Hail Mary, page 21
“There are people all over town looking for her,” Winston added.
Beau knew. He’d seen them. “I told them to stay out of the perimeter.”
Because the last thing they needed was the public stomping all over any potential evidence.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
Harry suddenly stood a handful of feet away, staring at Winston.
Who just lifted his shirt and flashed his badge with a grin.
Harry looked at Beau. “Seriously?”
“All hands on deck,” Beau replied brusquely. “He’s worked the case before.”
“He’s a drunk!”
“Hey, now,” Winston said. “That’s hurtful.”
“You can’t do this,” Harry insisted. “It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Beau retorted shortly, in no mood. “He’s in.”
For a moment, his deputy only stared at him. “Cam and I aren’t good enough?”
“This isn’t a democracy,” Beau told him. “And we need all the goddamn help we can get.”
Harry blinked. He looked at Winston, then back at Beau.
“This is a mistake,” he said.
“One that’s mine to make,” Beau snapped, annoyed. “I’m giving you this scene. Can you handle it?”
Harry stilled. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m needed elsewhere.”
“But…you want me in charge? Like, of the search?”
“While I’m gone, yes.”
Some of the rancor left the younger man’s expression. “Where are you going?”
“Out to the camp.”
“Oh.” He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea. We don’t know what else Duggar was doing out there.”
No shit. But that wasn’t the reason Beau was going to tear Camp Blossom Hills apart.
“Okay.” Harry stood a little straighter. He avoided looking at Winston. “I’ll take care of things here, then, sir.”
“Good.” Beau paused. “Thank you. Let me know if you find anything.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded once more, then turned and walked away.
“Just one big happy family,” Winston murmured, watching him.
Beau gave him a dark look and rubbed his aching leg. “Play nice.”
He went over to the makeshift search station that had been put together and looked down at the GPS grid. The surrounding woods had been carved into neat, half-mile sections and assigned to both the searchers and the canine units, most of whom stood waiting, along with several locals and their hunting dogs. Jack Farley was among them. They all looked at Beau expectantly.
“Deputy Baker is in charge,” he told them. “You have your assigned sections. Do your section and only your section. If you finish, come back and get another one. And if you find anything—and I do mean anything—you preserve it and take it to Deputy Baker, first. Got it?”
Heads bobbed.
“There’s not much light left,” he continued. “Do what you can, while you can. The rain is coming, and it’s going to wipe out anything that’s out there to find. So do your best. And thank you.”
More nods.
“We’re gonna get him this time, Sheriff,” someone said.
“That bastard’s ticket is up,” added another.
“For Emma,” Jack said.
Beau met his gaze. “For Emma.”
They dispersed.
“Should I go with them?” Winston asked.
“No. You’re with me.” Beau caught Garrett’s eye and nodded. “The Judge signed the search warrant for the camp an hour ago.”
“You think we’ll find anything?”
“I think it’s damn sure worth looking.”
Thunder rumbled and the wind lifted, and somewhere, a barn owl hooted. The temperature was dropping, and a chill was settling in, summer giving way to fall.
Garrett made his way over, trailed by the agents he’d assembled.
“Sheriff,” he said. “What can we do?”
“Half of you can hit the fairgrounds,” Beau replied. “I’ve got a lot of boots on the ground, but none of them are trained in canvassing like you are. We need to know if anyone saw Maddie Ripley, if she was alone or with someone, anything that might help.”
Garrett nodded. “And the rest?”
“We’re going to search the camp. The warrant was served on Duggar in his cell.”
A grim smile turned the Agent’s mouth. “To be a fly on the wall.”
“It’s on video,” Beau told him. “You can watch it later.”
Garrett only shook his head and turned to look at the collection of men and women gathered around him. “Ray, Bixby, and Allen, you’re with me. The rest of you head to the fairgrounds and see what you can learn.”
“Thank you,” Beau added, aware many of them were on their own time. “We appreciate the help.”
They split up; Garrett, Beau, Winston and the three agents headed toward Beau’s truck, while the others dispersed to their waiting SUVs. Garrett turned and looked at him. “He’s never taken another one so soon.”
“I know,” Beau said shortly.
“Is it him or us?”
Beau just shook his head.
“She doesn’t have much time,” he added.
You think I don’t fucking know that?
Beau bit back the words. Tension lined his frame, and his heart was thudding, heavy, painful beats; in his mind’s eye, the image of Emma Farley’s abused body burned brightly.
