If You See Her Page 7

  Wasn’t like his dad would miss him.

  Remy might have, but after what he’d done, Remy probably hated him.

  A sob tore free and Brody stumbled, fell against a tree. “I didn’t mean to do it,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to …”

  But it was too late to think about that, now. He’d done it. He’d fucked it up, royally, and now, not only did his dad despise him, Uncle Remy probably did, too. Up until now, at least Remy had still loved him, but now he didn’t even have that.

  Shoving away from the tree, once more, he started to walk.

  He’d just keep walking for now.

  Sooner or later, he’d figure out what he should do.

  He didn’t want to go home, and Dad definitely didn’t want him around.

  Hours passed and he found himself standing off in the distance, too far away to clearly see the King house, but close enough to see the ruin of it. He’d done that.

  Man, Mom would be ashamed. Tears burned his eyes, but he blinked them away. He’d done enough crying now. He needed to figure out what he should do.

  A shudder wracked him as he thought about the way his dad had looked at him. Go home …? Could he do that?

  Maybe what he should do was just go to Remy’s place.

  “What would you want, Mom?” he whispered.

  He’d done something really, really wrong … and she always told him when he made a mistake, he had to own up to it. That’s what decent people did—that was what she would want from him.

  Swallowing, he turned away.

  He needed to go to Remy. That was what he needed to do. His gut clenched, knotted. He’d gotten in enough trouble lately to know it wasn’t going to be pretty, but …

  “Don’t think about it,” he told himself.

  “Just don’t think about it. Do it, get it over with, but don’t think about it.”

  Just as he was turning into Lena’s driveway, his phone rang. Ezra grabbed it, hoped it was good news, even though he already knew it wasn’t.

  “Any sign of him?”

  “Shit, no,” Remy said.

  Ezra rubbed his eyes and wished he had a beer. And a chair. Definitely a chair. His leg was killing him.

  They’d spent the past three hours trying to find Brody Jennings, with no luck. Night was coming on, too. It left a bad, bad feeling in his gut to think of that kid out there in the dark right now, especially with the crazy-ass shit they had going on around here right now.

  If they didn’t find the kid soon …

  Shit. What could they do?

  “Has your brother cooled down any?”

  “Yes.” There was a strange tension in Remy’s voice and Ezra decided the two brothers had some issues they needed to work out—badly. Hank Jennings needed to get over his issues, whatever in the hell they were. He’d lost his wife, and Ezra felt bad for him, but it looked like he’d been neglecting his kid and the bastard needed to wake the hell up.

  That kid needed to be his priority.

  “Does he have any idea where Brody might have gone?”

  “No.” Remy paused and then added, “They don’t talk much. I can tell you that Brody doesn’t have many friends—he’s too quiet, too withdrawn lately. If he’d taken his four-wheeler, I’d have a better idea where to look, but he’s on foot.”

  “We keep looking, then.” Parking the truck, he turned it off and climbed out.

  “Maybe we should just let him come home when he’s ready.”

  “No.” Ezra wasn’t about to ignore that bad itchy feeling in his gut. It was the sort of feeling that had him wishing he had his gun—except it had been locked up in his house and while it could probably be repaired, it sure as hell wasn’t usable right now. “Look, I’m picking up Lena, running her over to Law’s place, then I’ll head back out. I’ll keep looking for him.”

  “You don’t need to, King. You’re already—”

  “I’ll keep looking,” Ezra interrupted. “And you need to do the same. Too much weird shit going on around here for that kid to be out there by himself. Night’s moving in, Jennings. We want him found—tonight. Call in favors if you need to, see if Nielson can send some of his guys out.”

  There was another moment of silence and then Remy started to curse, long and low. The phone abruptly went dead and Ezra shoved it into his pocket as he headed for the house.

  He’d take care of Lena, first … then worry about the kid some more.

  He’d forgotten how dark it got in the woods.

