal again, and I have a feeling the food here is better than what you’ve got in your vending machines.”

That earned me a chuckle. Sean patted his belly and said, “Body by Frito-Lay.”

The laughter welled up inside me and poured from my throat like a bubbling spring. I couldn’t help it. Relief was showing itself through uncontrollable giggles that turned into hearty, deep-bellied laughter. I’d already trembled, cried, kissed a good-looking police officer, and cradled my son’s head in my lap. The pure joy of being alive overtook me, and I let it flow forth. Trey and Sean joined in.

THE NEXT MORNING I WAS AWAKENED FROM A SLEEP SO
deep and dreamless that finding my way to consciousness was like dragging myself through molasses. I opened my eyes, trying to discern what had roused me.

“Mom?” Trey peeked his head around the door. “Sorry to wake you, but it’s getting late and I need to bring the truck back to the co-op.”

I rolled over, squinted at him, and then let my heavy lids fall shut again. “What time is it?” My words came out in a gravelly mumble.

“Eight. Didn’t you tell Officer Griffiths you’d be at the station by nine?”

I rolled over, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into the numbness of sleep. Only the fact that I would see Sean again prompted me to reply, “Okay, I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

Under the streaming water in the shower, last night’s events
played through my mind. The image of Carson hovering over me with the needle made me shudder. I turned the shower knob, coaxing the water to turn hotter, and tried to focus on the memory of sitting by the campfire instead of being trapped inside Marlette’s cabin with a killer.

Not long after Sean left, Jasper and Trey had secured my Vespa onto the bed of the community’s Ford F-150 pickup truck. Jasper handed Trey the keys and told me to take care.

Back at my mother’s, I had called Sean and told him I’d come to the station in the morning. Trey had insisted on staying the night. He waited until I slipped into bed before tiptoeing down the stairs to fill my mother in on what had transpired on the mountain. I’d drifted to sleep to the murmur of their voices, feeling comforted and protected by their presence.

Now, as I wiped the shower steam from the mirror, the bruises on my neck glared an angry plum color in the reflection of the damp glass. The imprints left by Carson’s hands were like a brand, a sign of how close I’d come to losing my life. With Carson in custody, was it really all over?

Gingerly, I did my best to hide the marks beneath a layer of creamy foundation. I then tried to decide what to wear, though this seemed to be an insurmountable task. All I wanted was the familiar comfort of my loose gray sweats, but their color reminded me too much of Carson’s cold eyes. Besides, I needed something more appropriate for work. In the end, I chose a pair of navy slacks and a cream-colored tunic that I accessorized with a patterned silk scarf to cover my bruises.

As I stepped out of my room, coffee and pancake aromas filtered up the stairs. I slowly made my way to the kitchen, determined to face this day as though it were any other.

My mother’s voice drifted out into the hall.

“You’d best pick the right time to tell your mama,” she cautioned. “She’s gonna have a hissy fit when she hears your plan.”

“Yeah,” Trey agreed. “I’m thinking now’s
not
the right time.”

“For what?” I asked, stepping into the room. They both looked at me with wide eyes. Sitting at the table, my mother sipped from a mug decorated with gold and silver astrological signs. Trey stood at the stove with a spatula in his hands. The frying pan sizzled. I was too stunned to say anything more. My son was cooking breakfast!

“Um.” Trey turned back around and flipped pancakes. “I’ve decided not to go to college,” he said to the stove. “I’m staying at the co-op.”

“Trey, you can’t! The co-op isn’t a career choice; it’s an experience!” I sputtered. “You can’t support yourself with an experience. Think about your future.”

“Now, sug.” My mother stood and poured me a cup of coffee. “Sit on down and have your coffee. You’re strung tighter than a banjo. The boy is simply explorin’ his options.”

I took the mug and attempted to compose myself.

“Okay, Trey, what are you thinking?”

Rather than answering, Trey placed a plate in front of me. “Here, Mom. I made blueberry flapjacks. Your favorite. And this syrup is from the co-op. Eat up.”

I picked up my fork and put a piece of his creation in my mouth. Tart blueberries burst in the cakey sweetness of the pancake, and I nodded appreciatively, cutting another wedge off with my fork. “Delicious, Trey. Thank you. But making me breakfast doesn’t get you off the hook. You know that college—”