Dangerous Game, page 11
Getting out of his pickup, Chaney walked toward him, his hand held out. Chaney, like Grey, had dressed for a hard workout on a clear fall morning.
Still uncertain, Grey shook Chaney’s hand, and then let go. Keeping a healthy distance, he propped his hands on his hips. “So what do you need me to do?”
Red hair stuck out from under Chaney’s ball cap, bright in the sunlight. Chaney rubbed his unshaven chin. He avoided a straight answer. “I’ve got my truck, my splitter and my come-along. I could do this alone, but it goes faster with two. Did you bring your chain saw?”
Grey nodded. Why aren’t you answering my question?
“Then get it out and climb into the truck with me. We’ll drive in as far as we can on this old road and see what we can find.”
Grey returned to the Chrysler, opened the trunk and pulled out his battered chain saw. Well, if Chaney called me out here to start something, I’m at least armed. Soon, the two men in the pickup bounced over the uneven grass road. In years past, heavy-laden logging trucks had carved deep ruts into the sandy earth.
“Logging companies and some private individuals donated all this forested land to this forest conservancy so it could be kept in its natural state,” Chaney said, pointing up one finger from the steering wheel. “But they let the food pantry volunteers harvest fallen trees for firewood for needy folks to heat their homes over the winter.”
So that was it. But why me? Grey nodded, recalling something. “Aunt Elsie says she’s been one the recipients of this wood.” Guilt over being incarcerated for seven years and unable to help her sank sharp teeth into him. “She only has her social security to live on, you know,” he muttered.
“Yeah, some winters are colder and heating costs…” Chaney lifted his shoulders.
“It’s good work,” Grey said, hoping that Chaney’s reason for asking him for help had just been given in full. He hoped Chaney didn’t have a secondary agenda. But something made Grey suspect there might be more to come.
Chaney glanced at him. “Good for the people. Good for the forest. Keeps it freer of fuel for forest fires. Here we are.” Chaney parked the truck and they both got out and walked to the back of the pickup.
Chaney let down the tailgate of his truck and hefted out the come-along, a metal contraption that could be hooked onto a tree. With its help, they could drag a tree out to where it was accessible to be cut into fireplace or woodstove-sized logs. “We leave the softwoods. Just look for maple or oak, some fresh birch. Pine burns too fast and hot for home-heating, though I often put in some pine for kindling.”
In a few minutes, Chaney and Grey dragged a fallen maple tree out into the clearing near the parked truck. Grey pulled the rip cord and started his chain saw roaring, slicing the tree into measured logs.
His eyes kept straying to Chaney’s head of red hair, so like Trish’s. Would Chaney have asked him to come if he knew that Grey had been kissing his sister just a few days ago? Memory of Trish’s softness coiled through him. Grey’s neck warmed.
Chaney began using the low-slung, bright red log splitter, which had been hitched behind his truck. Systematically he set each log in, then split it into halves and then into quarters. He hefted the firewood up into the bed of his truck; each armload landed with satisfying thuds.
Grey tried to focus on cutting the tree into logs. Working so closely with Chaney kept bringing Trish to mind. Why was it that the very person he shouldn’t be thinking about was the one he couldn’t get out of his mind?
The two of them finished the maple and then retrieved an oak. Grey reveled in the sheer exercise of it. Occasionally, in spite of the gasoline smell from their chain saws lingering in the air, he’d catch a whiff of the clean smell of the fresh-cut maple and oak and cedar and the piney scent from the surrounding forest and breathe in deeply.
As his muscles warmed, he shrugged out of his heavy sweatshirt. They dragged out a freshly fallen birch, which was still hard enough to burn and began working on it. In the middle of the pine-green, red-and-yellow maple and golden-oak forest, all his drab years behind bars dissolved in the clear autumn sunlight. Freedom felt good.
From out of nowhere, he was blindsided again with the sensory memory of holding Trish in his arms—as if one good feeling triggered the other. He’d tried to put a lock on that rich experience—the glory of kissing Trish—but it kept bobbing up of its own accord.
