Home to Whiskey Creek
“With?”
She didn’t clarify because Adelaide called out. “Gran, who is it?”
Milly used her walker like a cattle prod, herding him into the kitchen. “It’s Noah. He’s here to help. Isn’t that nice of him?”
“Noah!” Adelaide was at the sink, rinsing out a cup. But she whirled to face him, and he immediately jerked his gaze up to her face. She was dressed in a tank top and cutoffs that weren’t even fastened. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the cutoffs were very short, the sort a girl might wear around the house but not out in public. Obviously, she wasn’t prepared for company.
“We’ll be up all night without him,” Milly said, oblivious to everything except her worry. “I’m not much help. And you can’t keep standing there. You’re about to collapse.”
Adelaide glared at her grandmother as if she was trying to convey a deeper message—something closer to “Hell, no!” than the words that came out of her mouth. “Gran, I’m fine. And if you’re not, we can take a break. Or finish in the morning.”
Milly shook her head in defeat. “I don’t think I’ll be much more use to you in the morning. I’m too old for this, honey. So unless you’d rather go to the hospital—and Noah will carry you to the car if need be—you’ll hold still and let him finish up so we can all get some sleep.” With that, she managed a smile for Noah. “Can I make you some coffee?”
“No, thanks.” She could barely get around; he didn’t want to put her to the trouble. He was too distracted to think about eating or drinking, anyway. He saw a dish towel on the counter, speckled with blood. But it wasn’t until he noticed the magnifying glass and tweezers beside it that he began to understand. “You’re extracting...slivers?”
Milly frowned. “I removed the ones in her hands. Problem is she’s got them all up and down her backside, too.”
“But we wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” Adelaide interjected. “It’s late and...I’m sure you have better things to do.”
He did. Like going to bed. But he couldn’t leave such a tedious job to poor Milly.
“I’m happy to help,” he said. “Just not in here. Come lie on the couch before you drop.”
“You don’t need the light?” Milly asked.
“One lamp will be fine. I’ll pull it close.”
* * *
What were the chances? Adelaide wondered. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d been beaten and thrown down a mine shaft? Now she had to suffer the embarrassment and indignity of having Cody’s brother remove myriad small splinters from the backs of her thighs?
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad in the middle of the day. But with the late hour, the quiet of the house and Gran sleeping so deeply in the chair across the room, it all felt very...intimate.
“You okay?” he asked when she shifted.
She’d taken the two Percocets he’d given her. Gran hadn’t caught on to the fact that they weren’t aspirin, but Noah had made sure she was aware of it. She’d been in so much pain she’d tossed them back almost immediately, and she was glad she had. He’d done all he could with the tweezers. Now he was using a sterilized needle to dig out the deeper slivers. “Yes. You?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m not the one who’s hurt. But...what am I supposed to do about the ones that are...a bit higher?”
He’d studiously avoided touching her anywhere that could be considered inappropriate, but her butt had as many slivers as her legs. That was part of the reason she’d agreed to self-medicate. She’d needed something to get her through the embarrassment as much as the pain.
“Maybe I should’ve gone to the hospital.” The fewer people who saw her beaten up, the better. But she’d never dreamed that her plan to avoid medical care could be thwarted by slivers. When she was in Noah’s truck insisting he bring her home, she’d been hurting but hurting everywhere. She’d assumed all the injuries would heal with time, had no clue she’d need this kind of help.
Relaxing into his chair, he sighed. “’Bout time you said that. Come on, I’ll take you.”
Somewhat dazed by the drugs, she rose up on her elbows. Did they really have to go to the hospital? They’d made it this far.... “How much longer do you think it’ll take to get the rest?”
“I haven’t seen what I’m up against, of course. But I’m guessing...twenty minutes?”
Did it really matter that they were on her butt cheeks? Gran was sitting right there. She was asleep, but Noah wasn’t hoping to touch anything he shouldn’t. Chances were the E.R. doctor would be a man, if they did go to the hospital.
“That’s not long.” Twenty minutes would certainly be shorter than going to the emergency room. She didn’t think she had the strength to get up. She definitely knew she couldn’t walk, not without staggering. And how would they explain that she was doped up?
