Graveyard Games (21 page)

He nodded.

"I always thought it was you," Dusty said
with a little laugh. "I always thought..."

"I know." He rubbed his thumb along her jaw.
"But that doesn't matter now, because you're here."

Dusty didn’t answer him. She realized the
conclusions he’d drawn about their "relationship," and she admitted
they were the things she wanted him to feel about her. It was all
going according to plan, but somehow it didn’t feel right.

"Come here." Shane pulled her into his arms
and sat. Dusty snuggled up, but Shane stood, pulling her with him.
She stumbled slightly, feeling dizzy. Shane laughed, catching onto
her waist.

"You're drunk," he said.

"I'm not." She shook her head but stopped
because the world had started spinning. “So are you going to tell
me where you were last week?”

He had been gone for three days with no
word, and she didn’t want to admit to him or to herself how strange
it felt not to have him around.

Shane’s mouth moved near her ear. “I told
you. I was hunting.”

“
You’re up to something,”
she said, lifting her face so she could see his eyes. “I know
you.”

“
So are you.” His smile
spread slowly and he hid it in her hair. “But I don’t ask and you
don’t tell.”

“
What are you talking
about?” she asked innocently, resting her head below his
chin.

“
There’s a big stretch of
land up near Ottawa Falls. You know it?”

She nodded, her eyes closed as they swayed
together. “Isn’t that Native land?”

“
I give…tours… up there.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m a tour guide. Let’s call it
that.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Hunting on
Native land is illegal.”

“
I know,” he acknowledged,
pressing himself more fully against her, his hands moving to her
lower back, pulling her in to him. “But considering your current
employment status, I doubt you’re going to run to Buck Thompson
about it.”

“
I assume they pay you?”
she asked, ignoring his comment.

“
A thousand a
trip.”

She gave a low whistle, looking up at him.
“Why you?”

“
Because I’m good at doing
things without getting caught.” He grinned.

“
That I believe,” she said
with a short laugh. “But why would they want to hunt on Native
land?”

“
More game,” he reminded
her, shifting his weight as they moved, his thigh pressing between
hers, making her gasp. “But I think it’s more the thrill of
it.”

“
Thrill of the forbidden?”
She murmured, her face close to his, their breath
mingling.

“
Yeah,” he breathed,
groaning when she wiggled closer against him. “I had a guy couple
months ago who didn’t even take a rifle. Said he was looking for
artifacts.”

Her fingers moved through his hair as they
rocked. “You mean, like arrowheads?”

“
I guess.” He shrugged,
lowering his mouth to her neck, nuzzling her hair out of the
way.

“
He ever find anything?”
she asked, moaning softly as his tongue made slow circles below her
ear.

“
I didn’t ask. He didn’t
tell.”

Shane’s mouth on her neck, his breath in her
ear, made her dizzy with wanting and she tried to fight it, but she
was losing.

“
I was set up,” she told
him, changing the subject. “They thought I was doing something I…I
wasn’t.”

He stopped, pulling back to look at her, his
eyes searching her face. “You really didn’t do it?”

She smiled sadly. “Can you see me as a
high-priced call girl? Having sex for cash? Two thousand a
night?”

He snorted laughter, shaking his head.
“Hell, I can’t even get past second base with you…” Then his tone
turned serious, his eyes concerned. “Jesus, Dusty…wasn’t there any
way to prove you didn’t do it?”

She ran a hand through his hair, shaking her
head. “You of all people should know how hard it is to prove a
negative.”

“
You’ve got a point
there,” he agreed, frowning.

They grew quiet again as Bob Seger sang
about night moves from the Mustang's speakers and Dusty swayed in
Shane's arms, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"Hey, Suzanne, turn it up!" Dusty called and
Suzanne nodded, getting up.

"Looks like you're having a good time,"
Suzanne called.

Dusty smiled at her, watching her with Evan.
She knew how much Suzanne had cared about Nick but she fervently
hoped Evan would win her over. He was sweet and gentle and his
insistence was good for her.

