Undone: The Complete Duology, page 5
It wasn’t a question, but I answered it anyway.
“No, ma’am.”
“Stop with the ma’am bit. It’s obnoxious.” She gripped the doorknob tighter, as if contemplating slamming the door shut in my face and only barely resisting. “Are you from New York, then?”
“No, I’m from another little town no one has heard of, but I’m here to find my brother, just like I said last time.”
“You didn’t say he was your brother, last time.”
She had me there.
I straightened up too and closed the distance between us. “Does that change anything?”
She stared up at me, unmoving.
“Why didn’t you grow up in Thorn Tree?” she asked, ignoring my question. “How did you manage that?”
“We share a father, not a Roberta.”
Grace chuckled, then quickly schooled her features. It was too late though. I saw right through her, exactly as I had anticipated. The exterior hard shell concealed a soft, sweet center. A bit like an M&M.
“She’s something,” I said. If we stayed on this same track, maybe I would see more glimpses of the real Grace and not the one she used to ward off strangers. “I still wouldn’t wish anything bad like this on her though.”
“Bad?” Grace shrugged. “Nothing bad happened to Bobby. You know what they say about Thorn Tree.”
“I don’t, actually.”
I couldn’t say I knew a lot about where my brother had been raised. He rarely spoke of it, outside of a handful of slip ups here and there over the last few years. I knew it was secluded, unfriendly, but I hadn’t quite put together the rest.
“Smallest town on earth, the biggest one in God’s heart.”
I blinked at her. “What…?”
“That’s the motto. Nothing bad happens in Thorn Tree.”
My brain reeled, trying to put together the pieces she had just handed me.
“God watches over Thorn Tree?” I asked, tentatively.
“We are blessed.” She smiled, and it was the wickedest one I had ever seen. “God would never let anything bad happen to us. Not if you’re a true believer.”
I opened my mouth to speak but found I was speechless.
“Bobby’s a believer, right?” she said. “The Reverend would never let him come back if he wasn’t.”
I couldn’t say I’d spent much time on my brother’s religious convictions. Maybe that had been a mistake on my part.
In some strange way, I was beginning to understand Thorn Tree. The scowls, the disdain for my appearance. It wasn’t just because I was a stranger. I was a beacon that something had gone wrong in their town. Their special, blessed, watched over, apple-of-god’s-eye town.
A chill crawled, inch by inch, up my spine.
“You don’t know where Robert is?” I sounded helpless, despaired. Perhaps I would be embarrassed later, but in this moment, here with Grace, I hoped she would see my desperation and level with me.
“I can’t help you, I’m afraid.”
The sincerity in her voice did little to ease the sick feeling in my gut. I had stumbled upon a situation so much larger than I had anticipated. The only person who was the least bit willing to give in any way to help me was this standoffish imp that I also sort of wanted to bend over a table.
“Any chance you’d be willing to go for a walk with me?” I asked.
Apparently, I liked to push my luck, live on the edge of danger.
She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Everyone around here seems to like nature.”
Knowing flashed on her face. “I see you were talking to the Sander-dumb sisters.”
It took me a moment to get the reference.
“Not a fan of the coven?”
Grace waved her hand in front of her. “They’re in just as much denial as the rest of the town. Nature? They really think they stay for the flowers?”
I looked back towards the trees, surveying the distance. “I mean, the scenery is nice.”
“So is the beach.” She leaned in closer, and I lowered my head so she could whisper close against my ear. “Your father never spoke of Thorn Tree for a reason. I suggest you follow his lead…and run.”
I stared down at her, bewildered. Now that she’d mentioned it, my father had not in fact talked about Thorn Tree more than in passing. It was a place he’d once lived, with a wife that had cheated on him and taken his son. That was all he had ever said. Even that fateful Thanksgiving, no one spoke of Thorn Tree.
Neither did my brother. Not really.
“Why?” I asked.
The shudder that had been creeping across me slid along my skin in an icy sheet.
“The eyes of the Lord are upon you. I suggest you act accordingly.”
Before I could respond, she shut the door in my face.
Just like that, she was gone, and all I had was dozens of new questions that no one would be willing to answer.
I banged on the door, even though it was the wrong thing to do. “Grace! Open up!”
The thought of breaking open the door crossed my mind, but I wasn’t insane.
When she didn’t reply, I grit my teeth and stormed off the porch, making a show of it. I hoped she realized she’d pulled a dirty trick like that.
In truth, she probably enjoyed knowing how much turmoil she’d just stirred up in me.
I started to head back to my vehicle, but the surrounding woods called to me. A walk through them didn’t sound like a bad idea.
Besides, if I went back into town, I would have to deal with people. I’d had about enough of that to last me a while.
I couldn’t postpone the interviews for long, but a moment to clear my head was just what the doctor ordered.
As I veered away from my vehicle, I could feel Grace’s eyes on me from a window, though when I glanced back, no curtains were ajar. I wondered what she thought of me leaving my car at the edge of her property and disappearing into the woods.
The trees had lost most of their leaves, and my soles crunched over the blanket across the forest floor. The cool air nipped at my arms and face. I should have brought a jacket—it was that time of year in these parts—but it wasn’t enough to keep my thoughts from wandering.