That could get Noah in trouble.
“No...but you’d have to take off your shorts,” he pointed out.
She didn’t plan on ever seeing Noah again, anyway. They might pass each other once or twice over the next few months while she was in town, but she could muster a wave and move on, couldn’t she? Forget that this ever happened?
Gathering her nerve, she reached beneath her to undo her cutoffs. Then she wiggled them, along with her panties, down over her hips.
“Hurry,” she said. As innocuous as her actions were, she didn’t want to add to her humiliation by having Gran wake up to such a sight.
She’d taken him by surprise. His sudden silence and stillness told her that.
“You don’t have a problem with finishing, do you?” Was the painkiller she’d taken affecting her decision-making ability? Maybe. She felt sort of...distant and relaxed, despite what was going on.
He cleared his throat again. “I’m thinking...maybe we should wake Milly and let her do this part.”
“Except she couldn’t see well enough to do the other part.”
Tension hung thick and heavy in the room—awkwardness, embarrassment, hesitation. She’d already bared her ass and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.
“It’s just a butt, no big deal.” She kept her face turned into the couch because she didn’t want to look at him. He’d changed since high school, but not enough that she couldn’t recognize him—or see the resemblance to Cody. There was also the hero worship she’d once felt. This was worse than walking up and congratulating him on a good baseball game....
But finishing what they’d begun seemed the most direct route to accomplishing their goal. She’d get through it and then she’d forget about it. Noah wasn’t part of the life she’d built since leaving Whiskey Creek. He didn’t matter. No doubt he’d forget this by tomorrow, too. He hadn’t even remembered her, and she’d watched him for two years with such longing....
“I know you can’t be shy,” she prodded when he didn’t move.
“I’m definitely not shy, but I’ve never touched a woman who...who’s been—”
“Noah, I wasn’t raped last night.” She wondered what he’d think if she told him the only rape she’d ever suffered had been instigated by his brother and carried out by his teammates, that the man who’d thrown her down the mine shaft was one of those teammates. “Just get the job done, okay? I understand the difference between removing a few slivers and...and other activities.”
“Maybe it would be easier if you didn’t cringe every time I touch you.”
After everything he’d been in high school, and she saw no reason his status in Whiskey Creek would’ve changed, it probably came as a shock that she didn’t want his hands on her. As far as she was concerned, a dose of indifference now and then would be good for his ego. “This isn’t exactly a pleasurable process.”
“I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about earlier when I was trying to get you out of the mountains.”
Because of who he was. He was the twin brother of the man who’d caused her so much pain. They weren’t identical, but there was a strong family resemblance and that was a hurdle she had to clear whenever she looked at him, even if it was merely a glance.
But he didn’t understand that, of course, and she couldn’t tell him. So she cut to what mattered at this particular moment.
“Don’t worry. I’m not that fragile.” Not anymore, anyway. It’d been fifteen years since she was raped by a handful of Whiskey Creek’s most popular athletes. She’d slept with two men since, men she’d cared about and hoped to have a deeper relationship with. The last one she’d married. With three years’ therapy in her early twenties, she’d gotten past the trauma.
Anyway, having Noah help her out with a medical problem had nothing to do with sex or rape, even if it dealt with the same general region of her body. “Can you please, er, hurry? You’ve already gotten an eyeful, and you’re holding the needle. It doesn’t make sense to stop.”
“Right.” Despite his reluctance, his hand, when he touched her, was warm and firm. She jerked as he went after one of the deeper slivers, and he cupped her bottom. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to soothe her or hold her still, but he immediately realized what he was doing and let go.
“You hangin’ in?” he murmured after several minutes.
For the most part, Adelaide couldn’t feel pain anymore. She seemed to be floating somewhere up near the ceiling, looking down on the scene. “Yeah.”
She wasn’t sure how much longer it took. She didn’t care. She was too tired to care about anything except drifting off to sleep....
She woke because something had changed. He was rubbing antibiotic ointment on her, which felt good despite all the reasons it shouldn’t. Somehow she’d lost her anxiety. Pure exhaustion, and painkiller, had carried her beyond that.