"Hey." Shane tilted her chin up. "Are you
happy?"

"Right now?" Dusty linked her arms lightly
around his neck. He nodded, eyes serious. "Right now, right this
second, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time." She realized it
went beyond the words—she was telling the truth, not just putting
on the act. It scared her.

"You make me happy," Shane told her,
swallowing. "I don't let people get close. Nick got closest, I
guess."

It sobered her up, thinking about Nick,
remembering what she was doing, and what she was planning to do.
But hating Shane while he was holding her, smiling at her, touching
her, was nearly impossible. Her feelings had changed somehow—they
had changed drastically while she was shoving them into corners and
not thinking about them.

"Maybe that's why it's me then." Dusty
searched his eyes. "Because of Nick."

"It's because you're you," Shane
insisted.

Dusty's smile was soft and slow.

She closed the gap between them, easily.

Chapter Ten

"Hey, Sarge." Dusty scratched Will Cougar's
German Shepherd on the head. Sarge had been around a long time and
he was getting old. He thumped his tail on the wooden floorboards
and licked her hand. Dusty went past him, into the store.

"You trying to kill your dog, Cougar?" Dusty
asked. Will was leaning over the counter with the Shadow Hills
Journal open in front of him. "It's freezing out there."

"Old Sarge can handle the cold." Will looked
up at her, smiling. "He's looking out for the place. What brings
you by?"

"Cough drops." Dusty headed toward the
medicine aisle. "Dad caught a cold. He always does when the weather
hints at snow."

"It's expecting to storm," Will said as she
came back with a bag of Ricola.

"Did you read that in the paper?" Dusty
tossed the cough drops on the counter and Will picked it up.

"Nope," he said, ringing them up. "I read it
in my joints. We're gonna get snow before the week is out."

"You've got to be getting old if you can
feel the weather in your joints," Dusty said in mock-awe. Cougar
rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, they're getting ready for my
funeral right now, in fact," Will snorted. "Any day now. You never
know when I'm going to kick the old proverbial bucket."

Will bagged the cough drops, his eyes
softening as he handed them to her. "So, how are you doing?"

Dusty shrugged. "I still miss him, but I'm
getting out a lot more."

"With the wrong people if you ask me." Will
shook his head. "It's a funny thing about you and Shane. Up until
Nick died you hated his guts."

"I didn't
hate
him," Dusty said,
feeling uncomfortable.

"
Hated
him," Will repeated with a
nod. "It's a strange thing. Has people talking."

"Good," Dusty muttered.

"Is that the goal?" Will raised an eyebrow.
"To get people talking about you?"

"Why does there have to be a goal?"

Will shrugged. "It's just funny, that's all.
Shane doesn't seem like your type."

"I don't think Shane is anybody's type,"
Dusty said. "Especially in this town."

When Dusty stepped back out onto Cougar's
front step, Sarge whined to be petted. Dusty stopped to give his
ears some attention for a minute, staring out at the skyline. Will
was right. There was going to be a storm by the end of the week.
Maybe sooner.

* * * *

"Julia?" Dusty stepped cautiously into the
kitchen. She found her stepmother sitting at the table, head
cradled in her arms, crying softly. "Julia, what happened?"

Dusty put her car keys on the table. Julia
didn’t raise her head. It had to be something major. Julia didn’t
cry unless it was. All she could think of was her father in the
garage with a gun and razor blades in front of him, and the image
wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it.
Dusty felt queasy.

"Julia, are you okay?"

Julia looked up, wiping her eyes.

"Is Dad okay?" Dusty croaked.

"He's fine." Julia shook her head, and the
relief that flooded Dusty’s chest made tears prick her eyes. "I
didn't hear you come in. It's just the delayed reaction, I guess. I
was reading the paper there." Julia pointed to an article. "And it
just hit me."

Dusty picked the paper up, skimming the
article. It was about the capture of the Clinton Grove Cat.

"Oh," Dusty said softly.

