RUMORS Page 4

  “Who does she hang around with?” I ask, more intrigued by this.

  “No one.” He takes a step into my office, settling in the chair across from me. “Honestly, and this is all I know about her, she kind of fell off the face of the Earth. We all knew she was still at the house, but never left it. Even quit going to church with her grandma.”

  “Her parents?” I ask.

  “No clue.” He shrugs. “It’s always been her and her grandma.”

  “Something doesn’t add up,” I say, more to myself than to Wilcox.

  “No disrespect, but why do you want to know?” He leans forward, grimacing a bit at his question.

  “She seems off to me, and now she’s an orphan of the state. I’m not sure I trust her with her own safety.” I take another drink of the shit coffee.

  “Well, I can tell you one thing. If you want to know anything about her, ask June. They’re best friends and from what I’ve heard, she’s the only person Frankie May talks with besides her grandma.”

  I set down my mug and run my hands over my hair in frustration. “So, you’re telling me this girl quit going to school, holed up in her house for years, and it didn’t raise an ounce of fucking suspicion in this small town?”

  The young deputy cringes at my foul language. I don’t normally let the F-bomb fly in professional settings, but I’m at the point of rattling the shit out of some people’s cages around here. I can’t even begin to process how this can go unnoticed in a small town. I mean, I get large cities and people falling off the radar, but even then eventually a neighbor, teacher, or concerned citizen brings something to light.

  “Sheriff Jones is close to the family. He took care—uh—”

  I slam my palm on my desk, done with this conversation. “You assumed he took care of it. Just because someone says they’re okay and even if her grandma, the sweetest lady in town, said she was okay, doesn’t mean she was. You look at behaviors and study them, dig deep until you get an answer. The worst thing in our line of work is to assume. That’s when you get blood on your hands.”

  He nods, standing.

  I point at him. “And spread the damn word, because that’s the way things will be running from here on out. A child quits going to school unexpectedly—we investigate. No questions asked.”

  With that, he scrambles out of my office. To him, the outburst from me came out of left field. I’ve seen too much damn shit in my short years to behave any other way. My guts twist thinking about the possibilities that could be lying before me in this small town.

  Just how much has gone ignored? And how many have been hurt?

  “Sheriff.”

  I look up to one of the receptionists. She’s an older lady. Does her job and minds her business. I appreciate her for that.

  “Yeah, Darlene.”

  “You have a visitor.”

  I tilt my head back, wondering if a break in the case is coming my way. She doesn’t have a chance to finish her thought before a blonde bursts through the door.

  “Hey, Dalton.” Kimber finger waves, waltzing toward my desk. She sets down a plate of cookies. “They’re still warm. Knew you’ve been busy and thought you could use something sweet.”

  She winks.

  I clench and unclench my fist underneath my desk. Kimber trained her sights on me the first day I started working here. She’s relentless and doesn’t pick up on any clues at all. Her mom, Leann, is just as bad. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have the wedding already planned even though I haven’t indulged this bullshit once.

  “Thanks.” I nod, not able to force a fake smile. “The department will appreciate them.”

  “I made them for you.” She perches her ass on my desk.

  This has gone way too far.

  “Kimber, I’m busy right now. I appreciate your kindness, but I have no interest in anything further.” I stand from my desk, crossing my arms. “It’s time for you to go. I have work to do.”

  I never like being an asshole. It goes against everything in my nature. I feel bad for the briefest second when she whirls around and storms out. Once the front door to the office slams, Darlene’s laughter fills the office.

  “You think that’s funny?” I ask.

  “Told you, Sheriff, you are fresh meat in this town. Doesn’t happen all that often and well, you’re young and good looking.”

  “They’re damn vicious.” I let out a chuckle.

  “Well, the good news is you’ve probably given yourself a good two- to three-week break from her prowling.”

  Chapter Seven

  Frankie

  Scabs fight to heal. But I don’t allow them. I pick at the dried blood every chance I get. I don’t wipe away the fresh liquid that runs down my arm. No, I stare at it and study it feeling the tickling that runs down my skin. It’s what happens on repeat.

  I have no idea what surrounds me anymore. It doesn’t matter. June fixed my hair, putting all sorts of products in it. Most of them have a sweet-smelling fragrance that on another day I’d love. Not today. I sit alone in the back pasture where my grandma’s service is being held. I haven’t said many words since I woke up to the end of my life as I knew it. But I did say and repeat over and over “no church.” That’s why her service is behind our house.

  Pokey runs the fence line as if he could sense the despair and grief streaming from me. His whinnying and throwing his head are the only things that soothe my soul throughout the service. I stare at the buckskin, wanting nothing more than to saddle him up and ride away. I abandoned him for years and to him it didn’t matter. Pokey is still there for me.

  He saves me from the voice of Satan who honors my grandma’s life. Every single time his voice seeps back in, I pick at a scab on my arm. The warm liquid running down calms and grounds me. I use the long sleeves of the black dress I’m wearing to hide the blood. The material is soaked in the liquid.