“You ready for bed?” He helped get her shorts up. Then he woke Gran and walked her into her room. When he returned to find Adelaide unable to drag herself off the couch, he offered to help her, too. She said no, that she’d be fine right where she was, but when he lifted her in his arms and brought her to bed, she didn’t argue.
“Thanks,” she mumbled as he laid her on the soft mattress and covered her. “Your sweatshirt’s on the bedroom floor. I—I’ll repay you for what you’ve done. The burger, too. I won’t forget the burger.”
She could tell she was slurring her words, but her unwieldy tongue couldn’t do any better. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except that she was home, out of the damn mine and even the slivers were gone.
“I don’t want your money, Adelaide.” He checked to make sure the door leading to the porch was locked.
“Then I’ll give you something else.” What? A homemade pie? A meal? She felt she had to compensate him, if only to keep from thinking of him too kindly. She definitely didn’t want to feel she was in his debt.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” he drawled.
She heard the teasing note in his voice and covered a yawn. “How about my firstborn child?”
He hesitated at the foot of her bed. “Your future husband might have a problem with that.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t ever have another husband.” She frowned as she followed that thought to its obvious conclusion. “Oh! And that means I probably won’t have a baby, either.” Somehow that seemed sad, but she was flying so high she refused to worry about it.
“So...what would you like?” Her eyelids drooped and she felt herself slipping away. “I’ve got to...have something...you want.” That hadn’t come out right. It sounded suggestive even though she didn’t mean it that way. Surely he’d interpret it correctly.
“After the past half hour, that’s not a fair question to ask me,” he said, and then he was gone.
5
Chief Stacy banged on the door first thing the next morning. Gran, always an early riser, was up, despite having gone to bed in the wee hours. Regardless of the challenges she faced, she clung rigidly to her routine.
When Adelaide heard her greet the police chief and invite him in, she buried her head beneath the pillow. Her whole body ached, and she was so tired. She wanted to sleep for a week, not drag herself out of bed to answer a million questions. Now that she was safe and had some perspective on the past thirty hours, she could plainly see that whoever had dropped her into that mine shaft meant to give her a warning, nothing more. He’d hit her, but only when she fought him. He’d probably assumed she could climb out and make her way home. It was even possible, had she not returned to town, that he would’ve come to make sure she didn’t die. If he’d really been planning to kill her, he could just as easily have tossed her in the river.
You tell anyone about graduation and I’ll kill you. I’ll stab the old lady, too. Do you understand me?
What would be the point of those words if he believed she wouldn’t be around to talk?
Too bad he didn’t know he’d gone to the effort of abducting her for nothing. She wasn’t going to say a word about what happened when she was sixteen—with or without the possibility of imminent danger. He’d only succeeded in creating a mystery for everyone else to solve. Thanks to him, she had Chief Stacy to contend with.
Way to cause more problems....
“I would’ve called you when she got home, but I didn’t want to wake you in the middle of the night,” she heard Gran explain.
“Like I told you this morning, I’m available whenever you need me,” he responded. “Goes with the job.”
Adelaide could almost see him puffing out his chest as he spoke and would’ve rolled her eyes if her head wasn’t already under her pillow.
“You’re so devoted,” Gran gushed. “Whiskey Creek is lucky to have you.”
Which was, no doubt, the compliment he’d been fishing for.
Or maybe he was being sincere. Maybe Adelaide was just in a terrible mood.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“You bet. Your coffee’s the best in town.”
“Better than Black Gold down the street?” she asked in surprise.
“As good,” he hedged.
Now Adelaide knew he was full of shit. Gran’s coffee wasn’t one of her better offerings; it was basic and cheap because she couldn’t tell the difference.
“Then I’d like to speak with Adelaide, if possible,” Stacy was saying.
“Of course. I’ll tell her so she can get dressed.”
Her grandmother’s walker thumped as she moved down the wooden hallway and stopped at her door. She didn’t bother to knock. She didn’t see the point in giving Adelaide any privacy. Adelaide would always be her little girl; it didn’t matter if she was three or thirty.
