Whispers of Fate: The Mistresses of Fate, Book Two (23 page)

35

TYLER WATCHED TAVEY
as she and Atohi instructed the girls in the basics of training. He’d never seen her train before. Her manner was direct but friendly as she explained how the dogs’ noses worked, some of the training they would be learning, and what she wanted them to be able to do by the end of the week. She looked tall, slender, and capable in her jeans and boots, her smooth brown hair gathered in a tail. Only a slight hesitation indicated that she was favoring her ankle at all. He was glad she hadn’t been more hurt.

By the time they finished an hour later, all four girls seemed tired and hungry—and happy, their expressions light as they talked to each other about their dogs. It was the only time he’d seen the three identical sisters talking like normal teenagers. Penny and Grumbles followed dutifully alongside them.

They walked down the flagstone path together, chattering, as he and Tavey followed. Atohi had stayed behind to feed the rest of the dogs and pack up Penny’s things for transfer to the girls.

Tyler took Tavey’s arm, feeling her soft skin, the impossible perfect feel of her. “I wanted to talk to you about a couple things I found out today. Walk with me for a second?”

She sent him a curious look, but nodded.

“Girls,” she called out, “you go ahead. Tell Thomas we’ll be right there.”

The girls looked back, then at each other. They giggled as they walked down to the house.

Tyler let Tavey pull him on to another path, one that led to her mother’s rose garden. It took several minutes, as it was on the other side of the house, but the smell announced where they were going well ahead of time.

The sweet scent of roses in bloom floated to them on the red-gold evening air.

“What’s this?” He looked around.

Tavey shrugged. “My mother’s rose garden.”

She led him to a small wrought iron bench set between two of her favorite rosebushes. She sat, indicating he could join her.

He sat, feeling the warmth of her along his side, thinking she smelled like soap and sunshine. He leaned a little closer and smiled to himself,
with a liberal dose of dog.

She turned to look at him, her dark eyes glowing in the light. “What news?”

For a moment Tyler forgot what he’d wanted to tell her, forgot everything in the soft, hungry look she gave him. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, so he did, bending forward and taking her lips, tasting her breath.

It was and wasn’t like the last time he’d kissed her. That had been all fire and anger, passion and loss mixed together in a combustion that had felt like dying. This was softer, slower, desire running beneath their skin like the steady pulse of lava from a volcano.

He slid his hands into her hair, thinking that she tasted the same, like cocoa and something tart, spicy. She tasted like Tavey.

She gripped his hair in return, kissing him back, urging him to pull her up and onto his lap.

He did, repositioning her so that she was sitting over him, her knees on either side of his hips. He slid his hands up to her waist and felt the tension of her firm muscles. Sliding them even farther, he molded his fingers around the full, soft curves of her breasts.

“God,” she gasped quietly. “Tyler.”

He knew. He felt it, too, this insane, inescapable, inexplicable need to touch her, feel her, smell her, whisper her name.

“Tavey.”

Both their phones rang at the same time.

Tavey let out a moan of protest and Tyler cursed.

For a moment, neither one of them moved, holding each other in a tight, pulsing hug.

Their phones rang again, sounding more demanding, ominous that they were both ringing at exactly the same time.

“Something’s wrong,” Tavey whispered.

Tyler cursed again and shifted her off him.

Tavey stood on wobbly legs and tugged her phone out of her back pocket. “H—” She cleared her throat. “Hello.”

Tyler answered his own phone, half tempted to throw the damn thing in the woods. “Downs,” he growled.

“Tyler, it’s Raquel. Brent’s calling Tavey.”

Tyler glanced at Tavey. She seemed restless, pacing as she listened to the filmmaker.

“What’s wrong?”

“We went to talk to my mother, Belle. I’ll explain why later, but suffice it to say, we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

Tavey had stopped pacing in front of him and stood frozen.

“The kind where someone shot up my mother’s house and kidnapped her.”

“Kidnapped her?”

“Yeah. I’m still here at the scene. A girl was shot,” she threw out impatiently. “Listen, we found out an . . . interesting piece of news.”