Goddamn it.
“Did you send your girls home?” Garrett halted beside the truck. “Jenna fits his profile.”
“I know.”
Get Jenna and Sasha; go home and stay there, he’d told Wynn. And then he’d had to leave her because he had another missing girl and a faceless fucking murderer to hunt down.
Christ, he hoped she listened.
He thought he might have finally broken through that jagged wall of fear and anger and distrust that stood between them, but he couldn’t be sure. The words she’d thrown at him still rang in his ears, powerful and haunting, no matter how he’d tried to defuse them.
Like hot coals, burning through him. He hadn’t realized she would even think about Marie. Let alone…
You still belong to her.
She wasn’t wrong. He wore his dead wife on his sleeve—quite fucking literally. Why would she think he was ready to move on?
“Goddamn it,” he said and rubbed his face.
No time for that now.
He needed to focus.
Because if he didn’t find Maddie Ripley and put the fucking Stick Man in the ground, nothing else would matter.
He had work to do.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Chapter 25
“Do you think they found her?”
Wynn looked up to see Jenna standing in the doorway, her face pale and drawn in the misty afternoon light. “I don’t know.”
But she didn’t have much hope.
She’d gone to town this morning to drop off Esme at the fair—she was on booth duty until later when Wynn and Sasha would take over—and when she’d given into the ridiculous impulse to drive past the Sheriff’s office, Beau’s truck was nowhere to be found. According to Mrs. Fernando, who worked at the deli on Main Street, the search teams had looked for Maddie Ripley until just after midnight, right up until the rain had started, and then they’d regrouped and started again first thing that morning.
Which meant they were likely still looking.
The knowledge hurt. Wynn couldn’t stop thinking about Emma. About Maddie Ripley, and Maddie’s family; about Jack Farley and everyone who was out there looking.
Beau.
Jenna walked into the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter to watch Wynn knead bread dough. Truthfully, she was beating the crap out of it, which would probably ruin the bread, but it felt so good, Wynn didn’t care.
She needed the outlet.
Her encounter with Beau had left her in a chaotic quandary, heavy with a choice she wasn’t sure she was ready to make.
“What if he gets away with it?” Jenna asked quietly, staring down at the floor. “Again.”
A question Wynn had been asking herself since the day the Stick Man had returned, and one for which she had no good answer. He’d come and gone twice before; there was nothing to say this time would be any different—Beau or no Beau. And as sickening and infuriating as that was—well, that was life.
Sometimes the bad guys won.
“I don’t know,” Wynn said again.
“I want him dead.”
A common sentiment.
“Do you think Beau will get him?” Jenna persisted. “The Stick Man...he seems invincible.”
“No one is invincible,” Wynn told her quietly. “And Beau has been to war. I doubt very much the Stick Man is the first monster he’s hunted.”
“You’re mad at him, aren’t you?”
Wynn glanced at her. “Who? Beau?”
“He likes you, you know. Really likes you.”
Wynn tried to shrug, aware that her cheeks were on fire. She smacked the dough against the counter and scowled.
“What’s your problem?” Jenna demanded. “He’s a good catch.”
Wynn blinked at her sister. “And you think I should keep him?”
“Heck, yeah. You could do a lot worse.”
Bemused by that, Wynn said nothing.
“I mean it,” Jenna insisted. “I’m not…”
She trailed off and looked out the window.
Wynn frowned. “You’re not what?”
Jenna looked at her. “I’m not going to be here forever.”
Wynn stopped kneading. “What does that mean?”
“This place…it’s home. The only home I’ve ever known. But it isn’t…it isn’t my future.”
Wynn could only stare at her, her heart suddenly beating with painful intensity. “What are you saying?”
“I work hard in school, and I do that for one reason: it’s my ticket out.”
Grief welled with sudden, breath-stealing intensity inside of her. “You want to leave?”
“I want to live.” Jenna’s hands fisted; her pale grey eyes glittered. “I want to see the world. Eat its food, meet its people, dance to its music. I’m not you.”
Wynn wiped her hands on a towel, her stomach churning. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the role model you needed.”