“Addy?” she said, poking her head in. “Chief Stacy’s here. He’d like a word with you.”
Static electricity made strands of her hair stand up when she set her pillow aside. “I heard. I’m coming.”
“You have a few minutes while I get him some coffee.”
A few minutes? She’d barely be able to dress and comb her hair. Knowing she must look like she’d been dragged behind a horse, she swallowed a sigh. “Be right there.”
Clomp. Shuffle. Clomp. Shuffle. The noise from Gran and her walker receded as Adelaide kicked off the covers and sat up. She expected a headache. She’d had a whopper of one last night. But her head seemed to be the only part of her body that didn’t hurt.
Thank God for small favors.
She dressed in a pair of jeans and an orange tee, gingerly avoiding all the bandages Noah had applied, as well as the memory of his sure, gentle hands applying them. Then she went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back before making her way into the living room.
Chief Stacy was sitting in her grandmother’s antique rocker, looking quite comfortable with a steaming cup of coffee and a slice of cinnamon-walnut cake. Maybe Gran’s coffee wasn’t anything special, but her baked goods were out of this world. Of course, her recipes were also “old school,” meaning there was enough fat, sugar and cholesterol in each serving to bring on a heart attack. Adelaide had long wanted to introduce a few new, interesting and organic options, at least on the meal side of the menu.
She thought she still might try to do that.
If they hung on to the restaurant long enough...
“Well, hello, Addy.” Setting his plate and cup on the side table, Chief Stacy got up to greet her, but it was awkward. She couldn’t tell if he intended to hug her or shake her hand. He’d been a regular officer when she lived in town, a position slightly less prominent than the one he held now, but she’d known him. He’d eaten at Just Like Mom’s once a week or so; she’d often served him.
She offered her hand to let him know what she preferred, and he acted as if that was the most he’d expected.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.
She conjured up a pleasant expression as they shook. “So am I.”
Once she sat down, he sobered in apparent concern. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Sure. Although there isn’t a lot to tell.”
He returned to his seat but didn’t pick up his cake or coffee. He took out a pad and pen. Whiskey Creek was pretty uneventful. A true abduction would be the case of a lifetime for a backwoods cop like Stacy—could make or break his career.
Too bad she wasn’t about to give him anything that might help him solve the crime. Even if, as a victim, she could be completely honest about what she knew and remembered, Adelaide wouldn’t pit him against a very wily kidnapper. He seemed long on confidence but short on experience. As far as she could remember, the most he’d ever had to find was a runaway horse or dog. A big day for a cop in Whiskey Creek was handling security for the annual Fourth of July parade or the Victorian Days festival every Christmas.
“Just start from the beginning,” he said.
Lacing her fingers together, she stared down at the fingernails she’d broken. “Before I went to bed, I opened the door in my bedroom—”
“The one that leads out to the street?”
“To the porch. Yes.”
“Because...”
“I needed some fresh air.”
He raised his eyebrows. “It’s fall,” he said.
Not wanting to blame Gran for her heavy hand with the thermostat, she glossed over that. “My room hasn’t been used much since I left. It was sort of...stuffy.”
“So you opened the door to air it out.”
“Yes. There was the screen door, of course, which was locked.”
“A screen provides little protection....”
As if she didn’t feel foolish enough. “I wasn’t too worried about protection. Not here at home.” It wasn’t until she’d disobeyed her grandmother, back in high school, and ventured to the mine that she’d gotten into trouble. And pointing out that she should feel secure in a town he was supposed to keep safe shifted the blame back on to him.
“Nothing like this has ever happened before,” he told her, backpedaling.
“Which is why I didn’t worry about it. But someone, a—a man, cut the screen, dragged me from my bed and drove me up to the old mine.”
“The Jepson mine, where Cody Rackham was killed?”
The fear that, at long last, she’d be implicated in Cody’s death, tied her stomach in knots. But she’d expected the immediate association. They’d had their tragedies in Whiskey Creek—when Dylan Amos’s father got into a bar fight and stabbed his opponent and when Phoenix Fuller used her mother’s Buick to run down her rival, to name two—but the popular, wealthy and handsome Rackham family had always generated a great deal of interest. “Where Cody...died. Yes,” she said.