"It's the cat," Julia
said. She looked haggard. "It's that
fucking cat."
Dusty stared at her
agape. Julia drew a shaky breath, wiping away the last traces of
tears. "How can you send a cat to prison?"

"Can't even put him on trial," Dusty said,
smiling weakly.

“
God punishes the wicked,”
Julia murmured. “But what about things like this? Why do bad things
happen to good people?”

“
I don’t know,” Dusty
admitted, swallowing past a lump in her throat. “I wish I
did.”

Julia put her head back down. When Dusty
left for work that night she was still sitting there, staring out
of the kitchen window.

* * * *

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Shane
asked when people started moving away from the casket. Dusty shook
her head.

She’d thought about it herself often enough.
The temptation to sink into oblivion, to think about nothing ever
again, that seemed comforting. The only thing that kept her sane,
alive, was the hate. It burned, forcing its way to the surface like
a living thing, demanding to be noticed, to be tended and fed. She
wished she had an outlet for it, somewhere for it to go…

”
The whole world gets
turned upside down when stuff like this happens and nobody seems to
have any explanations.”

Cougar's words came back to her while she
stood in the cemetery looking at yet another coffin, Shane's arm
brushing hers.

She didn’t have what I do, Dusty thought,
looking at Suzanne's casket. She didn’t have anyone to tell her
what happened to Nick.

Dusty had thought a lot about it—just taking
too many pills, a razor blade in the bathtub, her brother's
gun...but she’d never actually done anything. She couldn't. She had
a burning need to know what really happened.

Suzanne, Nick, Tommy—everyone was gone. Did
she believe it was a bobcat? She had to, didn't she? It had been
confirmed—it had been in all the papers. Cat gone, tourists please
come back. Well, not in so many words. The injustice of it filled
her, thinking about Suzanne on the night of the party, tall,
blonde, smiling, a little drunk.

And then she had gone home and killed
herself.

Dusty closed her eyes, the blood thickening
in her head, and she leaned against Shane. He put his arm around
her, holding her tightly.

She looked at him, knowing she’d waited too
long and hated herself for it. It would be hard now, even harder,
but she’d lost so much more and her conviction was greater.

"Are you sure?" Shane asked. "You could come
to my house. My dad won't be there."

"I'll meet you there." She turned and walked
toward the Jeep.

She wasn’t going to go to Suzanne's. She
couldn’t bear to. And she had things to take care of before going
to Shane's. Dusty looked back at him when she was through the
gates. He stood under the overcast sky, hands in his pockets,
looking across the cemetery. Something twinged inside her. He
looked worse than he had at Nick's funeral. Worse than he had in a
long time. She shoved the sympathy quickly away—SNIP—and got into
her car.

She had to find out the
truth. If she didn’t do anything, she was going to end up like
Suzanne—so lost in
why
she’d drown. Dusty was going to find out
who
and go from there.

* * * *

It had stayed closed for
two months. Dusty put her hand on the doorknob, trying to remember
exactly how it looked. It had been too long. Her palms were
sweating, and her heart thudded heavily in her chest. The poster
of
Murphy's Law
...Dusty felt like she was going to be sick. Her dream and
his sightless eyes, the blood, the—SNIP

She turned the doorknob and shoved the door
quickly open. It was dark and she felt for the light switch. It was
there on the wall, like it always had been, and no hand came out to
cover hers in the darkness as she flicked it on.

Light flooded the room and Dusty took a step
back.

Oh Nick...

It was in suspended animation. Everything
waited for Nick to come back. All the things she had dreamed about,
and more—the models, his posters, his skateboard, his skis—all
there. The picture of Shane and Nick stood still on the night
table. A hairdryer and jar of Bedhead gel sat on the dresser. Dusty
closed her eyes for a moment, fighting tears. It was hard, still so
hard, and so unfair, oh, nothing was ever fair...

Dusty made her way toward his dresser and
knelt in front of it, running her hand along the wood. Tears
blurred her vision. She opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and
stared dully at his sweaters. Won't be needing them this winter,
she thought, and shivered.