  Everyone has now wandered up to the house for the funeral dinner. Grandma used to be the coordinator for planning meals for any service that was held in town. Now to think of someone else having to step up is too damn much.

  A throat clears behind me, rattling me out of my stupor. My body jolts internally, and externally I bolt from the white plastic chair and whirl around, sinking back into myself.

  “Hey.” The new sheriff holds his hands up and steps back. The black Stetson hat in his hands is the first thing I notice, then his crisp white button-up shirt and black tie. “Just checking on you.”

  I don’t miss the fact he doesn’t stop until he’s a good three rows away from me. “I’m sorry I startled you.”

  I nod then glance down at my shoes.

  “Just want to check in on you and see how you’re doing.”

  Normally, I’d remain silent because June would speak up for me, or Grandma. Yeah, can’t finish that thought.

  “I’m fine,” I mumble, not glancing up.

  “Frankie, I know I’m new in town and things in the past may have been hard, but just know there is support and protection for you if that’s what you need.”

  I do my best to tamp down the burst of laughter dying to erupt from me. I swear to hell if he only knew the idiotic words he just spoke. He’s damn right—I do need protection, but at this point I need it from myself.

  “Thanks.” I turn and walk up to the house.

  “Frankie, where are you staying tonight?”

  This causes me to freeze. He doesn’t stop talking.

  “You’re a minor and your guardian…” His words die off.

  I whirl around. “I’m staying here. This is my home. June and her mother will be staying tonight. Plus, my birthday is only like two weeks anyway.”

  The lie slips from my tongue like warm butter melting on a hot piece of bread.

  He nods. I regret the harshness of my words for the briefest of seconds. If they struck his strong armor, he sure doesn’t let it show.

  “You’re a minor, which means there is a process to follow. I’m not going to bom
bard you with all the details right now, but it’s something we’ll need to talk about.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.” I find myself taking a step toward him then freezing once I realize it. “I’m homeschooled. I don’t leave. I’m not going anywhere,” I repeat.

  He nods, and it pisses me the hell off. He’s so damn calm and it’s infuriating. He’s kept his distance and isn’t pushy at all, only adding to my frustration level.

  “Wasn’t my intention to upset you today, just wanted to check-in.” He steps backward, walking toward the crowd of people while slipping his cowboy hat on his head. “Please reach out if you need anything in the meantime.”

  He didn’t have to say it word for word; the meaning between his words was crystal clear. Sheriff Cray isn’t anything like June’s dad, that’s for sure. June’s dad is a great guy but had a more hands-off approach. I laid in bed many nights, willing him to arrest the devil next door. I put out so many pleas to the universe for him to catch on as to why I no longer left my house, but it never happened.

  I briefly think about the woman at the town ceremony who had so much more to say about the good ol’ pastor. I wish I knew her name. She knows. I wonder if he hurt her, too. That day she promised she was back to make someone pay. Where did she go? His voice rings from my backyard. My stomach turns and dives at the scent of food. Bile curls and laps up the back of my throat, burning a fiery trail.

  “Sheriff,” I manage to get out.

  He stops in his tracks but doesn’t come any closer to me. He’s respectful of my space and I can appreciate that.

  “Yeah?” He tilts his head, the brim of his hat shading his hypnotic eyes from me.

  “Um…” I glance down at the grass that’s been worn down from all the visitors today. “Do you know…”

  “I can’t hear you, Frankie, can you look at me?”

  I follow his command, squaring my shoulders and going for it before I lose my courage. “Did you happen to see a blonde woman at the ceremony the other day? She was with a group of older women and had uh…long blonde hair.” I pause, trying to remember something else that would stick out about her. I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  “Are you sure?” He jerks his chin.

  I nod and then briskly walk into the house and down the hall until I’m curled up in Grandma’s bed. Her scent wraps around me. The tears have dried with sorrow settling in every crook and cranny of my being. I focus on my breathing, having no idea how much time drifts by with the muted chatter of the crowd outside.

  “Frankie May?” June’s voice floats into the room.

  I don’t answer her and it doesn’t stop her. I feel the bed dip as she curls her body around me.

  “How are you holding up?” She runs her hands over my hair, trying to soothe me.

  I don’t answer. It doesn’t faze her as she continues talking.

  “I have plans tonight, but I’m going to cancel them. We can watch movies and I already bought junk food.”

  “No,” I interrupt her. “I love you, June, but I just want to be alone.”

  She nuzzles her nose into the back of my black dress. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Frankie Girl.”

  The nickname hurts, but I don’t accept the pain. Instead, I put on a façade. I’m learning quickly that this will be the new game in my life, mastering each level as the days tick by. “Really? I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m going to go out and be wild or do something dumb, and seriously, I just want to be alone. I’m so exhausted.”

  “You just had to bury your grandma, and we both know she was so much more to you than your grandmother. Frankie, you need to talk to me.”

  I roll over to face her, knowing the next lie that slides from my tongue will take a bit more coaxing than the rest that have so easily slipped. “I’m exhausted. Yes, I lost the love of my life. But right now I need sleep. The last two weeks have been brutal. I’m begging you to let me be.”

