CHAPTER 23
After the nurse
had her way with the two patients, Sheriff Raleigh came into the room, hat in hand. The morning sunlight revealed evidence of a long, tough night. But he wasn’t there to see Zeke. Instead he sat down beside Agent Hebert’s bed.
“How you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot,” came Hebert’s slow response. “The doctors tell me the scar tissue saved my life.”
Raleigh laughed, even if it wasn’t a joke. “Your people have been invaluable. Your boss Birch came down and he’s directing things. Never seen such a mess in my life. But look . . . if it was me and I missed the wrap-up, I’d be chafing for some news.”
“I’m listening.”
“Seems Travis Delaney wasn’t a newcomer to Harper Creek. He grew up here. When he left, he changed his name. He used to be Delroy Carson. Father Donnell, mother Celia. Appears the elder Carson worked at the mill at one time, but they fired him after he caused an accident due to on-the-job drinking. I can only guess that started the grudge, though why the son was acting on a grievance so many years later, I have no idea.”
The agent lifted one shoulder. “It’s hard to reckon crazy. Anything else?”
“On Birch’s request, we did a property search and located the place Carson grew up. It’s a ruin now, but we’re sure that’s where he held Luke Harper . . . and all of the girls, most likely.”
Zeke watched the slow smile build on Hebert’s face. “Good work.”
“But that’s not all.”
“There’s more?”
“Unfortunately. We’re already swarming with reporters. It’s impossible to keep something like this under wraps. Somebody’s leaking information and they’re already on the TV talking about the Red Ribbon killer. I guess we’re just lucky they didn’t latch on while we were trying to catch him.”
“Out with it already,” Hebert said, clearly losing patience.
“We found his mother in her bed. Just bones after all these years. And right beside her, the nearly unrecognizable body of Julie Fish.”
Shit.
Neva was going to be heartbroken. A soft sound, almost like an animal in pain, drew his gaze toward the door. She stood there, hand to mouth, absorbing what she’d overheard. Zeke slid out of bed and went toward her. He was still a little weak, but nothing time wouldn’t cure. When he put his arms around her, she leaned into him like he’d feared she never would again.
“Aw, shi—oot,” Raleigh said. “I didn’t want you to find out this way, Geneva. I’m so sorry, honey.”
Misery weighted her pretty face. Zeke stroked her hair, wishing he could do more. She must feel like shit. Survivor’s guilt, he thought it was called. Maybe he’d once felt the same way about his mother—that if he hadn’t been such a pain in the ass, she might’ve wanted to live. God knew his dad had offered that suggestion more than once, but it hadn’t driven him crazy. And now, he’d be okay because Neva needed him. There were no other options.
“Do her people know?”
The sheriff nodded. “We notified her mama early this morning.”
She gave a jerky nod, verging on a breakdown, and she hated for people to see her cry. That did it. He needed to get her out of here. Zeke stepped back, went to the closet for his clothes, and then slid into the bathroom to get dressed. The other three stared when he returned. Good, he’d distracted her from her hurt.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Taking you home.”
Neva planted her feet. “You haven’t been discharged.”
“Don’t care.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his shoes on. “Got somebody waiting on me.”
Her face went blank for a moment, and then she remembered. The idea of a wounded animal in need of attention trumped her argument, as he’d known it would. She was just too tender for this world, and he worshipped the ground she walked on. He always would.
“Come on then,” she said. “I’ll drive you.”
“What am I supposed to tell the doctor when he comes in?” Raleigh asked.
Zeke shrugged and followed her. His street clothes were dirty, but it was early enough they didn’t attract too many looks. It helped that he didn’t seem sick. By the time they walked out the automatic front doors, he’d decided nobody would give chase. Half the staff was probably camped outside her brother’s room anyway. It wasn’t every day the Harper heir rose from the dead.
A passel of reporters stood waiting. Regional news vans had set up in the parking lot, and they seemed to recognize Neva. A tall blond woman strode over in the lead, microphone extended.
“What can you tell us about your brother’s miraculous rescue?”
