Lies Page 3

  As Emily thought of the incident, icy fingers slid up her spine, and a fist gripped her stomach. The reminder of the horrid ordeal was too fresh. She snatched her glass from the table and gulped the water to steady her nerves.

  Keira shifted and wiggled in place with half a million questions in her eyes but listened quietly. Though she saw her friend’s eyes pop open in horror and disbelief etch across her face as Emily described the moment she came to realize her wrists were bound to the headboard of a bed, with Joe smirking down at her. Keira’s chin dropped, and for the first time Emily could recall, her friend appeared speechless.

  Leaning across the sofa, Keira hugged Emily. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she sputtered. When she drew back, Emily saw the question in Keira’s eyes before the words passed over her lips. “Em, why didn’t you tell anyone what you were getting yourself into? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your friend!”

  Glancing at the plate of pizza she held on her lap, Emily rubbed her forehead. Had there been a smidgen of disapproval in her friend’s questions?

  “God, Keira, I wanted to tell you so bad.” Her voice shook as she brought her gaze to Keira’s eyes and touched a hand to her heart. A shudder rippled across Emily’s shoulders, and she got up to slip into the lightweight hoodie lying across the recliner.

  “Staking out the barn was insanely risky,” she said, dropping back onto the sofa. “We kept it quiet because we didn’t want to drag you or anyone from Barkville into it.” Despite the knot growing in her throat, a teasing smile tucked at the corners of Emily’s mouth. “Besides, well-meaning friends might have talked us out of it. You know what I mean?” Keira rolled her eyes, and Emily chuckled, aware she’d hit the mark. “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.” With her emotions settled, she continued, “Looking into the rearview mirror, playing detectives was a bird-brained thing to do.”

  “And damn dangerous,” Keira agreed.

  As if she needed reminding. Since the comment hadn’t carried the vibe of a rebuke, Emily let it pass.

  “We went there to get solid proof for the police, but they didn’t seem too concerned with what I reported. If something had turned up—drugs or dogfights—we were going to call them.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus! That’s quite the story, girl.” Shaking her head, Keira took Emily’s hands into hers, and her gaze passed from bandaged wrists to Emily’s face. The green in her pupils deepened as a storm welled in the depths of her eyes. “Bastard. I can’t even imagine what kind of hell that must have been!” Her words sliced, hot and furious.

  “When I inherited this house, I made two promises to my deceased aunt. One, I’d move to Oak Creek and restore this house, and two, I’d honor her legacy by continuing with her animal rescue mission. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined my sweet little aunt’s undercover work would expose a terrible secret tucked away on the outskirts of our town.”

  Keira released Emily’s hands, an uplifting smile curving her lips.

  “Sweetie, you are so much like her. You know that?”

  “I guess,” Emily shoved off the sofa with a great sigh, busying herself, collecting paper plates and napkins. Growing up, Aunt Millie’s home had been Emily’s home away from home. The memories of living with her mom at her aunt’s farm until Mom married and they moved to Fort Drum were etched in her memory. She’d missed the house with a hundred nooks and crannies to hide in, her aunt’s encouragement to explore her art, and the always present dogs. She missed it like crazy and had visited every summer since her mom married her stepdad. Being a military man, the orders to Fort Drum had come less than a year later.

  “I get it, Emmy. You couldn’t let it pass, so you finished what she’d started.”

  Emily smiled, happy and relieved her friend understood and wasn’t about to preach or reprimand her.

  “How could I not?” Emily looked up from putting the napkins and plates inside the empty pizza box. “I knew what I knew, and if the police had taken me a little more seriously…” She shrugged, letting the train of thought hang in the air. “I had to get the proof myself.”

  “Girl, I can understand that.” Keira, pressing her palm over her heart. “You did what you had to, but you had no clue the stakes were sky-high.”

  “Well,”—Emily snapped the lid shut—”I didn’t pay attention. I hate to admit it, but officer Woodard warned me of the danger. ’Stay away from Joe’s property,′ he’d said. He couldn’t have said it any clearer.”