“Don’t,” Jenna told her. She reached out and gripped Wynn’s arm when she would have turned away. “You’re the best sister in the whole fucking world. Do you think I don’t know that? You always put me first—always. This place, it wasn’t your choice, but you did it for me. For us. She was never there. Not even when she was. But you always were. I’m smart and strong, and I know I can do anything, and that’s because of you. I love you, Wynn. But I want more than what this place can give me. When I graduate, I’m gone. And I need you to be okay with that. I want you better than okay. I want you to be happy.”
Tears filled Wynn’s throat and burned her eyes. For a long moment, she couldn’t speak. She wasn’t surprised; she’d always known Jenna would spread her wings and fly. She was everything Wynn wasn’t: gregarious and fearless and open. So open. While Wynn had spent most of her life sealed tightly shut. Sequestered and insulated; protected from hurt.
Even though the hurt had still found her.
Her self-imposed isolation had been an illusion; a fruitless attempt to control the chaos that was life. And there was no controlling the chaos.
There was only surviving it.
“It’s okay,” she said dully. “I knew you would go.”
“That’s not the point.” Jenna’s grip on her arm tightened. “I want you to be happy, Wynn. And I think Beau could make you happy.”
Beau. Wynn’s heart squeezed.
I want you. Only you.
Words she yearned to believe. But there were no guarantees, just a leap of faith.
One she wasn’t certain was in her to make.
“This isn’t about Beau,” Wynn told her sister quietly. “Beau or no Beau, I will be happy. No, I didn’t choose this place: it chose me. But I’ve poured myself into it, and watching it come back to life has given me purpose. It’s as alive as you and I, and that…connection, it gives me something I can’t articulate. It’s beyond happiness. So don’t you worry about me. Okay?”
Jenna stared at her, her gaze pensive. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” No. The last thing Wynn wanted was to watch her sister leave. But it wasn’t about what she wanted. And she would never, ever hold Jenna back. “As long as you come home once in a while.”
“You know I will.” Jenna leaned over and hugged Wynn suddenly, tightly. “I love you, Wynnie. Thank you for everything you did for me.”
More tears clogged Wynn’s throat. They trickled down her cheeks and slid into her hair. “I love you, too, Jen. I’m so proud of you.”
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Jenna whispered. “Earl, the Stick Man…you and Beau. I know it.”
Well, at least someone did.
Wynn nodded. “Okay.”
Jenna squeezed her hard and then released her. “I’m thinking about Oxford.”
Wynn stared at her blankly. “As in the UK?”
“Yep. I’ve got my eye on an overseas scholarship they offer. But the competition is fierce.”
England. Not just out of Blossom Hills, but out of the country.
To a different continent entirely.
The grief in Wynn turned heavy. Not just away, but far, far away.
“Wynn,” Jenna said.
“I’m fine,” Wynn said and wiped her eyes. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.
“I have to,” Jenna said somberly.
And Wynn met her gaze and saw that it was true. So she nodded and stuffed her fear and pain away. “And I support you.”
“Am I interrupting?”
They both started. Sean stood in the doorway.
“I’m off to check my frogs,” he said. “Want to keep me company?”
“Bread,” Wynn said and slapped the dough against the counter.
“I’ll come,” Jenna said and hopped down.
But Wynn gripped her hand and stopped her. “I think you should stay here.”
She felt Sean’s gaze, and her cheeks burned. It wasn’t that she really thought he might be a serial killer, but it felt wrong to take any chances.
Any at all.
“C’mon, Wynn,” Jenna protested. “I’m going crazy all locked up.”
“She’ll be safe,” Sean added, a quiet, intense promise that made Wynn look at him.
He knew what she was thinking.
Her cheeks burned brighter. But she couldn’t be sorry. He was a great tenant, and she liked him very much, but they didn’t know him. And with the Stick Man out there—
“I’ll come, too,” said another voice, and she looked up to see Griff’s tall form behind Sean. He met her gaze and nodded. “I need to look for some St. John’s Wort. The Interweb says it can help with my Parkinson’s.”
“The interweb.” Jenna snickered. “You’re hilarious.”
“Okay,” Wynn said, holding Griff’s gaze. “You can go. As long as you stay with Griff.”
He nodded again. Sean’s gaze hardened, but he said nothing.
Jenna hooted. “Thank freaking God! Freedom!” She turned and hugged Wynn again, briefly. “Thanks, Wynn.”
“Be careful.” Wynn hugged her back. “And be sure to take your present from Buck with you.”
Jenna smiled wryly. “Just in case those frogs are out for blood.”