“Is it true you were taken but survived the Red Ribbon killer?”
Neva glared at them with her best Harper look and snarled, “No comment.”
He backed her with an expression that said he wouldn’t mind a fight, and the press melted back far enough for them to move around to the car. The vehicle she unlocked by clicking a button wasn’t her old Honda. At his look, she explained, “The cops have it. He drove it when he took me, so . . .”
It was part of the mess, for the moment at least. This was a slick new Volvo, midnight blue, interior done in gray leather. He slid into the passenger seat, admiring the car’s lines.
“Nice.”
“This is my dad’s spare.”
That drove home what different worlds they came from—and it didn’t matter at all. He no longer cared about their differences; only the ways they were the same. Tears trailed down her cheek now and then, over Julie, he guessed, and Zeke put his hand on her knee, a comforting gesture. Sometimes touch said what words couldn’t.
“I’m going to miss her so much,” she said softly. “It
hurts
.”
“So sorry, sweet girl. Wish I coulda saved her.”
It was a bright day, the sky bluing up overhead, because it didn’t know or care that down below, people were grieving. He watched the wires attached to the electrical poles whip by, and it reminded him of a game he’d played as a kid, flicking his fingers each time he passed, making believe he had super speed and he was running alongside the car, swinging around each pole like a hero in a comic book. Funny he’d remember now. But then, no dream ever truly died. It just grew small and quiet until you needed it again.
She pulled off the main road into his drive, and the Volvo took the gravel smoother than he would’ve guessed. Without waiting for her, he slid out of the car and let his mind go walk-about, looking for his coyote brother. He found him cowering in the barn, because Zeke had asked him to come and wait, and they were bound now. They’d walked together in the same skin.
“Here,” he said, and she followed him.
“He needs some blankets and food and water. Will he let me check him out?”
Zeke sent the question. Would he? The coyote shivered, but didn’t move. He took that as a yes. She raced for the house, and if he knew her at all, she was glad of the chance to think about something besides her loss.
After she examined him, she said, “Looks like broken ribs, but I don’t think he’s got any internal bleeding. I’d need an X-ray or CT to be sure, but I can’t imagine he wants to go to the clinic.”
“Did what we can.”
They left the coyote with food and water and a nest of old blankets. He could wiggle out of the barn the same way he came in, but Zeke hoped he would rest first. In his condition, he couldn’t hunt for himself too easily.
He led the way back to the house and took her coat. As usual he didn’t have one. Didn’t need one, either. The house felt warm and welcoming with its bright new paint, but it was only half done. He needed her to help him brighten up that bedroom where his father had died in his sleep, and then the upstairs, too. If he let her, Neva could change everything. Without waiting for her to speak, he swung her up in his arms and carried her to the couch. He wanted her in his lap and right now he didn’t much care how she felt about it.
Zeke rested his cheek against her hair and whispered, “Didn’t think I was gonna make it in time. Thought I’d lost you.”
“I felt the same way when I found you in the woods.” A shiver went through her.
He tightened his arms. “Got some things to say. Want you to listen and not talk ’til I’m done. Okay?”
“Go on,” she said, resting her head against his chest.
Because it mattered so much, he called up all his words. He’d never be as eloquent as he could’ve been before, casually, but he had to try. Feelings fought with the right way to get them out into the world, and he tensed.
Make it right.
“Know you said you loved me, ’fore I fucked it all up. Dunno if that’s still true, but . . . I do love you. Ain’t even the right word ’cos it’s like breathing, not something you stop unless you die.”
When it seemed she would speak, he held up a hand. “What they done changed me.” He closed his eyes and the shame didn’t seem so heavy as long as he could feel her heart thudding against his. “Can’t read. Not even a little. Or figure out complicated stuff. Sometimes when you’re talking, I lose the meaning. Not ’cos I don’t wanna listen but ’cos there’s just too many words. May get worse. Can’t promise I won’t be worthless to you someday, just a strong back and no more. And . . . sometimes I roam in the night and I’m like an animal when I do. Partly s’why I ran. ’Cos I don’t wanna hurt you. Not
you
. But it don’t happen so much when you’re close. Think maybe I did it ’cos I was lookin’ for what I’d lost.”