  “Em, are you all right?”

  Something in Emily’s tone must have alerted her friend, but Keira’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and Emily realized she’d been staring at the pizza box in her hand. Looking into her friend’s eyes, she spoke softly.

  “It felt like an eternity, being tied up, worrying about what might come next. I fought, and I prayed, but when someone kicked down the door, I thought this was it for me. I didn’t know it was the police.”

  “Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay?”

  The dogs yawned, stretched, and got to their feet. Three pairs of brown eyes trained on Emily holding the box, and it grounded her into the present.

  “Yes. I’ll be fine.” There was a resolution in her tone that left no space for debate. She’d be okay again… in time. Until then, she wouldn’t admit to feeling as glum as the shadows of the nightmare creeping inside her.

  Evening came quickly, and Keira grabbed her keys.

  “I need to go home, feed these boys, and prepare for tomorrow.” Keira taught math and science at Oak Creek Middle school.

  As Emily made her way to the front door, she turned on every light. Brightness flooded the first floor, while outside nightfall spread its inky cloak across the sky. The dogs rushed outside as soon as Emily opened the front door. On the porch, Keira drew her into another warm hug.

  “Call if you need anything,” she said as she gave an extra squeeze.

  “Thanks, I will,” Emily said and stepped back.

  Keira went to her Bug, waiting for the furry ones to finish their business while Emily stood inside the door frame. She hugged her elbows, seeking warmth, and knew it wasn’t only the chill in the air causing her skin to prickle.

  With Diesel and Boomer piled in the car’s backseat, Keira turned to Emily. Her forehead creased as she shot Emily a quizzical look.

  “Emmy, do you want me to stay?”

  Had Keira picked up on her unease? Emily dropped her arms and assumed a confident stance, pasting a smile to her lips and hoping it would squash her friend’s worries. Her answer was the same as it had been to Ryan this morning.

  “Thanks, sweetie, but I’m good.” She puckered her lips into a kissy-face and added, “You’re an angel.”

  Under the circumstances, wasn’t it natural to feel a little skittish? Her aunt’s passing had offered her the opportunity for a fresh start, but since arriving in Oak Creek, she’d plunged into an abyss of uncertainty and instability. Enough already. She’d embrace her new beginning—starting today.

  Tugging on the sleeves of her hoodie, she dragged them over her knuckles.

  “I’ll have to work out a routine—figure out what that might be. You know? Anyway, I won’t be by myself.” She’d reached for the dog who’s sidled up to her and ruffled the fur on his thick neck. “Right, Bentley?”

  “All right, Emmy. If you need anything at all, you know I’m just a phone call away.”

  As the quirky little car turned around in the driveway, Emily shut the door, locking out the night. Her pulse quickened with the memories swirling inside her brain. “It’s over,” Ryan had said, and she reminded herself of that.

  Joe was in jail until his trial. EMTs, nurses, doctors, even Officer Woodard had offered their support with inspiring words. They’d called her brave, but she wasn’t fearless. Tonight, in the big house alone, she admitted, if only to herself, the darkness unnerved her, but with Bentley as her companion, she’d get over it.

  Time to put the chilling incident behind her, return
to her office tasks, and establish a routine. Focus on what’s important, her business. As a freelance graphic designer, she’d accepted a contract she needed to finalize. Tomorrow she’d finish the cover design for a children’s book, then get busy searching for a home renovation contractor.

  Before Emily moved to Oak Creek, she’d rented a modest apartment in the small lake village, Sackets Harbor, in upstate New York. It was a cozy space, and while it provided the room she needed to work, she’d dreamed of a spacious office instead of a converted bedroom corner. Thanks to Millie’s inheritance, she was about to make her dream come true, envisioning a calm and inspiring space.

  One by one, Emily flipped off the lights as she scaled the stairs to the second floor. Deliberate and willful, she braced against the weight that clogged her chest and threatened to take away her breath.