After they’d gone, Wynn went back to kneading her bread. The sun was trying to break through the endless line of clouds on the horizon, and the house was quiet. Eloise and Ethel were at church; Esme was still at the fair, and Earl was in jail. It was just her and Beowulf and sweet little Winter, who was curled up on one of the kitchen chairs, watching her sleepily. He and Beowulf had become fast friends, much to Wynn’s amusement—and relief.
“You are pure love,” she told them, her throat still thick, her chest still aching at the thought of Jenna leaving. “And I need lots of that right now.”
Winter mewed at her. Beowulf sat at her feet, watching hopefully for crumbs.
“She’s going to go,” Wynn continued. “And I have to let her. But I sure am going to miss her.” She swallowed against the tears that threatened. “It’ll be hard without her.”
But that didn’t mean she needed anyone to take Jenna’s place. Certainly not Beau—especially when she wasn’t sure of him. Or herself.
Or anything.
She’s gone. Dead and buried. But I’m still here.
It wasn’t that Wynn expected him to forget, but he was…dark. Grim. And part of that undoubtedly came from his chronic pain, but the rest, that came from….
What happened to Marie was my fault, and I will never forgive myself for it.
And never was a long time.
Could she live with that? A shadow so long and dark they might never know light?
Because Wynn needed light.
She’d lived through years of darkness. Part of it had just been life: sickness and violence and death. Grief and uncertainty; pain. But the rest of it…that had been her.
All her.
Something she’d come to realize in the last few days. She was where she’d put herself—a choice she’d made, to wall herself off from everyone but those who needed her most. And while she might not have understood that at the time, she did now. The choice that left was clear:
Stay where she was, or move on.
Staying was tempting. She knew how to exist in that place; it was familiar, comforting. Without risk. Whereas, stepping out into the world and engaging, taking a chance on the chaos that was life…well, that was like flipping the bird at fate.
But she either stagnated or she grew. The farm had taught her what brought life.
And what led to death.
You poked the bear and woke him up—you did that, not her. And if you think I’m going to let you use her as an excuse to run, you have another thing coming.
She needed to decide. Because Beau wasn’t going down without a fight.
Hard-headed, obstinate. Bossy.
But something had sparked to life inside of her with those words, something…hopeful.
Beau knew. He’d seen them. “I told them to stay out of the perimeter.”
Because the last thing they needed was the public stomping all over any potential evidence.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
Harry suddenly stood a handful of feet away, staring at Winston.
Who just lifted his shirt and flashed his badge with a grin.
Harry looked at Beau. “Seriously?”
“All hands on deck,” Beau replied brusquely. “He’s worked the case before.”
“He’s a drunk!”
“Hey, now,” Winston said. “That’s hurtful.”
“You can’t do this,” Harry insisted. “It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Beau retorted shortly, in no mood. “He’s in.”
For a moment, his deputy only stared at him. “Cam and I aren’t good enough?”
“This isn’t a democracy,” Beau told him. “And we need all the goddamn help we can get.”
Harry blinked. He looked at Winston, then back at Beau.
“This is a mistake,” he said.
“One that’s mine to make,” Beau snapped, annoyed. “I’m giving you this scene. Can you handle it?”
Harry stilled. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m needed elsewhere.”
“But…you want me in charge? Like, of the search?”
“While I’m gone, yes.”
Some of the rancor left the younger man’s expression. “Where are you going?”
“Out to the camp.”
“Oh.” He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea. We don’t know what else Duggar was doing out there.”
No shit. But that wasn’t the reason Beau was going to tear Camp Blossom Hills apart.
“Okay.” Harry stood a little straighter. He avoided looking at Winston. “I’ll take care of things here, then, sir.”
“Good.” Beau paused. “Thank you. Let me know if you find anything.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded once more, then turned and walked away.
“Just one big happy family,” Winston murmured, watching him.
Beau gave him a dark look and rubbed his aching leg. “Play nice.”
He went over to the makeshift search station that had been put together and looked down at the GPS grid. The surrounding woods had been carved into neat, half-mile sections and assigned to both the searchers and the canine units, most of whom stood waiting, along with several locals and their hunting dogs. Jack Farley was among them. They all looked at Beau expectantly.
“Deputy Baker is in charge,” he told them. “You have your assigned sections. Do your section and only your section. If you finish, come back and get another one. And if you find anything—and I do mean anything—you preserve it and take it to Deputy Baker, first. Got it?”