“Are you done?” she asked quietly.
He let out an anguished breath. If she laughed at him, or walked away, he didn’t think he could survive it. “Yeah.”
“Then it’s my turn.” She framed his face with her hands, brown eyes intent. “I don’t
care
. Loving you means I embrace everything you are. I understand you’re not like other men, and that’s fine. I love what you can do. If you hadn’t noticed, I like animals more than people most days anyhow. And if that affinity means you had to give up some things, then I’ll just have to love you more, so you won’t miss them. Do you understand now, Zeke? I’m not afraid of who you are—and I wouldn’t have you any other way. I’m in this, if you’re done running.”
“Can help you at the clinic,” he said slowly, testing her.
“Of course. You’re great with the animals. I’d be sorry to lose you.”
“And can probably get some work doing repair work. Good with my hands.”
She grinned. “You are. But do you really think money’s an issue for us?”
“Used to be.”
“One benefit of leaving you . . . I made up with my family. My dad will be unfreezing my trust fund, and I don’t feel like I have anything to prove anymore. I intend to pour money into this place and make it beautiful again.”
Male pride gave him a flicker of discomfort. He wanted to take care of her, not the other way around. But maybe he could do that in other ways. If she didn’t mind, he wouldn’t let it sour the joy of knowing she loved him, however unlikely it seemed. He was still Zeke Noble with that terrible old truck and a rundown farm; he still came from a family laden with sorrow. And it all seemed pretty unimportant now. He stepped out of those memories like an ox slipping its yoke.
“Parents won’t mind you settling?”
She smiled. “I’m not. But they know you played a part in saving Luke and me. You have nothing to worry about, trust me.”
“Guess there’s only one thing left, then.”
“What’s that?”
“Makeup sex.”
Neva’s heart ached;
there was no escaping from reality, but if he could make it go away for even a little while, then she was on board. Afterward, all the details would still be waiting: respects to pay and services to plan. Julie’s mother would need her. But for now, she wanted the sweetness of his mouth and the solace of his body. She could have so easily lost him last night, too.
In answer she wrapped her arms around his neck and he pushed off the couch in a graceful motion. She’d never get over how strong he was, despite his lean frame. It sent a fresh thrill through her. Running her hand down his chest, she felt even more of his ribs. He hadn’t been eating much since she’d gone. Well, her, either—she’d lost eight pounds in a short time.
The sun warmed the wood floors, gilding them in light as he carried her across the front room and up the stairs. In that moment, Neva felt oddly like a bride being borne to her marriage bed for the first time. He had that tenderness about him, and it melded so beautifully with the wildness that sang beneath his skin.
She ate him with her eyes, drinking in his masculine allure, from the golden bristles on his jaw to the smooth bunch and pull of his muscles. But he lacked the ferocity of their first few encounters, as if he managed the beast inside him instead of the other way around. Something had changed for him out there in the woods; he had come out of that gauntlet in a manner refined, still himself, but at peace with it instead of forever fighting.
Outside the bathroom door, Zeke set her on her feet and then pulled her shirt over her head. It was like he read her mind. She’d cleaned up a bit at the hospital, but after her ordeal, she wanted a shower before anything else. His storm blue eyes darkened as he peeled away her clothing. Now the intensity kindled, longing limned in adoration. How he’d ever thought she could want anyone else, after this, after
him
. . . well, thinking clearly wasn’t his strong suit.
“Like a fresh start,” he said softly.
Neva nodded. “Symbolic.”
When he stepped back, she saw what he’d done. Though she had left before the renovations were complete, he had put her ideas into practice. The walls had been painted pristine white and he’d hung the ivy border around the top of the room. But he hadn’t stopped there. One night, she had been chattering about what else she’d do in there—and suspected he hadn’t been listening. Apparently she had been wrong, because he’d hung tiny Victorian portraits, the frames ornately and artfully tarnished, along with wicker baskets of ivy. He had even found a white lace shower curtain with a liner.