“What’s that?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a beat, as if Raquel was trying to figure out how to put into words what she was about to say.

“Tavey’s father, Charlie, didn’t die in that car accident. I don’t know if he’s dead at all.”

Tyler stared at Tavey, trying to determine from her closed expression if she’d just gotten the same news.

“Okay,” Tyler said, not wanting to blurt it out if Brent hadn’t gotten to that part yet.

“They were involved with a biker gang called the Warlocks. They dealt meth primarily, and likely met Charlie through your uncle. Apparently, your uncle knew one of the leaders of the gang. They served together in Vietnam.”

Tyler thought about what he’d learned today, about the identity of the girl they’d found in the millpond, about the reasons why Brent might be involved in the search at all.

“One set of remains from the millpond was identified today,” Tyler told her succinctly.

Tavey had hung up on Burns and was listening to him talk to Raquel, her expression focused and intense.

Raquel paused in her quick summary. “Who?” she whispered after a moment, as if she was afraid he would say Summer, but the FBI had ruled that out.

“Jessica Burns.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Silence that whispered. “Okay,” Raquel said after a moment, “I’ll tell him. We have to finish up here and then I think we should talk to my grandmother and your uncle about exactly where we should start looking for Belle.”

“Why your grandmother?” Tyler was confused.

“She knows Charlie was alive. She knows a helluva lot more than she’s ever told. She left here over two hours ago. She should be back at the house by now.”

“All right. Get here when you can,” Tyler told her, and hung up.

Tavey was standing with her hands at her sides. “You heard about my father.”

Tyler nodded. “We need to talk to Bessie and my uncle.”

Tavey turned so quickly that her dark hair swung in an arc. “We certainly do,” she muttered, and began marching ahead, leaving Tyler hurrying to catch up.

36

THE PATH FROM
the rose garden to the house was only a few yards. Tavey ran anyway. She heard Tyler behind her, hurrying to catch up. The last rays of sunlight made the air seem blue and strange.

All she could think was that her father could be alive. He hadn’t died in the river. But why hadn’t he told someone? Why hadn’t he come to take care of her? She’d known he wasn’t perfect—she’d heard rumors—but why wouldn’t he have come to see her, told his family he was okay?

Dogs were barking and howling when they reached the house. Clearly Penny and Grumbles had met her beagles.

Tavey led the way past the French doors that opened to her bedroom and to the back door, Tyler on her heels, and the two of them stepped into the crowded breakfast area, which was full of chattering teenagers and dogs.

Tavey shouted over the din, “Where’s Bessie?”

Everyone stopped, but it was Sylvia who answered, a furrow between her brows. “She isn’t back yet.”

There had rarely been a night when Bessie Weaver wasn’t home for dinner. Tavey felt her stomach turn over and roll.

“She hasn’t called?”

Sylvia shook her head, her face pale. “She hasn’t.”

Tavey yanked out her phone and dialed Bessie’s number. It rang. And rang. And went to voice mail.

Tavey looked up at Tyler with haunted eyes. “They took Gloria Belle. Maybe they took Bessie for some reason as well.”

Tyler pulled out his own phone and made a call to the sheriff’s department.

The four teenagers were sitting around the breakfast table, their eyes wide.

Tavey met Ro’s gaze. “Is this the trouble you meant?”

Ro cast a wary glance to Christie, who was watching everyone, especially her stepfather, clearly confused.

“It’s some of it,” Ro muttered. “The rest is at Abraham’s house.”

Tavey blinked. Abraham. He’d known Charlie was alive as well. Abraham had been the connection to a motorcycle gang.

Tavey grabbed Tyler’s sleeve. “We need to get to your uncle’s. Sylvia. Thomas. Can you watch the girls for us?”

Sylvia nodded, moving to stand next to the children. “I’ll call Chris as well and her boyfriend. They can help.”

Tavey nodded. “Yes, call Ryan and Chris. Tell them Bessie is missing . . . and Gloria Belle has been kidnapped.”