Heads bobbed.
“There’s not much light left,” he continued. “Do what you can, while you can. The rain is coming, and it’s going to wipe out anything that’s out there to find. So do your best. And thank you.”
More nods.
“We’re gonna get him this time, Sheriff,” someone said.
“That bastard’s ticket is up,” added another.
“For Emma,” Jack said.
Beau met his gaze. “For Emma.”
They dispersed.
“Should I go with them?” Winston asked.
“No. You’re with me.” Beau caught Garrett’s eye and nodded. “The Judge signed the search warrant for the camp an hour ago.”
“You think we’ll find anything?”
“I think it’s damn sure worth looking.”
Thunder rumbled and the wind lifted, and somewhere, a barn owl hooted. The temperature was dropping, and a chill was settling in, summer giving way to fall.
Garrett made his way over, trailed by the agents he’d assembled.
“Sheriff,” he said. “What can we do?”
“Half of you can hit the fairgrounds,” Beau replied. “I’ve got a lot of boots on the ground, but none of them are trained in canvassing like you are. We need to know if anyone saw Maddie Ripley, if she was alone or with someone, anything that might help.”
Garrett nodded. “And the rest?”
“We’re going to search the camp. The warrant was served on Duggar in his cell.”
A grim smile turned the Agent’s mouth. “To be a fly on the wall.”
“It’s on video,” Beau told him. “You can watch it later.”
Garrett only shook his head and turned to look at the collection of men and women gathered around him. “Ray, Bixby, and Allen, you’re with me. The rest of you head to the fairgrounds and see what you can learn.”
“Thank you,” Beau added, aware many of them were on their own time. “We appreciate the help.”
They split up; Garrett, Beau, Winston and the three agents headed toward Beau’s truck, while the others dispersed to their waiting SUVs. Garrett turned and looked at him. “He’s never taken another one so soon.”
“I know,” Beau said shortly.
“Is it him or us?”
Beau just shook his head.
“She doesn’t have much time,” he added.
You think I don’t fucking know that?
Beau bit back the words. Tension lined his frame, and his heart was thudding, heavy, painful beats; in his mind’s eye, the image of Emma Farley’s abused body burned brightly.
Goddamn it.
“Did you send your girls home?” Garrett halted beside the truck. “Jenna fits his profile.”
“I know.”
Get Jenna and Sasha; go home and stay there, he’d told Wynn. And then he’d had to leave her because he had another missing girl and a faceless fucking murderer to hunt down.
Christ, he hoped she listened.
He thought he might have finally broken through that jagged wall of fear and anger and distrust that stood between them, but he couldn’t be sure. The words she’d thrown at him still rang in his ears, powerful and haunting, no matter how he’d tried to defuse them.
Like hot coals, burning through him. He hadn’t realized she would even think about Marie. Let alone…
You still belong to her.
She wasn’t wrong. He wore his dead wife on his sleeve—quite fucking literally. Why would she think he was ready to move on?
“Goddamn it,” he said and rubbed his face.
No time for that now.
He needed to focus.
Because if he didn’t find Maddie Ripley and put the fucking Stick Man in the ground, nothing else would matter.
He had work to do.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Chapter 25
“Do you think they found her?”
Wynn looked up to see Jenna standing in the doorway, her face pale and drawn in the misty afternoon light. “I don’t know.”
But she didn’t have much hope.
She’d gone to town this morning to drop off Esme at the fair—she was on booth duty until later when Wynn and Sasha would take over—and when she’d given into the ridiculous impulse to drive past the Sheriff’s office, Beau’s truck was nowhere to be found. According to Mrs. Fernando, who worked at the deli on Main Street, the search teams had looked for Maddie Ripley until just after midnight, right up until the rain had started, and then they’d regrouped and started again first thing that morning.
Which meant they were likely still looking.
The knowledge hurt. Wynn couldn’t stop thinking about Emma. About Maddie Ripley, and Maddie’s family; about Jack Farley and everyone who was out there looking.
Beau.
Jenna walked into the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter to watch Wynn knead bread dough. Truthfully, she was beating the crap out of it, which would probably ruin the bread, but it felt so good, Wynn didn’t care.
She needed the outlet.
Her encounter with Beau had left her in a chaotic quandary, heavy with a choice she wasn’t sure she was ready to make.
