Hunter's Need (35 page)

 

 

 

 

H
E was gone when she woke.

Ana lay in the bed, painfully aware of the fact that she was alone in her apartment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tried to breathe through the hideous pain spilling through her. But even the simple act of taking a breath hurt—hurt like fire, hurt like a razor slicing through her. Each beat of her heart was agony. Each movement was hell.

Slowly, she sat up. Drawing her knees to her chest, she tried not to let herself be surprised. She’d known this was coming. The job was done.

It really was over.

It had been three days since Kyle Hartwick’s death.

The day before, Ana and Duke had driven back up to Palmer. Ana could still feel something in the forest, but it had been faint, so much weaker than before. And Duke had been able to track it. She’d trailed along behind him and wasn’t the least bit surprised when he left the marked trail.

Nor had she been surprised when he came to a halt and said, “There are bodies buried here.”

“Bodies?”

“Yeah.”

She hadn’t asked more than that. He hadn’t offered. As they left the trail, he had written notes, documenting directions down on a piece of paper, making note of the trail and how far they’d walked before they left it.

He’d send an email, he had said. Or an anonymous call. The bodies would be found. Maybe they could even find something linking them back to Kyle and get real closure. Something concrete, something other than Ana’s insight into what had happened.

“So it’s done?” she’d asked late last night.

“Yeah. It’s done. We did it, Ana.”

Done . . . so there was no reason for him to stay any longer.

Kyle Hartwick was being buried in a few days. The official cause of death, thanks to Duke doing some nosing around, was a heart attack, so they were clear. Of course, Ana still worried that Beverly would suddenly decide to tell people about the ghosts, or about how Ana spilled her guts about psychics . . . or even about Duke and his weirdly glowing eyes.

But it really was over.

That heavy oppression that had weighed down on her for the past few weeks was gone. That feeling of impending doom had disappeared.

If it wasn’t for her broken heart, Ana would probably feel okay. Maybe even a little satisfied that she’d helped Marie.

But she couldn’t feel anything beyond the ache in her chest. Duke had left . . . and he hadn’t said so much as good-bye. She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried not to cry. Took a deep breath, then another—but before she could manage a third deep breath, she started to sob.

He was gone . . .

 

 

D
ISTANTLY, she heard the phone ring, but it barely registered.

Some time later, there was a knock at the door. She had half a mind to ignore it, but as the knocks grew more and more demanding, she figured she needed to get up, if for no other than reason than to make whoever the hell it was go away.

And turn off her cell phone, she thought, as it started to ring.

Dragging herself out of bed took more energy than she thought she had. Dragging on a robe and tying it took more coordination than she could manage. But the diligent thought each action required was a bit of a blessing—she managed to go twenty whole seconds without thinking about Duke.

There was one more knock, harder than the others. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ana muttered, shoving a hand through her disheveled hair. She used the sleeve of her robe to wipe the tears off her face but she didn’t care enough to do much more than that.

She opened the door but there wasn’t anybody there. Frowning, she leaned forward and glanced down the staircase. Her eyes landed on Beverly’s back. “Beverly?”

The older woman paused near the bottom, her hand resting on the banister.

Edging out onto the small landing in front of the door, Ana crossed her arms over her chest, feeling ridiculously self-conscious. Red-faced, eyes swollen, her hair was a mess and all she had on was a T-shirt and a robe.

“Ana.” Beverly turned and faced her, a wry smile appearing on her face. She started back up the stairs. She had a black tote bag in her hand. “I knew I wouldn’t be lucky enough for you to not be home.”

Ana wanted to recoil just at the sight of the bag, although she had no idea why. Tearing her eyes away from it, she looked at Beverly instead. “Ahhh . . . do you want to come inside?”

“Yes, please.”

Ana left her unexpected guest in the small kitchen while she went back to her room and tugged on a pair of jeans. She almost pulled the shirt off, but she couldn’t—it was Duke’s. She wasn’t quite ready to separate herself from it yet. Later. She did take a few minutes in the bathroom to brush her hair and wash her face.