Grace had shown not just more of Thorn Tree, but herself. Somehow, I cared most about the latter. She had struck me, and I wasn’t willing to make myself turn away, not yet. There were still layers to explore and maybe, somewhere deep down, I hoped I could win her over before I had to leave town. Grace wasn’t going to be taken easily, but the challenge was part of the fun.
Perhaps I just applauded the underdog. She was so intensely disliked across the townspeople but as far as I could tell, they weren’t a ruler by which to measure. It was sort of like being the least favorite among piranhas.
In this case, Grace reminded me of a goldfish attempting to blend in. They could sense she wasn’t one of them and was trying to drive her out. When this was all over, when I’d found Robert, I wanted to offer Grace an escape. I didn’t know what kept her in this awful little town, but if she needed a leg up, I would provide that before I left.
She might not accept. Probably wouldn’t. Change was hard for people, even those who wanted it. But I would be here for her. I committed to it then, right there in the woods, alone with my thoughts: I was Grace’s friend. Even if nothing came of it. Even if she hated me for trying to help.
I wasn’t going to turn away from her.
A collection of rocks caught my attention, and I wove through the trees towards them. A pile of them had been stacked in a misshapen pyramid, tucked up against the trunk of a large barren tree. A cross had been stuck upside down in the stack, and it leaned to one side.
“What on earth…?” I murmured as I squatted down to take in the strange marker.
Sometimes, hikers would pile stones to mark the path, but this seemed to be something else.
A few other rocks peaked from under the leaves at intervals. I shuffled aside the fallen foliage, uncovering more of the rocks until a crudely shaped rectangle formed with the stack at one end. The other end was missing and a few spots along the sides were open, as if the arrangement had been disturbed.
I scowled at what I had found. It seemed almost like a…
“A grave.” The word left me in a puff of breath. “Dear god, it’s a grave.”
I turned back and forth, looking for any clues, anyone watching me. Panic raced through.
It was a cat, a dog.
I swallowed hard, staring back down at the grave marker. Goosebumps prickled my arms, and I forced myself not to turn and bolt, even though I knew, in some primitive, horrified way, that this was the grave of a human.
The ground didn’t seem freshly turned, so it wasn’t Robert in there. But if not Robert, then who?
I couldn’t exactly call the sheriff on this. Hell, as far as I knew, he could have been involved in the coverup. Had there been a murder in Thorn Tree that was never reported? Was Sheriff Ditka sitting on a stack of crimes?
I wouldn’t put it past him, but that was a difficult accusation to make without any evidence whatsoever.
Grace wasn’t going to tell me who was buried in the woods just beyond her home. No one in this town was going to help.
For the first time since I’d arrived in Thorn Tree, I realized just how alone I was here.
Not just alone, but actively opposed.
I had to play my hand carefully.
As I headed back towards where I’d left my vehicle, I worked on relaxing my expression, slowing my racing heart. I didn’t want anyone to pick up how visibly upset that grave had made me. No one needed to know I had found it.
Grace was nowhere in sight as I slid into my car and pulled out onto the road. I left the radio off, my thoughts singularly focused on keeping my entire disposition in neutral.
Back at Honey and Hive, I strolled through the front door, into the living room that had an antique dresser to one side that served as a counter for the rare guest. The dresser had probably come from Lou’s.
Mrs. Woolworth was banging around in the adjacent kitchen, and I stopped in the doorway with my best professional-at-work vibe.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” I said, and the words felt thick, like I was trying out lines for a play.
She smiled at me from where she stood by the floured counter, rolling out cookie dough. “How are you doing, officer? I’ve made some lemonade for you.”
She nodded towards the fridge and held up her flour-covered hands.
“Thank you,” I said. I swaggered over to the refrigerator, working on my next lines.
Inside the refrigerator sat a pitcher of lemonade, and I pulled it out then looked around the cabinets.
“Right of the stove,” she said.
“Gotcha,” I said. “Would you like a glass as well?”
“No, thank you.”
I poured myself a glass of the lemonade and returned the pitcher with calculated ease and slowness as I concocted my story.
After a sip of the lemonade, I held up the glass. “That’s right tasty.”
She smiled. “I’ll have sugar cookies ready in a few hours. How you getting on ’round town?”
“It’s peaceful,” I said, because I now knew, thanks to the conversation with Grace, that was what anyone in town would want to hear. “I got approval from Mayor Bixby to do a little gardening at the park.”
In a town as small as Thorn Tree, the mayor and the sheriff made nearly every decision. Well, here, the Reverend had a little too much say too, but I hadn’t quite figured out in what way. I hadn’t spoken to the mayor since I’d arrived, but I doubted she was going to check out my story.
Mrs. Woolworth cast a glance at me. “It’s almost winter. It’ll snow soon.”
“I got some mature plants I’ll transplant into a garden bed,” I said with a charming smile. “I do a lot of this back home.”
Total lie. I just had to hope Mrs. Woolworth knew more about cookies than gardening.
“Even at my age, I learn something new every once in a while.” Her smile and eyes were so kind, I almost felt bad lying to her.