  Stumbling along, Brody shoved his hands inside his pockets and focused on the faint flicker of lights ahead. He wasn’t sure whose house it was, but he didn’t care.

  It wasn’t his house and that was all that mattered.

  Whoever it was, he’d ask to use the phone and he’d call Uncle Remy.

  A chill raced through him as he thought what might come after that, but he had to do it. Wasn’t like …

  Somebody moved out from behind a tree.

  Brody’s brain shut down.

  In the dim, pre-dusk light, with his aching head and heavy heart, he could almost think he’d fallen into a nightmare.

  The man wore camo, from head to toe, and not just his body, but everywhere. Even the guy’s face was covered, his eyes shielded behind some sort of goggles that made him look alien.

  Brody might have been cool with that.

  Except the man held a gun in his hand. And as he stared at Brody, he cocked his head to the side, staring at him like he was some sort of lab specimen. Staring at him … like he had already ceased to exist for this freak.

  Brody could hear his own breath wheezing out of him, felt the cold trickle of sweat roll down his spine. Blood roared in his ears. Terror gripped him hard and tight, and suddenly, the anger he felt at his dad evaporated—he wanted his dad.

  Desperately.

  Swallowing, too scared to move, but knowing he needed to, he stared at the man.

  With a stillness and silence that barely seemed human, the man tilted his head … and slowly lifted that gun.

  Brody darted behind one of the trees and took off running. Branches grabbed at him. Roots seemed to snake up out of the ground and grab at his feet. He stumbled, tripped, and each time, he shoved upright and kept on running.

  * * *

  Stupid little fuck …

  Irritated, he melted back into the woods.

  He’d had some interesting plans for the night, but now, he’d have to rethink things.

  He had wanted to go and watch her a little more.

  Watch her closer even … perhaps let her know he was there.

  He supposed he could have dealt with the boy, but that wasn’t in the plans.

  He had to keep to his plan. When you veered from the plan, things got fucked up.

  Shooting one look over his shoulder toward the house, he began the long walk through the trees.

  It wasn’t a problem to wait.

  He was, after all, a patient man.

  “Have you tried calling her?”

  Roz nibbled on her thumbnail and debated whether or not to answer him. Finally she sighed and looked at her husband. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  “Well, you had a fight. You two won’t ever get over it if you don’t try to talk it through,” Carter said softly. He sank down on the narrow little couch that graced her office and wrapped an arm around her, cuddling her close.

  She leaned against him, pressing her face to his chest. “I know. I just …” Groaning, she pulled away and stood up, pacing the office. “She doesn’t talk. She comes in, she does her job, and she leaves. Geez, even Puck is giving me the cold shoulder.”

  Carter chuckled. “I noticed. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with either of us.”

  “That’s my fault, too, I guess. The dog always knows when she’s mad and he gets upset. He won’t relax until she does.” Roz leaned against her desk and crossed her arms, staring at him. “I miss her, baby.”

  Those blue eyes of
hers were just miserable, he thought, studying her. “I know. So that means you need to decide what to do. You can’t expect this to go away if you don’t ever talk to her.”

  “I know.” She shifted her gaze to the floor. Absently, she pulled her phone out. “Maybe … maybe Ezra could bring her over for dinner. I could talk to her then …?”

  “You’ll work it out.” He stood up and crossed the floor, pressed his lips to her forehead. “I need to get to work. Some slave driver mean lady in Kentucky is demanding I get some more pots for the inn she runs.”

  Roz smiled at him, but it wasn’t much of a smile. “Slave driver, huh? I’d like some more of those rose-colored ones if you can. You still make that glaze, right?”

  “A bit, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” Hopefully she’d call Lena while he was working. But he wasn’t counting on it. She’d sit in here and brood and worry. Stroking a thumb over her cheek, he asked, “Why don’t you come to the shop with me? Maybe toss a pot on the wheel or something … relax a bit?”