Sylvia nodded, pulling out her own phone with shaking hands.

“We’ll be back,” Tyler told the girls. “Christie, call your mom and tell her you’re going to stay a little later.”

Christie swallowed, but nodded her head quickly.

“Come on. We’ll take your truck.”

The two of them hurried out to the truck and Tavey hopped into the passenger seat, her heart racing.

Tyler tore down the drive as quickly as he dared, making the quick left turn on the road, then left again and up the drive to Abraham’s house.

When they came within sight of the house, Tyler knew immediately that something was wrong. All the lights were out. Usually at this time of the night, his uncle would be on the porch.

He pulled up quickly, leaving the car running and the lights on so they could see where they were going as they headed into the house. He jumped down from the truck and lifted his shirt and pulled his weapon from the concealed pocket in the undershirt he wore, checking the chamber and the safety.

Tavey came around the side of the truck, her chest heaving, her eyes wide.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, knowing she wouldn’t stay in the truck, and she gave him a short, sharp nod of agreement.

They approached quickly.

Tyler looked for some sign of a break-in as they approached, but there was nothing. The door was even locked. He located the spare key under the squirrel and opened it quickly.

He sniffed, tilting his head. There was a smell; he knew it, but his mind wasn’t ready for it.

“Abraham,” he called.

Silence.

The room, dark and still, seemed to mock him. All seemed quiet. All seemed peaceful, but there was something wrong.

He made his way from room to room, turning on lights as he went, aware of Tavey silently following him. Part of him wanted to ask her to leave. She’d always hated his uncle, hated him.

Tyler stepped into his uncle’s bedroom and stopped. The smell was stronger here, strong enough that Tyler coughed involuntarily.

Death. Decay.

Tyler flipped the switch to turn on the light and heard Tavey gasp.

His uncle lay on his back, his arms splayed out to his sides, mouth open. His eyes were open, but a white film covered them.

Tyler turned to look at Tavey, his eyes hot with disbelief and grief.

“Did you come talk to him?”

Tavey had covered her mouth and nose with her hands. Her brown eyes, sheened with tears, blinked at him, confused. “Talk to him?”

“On Monday. Did you decide you couldn’t wait, that you needed to pry?” He moved closer, so that his blue eyes were blazing down at her. “Did you upset him, Tavey?”

It took a moment for Tavey to realize that Tyler was accusing her of something, but as soon as she did, she dropped her arms, the horrified empathy she’d felt at his loss burning away in rage and terrible pain.

“What?” she gasped.

He took her upper arms in a firm grip and asked her again. “Did you come and talk to him?”

The moment was so much like those they’d shared before. She felt like their kiss in the rose garden had been a dream.

“No,” she protested. “I promise. Tyler—”

He turned away from her. “Go get in the truck. I need to call the sheriff.”

Tavey swallowed, so angry and hurt she could barely breathe.

Abraham had known about her father. All these years, he’d known. Bessie as well. And Atohi. They’d all known. Did they also know about Summer? Why hadn’t they said anything to her, knowing how tortured she’d been for all these years?

Tavey stalked outside, her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together.

Tyler came out onto the porch, his phone to his ear.

Tavey ignored him, walking to the truck and yanking open the door. Pulling open his glove box, she located a small flashlight and a .38 revolver. She’d been hoping for a flashlight; the gun was an unexpected bonus. She checked it quickly, using the latch to release the cylinder and checking the chambers to make sure it was loaded.

She didn’t remember ever feeling this coldly angry, even at Abraham, even at the disappearance of her friend. Almost everyone she loved had lied to her, and now Tyler. She stopped the thought in its tracks.

He’d never been her soul mate—she’d been a fool. A colossal one. She was finished. Done. Abraham was dead. As far as she was concerned, they no longer had anything to discuss.

Tavey waited until Tyler’s back was turned, his voice harsh as he explained the situation, and then she walked down the old path in the dark, the path her eight-year-old self had trod a thousand times, and headed into the woods.