His disobedient lips tingled as if she were there with him, sharing more sweet kisses. What am I some kind of idiot? Have I lost my mind completely? He shook his head, making every effort to enjoy the task at hand and hoping to rid himself of the sensations set off by the mere memory of holding Trish…
Continuing his surveillance, he followed Audra down the street toward a side street. The problem with Audra Blair as his target was that she didn’t drive much. But she was the perfect one. Audra was the sheriff’s fiancée and they were about to get married. When he ran her off the road, the sheriff would be on Grey’s tail quickly. And everyone would be flapping their jaws to put Grey back behind bars.
He’d just have to be patient and keep staking her out. She’d have to drive out of town sometime soon and if she did on a foggy night, he’d be right behind her. He rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes. He never got a full night’s sleep anymore. He kept dreaming of the day after the accident and he’d wake up thrashing in bed. It wasn’t right. I can do this. I will do this. I have to do this.
Grey finished the last slice of the birch. He straightened and stretched his spine and muscles. He turned to find Chaney reaching into the space behind the driver’s seat. From a cooler there, he pulled out two cans of soda pop and tossed one to Grey. “We’ve nearly got the truck full.” Chaney sank down on the running board of the truck.
Grey lowered himself onto one of the logs he’d just cut, facing Chaney. Something about the way Chaney fidgeted and kept looking at Grey and then away, put him on alert. He sensed that Chaney did have something more to say. He prepared himself for whatever might come.
Chaney took a swig of cola and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I don’t know about you, but I worked up a sweat.”
Grey nodded. Was Chaney going to warn him away from Trish? Should he tell Chaney not to bother, that he was steering clear of her?
“That was hard the other day,” Chaney said, looking past Grey’s right ear into the heart of the forest.
A shadow from above moved over the high wild grass in front of Grey. He shaded his eyes and looked up. An eagle flew overhead, circling to find something to swoop down and eat for a midmorning snack. What are you talking about Chaney?
“I mean taking Young Jake to see Rae-Jean.”
So that’s what Chaney wanted to talk about. Grey’s tension didn’t ease. What does he want from me? “Your wife has gotten herself into a bad mess,” Grey said in a neutral tone.
“I’ve been so angry with her.” Now Chaney stared at the soda can, clutched in one hand. “We’ve been married nearly eight years and then a year ago, she just changed, you know what I mean?”
“No, what changed?” And why are you asking me? What do I know about being married?
“Well, we’ve been working on the log house for the past five years. I mean we saved a lot of money since we did most of the inside finishing ourselves. She always worked right along with me and seemed happy about what we were doing. Suddenly she was sick of the place and she stopped helping when I had stuff to do and the house was a mess all the time. I asked her what the matter was and she’d just give me these funny disgusted looks.”
Completely out of his depth here, Grey wondered what to say to turn the discussion away from Chaney’s ailing marriage. Young Jake needed his mom and Grey didn’t want to say anything that might cut the boy’s contact with his mother. But in a way, Young Jake needed to be protected from his mom. Grey looked skyward at the eagle, so far above all these problems. What would it be like to just fly away? “Do you think she was on drugs then?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
Grey shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. What matters is that your wife, the mother of your son, is in jail, facing drug and child abuse charges. What are you going to do?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Chaney fell silent, sipping from his can and also watching the eagle circle above them. Frogs at a nearby creek chirped and cicadas and crickets clicked and buzzed. The first hard frost was late in coming this year.
“I don’t think I’m the one who has the answers,” Grey finally said.
“But you brought that guy from Narcotics Anonymous to see Rae-Jean. Do you think that she’ll be able to kick drugs?”
“No idea. Meth is a vicious addiction. It alters a person’s brain. It’s concocted of poisons. Everything depends on how much she wants to kick it.”
“My boy still loves her.” Chaney crushed the can under his heel.