“What if he gets away with it?” Jenna asked quietly, staring down at the floor. “Again.”
A question Wynn had been asking herself since the day the Stick Man had returned, and one for which she had no good answer. He’d come and gone twice before; there was nothing to say this time would be any different—Beau or no Beau. And as sickening and infuriating as that was—well, that was life.
Sometimes the bad guys won.
“I don’t know,” Wynn said again.
“I want him dead.”
A common sentiment.
“Do you think Beau will get him?” Jenna persisted. “The Stick Man...he seems invincible.”
“No one is invincible,” Wynn told her quietly. “And Beau has been to war. I doubt very much the Stick Man is the first monster he’s hunted.”
“You’re mad at him, aren’t you?”
Wynn glanced at her. “Who? Beau?”
“He likes you, you know. Really likes you.”
Wynn tried to shrug, aware that her cheeks were on fire. She smacked the dough against the counter and scowled.
“What’s your problem?” Jenna demanded. “He’s a good catch.”
Wynn blinked at her sister. “And you think I should keep him?”
“Heck, yeah. You could do a lot worse.”
Bemused by that, Wynn said nothing.
“I mean it,” Jenna insisted. “I’m not…”
She trailed off and looked out the window.
Wynn frowned. “You’re not what?”
Jenna looked at her. “I’m not going to be here forever.”
Wynn stopped kneading. “What does that mean?”
“This place…it’s home. The only home I’ve ever known. But it isn’t…it isn’t my future.”
Wynn could only stare at her, her heart suddenly beating with painful intensity. “What are you saying?”
“I work hard in school, and I do that for one reason: it’s my ticket out.”
Grief welled with sudden, breath-stealing intensity inside of her. “You want to leave?”
“I want to live.” Jenna’s hands fisted; her pale grey eyes glittered. “I want to see the world. Eat its food, meet its people, dance to its music. I’m not you.”
Wynn wiped her hands on a towel, her stomach churning. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the role model you needed.”
“Don’t,” Jenna told her. She reached out and gripped Wynn’s arm when she would have turned away. “You’re the best sister in the whole fucking world. Do you think I don’t know that? You always put me first—always. This place, it wasn’t your choice, but you did it for me. For us. She was never there. Not even when she was. But you always were. I’m smart and strong, and I know I can do anything, and that’s because of you. I love you, Wynn. But I want more than what this place can give me. When I graduate, I’m gone. And I need you to be okay with that. I want you better than okay. I want you to be happy.”
Tears filled Wynn’s throat and burned her eyes. For a long moment, she couldn’t speak. She wasn’t surprised; she’d always known Jenna would spread her wings and fly. She was everything Wynn wasn’t: gregarious and fearless and open. So open. While Wynn had spent most of her life sealed tightly shut. Sequestered and insulated; protected from hurt.
Even though the hurt had still found her.
Her self-imposed isolation had been an illusion; a fruitless attempt to control the chaos that was life. And there was no controlling the chaos.
There was only surviving it.
“It’s okay,” she said dully. “I knew you would go.”
“That’s not the point.” Jenna’s grip on her arm tightened. “I want you to be happy, Wynn. And I think Beau could make you happy.”
Beau. Wynn’s heart squeezed.
I want you. Only you.
Words she yearned to believe. But there were no guarantees, just a leap of faith.
One she wasn’t certain was in her to make.
“This isn’t about Beau,” Wynn told her sister quietly. “Beau or no Beau, I will be happy. No, I didn’t choose this place: it chose me. But I’ve poured myself into it, and watching it come back to life has given me purpose. It’s as alive as you and I, and that…connection, it gives me something I can’t articulate. It’s beyond happiness. So don’t you worry about me. Okay?”
Jenna stared at her, her gaze pensive. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” No. The last thing Wynn wanted was to watch her sister leave. But it wasn’t about what she wanted. And she would never, ever hold Jenna back. “As long as you come home once in a while.”
“You know I will.” Jenna leaned over and hugged Wynn suddenly, tightly. “I love you, Wynnie. Thank you for everything you did for me.”
More tears clogged Wynn’s throat. They trickled down her cheeks and slid into her hair. “I love you, too, Jen. I’m so proud of you.”
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Jenna whispered. “Earl, the Stick Man…you and Beau. I know it.”
Well, at least someone did.
Wynn nodded. “Okay.”
Jenna squeezed her hard and then released her. “I’m thinking about Oxford.”