When she left the bathroom, Beverly was sitting at the table with her hands folded neatly in front of her and the black tote laying several feet away. From the way the other woman carefully avoided looking at it, she suspected she wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to look at whatever it held.

“How did you know where I lived?” Ana asked.

Beverly smiled. “The police report. I’ve driven by here a couple of times. I think part of me was hoping that you’d lied about your address—then I wouldn’t have to see you. Plus, if you’d lied about your address, I could pretend you’d lied about other things.”

Ana swallowed, unsure what to say.

“But you didn’t lie, did you?”

She shook her head.

“It really would be easier if I could convince myself that you had.” Beverly sighed, her shoulders slumped. She closed her eyes and for a minute, both women were silent. Beverly looked back up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Her warm golden skin had a sallow look to it and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“I wish I was lying—I wish none of this was the truth.”

“If wishes were horses . . . ” Beverly mused. “Well. They aren’t. The truth is what it is.”

She gestured toward the tote at the other end of the table. “I spent most of yesterday gathering up every last thing that belonged to Kyle—I was going to have one very nice fire in the backyard. Then I found that.”

“What is it?” Ana asked, wary. She suspected she really didn’t want to know. And she also suspected it really didn’t matter. Beverly wanted her to know.

“Souvenirs.” Her voice shook. “Even if I could have convinced myself you were lying, it wouldn’t have lasted, not once I found that. Marie’s ring is in there—Paul gave her that ring. She wouldn’t have parted with it for the world.”

Ana stared at the tote, blood roaring in her ears. She really, really didn’t want to look inside. Swallowing, she looked at Beverly and asked, “What are you going to do with it?”

“Take it to the police.” She lowered her eyes to the table, studying her hands.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Ana asked gently. “You know what will happen. People will find out . . . your daughter, your granddaughter . . . everybody.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Beverly laughed. The sound bordered on hysteria. “Believe me. I spent most of last night trying to decide what to do. But in the end . . . ” A sob escaped.

Helpless, Ana gazed at her and tried to decide what to do. In the end, she did nothing, waiting as Beverly took a deep breath and composed herself. “Would you like some water? Some tea?”

“I’d rather have whiskey, but I need a clear head to get through this.” She gave Ana a weak smile. “I know what’s going to happen. But I also know I’ve spent thirty years wondering what happened. Why. Who. I can’t condemn other people to that. If I
don’t
take this in, those poor families will just keep on waiting. They deserve to know.”

“I wish I could be that strong,” Ana said sadly.

“You think you’d do it differently?”

Ana smiled bitterly. “Oh, I’m pretty certain I’d do it differently. Strength isn’t really my strong suit.”

“I think you’d surprise yourself,” Beverly replied. “It took strength to do what you did.”

“I didn’t really do that much. Duke—”

“Your friend wasn’t there the first time you came to see me, Ana. Whatever led up to this, I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t want to know. But you can’t convince me that you don’t have strength, not after what you did.” She glanced around the small apartment and asked, “Where is he?”

“Gone.” Ana pushed back from the table, unable to stay still. She would have preferred to run back inside her room and hide, but she settled on going into the kitchen and making some tea. Even if Beverly didn’t want any, it gave Ana something to do with her hands.

“Gone—I get the feeling he’s not gone to the store, is he?”

Ana looked up over the breakfast bar and met Beverly’s sympathetic gaze. “No. He’s not gone to the store. He’s just gone—he came here to help me take care of this. Now that it’s done, there’s no reason for him to stay around.”

“I guess that explains why you look so miserable.”

“I guess it does.” Silence stretched out as Ana made two mugs of tea. The sweet scent of cinnamon and cloves filled the air as she put the mugs on a platter, added the bowl of sugar and the small container of half-and-half from the refrigerator.

“Does he know how you feel about him?” Beverly asked as Ana settled back down at the table.

Flushing hotly, she busied herself with adding sugar and half-and-half to her tea, making it even sweeter than she usually drank it. Curling her hands around the cup, she darted a quick look at Beverly and tried to decide how to answer that.

