Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
A text message from Chris pops up just as I’m leaving my office to meet my first patient.
Are we still on for tomorrow night?
I could pack us a picnic too
Shit! The summer concert. I completely forgot. My face burns when I think about what I need to tell him. How has it already been two weeks since we met for coffee?
“What’s wrong?” Vivian asks from the nurse’s station, her eyes tensing.
I flip my phone screen down, like doing so can somehow make this icky situation go away.
“I have to—” I release a quick sigh “—break some bad news.”
She frowns. “A patient? I can help, if you want.”
“No, it’s, uh, personal.”
“Ohh,” she says, nodding slowly. “Man trouble?”
“Something like that.”
She grimaces. “Wish I could help, but I’ve sworn off dating for good.”
Vivian’s self-proclaimed Do Not Disturb status regarding men piques my interest, but I’m careful not to pry. In the year we’ve worked side by side, I know only that she moved here from Portland a year before I took over for Dr. Boone, that she dotes on her adorable seven-year-old son, Mateo, and she knits socks for soldiers in her free time.
Sepp strolls in with a bag from Glory Holes and a cardboard tray holding three coffees.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask, giving him a curious smile.
“It’s Vivian’s birthday,” he says, his brown eyes playful.
Vivian clenches her hands in her lap, as if to keep them still. “Um, no, it’s not.”
Sepp shrugs. “Then I’m claiming it as National Celebrate Vivian Day.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re nuts.”
Sepp unloads the coffees on the counter. “Black coffee with cream for Dr. Greely, an English Breakfast with milk for everyone’s favorite pediatric nurse.” He gives Vivian a wink. “Black coffee for me. And donut holes for everyone.”
Vivian cradles her cup, her eyes sparkling. “Did you happen to get those ones with cinnamon cocoa on the outside and vanilla cream on the inside?”
“You know it,” Sepp says, whipping out napkins.
“Thank you, Sepp,” I say, digging in the bag for a donut hole. To my delight, they’re still warm. “This is so sweet.”
He settles into his chair next to Vivian with his coffee and logs into his computer. “Sweet for the sweet.”
I pop the donut hole into my mouth, then take a slow sip of the coffee. Glory Holes always has the best French roast, and after being kept up half the night by a farm hand with the world’s most incredible cock, the extra caffeine is going to do me good. It’s only when I drop my coffee off in my office that I remember Chris’s text.
Wincing, I type out a quick reply.
Forgive me but an old friend came into town for a few days. Can I catch the next one?
His reply zips back almost immediately, as if his phone was already in his hands.
Sure thing
I heave a sigh of relief, then silence my phone and set it on my desk. But as I head into the exam room, I realize how unfair this is.
Whether Hutch leaves tomorrow or a week from now, I won’t be capable of going on a date with someone new. I’ll be lucky to get out of bed. Before heading into the exam room, I place my hand over my heart and force in a series of breaths. I’m sorry , I tell her. I should have listened to you.
By the end of the day, the worries I’ve pushed aside feel like little knives poking at the edge of my thoughts. Once I’m in my car, I decide it’s time to call in reinforcements. Sofie picks up on the second ring.
“Hey!” she says, sounding so cheerful. “I was just about to call you. Dad says Julip and Cocoa are getting sassy. I was thinking we could take them on a trail ride on Saturday.”
Under normal circumstances, I would jump at this opportunity. “That sounds fun.”
“Okay, what’s wrong?”
“Hutch and I…” The rest of the words get stuck in my throat. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this again, but…”
“Oh, honey,” Sofie says.
“I can’t seem to walk away. ”
“Do you want to?”
“No. Maybe?”
“Have you talked about it?”
A dry chuckle crawls up my throat. “Not exactly.”
The line buzzes with a heavy silence. “How can I help?”
“Be there to put me back together when he leaves.”
“Oh Aves, you know I’m always here for you.”
I heave a heavy sigh.
“I’m taking Curren to the park in a little bit. Jesse and Skye are coming too. You want to join us?”
My heartstrings give a tender little twang. Being around my friends and their littles is good medicine. “I might stop by. I have an errand to run first.”
“Okay. Hang in there, yeah?”
“Yeah.” We end the call and I start my engine, then pull out of the parking lot. After stopping at the corner farm stand on the way to the cemetery for a pretty bouquet, I drive beneath the arch and follow the narrow, quiet drive to the section where Marin is buried.
The early afternoon sun seems to be touching everything with gold, giving the lush, green grass and the giant, leafy trees a vivid sharpness, like the colors are alive. Or maybe it’s a startling contrast given my location. When I park, the soft chatter of birds adds to the peaceful ambiance.
As I step from my car, the scent of earth and grass and something faintly sweet, like lilac hits my senses. Though the sun feels warm and I’ve thrown on a sweater over my work clothes, I can’t help the shiver that travels over my skin. I lift the bouquet from the seat and lock my car, then cross the paved road to the headstones and grave markers spaced in neat rows. Beneath my feet the grass is soft, almost squishy, making me regret not bringing my boots.