  She just made a face. “No, thanks.”

  Carter sighed. “Don’t brood over this too long, sweetheart.”

  “How is Hope handling this?” Lena asked.

  “I don’t know. Hell, it seems like she’s handling it better than I am, but I keep waiting for her to …”

  “Break?”

  “Yeah.” Law hated himself for saying it, for thinking it.

  “I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit, man.” Lena sighed and drew her feet up, tucking them up next to her on the couch and resting her chin on an upraised fist. “She … well, I know she seems pretty damn fragile and I know she’s been through hell, but sometimes, that’s what a person has to do to figure out what they are made of. I get the feeling Hope’s hit her stopping point—she’s done. As in fed-up done.”

  Law wanted to think so, but after the shit she’d lived through, he would have thought she would have hit that point awhile ago. If anybody could have made her hit that point, it would have been Joey, but it hadn’t happened. Instead, the bastard had all but broken her.

  “I don’t know, Lena. She has been through hell—if she was going to hit some line, you’d think it would have already happened.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he, and I’m going to assume there was a he, was pushing the wrong buttons. This time, it wasn’t just her getting screwed with. It was her, it was you.” A vicious smile curled her lips and she shook her head. “You don’t know what she was like while you were still out, Law. She was almost another person.”

  “Shit.” He snorted. “She’s been like another person ever since we got out of the hospital—it’s almost like … well, back in high school, she was always quieter, but she had a mouth on her. You wouldn’t think it, unless you knew her well. But she had an attitude. Had … something, you know? Then … hell, I can’t go into that—it’s her life, but that part of her, I thought it died. The past few days, I think I’m seeing it again, but I don’t know. I don’t want to think she’s going to be okay, and then miss something I need to see because I’m not watching.”

  Lena laughed for a moment. Her laughter faded and she slid her shaded lenses off, laid them on the couch. She slid off the couch and slowly made her way over to the chair where he was sitting. When she lifted a hand, he caught it. As she eased her weight down on the arm of the chair, he slid an arm around her waist, tried not to think about how fucking close she was—how good she felt, how warm she was.

  Not mine, he reminded himself. She was completely gone over the damn cop, crazy about King, all because he’d waited too long.

  Lena pressed a kiss to his brow. Then softly, she said, “Law … honey … don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think it’s humanly possible for you to miss something important. You don’t ever miss the small things. If there’s something going on with her, you’re going to see it. But man, you need to ease up … and trust her. Let her find her feet, let her try to stand on her own. If her life has been that much hell, and she’s just now trying to find her feet again, then what she needs more than anything is to do just that … on her own.”

  He sighed. Told himself she was probably right.

  But when the door to the porch opened, he couldn’t stop himself from getting to his feet.

  Behind him, Lena snickered.

  “Way to let her stand, Law.”

  She could hear Law talking to Lena, and as she slipped into the kitchen, she heard Lena laughing.

  Hope slipped out the back door, winced as it creaked behind her. Man, she hoped Law hadn’t heard that—

  But he didn’t immediately appear. He was yakking it up with Lena, probably talking about her, too.

  Ezra had driven up, spoken briefly with Law and then left. Lena hadn’t told Hope anything. Neither had Law, and now the two of them were inside, whispering and murmuring and Hope felt like she was about to scream.

  She felt like her skin was going to split, she was so edgy, but she wasn’t going to take off, either.

  She was tired of running away from shit, because the shit she had to run from was all trapped inside her. She couldn’t get away from that.

  She was tired of having Law look at her like she was going to break … even though she knew it was probably justified.

  She had broken before.

  Her stomach twisted in hot, slippery knots as she covered her face with her hands.

  Just because she’d broken before didn’t mean she was going to do it again. Didn’t mean she needed him hovering around her and worrying about her like she was made of glass, too fragile, too delicate.

  Hearing the door open behind her, she glanced over her shoulder. “Damn it, Law, I’m just sitting on the porch—I’m fine. And I want to be alone.”