  For the past three nights, she’d slept with her back curled against Ryan’s chest. Inside his arms, she’d felt protected and safe, and when she dreamed about Joe, Ryan’s strong hands were shaking her awake. Tonight, she’d be alone in her bed—her choice—but would she be able to fall asleep without snuggling her backside into him as he tugged her close?

  In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, then opened the mirrored medicine cabinet where amber containers in various sizes crammed two shelves. Most had belonged to her late aunt, but she reached for the prescription she got after her car crash. Emily loosened the cap and shook a tablet into her palm. The pill would help her relax and slide into sleep. Sweet dreams. She gulped a swig of water, washing down the sleeping aid. Aunt Millie used to say, ‘After every cloud comes sunshine.’ True.

  Tomorrow would be a new day, another day further from her fears.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Ryan backed the Range Rover out of the garage, thinking about Emily. He hoped she’d had a decent night without seeing Joe’s face in yet another nightmare.

  As the garage door rolled down, the clock showed barely seven-thirty, but Emily had texted roughly twenty minutes earlier. Since she slipped out of bed at the crack of dawn most mornings, it wasn’t unusual to get a text that early. The message had given no indication of a sleepless night, just that she missed waking up to the soundtrack of his snorts, with a row of laughing-tears emojis tacked on. Ryan chuckled, remembering her reaction to his snoring comment from the day before. As if… Then she fessed up with another text, saying she’d missed his good-morning kiss, adding a kissy-face. Okay, much better. Sure, the playfulness of the text made him smile, though he wasn’t convinced the dreams that made her whimper during the night had suddenly stopped.

  Admittedly, he hadn’t pressed too hard when Emily passed on his offer to stay another night. He’d been at her home for three days and nights straight, hesitant to leave her to analyze and stew over what had gone wrong at the barn, and he would do it for as long as it took to make her feel secure and safe again. He loved this woman and would protect her as best he could. Yet he’d craved to crash in his own bed. Then why was it that when he stretched out alone in the king-sized bed, he missed having her in his arms, her smooth skin against his? As much as it puzzled him, he’d even missed the errant strands of blond hair tickling his nose and sticking to his lips.

  How ironic that just a few weeks ago, he’d preferred to sleep alone. Preferred superficial hook-ups over diving into the deep end of a relationship. Ryan thought back to the early evening he’d returned home from a fashion shoot in New York City. Traveling behind a Toyota 4-Runner on I-65, he watched as the woman driving the vehicle lost control and crashed down an embankment. He’d been first on the scene, providing comfort. He hadn’t been aware of it, but when the lady pleaded for help, latching her deep-blue gaze on him, his armor had slipped for the first time. While waiting for the ambulance, he’d comforted her. Emily Carmichael, he later had learned was her name, had recently moved to Oak Creek, his hometown. What were the odds? He’d held her hand and kept her alert, and something powerful he couldn’t name pulled him like a mighty magnet. A car crash had brought them together, and his presumed fate of being a professional bachelor was about to be torn to shreds.

  Had someone predicted Ryan in a romantic relationship, he’d have laughed it off as a joke. This kind of commitment was something he didn’t want in his life. The mere thought of it made his skin itch, but each time he saw Emily, his resolve slipped a little more. He’d struggled against these unexpected feelings twisting his insides. Not a good idea, his mind had cautioned. He’d distanced himself from Emily, tried to stop seeing her—that never happened. None of it had kept him from falling in love with her. Damn if he could explain it, but fate must have a twisted sense of humor.

  As Ryan pulled out of the driveway, the blazing sun swiftly replaced the hues of pink and orange on the horizon. Squinting into the bright morning light, he returned his neighbor’s wave as she dashed from her house in jogging pants, adjusting tiny earbuds in her ears.