“She’s his mom. Kids don’t hold grudges. They just want love regardless.” With a stab of remembered pain, Grey recalled the day his mom had dropped him off at his aunt’s and driven away—never to return.
Had his mother been on drugs as well as alcohol? He’d never figured out what happened. He didn’t even know if either of his parents still lived or not. In the past, he’d tried to fill the emptiness of that reality with alcohol. It hadn’t worked.
Grey rose to bring this uncomfortable discussion to a close. “Chaney, I will give you this advice.” He handed the other man his empty can.
“What?”
“Don’t try to keep your son from seeing her, but don’t let her use Young Jake to get to you.”
“What does that mean?” Chaney rose, too.
This Grey had learned the hard way. It had been easy to blame his alcohol abuse on his parents deserting him. But blame made nothing better, only worse. “Addicts are good at one thing—trying to make everyone think that their addiction is everyone else’s fault, not theirs.”
Chaney gave him a confused look.
“Always stay with Jake when he’s with her and if she starts making excuses for her behavior, point out the truth. Just the plain truth. Don’t get mad or mean. Just speak the truth.”
“In love?” Chaney finished the familiar Bible verse.
Grey nodded. If you have any left for her. “Let’s get another tree and pile it on. We can drive back slowly and fill up my trunk with the logs from the last tree.”
Chaney nodded and stowed the cans in the truck. He pulled his leather work gloves on and they walked back into the woods to harvest another tree.
As Grey trudged over the uneven ground, he relived the vivid memory of Trish’s despairing voice when she’d told him she thought her father didn’t love his children anymore. No wonder he’d kissed her. He wondered how it felt to have a father so close, but still feel unloved?
Grey’s mom had left him at twelve, but before she’d left, she’d signed his guardianship over to her sister, Elsie. She’d cared enough to give him to someone who would love him. Did Chaney feel the same rejection from their father as Trish? Was Rae-Jean’s love for her son strong enough to motivate her to give up drugs?
I hope so.
He’d followed Audra all morning and afternoon and now he had to go to work. She’d spent her whole day walking around town. She’d never gone near the car in Shirley’s garage that she borrowed when she needed to drive somewhere. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. What if the next time she drove out of town there wasn’t any fog? He had to have fog so no one would recognize him. And soon it would be too cold for fog. The earth would cool just like the winter wind, and fog would no longer rise in the evenings.
He drove away, his stomach bubbling with acid. He popped two antacid tablets into his mouth and chewed. If he didn’t have an ulcer already, this might give it to him. Why did everything have to go wrong all at once? It was like a plot against him.
Just after noon on Tuesday, Grey helped Elsie into their house, finally home from the hospital. Bucky wagged his tail and woofed his hello. His aunt felt frailer to Grey; she’d lost weight. “Do you want to go to bed right away?” Guilt over his plans for this afternoon pinched him.
“No, I’m sick to death of lying in a bed. Let’s get me settled into my recliner and I’ll watch a little TV.” Elsie leaned on his arm.
He helped her into the small neat living room and onto her ancient rust-colored recliner, adorned with crocheted antimacassars. He fetched the remote control for her.
“I remember the first time I saw one of these—” she waggled the remote at him “—I thought, how could anybody be so lazy that they couldn’t even get up to change the TV channel.” She chuckled. “I didn’t know then how old bones can ache.”
Nothing ever got Elsie down for long. Grey leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll put the kettle on for you.”
“Thank you, dear.” She patted his arm and then pressed the power button. A woman’s voice came on, explaining how to prepare a garden for winter.
When a car drove up, Grey, in the kitchen again, twinged with guilt. Shirley Johnson opened the door and greeted him. Bucky trotted onto the kitchen linoleum, his toenails clicking. He let Shirley pet him and then Bucky hurried back to Elsie.
“Thanks for coming, Shirley,” Grey said, pouring steaming water into a teapot. “But maybe I should just stay home this afternoon.”