  “Momma will check on you,” she squeaks out.

  “Tell her…” I gulp down my next words, razor blades slicing my tender throat, “that Pastor is right next door and will keep an eye out. She’s done so much for the service. She and your dad…let them know I’ll be just fine. I just need to rest.”

  June’s mom enters the room no sooner than I get the words out. I master each level of the new puzzle of my life, telling lie after lie. June’s mom nervously runs her hand over her forehead, not comfortable with the idea, but I do my best to sell it.

  “Okay.” She brushes her hand over my forehead. “You know my number and I might still check in on you.”

  I don’t have a chance to respond before a deafening ruckus erupts outside. All three of us perch up on the bed, peering out the window. Sheriff Cray is on his phone, bolting from the backyard while a few cries invade the small area.

  What in the hell is going on?

  As soon as the thought goes through my head June’s dad bursts in the door.

  “Honey, I’m heading out. There was a head-on crash on Highway 47. Life Flight is on the way.” And with that, he’s gone.

  He may be retired, but he still volunteers with EMS. Guarantee he’ll be doing that until he can no longer walk. It lives in his blood.

  “Oh, dear, I’m going to go see what happened.” June’s mom follows her husband.

  By the sound of the cries and the people fleeing from my backyard, I can tell it’s a bad one. June slumps back on the bed, getting comfortable.

  “I just don’t feel right about leaving you.”

  “Go!” I growl, unable to control my frustration anymore. “I really just want to be alone and sleep. Just go, June. Come over in the morning and we can make breakfast.”

  It’s a lie. I’ll find a way to deter her from coming back over. I want to be alone. I don’t want to taint anyone else with my life. That’s all I want.

  “Okay, but please text if you need me.” She sits up staring at me. “I’m serious, Frankie, and I know Mom will be back over to check on you.”

  I nod and swallow down the guilt lying causes. “I promise.”

  I know her mom won’t be over especially with a recent accident. The entire town goes on nosey mode and her mom will no doubt be with the family doing her best to soothe them. She’s just that kind of person. It’s her unspoken job in our tiny town.

  Finally, the house goes silent and I’m all alone. I make my way to Grandma’s medicine cabinet and pull out her pills. I know exactly which ones I want. My heart sinks when there are only three Vicodin left at the bottom of the orange bottle. I’d planned to take all of them. I check all of the other places she’d leave her medication to find them all gone. Thank God, June’s mom didn’t find these as she did with the rest.

  I swallow all three of them with no liquid and flop back down in the bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Frankie

  My head pounds and my tongue fills the inside of my mouth. I slap a hand over my forehead, knowing damn well taking those three pills was a big ass mistake. The pain is way worse than any hangover I’ve ever had, not like there were many—just a handful. June has snuck over some whiskey in the past and I know Grandma knew what we were doing.

  Grandma. My heart clatters against my chest and that’s when reality settles over me. She’s gone. I roll over in the bed, prying my dry eyelids open to look at the picture of us on her nightstand.

  It’s not there.

  Masculine, dark wood fills the room. I glance up to see the popcorn ceiling and that’s the moment the smell assaults me.

  The reality jolts me into an upright sitting position. My core freezes when I realize nothing is the same. Then fear and hatred seep in when I recognize where I am. I’ve been here before, the prison he trapped me in so many years ago.

  “You’re finally awake.”

  My vision darts to the doorway.

  “I’ve been waiting for hours for you to wake up.”

  I scramble back on the bed, tugging the
scratchy blankets up closer to my chest. A bit of relief hits me when I realize I’m still fully clothed. I can’t even begin to process what in the hell has happened.

  “You’re not eighteen yet, but I couldn’t wait any longer. It’s perfect, sweetie.” He takes a step closer. “Your grandma’s timely passing and you being the recluse you are…it would be natural that I step in and watch over my young grieving neighbor. We’ll have to keep this to ourselves and only meet at night, but I couldn’t wait to have you in my bed.”

  “No,” I whisper.

  He ignores me, going on about his sick ass plan. I have to get out of here. I fight the urge to panic and spiral into a full-blown anxiety meltdown where I can’t even talk. I refuse to go there, and won’t. I don’t listen to what he’s saying until he tugs me out of bed.

  “I have breakfast for you.”

  I let him tug me out of the bedroom, thinking the kitchen is a safer place and closer to an exit. I focus on my breathing and each step I take behind him, keeping my mind clear and ready to get away from this monster. I can’t dwell on the fact his plan is perfect, because no one would ever suspect the pastor of doing these things to me. I don’t let the guilt of not speaking up seep in as I follow him.

  The table is set with all sorts of breakfast food. Vomit launches up the back of my throat when I see the two settings and a lit candle in the center. I force it down, refusing to show any signs of weakness even though that’s all I’m built of.

  He pulls out a chair and I sit without thinking, eyeing his back door. It would take twenty large steps, speed, and catching him off guard to bolt. I couldn’t run home. I’d have to run down the street until I saw someone. But then what…