“He doesn’t, does he?”

“No.” Ana lifted the mug to her lips, even though it was too hot to drink. She breathed in the warmth and wished it could do something to ease the chill inside her.

“If you’d rather I not pry . . . ”

Ana snorted. “Beverly, considering what I’ve done to your world in the past few days, it would be pretty shitty of me to get upset, wouldn’t it?”

“But you didn’t do it to my world, Ana. I was living a lie, living with—” Her voice broke off and she blew out a harsh breath. “I still can’t believe it. I’ve been married to the man who murdered my sister.
You
had nothing to do with that, Ana. You might have been the one to bring the truth to light, but it was the right thing to do. Besides . . . I got to see Marie once more. There have been times when I would have given anything to have that, to see her just once more, to tell her . . . so many things. I didn’t get the chance to tell her all the things I wanted to tell her, but she’s at peace now. Isn’t she?”

“I think she is.”

Beverly nodded. “She is. She has to be. And that means a great deal to me.”

She sipped from her tea, although Ana had a feeling she did so more out of a need to be polite than anything else. Beverly’s gaze bounced back and forth between Ana and the black tote.

“Do you want to look inside?” she finally asked.

“I’d rather not.” Ana barely managed not to shiver. “But if you think I should . . . ?”

“It’s entirely up to you.” Beverly took one more sip and then stood.

“If you don’t want me to look, then why did you bring it by?”

The older woman shrugged. “Perhaps I just wanted a reason to knock on the door. To see if you really did live here—and maybe I needed to see your face again, to make sure I didn’t imagine the kindness I thought I saw in you. I’m glad to know I didn’t.”

Ana blushed.

“I’m going to take this to the police station now.” She took a deep breath.

Bracing herself, Ana knew, bracing herself to do something very, very hard. “Would you like some company?”

Beverly laughed. “Actually, yes, I would. But I’m not going to ask you. Nor do I want you to offer.” She reached for the bag, holding it gingerly, careful not to let it touch her body. “Please don’t take this wrong, but I get the feeling its best if the cops know as little about you and your friend as possible. Am I right?”

“Ahhhh . . . ” The spit in Ana’s mouth dried up and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

Laughing, Beverly murmured, “That’s what I thought. Don’t worry, Ana. They won’t hear anything from me about you or him.” She headed to the door but halfway there, she turned back. “I’m leaving Alaska. I haven’t decided when, or where I’m going to go, but I don’t want to be here anymore. I think my Jeannette and little Marie will come with me, although I can’t be certain. Nonetheless, I’m ready to leave here. I won’t be seeing you again. And although I don’t blame you, I’m very glad of that.”

Ana couldn’t blame her a bit. She followed her to the door and watched as Beverly headed down the steps.

At the bottom, she stopped once more and looked back up at Ana. “You really should tell him how you feel, Ana.”

Then she left, climbing into her car. Ana watched as Beverly drove away and once the car turned out of the driveway, she slid back inside the house and closed the door. Leaning against it, she stared at her small, empty apartment.

Empty.

Shoving off the door, she paced over to the breakfast bar, staring at her phone. A little red
1
flashed at her, but she ignored it. Should she call him? Tell him?

No. She really shouldn’t.

There was just no point.

She turned the ringer off, and for extra measure turned off her cell phone. Then she went back to bed.

 

 

I
T took a hell of a lot longer than Duke had thought it would, and he still didn’t get as much done as he’d planned on. Too damn bad, though, because he wasn’t going to stay away from Ana for any longer.

And the first thing he was going to ask was where in the hell she’d been all day and why she wasn’t answering her damn phone.

As he turned into the drive, the sight of the lights on in her apartment eased the huge knot in his gut. He parked his new Jeep Grand Cherokee in the driveway and climbed out. The first thing he’d done that morning was return the rental. If he was going to be staying in Anchorage, he wanted his own vehicle. Somehow or other, he’d have to get his bike up here, but he’d worry about that later.