“I’m here, Grey. Now don’t fuss. That tea smells lovely and I brought a few samples of Audra’s baked goods.” Shirley waved a white paper bag.
“Elsie won’t complain about that.”
Shirley walked past him into the living room and he heard the women greeting one another.
Grey brought in the teapot and two mugs and set them on a nearby end table where Shirley could reach to serve both of them.
“Elsie, Shirley’s going to spend the afternoon with you. I have to finish up a job for that guy on County N Road. He wants to check it out and pay me before he heads south for the winter. But if you’d rather I stayed—”
“I could stay by myself,” Elsie objected.
“Grey didn’t ask me to come,” Shirley said. “I offered. Audra dropped me off. She’s going shopping and then for another fitting of her wedding dress. She’ll pick me up on her way home.”
“I’ll be home as early as I can,” Grey promised, his hands in his back pockets.
Shirley nodded. “Good, because Tom and I need to be at the high school by seven-thirty this evening. Chad’s chef for tonight’s reception and showing off what the Everyday Living classes are doing.”
“No problem.” Grey hesitated to leave.
Shirley began to pour the tea. “It’s been too long since we had a nice chat and some of Audra’s goodies and I want to tell you all about the wedding plans.”
“I think it’s so sweet that you and Audra are having a double wedding,” Elsie said, pushing the mute button. “I’m so anxious to hear all about it.”
Grey relaxed. He wouldn’t be missed. Laying a slip of paper by Shirley with his cell phone number on it, he left the women to their conversation.
As he drove toward the job where he was laying quarry tile in a bath and entryway, he thought about Tom and Keir, who’d both found the perfect women for them. He halted his mind just as it was trying to take him back to Trish’s kitchen. It’s over. Period.
Heading home for another solitary night, Trish stared out her sheriff’s Jeep window. She’d borrowed the Jeep since her red SUV was in for some bodywork. She dreaded going home. Ever since the evening she’d kissed Grey and confessed her deepest fear, her trailer had not been a refuge, but an empty, very lonely space. Tonight, heavy mist had gathered in the low spots and already had billowed to the treetops. Another perfect night for a game of chicken—a pleasant thought. A week had passed since the last such event. Would the maniac responsible for the first three be out tonight? Her cell phone rang and she picked it up.
Shirley Johnson’s voice came over the phone. “Trish, sorry to bother you, but can you do me a favor?”
“I’m on my way home, Shirley. What do you need?”
“That’s what I thought. I’m with Elsie at her place. Grey brought her home from the hospital today and I’ve spent the afternoon with her. But Audra will be picking me up anytime now and Grey has been delayed. Can you come and sit with Elsie until he gets home?”
In the background, Trish heard Elsie’s muffled protest and Shirley’s response. Trish had avoided Grey for days. Now this. Shirley, you don’t know what you’re asking me. But of course there was only one answer Trish could give. “Sure. It’s on my way. I’ll head there right now.”
“Thanks.” Shirley hung up.
Trish made a U-turn and headed south toward Cross-cut. She punched a number into her cell phone. The fog draped around her like an opaque veil. Trish slowed so she wasn’t outpacing her visibility.
After three rings, Grey’s voice came over the line. Just the sound of his deep hello tightened her nerves and melted her reserve. She took a firm hold on herself. “Grey.” She nearly barked the words, trying to sound impersonal. “Shirley just called and asked me to stay with Elsie till you got home. I’m on my way.”
He made a sound of frustration. “No, I’ll leave this job now—”
“No, get your job done,” she interrupted him. Don’t overreact, Grey. “Just call me at Elsie’s when you’re about to leave and I’ll head home then. Okay?”
Silence over the line. Finally, Grey said gruffly, “Okay.”
She hung up without saying goodbye. Her backstabbing memory brought up Grey’s lush haunting kiss. She understood completely why they could not let their attraction go any further, but that didn’t make it any easier.
She turned onto Cross-cut. The thick fog worried Trish. Dear Lord, don’t let anything bad happen tonight.
