Ropes and Revenge (16 page)

“Do you think she’s still in danger?” Percy asked. “Even after all this time and with Wayne in jail?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

“Of course,” Percy said, nodding slowly. “But if this is what happened, I can’t help but think that Wayne didn’t know. At least not until afterward.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was trying to get Layla out of the country,” she said. “And I think it was about more than a fresh start. He could have been trying to keep her safe from his brothers, in case they decided to try again.”

John’s breath rushed out. “Jesus. With a family like that who needs enemies?”

“I know,” Percy said, fingers tapping on the seat beside her. “But we might still be headed down the wrong road. Why would the older brothers want to kill Layla? I mean, she’d been their sister-in-law for years. Would they turn on her that dramatically simply because she left Wayne?”

“She was accused of poisoning their well,” John said, searching his memory, but unable to pin down whether she was cleared before or after Lily’s accident. “She was tested and the results confirmed that she’d been poisoned, too, so she was cleared of suspicion. But I don’t know exactly when she got the news. I’ll ask Cole when I get him on the phone. I’m sure he’ll remember.”

“I’m sure.” Percy crossed her arms at her chest, shivering.

John turned the air conditioner down. “You cold? Want to open the windows instead?”

“No, I’m not cold, I’m just…” She huddled deeper into her short-sleeved sweater. “I don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t say anything to Cole or Layla.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Percy turned to look out the window. For a moment, John thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said in a voice so soft he had to strain to hear her, “What happened to my parents and big brother… It was because of me. Because of a mistake I made.”

“I seriously doubt that, Percy. You were just a kid.” John wanted to lay his hand on her knee or offer comfort in some way, but his gut told him she didn’t want to be touched.

“I was,” she agreed, her attention still on the desert outside. “But I was a smart kid. I should have known better.” She tucked her chin, resting her forehead against the window. “There was a man with a beard like Santa Claus. I’d seen him at several of the ports where my parents docked our houseboat. He seemed nice, friendly, but we’d never spoken. And then one day, I heard his voice in my mind.”

She sighed, her breath fogging the glass. “By then, I knew I could do things other people couldn’t—know things before they happened, sense things other people didn’t seem to notice—but I didn’t know it was possible to communicate that way. He told me I was special. Gifted. He told me he knew a place where little girls like me were treated like princesses and he would show it to me someday, but only if I kept our talks a secret from my mother and father. So I did. Because I liked feeling special.”

John glanced at her again, wishing he could see her face. “So what was he? A pedophile or something?” The thought filled his mouth with a fetid taste and made him want to hold Percy even more. He hated that she’d been targeted by a monster and hated even more that she seemed to blame herself for it.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “But I don’t know for sure. The night he came for me, I hid in the pantry and shut him out of my thoughts. He was so angry when I wouldn’t come onto the dock.” She swallowed audibly. “He came on board to try to take me by force. My father woke up and the man shot him, then my mother. And then my brother, right in his bed, where he was huddled under the covers crying. And the whole time I stayed quiet, hidden in the pantry, letting them pay the price for my mistake.”

With a quick glance in his rearview mirror, John pulled to the side of the road, off the shoulder into the brown grass. As soon as he shut off the engine, he reached for Percy, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

“Come here,” he insisted, curling his fingers more firmly around her arm, grateful when she turned and leaned into his chest. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a little girl.”

“I know,” she said, sighing as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “And I know they don’t blame me for it. They told me. That made it easier to forgive myself, but not everyone can communicate with the dead.”

John’s chest tightened as he realized what she was saying. “I would never blame Layla. It’s not her fault.”

“But she might blame herself,” Percy said, tilting her face up to his. “And she’s going to have a baby. The last thing she needs right now is to spend weeks or months hating herself. I hated myself for so long and I had my mother and father coming to my dreams every night telling me I was innocent and forgiven.”

He shook his head, surprised again at the depth of Percy’s compassion.

“You have to do what you think is right, of course,” she said, clearly misunderstanding the shake of his head. “But I—”

“No, you’re right.” He hugged her closer. “We shouldn’t tell Layla or Cole anything right now. Layla’s been safe the past seven months and I know she and Cole are both careful to lock doors and keep their security system armed. I don’t want to put this on her unless there’s no other choice, but I do need something from you.”

Percy blinked as she sat up straighter, bringing their faces closer, making it almost impossible to keep from kissing her.

But he needed a promise more than a kiss. “I want you to come stay at the ranch with me.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes and a slight smile curved her lips. “But I thought you were worried about confusing the kids.”

“I was,” he said. “I am, but I’m more worried about making sure you’re safe. I had the best security system on the market installed in the house last summer and there are cameras monitoring everyone who comes in and out of the gate to our property.”

Percy’s smile fell. “You’re worried about Wayne’s brothers, is that it? You think he might warn them that we’re getting closer to the truth?”

“I’m assuming prisoners at a medium security facility get phone calls.”

“But it didn’t seem like he cared too much for his brothers,” Percy said, easing back into her seat. “He wouldn’t talk to us, but I don’t think he’ll talk to them, either. I got the feeling he wouldn’t be upset if he was the only son left on the property when he gets out of jail.”

“Maybe,” John said, “but I’m not willing to gamble your safety on what Wayne Wheeler might or might not do.”

Percy’s lips pressed together for a moment before she turned back to him. “Let’s get back to town and meet with Mr. Cutter. Then we can talk about where you and I go from here. I’ll make my decision about where to spend the night after.”