This makes me think of Hutch, and these past few weeks of working side by side in the barn or the pasture, the laugher and teasing and stolen kisses that have led to the most passionate moments of my life. And the looming heartbreak waiting for me on the other side when it ends .
Even with my friends Sofie and Kirilee to lift me up, how will I ever move past losing him?
Marin’s grave is located on the other side of a giant sequoia, the earth freshly shifted to make way for the casket now six feet underground.
The headstone is an ornately carved stone cross with her full name, Marin Grace Lambert , her short life span, and the simple phrase:
Taken too soon
A breeze shifts the branches of the sequoia, sending a few needles drifting down. The grounds here are immaculate. On my drive in, I passed two separate groundskeepers, busy with their rakes and tools.
Marin’s grave is heaped with flower bouquets like mine and potted violets and miniature lilies, candles, a few stuffed animals, and hand-written messages and several picture frames. One must be Marin and her younger brother that I remember from that afternoon at Wolf Creek—they have the same eyes. Another shows Marin and friends at what looks like a Finn River High School Falcons football game, all of them decked out in face and body paint and hamming it up for the camera. It’s a reminder of how young Marin was. How much of her life she had yet to live.
There’s also a large picture of her and Troy set at the base of the cross. They’re huddled close, his arm around her. Behind them, a bonfire lights up the faces of their friends. The two of them look happy, their smiles easy and full. Like they belong together. My heart twists inside my chest. How could someone do this?
Though I know Zach, Everett, and the rest of their team are following every lead to put Marin’s killer behind bars, the wound created by her murder will never truly heal. Her parents and brother and friends must feel so lost right now. As I place my roses, I spend a moment to send her family healing thoughts, and to remember Marin as the sweet girl I knew .
I stand and give the grounds one final pass, soaking in the tranquility laden with a grief I can’t shake. Leaving flowers seems futile, but I feel a little better for it. Turning away, I walk slowly back to my car, my thoughts adrift, like those pine needles on the breeze. How is Marin’s family coping? What about her friends? The image of her and Troy together tumbles end over end in my mind.
Taken too soon.
I think about the remains Hutch found in that mine shaft. What is happening to my town?
I’m halfway across the road when I notice something out of place on my car’s windshield. My senses snap to attention.
With my chest tightening, I force my feet to keep going, but I don’t get very far.
I stare at the white rose tucked under my windshield wiper.
Someone’s playing a trick, right?
Or maybe it’s someone from the grounds crew?
Without moving my head, I glance left, right. Who did this?
My breaths quicken and a cold buzzing rises through me, fast and inescapable. There’s a part of my brain screaming at me to keep walking, but I’m frozen in the road while my legs wobble and a cloud of terror wraps me in its fist. The feeling fizzles up my body. I close my eyes to block everything out but the sense of blackness swallowing me whole only gets worse.
I need to take deep breaths but the panic has a lock on my lungs.
What is happening to me? With shaking fingers, I try to find my keys, but it’s like my purse is a black hole. My fingers land on my phone. I snatch it, and in the process, drop my purse. I start to sob because this is all wrong and I’m scared.
Breathe, Ava!
Hot tears blur my eyes as I try to focus on the screen. I skim past Sofie’s number—I can’t stand the thought of disrupting her time with Curren at the park—and land on Hutch’s number. Just imagining his voice eases the darkness squeezing me tight, allowing me to get a full breath .
But in calling him, am I walking through yet another door I won’t be able to close?
He picks up on the second ring. “I was just thinking about you.”
I start to cry harder. I want him to scoop me up and hold me and never let go.
“Ava? What’s wrong?”
“I…don’t know,” I manage, my voice high and shaky. “Someone…” The panic starts to rise again, so I force out the rest, “put a rose on my car.”
“Where are you?”
“The cemetery. To visit Marin.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Okay.” My breaths are still shallow and shaky, but knowing Hutch is coming gives me something else to think about.
“Walk me backwards through your day while I drive,” Hutch says over his quick footfalls on the path.
The hum of an engine fills the background, followed by the kick of gravel under his tires. I imagine Hutch’s long driveway lined with cottonwoods and the potholes that seem to multiply faster than they get filled. I think of Louisa’s endless rows of flowers, blooming just in time for a bride’s perfect day.
“Starting when you left from work,” he adds like he knows I need encouragement.
Focusing on the details of my day in reverse takes all my concentration, and once I get going, the buzzing in my chest starts to soften and my breaths get easier. I let the steady, confident tone of his voice wash through me as he keeps me talking. By the time I get to my mid-morning consult with Dr. Boone, the hum of Hutch’s truck draws my eyes to the cemetery entrance. He turns the corner, driving fast. I start walking but it’s like wading through sludge. My legs are heavy and the air feels too big for my lungs.
He pulls to a stop and jumps down, leaving the door wide open as he races for me, his eyes wild. I crash into him and he wraps his arms around me. Clutching at his shirt, I bury my face in his chest .
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says into my hair, his arms squeezing me tight. “I’m here.”
A sob thickens in my throat and my eyes burn. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I hate being scared.”
“I know,” he says in that caring tone that fills up the deepest corners of my heart. “It’s okay.” He strokes down my hair and kisses the top of my head.