  He craved a steaming cup of java. Turning right onto Main Street, he flipped down the visor against the rising sun hitting his windshield and blinding him. The stores wouldn’t open for another hour except for Granny B’s kitchen, which was two doors down from Tanya’s Beans and Dewey’s Drug Store, at the corner of Main and Court Square. With Tanya’s Beans busier than the big-name coffee joint by the mall and with Granny B’s being a popular breakfast place, Ryan had to cruise past the coffee shop for a place to park. Spotting an opening about one hundred yards ahead in front of the Oak Creek Art Gallery, he pulled in. Across the street, he a caught light pouring from Summers Real Estate Agency. Of course, his friend, Mark, would be at his office already.

  Ryan’s breath clouded in the cool morning air as his long strides ate up the cobblestone sidewalk. A few minutes later, he opened the door to the bakery, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the yeasty aroma of baked bread and pastries enveloped his senses as he stepped inside.

  “Hey, man, long time no see. How goes the business?” Someone, whose name he failed to recall, slapped him on the shoulder as if he was his long-lost brother.

  “Great man, great...”

  “What can I get you, Ryan?” The barista smiled from behind the counter, saving him from further conversation.

  Giving the man a smile and lifting a shoulder, he excused himself, “Good to see you. Take care,” and ordered an extra-large dark roast. A variety of bagels displayed in wicker baskets on a rack on the wall tempted him, so he picked up half a dozen.

  Leaving the bakery, Ryan wondered if his workaholic friend was meeting a client this early. If he hadn’t been to his mansion in the exclusive Ellington Woods neighborhood many times, he’d say Mark practically lived at his office. The man was driven, in perpetual motion of aiming, achieving, and pressing for greater rewards. Traits Ryan could most definitely identify with. As for motivation? He figured the passion and desire to be the best in their field described them both. Only the root of their obsessions sprung from different wells.

  On impulse, he tossed the sack of bagels onto the passenger seat and sauntered across the street. “Anyone home?” he called out as he entered the sleek lobby that could easily rival any of Manhattan’s upscale business offices. The space seemed out of place for a town like Oak Creek, but Mark’s business extended to some Hollywood types who fancied the rolling hills of Kentucky as their refuge from the hype of movie-making. At least, that’s how Mark justified his flair for the over-the-top design.

  “Got an appointment?” Mark’s voice rang from the rear. Ryan knew his friend had recognized him because crickets had a greater chance to bark out Happy Birthday than Mark greeting a client this way.

  “Where’s your mutt?” Ryan strolled into his friend’s office just as Mark pushed from his chair and moved around his desk.

  “The mutt’s name is Newman. Remember? And at the moment, he’s at the groomer, hating me.”

  “Poor guy.” A smirk stretched across Ryan’s face as they fist-bumped. Folding his six-foot-three frame into on
e of the two pale-gray chairs flanking a small table, Ryan sunk into the leather that felt as soft as lambskin. As he relaxed into the luxurious seat, he stretched his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. He wriggled off the lid of his to-go cup and blew across the rising steam, then took the first sip of the black, scalding brew.

  Mark scooped his coffee mug from his desk and dropped onto the chair next to Ryan. At a quick glance, one could mistake the two friends for brothers. Tall, dark, and handsome, both men had similar bone structures, but that’s where the resemblances ended. Mark’s clean-shaven face, casual business attire, and refined manners made a strong argument for an appearance on the pages of GQ.

  Opposite of Mark’s flawless attire, Ryan lived in jeans, t-shirts, and the distressed leather jacket he’d owned for at least a hundred years. He shaved when he had to, which was only before important business meetings. While he’d perfected the attitude of not giving a damn, his dazzling smile could not only melt ice in Alaska but captivated hearts. As Mark’s zest for real estate deals had granted him success past the boundaries of Oak Creek, Ryan buried himself deep into the world of fashion and portrait photography.

  The guys hadn’t seen each other since the drug bust, but Ryan had filled Mark in on the botched stakeout over the weekend.

  “Looks like trouble’s been nipping your heels, my friend,” Mark said.

  “You could say that.” Ryan shifted in his seat with a half-shrug. “It’s been a rough few weeks, and here I’d figured, it couldn’t get any worse.”