Wynn stared at her blankly. “As in the UK?”
“Yep. I’ve got my eye on an overseas scholarship they offer. But the competition is fierce.”
England. Not just out of Blossom Hills, but out of the country.
To a different continent entirely.
The grief in Wynn turned heavy. Not just away, but far, far away.
“Wynn,” Jenna said.
“I’m fine,” Wynn said and wiped her eyes. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.
“I have to,” Jenna said somberly.
And Wynn met her gaze and saw that it was true. So she nodded and stuffed her fear and pain away. “And I support you.”
“Am I interrupting?”
They both started. Sean stood in the doorway.
“I’m off to check my frogs,” he said. “Want to keep me company?”
“Bread,” Wynn said and slapped the dough against the counter.
“I’ll come,” Jenna said and hopped down.
But Wynn gripped her hand and stopped her. “I think you should stay here.”
She felt Sean’s gaze, and her cheeks burned. It wasn’t that she really thought he might be a serial killer, but it felt wrong to take any chances.
Any at all.
“C’mon, Wynn,” Jenna protested. “I’m going crazy all locked up.”
“She’ll be safe,” Sean added, a quiet, intense promise that made Wynn look at him.
He knew what she was thinking.
Her cheeks burned brighter. But she couldn’t be sorry. He was a great tenant, and she liked him very much, but they didn’t know him. And with the Stick Man out there—
“I’ll come, too,” said another voice, and she looked up to see Griff’s tall form behind Sean. He met her gaze and nodded. “I need to look for some St. John’s Wort. The Interweb says it can help with my Parkinson’s.”
“The interweb.” Jenna snickered. “You’re hilarious.”
“Okay,” Wynn said, holding Griff’s gaze. “You can go. As long as you stay with Griff.”
He nodded again. Sean’s gaze hardened, but he said nothing.
Jenna hooted. “Thank freaking God! Freedom!” She turned and hugged Wynn again, briefly. “Thanks, Wynn.”
“Be careful.” Wynn hugged her back. “And be sure to take your present from Buck with you.”
Jenna smiled wryly. “Just in case those frogs are out for blood.”
After they’d gone, Wynn went back to kneading her bread. The sun was trying to break through the endless line of clouds on the horizon, and the house was quiet. Eloise and Ethel were at church; Esme was still at the fair, and Earl was in jail. It was just her and Beowulf and sweet little Winter, who was curled up on one of the kitchen chairs, watching her sleepily. He and Beowulf had become fast friends, much to Wynn’s amusement—and relief.
“You are pure love,” she told them, her throat still thick, her chest still aching at the thought of Jenna leaving. “And I need lots of that right now.”
Winter mewed at her. Beowulf sat at her feet, watching hopefully for crumbs.
“She’s going to go,” Wynn continued. “And I have to let her. But I sure am going to miss her.” She swallowed against the tears that threatened. “It’ll be hard without her.”
But that didn’t mean she needed anyone to take Jenna’s place. Certainly not Beau—especially when she wasn’t sure of him. Or herself.
Or anything.
She’s gone. Dead and buried. But I’m still here.
It wasn’t that Wynn expected him to forget, but he was…dark. Grim. And part of that undoubtedly came from his chronic pain, but the rest, that came from….
What happened to Marie was my fault, and I will never forgive myself for it.
And never was a long time.
Could she live with that? A shadow so long and dark they might never know light?
Because Wynn needed light.
She’d lived through years of darkness. Part of it had just been life: sickness and violence and death. Grief and uncertainty; pain. But the rest of it…that had been her.
All her.
Something she’d come to realize in the last few days. She was where she’d put herself—a choice she’d made, to wall herself off from everyone but those who needed her most. And while she might not have understood that at the time, she did now. The choice that left was clear:
Stay where she was, or move on.
Staying was tempting. She knew how to exist in that place; it was familiar, comforting. Without risk. Whereas, stepping out into the world and engaging, taking a chance on the chaos that was life…well, that was like flipping the bird at fate.
But she either stagnated or she grew. The farm had taught her what brought life.
And what led to death.
You poked the bear and woke him up—you did that, not her. And if you think I’m going to let you use her as an excuse to run, you have another thing coming.
She needed to decide. Because Beau wasn’t going down without a fight.
Hard-headed, obstinate. Bossy.
But something had sparked to life inside of her with those words, something…hopeful.
