Chapter 20 Grayden
TWENTY
Grayden
I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, tilting my head this way and that as I studied the sketch in front of me. My charcoal pencil moved across the paper, tracing the outlines of familiar peaks and valleys.
I’d started this sketch without a clear picture in mind. But here I was, drawing Silver Ridge. My hometown for some of the best and worst moments of my entire life. Inescapable.
Wasn’t enough that I was back living here now. This place had taken root in my psyche once again, as if I’d never left.
Because this had always been home.
I let inspiration guide me. Added buildings along the base of the mountains. More details made the structures recognizable as the quaint architecture of Main Street. Silver Linings Coffee materialized prominently in the foreground, more detailed than the rest. Because of course it did.
At least I hadn’t just drawn a dozen portraits of her. Piper smiling and holding out a cup of coffee. Piper with a sarcastic smirk, hair in a bun with wisps framing her face. Piper with her arms crossed and a bossy, I-mean-business frown on her full lips.
This is sad, O’Neal. How much more evidence do you need that you’ve got it bad?
Sitting back, I stretched my arms up until my spine cracked. I’d gotten lost in my work for a while, and that had felt good, even if being hunched over wasn’t so great for my back these days.
I was in the front room of the house, sitting at my thrift-store table that would eventually serve as my studio’s front desk. The laminate flooring was in place now, and it looked damn great if I said so myself. The walls were freshly painted.
I’d even hired a guy to paint the exterior siding on the cheap, and he was scheduled for next week, weather permitting.
As for these sketches, I’d been trying to brainstorm ideas for the big blank wall behind me.
It would be the first thing clients saw as they came in.
A crucial first impression. Not just a chance to show off my art style, but to make clients feel welcome and let them know they were in good creative hands.
And the best I could come up with was the landscape outside my door? The same view everybody around here saw every single day?
If I was going to be a cliche, I might as well just come up with a clever variation on the Colorado flag for the mural. People around here ate that kinda thing up. I could work the name of my studio into the design too.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a name for my studio yet either. Another annoying detail.
Incarcerated Ink? Convicted Custom Tattoos?
Sorry, my dark humor was out this morning, it seemed.
A knock at the front door pulled me out of my thoughts. I lifted my head, heart thrumming hopefully.
Despite daily trips to Silver Linings since Ollie’s skateboarding fall, I still hadn’t seen much of Piper. But if that was her at my door, my day was about to get a lot brighter.
To my epic disappointment, I did not find Piper on my doorstep.
My expression tightened as I glanced over the three men standing outside. None of them were smiling.
“You Grayden O’Neal?” the one in front asked. He was dark-haired, a bit shorter than me, wearing a black leather jacket. The other two flanked him, like he was their leader.
I lifted my chin, keeping one hand on the door. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”
“You’re Ashford’s older brother, right?” the leader said.
The guy on his left was stocky, a spark plug in his Harley Davidson sweatshirt. And the one on the right was straight-up massive, with a mountain-man beard and a brown leather vest over a short-sleeved tee despite the cold.
Fuck. I hadn’t experienced any kind of issues with the neighbors so far, but I still got dirty looks everywhere I went in Silver Ridge. Were these guys about to give me the You’re not welcome here talk?
“Look.” I leaned against the doorframe, going for casual. “If you’re here to run me out of town, you should know other people have already tried and failed. I’m not going anywhere.”
The middle guy in the leather jacket blinked.
Then he laughed, a genuine bark of amusement that completely changed his face. The tension in my shoulders eased a fraction.
“That’s definitely not why we’re here,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m Milo. You and I went to high school together, but I guess that’s true of most people around here.”
He offered his hand, and I took it.
“Nice to see you, Milo.” Though I couldn’t remember him at all. Not that I’d been Mr. Popular or everyone’s friend back then. But high school had been before. Some things just weren’t as clear all these years later.
Milo jerked his thumb at his companions. “And this is Zach and Earl. They have resting angry faces, but don’t believe it. They’re both softies.”
The big one with the beard, Earl, cracked a slight smile. The guy in the Harley-Davidson sweatshirt, who was apparently Zach, just rolled his eyes.
“We work at the motorcycle shop the next street over,” Milo said. “Thought we’d stop by and say hello. You’re opening up a tattoo joint?”
“Yeah.” I hadn’t told that many people aside from Piper, Grace, and Callum, but word had a way of traveling. “A studio. Appointment-only kind of place.”
“High class,” Milo said.
“Not sure I can pull off high class, but we’ll see. Probably another month or so until I can open, but I’ve made a lot of progress. Any of you in the market for some ink?”
“Seems likely.” Milo grinned. “We’ve been trying to convince Earl to get his first.”
“I have a low pain tolerance,” the big, gruff man muttered.
Zach elbowed him. “He’s our delicate flower, this one.”
“See?” Milo said. “Softies.”
I hooked a thumb at the room behind me. “You’re welcome to come in and check out the space.”
“We’re not bugging you?” Milo asked.
“Nah, I could use a break from the monotony.”
Their appearance had been unexpected, but this was promising. My first potential clients.
The front room looked a thousand times better than the first time I’d walked in here, but there was still plenty to do before this place looked like an actual business.
Over the last few days, I’d been taking boxes of Mrs. Landry’s old stuff to donate or thrift. But I’d triple-checked all of it carefully. No sign of any jewelry.
No word from Piper about Danny either.
In truth, I was in a holding pattern. Slowly moving forward on the studio, but with my head unable to focus on much except Piper.
“This is the old Landry place, right?” Milo asked.
“Yep. I’m renting from Piper Carmichael.”
My belly swooped just from saying her name. I was ridiculous.
“According to Piper, the previous renter was a quilter who never met a piece of fabric she didn’t want to keep,” I said.