Then I remembered there was a corpse buried in the woods just outside of town, and I had no way of telling who had put it there.
I took another drink of lemonade. In any other circumstance, I would have appreciated the freshly squeezed and heavily sugared juice a little more. Right now, I couldn’t get the putrid taste of this town out of my mouth.
“I just was wondering if you had a shovel I could borrow for a bit?”
“Oh, sure. There’s one in the shed around back.” She started to wipe her hands off on her apron.
“No, no, let me get it,” I said with a smile. “No need to stop what you’re doing. Cookies are much more important.”
I gave her a little wink, and she flushed before looking back at her cookie dough.
I downed the rest of the lemonade and rinsed the glass at the sink.
“Oh, Mac,” she said as she rolled the dough. “I’ve got some men coming tomorrow afternoon to do a little work on the place.”
She pointed at a water stain on the ceiling that had started to form a splattering of black mold.
“Good idea,” I said. “Can I help out?”
“They’re going to take care of a few things in the bathroom as well while they’re here. Any chance it wouldn’t put you out to hang out somewhere for a few hours so we’re not under foot?” She smiled. “I could pack you a nice picnic. I bet one of the local girls would love to join you.”
My thoughts flashed to one such girl, though I wasn’t so certain she would be thrilled with the invitation.
“I’ll find something to do,” I said. “Still need to do a little more investigating anyway.”
“You’re a good man,” she said.
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I nodded once and headed for the side door. Mrs. Woolworth had shown me around when I’d arrived, and I recalled seeing the little aluminum shed out here. The door was unlocked, and inside jumbled among the clutter of gardening tools, stood a shovel.
Whistling a little tune to myself, I grabbed the shovel and a pair of gardening gloves, then loaded back in my car.
This time, I parked out of sight of Grace’s house. I didn’t want her to see I had returned. Even though I didn’t think she was involved with the grave in the woods, I didn’t need her asking questions about the shovel. Moreover, I didn’t want the distraction, and what a distraction she was becoming.
I was a grown man. I was in control of myself.
But I didn’t exactly want to be, not around her. She excited me in a way I hadn’t felt since forever, if I ever had at all. I desperately wanted to continue to move the relationship with her forward, even if it was at the pace of a dying slug.
Letting her catch me wandering the woods with a shovel slung over my shoulder was probably not going to help that situation.
I crossed through the woods, keeping myself aligned with Grace’s house, and stopped in front of the grave marker. Stooping down, I plucked up the cross and held it up. The wood was weathered, the paint chipped, as if it had been out here for a few seasons. Otherwise, the cross gave me no further clues about the grave.
I placed the cross on the ground, far away from the grave so it didn’t become damaged in what was about to happen. Then, I un-piled the stones one by one. When the grave was clear, I positioned the shovel, took a deep breath, and used my foot to sink the blade down to the step. The ground gave way easily, which was lucky for me. As Mrs. Woolworth had said, winter would sweep through here soon. At that point, the ground would be frozen solid and impossible for one man to dig through without much effort.
I kept digging, cautious at first, afraid I would inevitably hit a half-decayed arm or head. When I found nothing, I churned earth a little faster, my unease morphing into aggravation. There had to be something in here, even just a cardboard box with a decomposing pet cat.
Nothing.
Who would have marked a grave perimeter without a body in the woods?
Thorn Tree made less sense the longer I was here. Was it going to drive me insane? Maybe that was their deal. They were all insane, and they liked to bring their visitors with them.
Despite the chill in the air, large sweat stains spread out along the underarms of my shirt and down my back. I’d collected enough dirt to pile to past my knees, and yet all I had managed to do was create a hole.
With a frustrated sigh, I tossed the shovel aside and lowered to my knees next to the hole. I leaned over the edge, peering inside. A flashlight would have helped, but I had enough light to see by with the sun high in the sky.
The grave was empty. If anyone wandered by, it would appear as if I intended to dispose of evidence instead.
I turned to the pile of dirt and made a disgusted noise at the thought of having to put all that back where I’d found it.
Behind me, a twig cracked. I bolted to my feet and scanned the trees around me.
A figure in a hoodie took off through the woods. I charged after him, unable to catch any distinguishing features as he kept his back to me. He wove through the trees like a deer, an expert at not only the wilderness, but this particular area. I stumbled over a rock and continued after him.
He leapt down a short drop, using a tree root to brace himself, and disappeared from view. I came up to the edge of the ravine and watched, breathing hard, as he wound through the crevice. Before he ducked out of sight, his hoodie pulled back revealing a swath of wild red hair.
Then he was gone.
I had no idea who he was, or why he’d been watching me dig up the grave, but nothing good could come from this turn of events.
The grave. The hatred towards Grace. The young guy in the woods spying on me.
I’d come to Thorn Tree to find my brother, but now I had to wonder what I had stumbled onto in this town.
8
GRACE
I should probably check on my basement pet.
I finished rinsing the shampoo from my hair in the shower, then begrudgingly stepped out of the steamy warmth to towel off. He’d been alone down there since I’d fed him cereal yesterday morning. I hadn’t meant to leave him so long, but I’d been sort of occupied.