The low rumble of another vehicle approaching sends a shiver of dread through me.
“It’s only Zach,” Hutch says, like he can read my mind. “I didn’t know what we were dealing with. You said someone…” He leans back so our eyes connect. “…Baby, can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”
I swipe my cheeks, annoyed at myself. “There’s a rose on my windshield. Someone must have put it there when I was visiting Marin.”
Frowning, Hutch gives the grounds a quick scan. “Did you see anyone?”
I slump against him. “No. But he was here.”
“Who?”
I close my eyes and inhale his woodsy, earthy scent. “The man who broke into my apartment. He left a rose too.” A sob catches in my throat. “A white one. Just like this.”
“Shit,” Hutch says, and pulls me to him again. “I’m so sorry.”
Zach’s cruiser comes to a stop behind Hutch’s truck and he makes a quick radio check-in before walking over to us, his steely blue eyes tense. His expression fills with concern as he focuses on me. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Hutch keeps me against his chest, and I’m so grateful that I start to cry again.
“Someone put a rose on her car,” Hutch says. “Apparently the same kind that the jerk who broke into her place in San Francisco left behind. ”
“What?” Zach puts his hands on his hips. “Ava, you went to the gravesite, and the rose was there when you walked back? How long were you gone?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes?”
With a nod, Zach walks past us to the front of my car, then talks into his radio, his back to us.
“Do you think he could be here, in Finn River?” I ask Hutch.
He caresses my back. “No.”
I draw in a slow inhale and release it, willing my fight-or-flight system to stand down.
“Let’s sit on my tailgate while we wait.” Hutch ushers me to the back of his truck, then lowers the tailgate and gives the makeshift bench a sweep with his hand. “A little dirty, sorry.”
I smile. “It’s okay.”
He lifts me up, then slides next to me. I lean into him and he drapes his arm across my shoulders, wrapping me in his solid strength and warmth.
“Who would do this?” I ask.
He rubs my shoulder. “Either it was some innocent person who had no idea about the break-in, or it’s someone wanting to upset you.”
“But I see white roses all the time and it’s never made me feel like this.”
“Seeing it on your car, though, it triggered your memories. Who else knows about the rose?”
“The detective. My roommates.”
“Did you tell your friends? Your family?”
“No.”
He gives me a look.
“The detective told me not to. It was something he wanted to try to use to find whoever did it.”
His eyes narrow. “But he failed.”
I cover my face with my hands. “I’m starting to feel really stupid. ”
“It’s not stupid and it’s not your fault. You were terrified, Ava. I heard it in your voice.”
“Because of a silly rose,” I grumble into his chest.
Zach returns, his concerned gaze washing over me. “Is this the only time since the break-in that something like this has happened?”
“You mean a rose?”
He cocks his head, frowning. I can practically hear the gears of his thoughts grinding to a halt. “I mean anything.”
Hutch gives a soft exhale. “Your front door.”
“Wait, what?” I stammer.
“What front door?” Zach asks at the same time.
Hutch glances at me. “A few weeks ago, we came home from a run and her front door was ajar.”
“And you didn’t call it in?” Zach asks.
“It could have been me,” I protest. “I wasn’t sure. And there was nothing missing, nothing out of place.”
Zach whips out a small notebook from his breast pocket. “When was this?”
Hutch rattles off dates and times and also tells Zach about my hide-a-key rock.
Shit. Does someone know where I was hiding my key? Have they been inside my house? My stomach flutters and my face heats.
Hutch rubs down my arm. “Last night, I woke up out of the blue. Thought I heard something. I checked all the doors and windows but didn’t find the source. Then a car drove away, out of sight. I shook it off, but now…”
“Hutch,” I protest, my throat like sandpaper. “Why didn’t you say something?”
His eyes turn pained. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
Is this really happening? I gasp as the image of the dead bunny flashes into my mind. “Oh no.”
Hutch’s eyes fill with alarm. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
I share the story, my words tumbling end over end .
Hutch pulls me closer to him and presses a kiss to my temple. “Ava, my god.”
Zach’s face goes still. “Do you have a Ring doorbell?”
“No.” I cover my face with my hands because this can’t be real. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Zach says, “Okay?”
“But you have a murder to solve and the mystery of those bones.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t keep you safe too,” Zach says. “I hate to say this but until we get a better understanding of what’s going on, you being alone isn’t the safest option.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Hutch says before I can protest. “Or she can stay at the farm with me.”
“Good,” Zach says, sounding relieved. “Can you leave your car here for a little while? I’m going to get to work on this.”
“Like…fingerprints?” I ask.
“Maybe,” Zach says.
“I can bring you back when Zach’s done,” Hutch says.
I slump into him. “Fine.”
“Thanks, Zach,” Hutch says.
“Everett’s heading to your house to have a look around, if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course.”
“If you think of anything else I need to know, just call.”
Hutch slides off the tailgate and helps me down while Zach trots to the trunk of his SUV.
I take one last glance at my car as Hutch helps me into the cab. When we cruise past it, I look away so I don’t have to see the rose again.
If all of these little incidents are indeed connected, what does it mean?
Does someone want to hurt me?