  “I was just wondering if you wanted a jacket. Some coffee …”

  Swallowing a groan, she stood up and turned around, staring at him. “No, you’re wanting to check up on me. Make sure I’m not out here panicking, or freaking, or falling apart, or getting ready to run away again or whatever you worry I might do. I’m fine, Law. And I need to be alone.”

  His mouth tightened and part of her wanted to take it back—she knew he was worried, knew he worried because he cared …

  “Damn it, Hope, I don’t know what in the hell you want me to do—not worry?” he snarled. He caught one of her hands, gently, careful of the wound, and lifted it up, exposing it to the light. “Somebody did that to you—somebody tried to kill you and I’m not supposed to worry?”

  Narrowing her eyes, she reached up and deliberately poked him in the swollen area just below his left eye.

  He yelped and let go of her wrist. “What the hell was that for?”

  “You don’t exactly look like Little Mary Sunshine, buddy. The same person who did this to me did that to you. You want to worry about me, fine. I’m worried about you, too, but you don’t see me hovering at your shoulder twenty-four-seven.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not the same.”

  “Of course not,” she said quietly. She looked back at her wrists and then sighed. “It’s not the same because I’m me … and I’m always afraid of everything—I’m too weak to fight back. But damn it, how in the hell am I supposed to get any better when you’re constantly trying to prop me up?”

  “Hope, I’m not …” Then he sighed, his voice trailing off. He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m just, hell, I don’t know how to handle this. I wanted you here so you could feel safer, start to heal. And look what happens to you.”

  “This isn’t your fault.” Hope looked away. “We didn’t see this coming—how could we? But, Law, damn it, you’ve got to quit hovering. You’re making me claustrophobic. I’m okay, I swear. But I need some space, or I’m going to freak out.”

  Hating the sad, miserable look in his eyes, hating that she couldn’t … or wouldn’t do anything to make it go away, she turned her back on him and refused to look back.

  Eventually, she
heard him slip back inside.

  Still, she didn’t look back.

  She stared off into the distance, into the coming night. All she wanted to do was sit on the back porch. Surely she could do that.

  Looking down at her wrists, she tried to resign herself to what she was going to have to do in the morning.

  The damned sheriff’s office. File a report. Even though it was probably going to be a waste of time, because nobody was going to believe her. They all either thought she was crazy and determined to kill herself, or they thought she was crazy and wanted to hurt Law.

  At least it was Nielson, the sheriff they’d be talking to.

  Law had agreed to that, at least. She could almost handle talking to him.

  Something rustled in the woods off to the side. A branch cracked. Jerking her head up, Hope caught her breath. She climbed to her feet and almost darted inside the house—okay, maybe she couldn’t handle sitting outside alone.

  Then a boy tumbled out of the trees.

  A boy … a crying boy who was as tall as she was.

  But still, it was just a kid. And one who looked vaguely familiar.

  Instead of backing into the house, she hopped down the two steps and jogged across the grass to him. “Hey, are you okay?”

  Behind her, the door banged open.

  But Hope barely noticed.

  As the boy’s eyes locked on her face, all she could think was, He’s so scared …

  His hands came up, gripped her upper arms. His throat worked, like he was having a hard time speaking without sobbing.

  “There … there was somebody in the woods,” he said, his voice cracking, the way a boy’s does when he’s caught in that place between childhood and manhood. His hands squeezed, not to hurt, but with desperate terror, as though he needed to make sure she was really there.

  His eyes, huge and blue, dominated a thin face that was terribly familiar.

  “Somebody … in the woods,” he whispered, his voice low and quiet. He shot a terrified glance over his shoulder and then he looked back at her. Abruptly, some of that clouded fear cleared from his eyes, he released her arms and reached for her hand. “He had a gun and he was right over there. It’s not safe. We should get inside—call the sheriff or something.”