“All right.” John’s stomach cramped, but he had no choice but to agree. Percy was her own person. He had no right to insist she do as he asked.

And hell, she’d probably be safer in upstate New York than anywhere around here. Dirk and Preston rarely left their ranch, let alone Texas.

The best thing you could do for Percy is to say whatever it takes to get her to pack her bags and leave town.

He knew his gut was right, and a week ago, he might have been able to do the right thing, but in the past eight days he’d grown selfish where Percy was concerned. He didn’t want her to leave, but he owed her the complete truth.

She needed to know just how twisted up he was inside and if she still wanted to stay…

Well, then he would throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to the ranch himself. He refused to let her get hurt. He and Percy were both going to live to see the end of this. And then, when they were on the other side, maybe a path forward would seem more possible than it did now, with Lily’s memory haunting him and worries about her killer hovering dangerously close.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Percy

“And don’t come back here again,” Chad Cutter yelled as John stormed from his office with Percy close on his heels. “If you do, I’ll sue you for everything you own, Lawson. I don’t give a shit if your wife’s dead.”

“Keep going,” Percy urged, pressing her palms against John’s back when he hesitated at the front door. “He’s a pathetic, poisonous toad and not worth any more of our time.”

With a grunt of agreement, John shoved his way through the door. Percy slipped through after him, emerging into the warm autumn air outside the Head Starts for Good Hearts office with a relieved sigh. The fact that the children’s charity organization was headed by a chauvinist pig with a lump of coal where his heart should be and a bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong was both disgusting and sad. The people of Lonesome Point deserved so much better.

“What is wrong with that man?” Percy said with an angry huff as she and John started down the sidewalk, headed toward the large town square. “I mean, he didn’t even seem sorry! Not even a little bit.”

“He’s a worm,” John said. “Always has been. I should have known better than to try to talk to him.”

“You had to try,” Percy said, still seething. “But he shouldn’t be able to get away with this. I’m going to write his father a letter. I don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard good things about Mr. Cutter Sr. I can’t believe he would condone his son’s behavior.”

“Last I heard, the old man was at death’s door,” John said, his voice so low and angry she could feel it vibrating across her skin. “He fired Chad as president of Cutter Oil so he could promote two of his daughters into management positions. Chad is pissed off about being stuck running the charity and has been taking it out on the rest of the town ever since. He’s been through four secretaries. Rumor has it he had to pay two of them off to keep them from filing sexual harassment suits.”

“Well, he’s certainly an ass,” Percy said. “But I don’t think he had anything to do with what happened to Lily. Do you?”

John shook his head. “No. It’s a dead end.” He sighed, coming to a stop near the flagpole in the middle of the square.

On the far side of the fountain, a group of older kids were playing four square on a board they’d drawn on the bricks while, nearby, younger children scribbled on the ground with the leftover chalk. A group of women Percy assumed were their mothers sat on a long bench with coffees in hand, talking and laughing in the late afternoon sun.

Farther down Main, festive music drifted from the restaurant with the neon iguana winking on the roof, and the shops in between all had their doors open wide to welcome in the warm autumn air. Up and down the street, the sidewalks of downtown were crowded with a mix of locals and tourists, all headed toward their destinations with a spring in their step and smiles on their faces.

Lonesome Point seemed to be an overwhelmingly sweet town, filled with happy people, and suddenly Percy ached to be one of them.

She craved a few stolen moments of light and laughter. She longed for an evening with John that had nothing to do with the darkness of the past or the frightening mystery they were getting closer to solving. For once, she wanted him all to herself, and with the sun on her face and music in the air, she couldn’t see why they couldn’t steal an hour or two away from the harder parts of life.

An hour or two to make memories she’d treasure when she was back in upstate New York, nursing her broken heart through a long, cold winter.

“I have an idea,” she said, turning to catch John’s eye.

“What’s that?” he asked. “You think we should do another Internet search on the Wheelers? There might be something I missed. I’m not the best at knowing what to—”

“No, I think we should take a break,” she said, threading her arm through his. “Your mom’s watching the kids, so I think we should go have a margarita, eat too many chips, and see if you can get me drunk enough to step out onto the dance floor.”

John took a breath and slowly, the tension seeped from his features. “I think that sounds…like a fine idea.”

“Good,” Percy said, grinning. “Me too.”

“But do you really have to be drunk to dance?” John asked as they started down the sidewalk, arm in arm.

“I do,” Percy said. “I’m a horrible dancer. I’ve got three left feet and no sense of rhythm, but I’ll do my best not to leave your shins black and blue if you dare to risk a turn around the floor.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said, with a laugh. “You seem pretty graceful to me.”

“Graceful as a fainting goat,” she said, summoning another laugh that rumbled through John’s chest, making her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him close.

“I love your laugh,” she added softly. “You’ve got the perfect laugh.”

“And you’ve got a beautiful smile,” he said, his own smile dimming a watt or two. “So does this mean we’re putting off our talk until a later date?”

“It means we’re putting off everything that might make us even a little sad,” she said, pushing away the flash of anxiety his words inspired. If this was her last night with John, she was going to enjoy every moment of it. “Let’s pretend we’re on vacation and don’t have a care in the world except what to order for dinner and whether we’ll have a hangover tomorrow.”

“I haven’t had a hangover since I was nineteen,” John scoffed. “I know when to say when.”