“Did your abductor...” The way Stacy lowered his voice and shot a warning glance at Gran told Adelaide what he was about to ask.
She jumped in to save him the effort of formulating the rest of the question. “He didn’t rape me, no.”
His chest rose as if her answer allowed him to draw a deep breath for the first time since he’d arrived. He even left his pad and pen in his lap and reclaimed his coffee and cake. “I’m happy to hear that.” He took a big bite, then paused to give her a searching look. “You’d tell me if he did,” he said while chewing. “I realize there’s a certain...stigma that goes with that word, with the act itself, but I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.”
Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. “He didn’t rape me.” But she could clearly remember the time before, when he had....
“So you were awakened in your bed and then what? Let’s go over it detail by detail.”
She cleared her throat. “He whispered that he’d hurt me and Gran if I screamed. Then he tied my hands, blindfolded me and forced me to walk out to his truck or SUV.”
“You’re sure it was a truck or SUV.”
“By the sound of the engine and how high off the ground it was...yes.” That was true, but she hardly saw it as revealing. Practically everyone in these parts owned a truck.
“Did you get the color, or the make and model?”
“No. The blindfold was too tight.” And when she’d tried to remove it, he’d panicked and struck her. That was the first time he’d hit her, but it wasn’t the most painful, just a glancing blow on the cheek.
“What about before the blindfold? Were you able to see him or any part of him?”
She wished she could tell the police chief to forget about the incident, but she knew that would only make him wonder at her reaction. She had to act as if she wanted her kidnapper caught. “Just that first glimpse.”
“And...”
She swallowed. “I’m afraid I can’t give you a description. It was so dark, and he was wearing a ski mask.”
Stacy frowned as he formulated another question. “Did he have any exposed skin? Any tattoos or birthmarks?”
“He was completely covered.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Black pants and a black sweatshirt.” That much was true, but the sweatshirt had a strange logo on it, a bright yellow logo with a website URL that was easy to remember. Thanks to the light of a full moon streaming through that screen door, she’d spotted www.SkintightEntertainment.com before he’d managed to blindfold her. But she was giving Stacy only generic information, information she felt safe providing. As far as she knew, that URL could be connected to where the culprit worked, could lead police right to him.
“Were his clothes particularly expensive or cheap?” Stacy asked. “I mean—” he leaned forward, beseeching her with his body language “—did you notice anything that might help identify him? What kind of guy was this?”
A guy who wore a brand of cologne she normally would’ve liked. She remembered that, too—but it was another detail she planned to keep to herself. “They were just your basic cargo pants and a plain sweatshirt. They could’ve come from any department store.”
He put his coffee down again so he could make a few notes. “Can you tell me how tall he was?”
She’d known instantly what the encounter was about, which had evoked immediate terror. And the abduction happened so fast. She doubted she could answer all of Chief Stacy’s questions even if she really wanted the man apprehended.
“About my height.” She had no idea if that was true. He could’ve been an inch or two taller, or an inch or two shorter, but six feet sounded average. She was embellishing, changing this or that, describing a person who didn’t exist, so what did it matter?
“And his build?”
This time she didn’t have to make anything up. The truth described a large proportion of the male population, so she could speak honestly. “He was...fairly muscular, I guess. But not overly so.”
“Can you guess at his weight?”
She went for what would be likely, given the height and body build she’d stated. “About two hundred. I can’t recall, to be honest.”
Stacy took another bite of cake. “What about age?”
“Middle-aged?” She certainly didn’t want to say close to her age, which was what she believed. Anyway, age wasn’t easy to determine in a situation like that.
“Did he speak with a lisp or an accent or...use foul language? Was there anything distinctive about his voice?”
Her kidnapper had spoken in a hoarse whisper. That hadn’t evoked the memory of any particular boy, but it had brought back what she’d experienced fifteen years ago, deluging her with the kinds of images that plagued her worst nightmares. Hold her still, damn it!