Chapter 17 #2
After closing the door, she engaged the lock.
It was the first time she’d used the latch in years.
She walked down the hallway that connected the front of the house to the kitchen in the back.
The stench of garbage—rotten veggies, spoiled eggs, and used coffee grounds—hung in the air.
She had to take out the trash, but not until she’d seen to the cattle.
Her stack of pancakes hung limply on the platter.
Using her fingers, she picked up two and put them on a plate.
She didn’t bother heating them up or covering them with syrup.
Using a fork, she cut a wedge and folded it into her mouth.
She ate without tasting anything. Coffee still filled the pot.
She poured herself a cup and sipped. The caffeine did nothing to give her energy.
She dumped the brew down the sink and put her dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
Lucy’s arms were sore. Her legs hurt and her head pounded with each beat of her heart.
If Rusty was going to convalesce, then Lucy didn’t have time to waste.
She had to start bringing the cattle down from the summer pasture today.
She tried to make a plan, but her head hurt so damn bad that she couldn’t think.
Turning from the kitchen, she walked down the hallway. Each step was like wading through wet cement. The door was in front of her. To the right was the living room. Lucy never took a nap in the middle of the day. But now, her eyelids were so heavy that she just wanted to sleep.
Without thought, she dropped onto the sofa. She leaned her head on one armrest and placed her feet on the other. As Lucy closed her eyes, she promised herself that she would only rest for a minute. Then, sleep came for her, and she slipped away.
Aiden sprinted up the side of the hill. As he ran, he pulled the phone from his pocket and placed a call.
Cal answered after the second ring. “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I am at the Harrises ranch. One of the brake lines on Rusty’s truck was cut.”
“Jesus.”
“We have to figure out who wants them dead—and why.” He opened the door to his car and slid behind the steering wheel. Aiden started the engine, and the call transferred from his cell to the microphone and speakers.
“I’ll send up some deputies to get the car,” said his brother.
Aiden turned the car around on the narrow lane. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Can you post an officer outside of Rusty’s hospital room? Lucy’s still there, I think.”
“Will do,” said Cal. “I’ll be in touch.”
The call ended, and Aiden stowed his phone in the cup holder. Then, he drove down the rutted path. The rain had stopped. The clouds were lighter. Lucy’s house stood on a rise.
The windows were still dark.
The car was still parked by the porch.
Nothing had changed.
After driving down the hill, he stopped at the edge of the paved road.
His phone began to ring. The caller ID showed on his dashboard screen.
Callum Colton.
Using the controls on his steering wheel, Aiden answered the call. “Hey,” he said, pulling onto the county route. “What’s up?”
“I just talked to Ryan. Lucy left the hospital about an hour ago.”
“She left?” he repeated. “Did he say where she was going?”
“He assumed that she went home.”
“That’s impossible,” said Aiden. “I’ve been at the ranch, and I didn’t see her.”
Then again, that wasn’t entirely true. Sure, he’d been on the property. But he hadn’t gone to the house. Lucy could have come back while he was in the woods. But he would have known, right? If she was in the house, a light would be on. Or a door would be open.
Pulling onto the road’s shoulder, he said, “I’m going back to the house. If she’s there, I’ll let you know.”
“Be careful,” said Cal, before ending the call.
Aiden drove back the way he had just come. Pulling underneath the Five Steers Ranch sign, he dropped his foot onto the gas pedal. The car shot up the road, the end swaying as the tires slipped on the mud.
He parked next to Rusty’s mint green car and turned off the engine with the press of a button. He opened the door and stepped from the car. There were no sounds coming from the house. He climbed the front porch steps and knocked on the door. “Lucy, it’s me. Aiden.”
He waited for a minute. And then, a minute more.
He knocked again, harder this time. “I know that you’re mad at me. But we have to talk.” He paused, before adding, “It’s about what happened to Rusty.”
Still, nothing.
A long porch stretched across the front of the house. Two windows gave a view of the den. Through the grimy pane, he could see a club chair. A bookshelf. A piano. A couch, with a high back, sat directly under the window. The room was empty.
He walked toward the steps and stopped. Then, his mind acknowledged what his eyes had seen. An arm dangled off the sofa. Lucy was in the house, but she hadn’t heard him.
He raced back to the door. Pounding on the jamb with his fist, he yelled, “Lucy. It’s Aiden. Let me in.”
Nothing.
He went to the window and looked inside. The arm was still there. Lucy hadn’t moved. He slapped the pane with his palm. “Lucy. Lucy. Lucy!”
She didn’t flinch.
Aiden’s heart pounded. He went back to the door and turned the knob. It didn’t move. “Lucy,” he yelled. “Wake up.”
Panic coated his tongue. He lifted his foot and kicked at the lock. The door swung open. Gas fumes rolled out in a wave.
Aiden rushed into the living room. Lucy lay on the sofa. Her lips were pale. He lifted her into his arms and carried her outside. He laid her on the lawn and pressed his fingers to her wrist.
Nothing.
He shifted his fingers and tried again.
Still, nothing.
He gripped her other wrist, pressing his fingertips into her flesh.
He couldn’t find a pulse.