“I’ve got boxes of the stuff in the back bedroom, but not totally sure who might want it.
I tried a thrift store, and they said they don’t take scrap fabric. Donation didn’t want it either.”
Earl perked up. “Fabric? Quilting cotton?”
I brushed a hand over my beard. “Uh, I guess? Lots of colors and patterns. Why?”
“Fat quarters?”
I stared at him. “No clue what that means. But if you know anyone who might be interested, feel free to take a look. I’d love to get rid of it all.”
“Uh oh,” Zach said. “Earl, don’t you already have a ton of fabric you haven’t used yet?”
“Motto of quilters everywhere,” Earl replied. “There’s no such thing as too much fabric.”
I pointed toward the hall. “Help yourself. Back bedroom, stack of boxes against the wall.”
Earl headed that way immediately. Zach trailed after him while making some comment about Earl’s Pinterest account.
I turned to Milo, and he laughed at my expression.
“Didn’t expect him to be a quilter, right?” Milo asked. “Earl looks like he’s more likely to bash heads than sit behind a sewing machine. But it’s the opposite.”
“Well, more power to him. I’m familiar with people making assumptions about me. It’s annoying as fuck. You three work on bikes for a living?”
“Yep, plus buy, trade and sell. You ride?”
I shrugged. “Not for a long time. Since my Army days.” My teeth dug into the inside of my lip as I considered how to say this next part. “I’m guessing you’ve heard about my record?”
“Sure, man. What else are small towns for, but making sure everyone knows everyone else’s business? But we don’t care about that shit.”
I nodded gratefully, and was even more grateful when Milo didn’t ask for my story. Instead, he stopped by my desk, angling his head to look over the sketch I’d been working on.
“Damn, this is good. You drew it?”
“Yeah. Trying to come up with ideas for a mural.” I gestured at the large blank space that was just begging for artwork. “I’d like it to double as decor and showing off what I can do.”
“You do all your own designs?”
“Sure.” I pulled up my sleeve, showing him the ink on my left arm. Geometric patterns interwoven with flowers and vines and trees.
Milo leaned in, examining the work. “Fantastic.” He pushed up his own sleeve, revealing the tribal designs on his forearm. “Got these a while back, and I’d love to add to it, but I want something more unique next time.”
“Well, once I get this place up and running, you know where to find me.”
“I’ll take you up on that.” He glanced around the room again. “You need help with any of this? I can do a little plumbing work. Maybe you could give me a discount when I want to get some ink done.”
My grin was genuine. “Absolutely.”
Milo pulled out his phone. “Give me your number. We’ll set something up.”
Damn, had I actually made a friend? Aside from Piper, Milo would be my first in Silver Ridge since my return.
We exchanged contact information, and I was just starting to think this whole neighbor thing might actually work out when Earl walked back into the room carrying a cardboard box.
He dropped it on the floor with a heavy thud. Zach followed behind him, and both of them had stormy looks on their faces.
“The hell is this?” Earl grunted out.
“What?” Milo said, strolling over. “You don’t like the fabric selection? Geez, how picky can you be?”
I was equally incredulous. What were these two scowling about?
Then Milo went over to the box and looked inside. His expression turned hard. He looked up at me. “You want to explain this?”
Okay, they were making me nervous.
I moved closer and looked down into the box.
A rectangle wrapped in clear plastic lay on top of the fabric. A brick of white powder, compressed and sealed.
The hell?
My stomach dropped. “That’s not mine.”
“Right,” Zach said. “It just appeared in your house by magic. I’m not judging anybody’s recreational use, but this is enough for felony intent to distribute.”
Waves of nausea-inducing heat rolled over my skin.
“I’m serious. That wasn’t there the last time I went through these boxes.
” I looked at Milo, willing him to believe me.
“That was a few days ago. I was sorting through all of this after someone broke in, and there was nothing but fabric and sewing supplies and stuff that belonged to Piper’s mother. ”
“Someone broke in?” Milo’s tone was skeptical.
“Yeah. Danny Carmichael. Piper’s ex. He ransacked the place looking for something.”
“You suggesting he planted this?” Earl’s voice was flat.
“I don’t know. I went through all this stuff as I was cleaning it up. But…” I ran my hand through my hair, my mind racing. I’d been here almost every day. But not every hour. There’d been gaps.
Could Danny have done this?
Racing into the back bedroom, I went to the window.
“Wouldn’t have been hard to jimmy that lock open,” Milo said behind me. He must’ve followed me in.
The lock on the frame wasn’t latched. I was sure I hadn’t left it like that. And Milo was right. The thing was an old piece of junk.
Of course, plenty of things around this house were falling apart. Replacing all the window locks was on the endless list of things I hadn’t done yet.
I turned around. “Look, you know I have a criminal record.” I heard how defensive I sounded and hated it. “I’m here to get my life back on track, not wind up in prison again.”
Milo’s expression was uncertain. But finally, he nodded. “I have a cousin who was dealing, and he was throwing off shifty vibes I could sense a mile away. I don’t get anything like that from you.”
At least one of them believed me. But that still didn’t solve my problem.
“Hey, we’ve got company,” Zach called out from the living room.
Fuck, what now?
When Milo and I returned to the front of the house, Zach was peering out the window toward the street. “This ain’t good.”
A Silver Ridge PD vehicle had just pulled up in front of the house.
Icy cold shot through my veins.
My mind worked frantically. This was a setup. It had to be. Danny had broken in before. He could’ve come back, planted the drugs, and then made an anonymous call to the police. It was exactly the kind of move a guy like him would pull.
I can destroy you if I want, O’Neal.
And I was the idiot who hadn’t taken him at his word.
“Wherever that brick of powder came from,” Milo said quietly, “you’d better get rid of it. Right now.”