Chapter 12
Liam
Gravity – John Mayer
The noise of machinery and the deep growl of men talking as they worked was sweeter than a church choir. It was the sound of progress. The vibrations under my feet comforting.
“And you have no idea who they are?”
Joe adjusted his gun belt and shook his head.
“Nope. No known match with DNA and no dental records. All forensics could tell me was that the remains were of a male and they’d been deceased for about ten years and died from a blunt force trauma to the back of the head.
” The clinical way Joe delivered the facts made my skin crawl.
Ten years wasn’t that long. Someone had to be missing whoever that was.
Someone had to be wondering where they went.
I knew how it felt to have someone leave and never come back. I knew that pain and despair.
“Are you going to continue the investigation?” I asked, hopeful, watching as James yelled at one of the guys for not wearing a hard hat. “And what about it being on the mayor’s family land?”
He sighed, and I knew he’d be more than frustrated they hadn’t been able to identify the remains. We’d been friends a long time, since he walked over and asked Nate and me if he could join our game of Horse on the town court.
“We’ll do our best,” he told me. “But ten-year-old remains with no clear clue as to who they are, it’s not looking good.
The historical missing persons we have don’t match.
Like I said, it was a male and was around six feet tall.
I’ve got one of my guys checking the national database, but,” he groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face, “he doesn’t have a lot to go on as you can imagine.
As for where you found it,” he raised a skeptical brow.
“Their land starts another ten feet further along.”
“Really?” The Rogers family were known around the area, and not for being honest philanthropists. There were even rumors about the mayor, Anderson Rogers’ daughter, being on the take.
“Yeah, saw the land registry and the deeds. Felix Sutcliffe bought the stretch of land about twenty years ago.”
“Why buy a stretch of land and then leave?” Felix Sutcliffe had owned the land of the hotel site but left it nineteen years ago to live in Australia with his son. He left it and his house to fall into disrepair, then when he passed away last year his son sold it. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He pulled his shoulders back, hand going to his hip over his gun again. “And of course we can’t ask Felix. All I know is that he was long gone when that body was buried there.”
A chill ghosted over my skin as I imagined the poor soul being dumped into the shallow grave with the silence of the earth swallowing them up. “Have you spoken to the Rogers family? To the mayor?”
“You know I can’t really talk about this, Liam.” He tapped a finger against my chest. “But safe to say they all claimed no one has been over this side of the land for years.”
Thistles, brambles, and hedgerow spilled across the patch of land, but whether it was ten years of overgrowth, I had no idea.
“I know what you’re thinking, Liam,” Joe warned. “But leave this to us.”
Slapping his shoulder, I chuckled. “Hey, I’m happy digging holes and building walls. I’m just glad we can get back to work.”
“Sorry it took us so long to get the area cleared, buddy. I’m down two deputies, who aren’t going to be replaced, and there was a suspicious death near Telluride, so forensics were tied up there for a couple of days.”
“The cost of county finance cuts?”
“Yeah, something like that.” He looked like he wanted to say something, but always the professional, he cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t forget about Friday. Nate is home.”
“Yep, I’ll be there.” He gave me a raised eyebrow, skeptical because I’d cried off the last couple of times. “I will. I swear.”
“See you there, usual time.” He waved over his shoulder and strode away with all the swagger and confidence of a man in charge.
“Oh, and get Cole to bring his training whistle, if he can get a bunch of fifteen-year-olds to listen to him then he should be able to keep you and Nate from arguing over a game of pool.”
As I watched him get into his squad car, movement near the hotel caught my attention.
I jolted, my pulse spiking as blonde hair caught the sunlight and for one breathless moment, I thought it was Charity.
The anticipation that shot through me was swift and electric, followed by the crash of disappointment so sharp it left me hollow.
The stranger moved with ordinary steps, nothing like Charity’s purposeful grace that seemed to light up whatever space she occupied.
Taking a breath, anticipation drumming against my ribs with the force of a sledgehammer, I took a moment to consider what that meant. A beat to understand why now after all this time I hadn’t woken with my head full of Ezra or even Mallory.
For the first time in years, I hadn't woken to the familiar weight of grief pressing against my breastbone.
Instead, my first conscious thought had been Charity—wondering if she'd slept, if she’d been up pacing her house in those ridiculous rain boots, worrying about Faith.
The realization should have terrified me.
Instead, it felt like drawing breath after years underwater.
Moving in the direction of the onsite office, I pulled out my phone ready to dial Mrs. Rodriguez but stopped myself.
It wasn’t my place, and I didn’t need to be involving myself in someone else’s business.
Charity Dawson’s business. But something about Charity pulled at the goodness buried inside of me.
The part that cared about people. Something in my gut pulled tight, and I pressed on Mrs. Rodriguez’s number.
“Hello, sweetie.”
Her voice was cheery and uplifting, always comforting, like a hot cup of coffee on a freezing morning.
“Hey, Mrs. R. How’s things going?”
“With Faith?” She chuckled softly. “She’s a challenge, but it has only been twelve hours.”
I lifted my face to the sun, closing my eyes allowing the heat to seep into my skin. “Do you need anything from me?”
“Hmm, isn’t she Charity’s sister, not yours? Something I should know?”
I detected a tinkle of laughter and shook my head, heat rising behind my eyelids. “Just being a good friend.”
“I’m guessing you mean Charity, because I’m not sure that Faith is your type. Too angry.” Her sigh made me wonder if I’d asked too much of her.
“I have a place I can take her to, if you need it.”
Mrs. Rodriguez laughed loudly, and I could imagine the way she looked when she laughed all too clearly, her head dropped back, mouth open, and eyes screwed up tight as she laughed at whatever she found amusing.
“Oh sweetheart,” she said through a breath. “You really don’t know me at all. As if one itty bitty angry girl is going to get the better of me. She’s good here, Liam so you and Charity don’t need to keep calling.”
“She’s called, too?”
“Every thirty minutes since seven-thirty.” Her gentle laughter brushed against my soul. Even so, my heart twisted as an image of a worried Charity flicked through my mind.
“She feels responsible for her.”
“Faith is a grown woman who needs to deal with the demons herself.” Mrs. Rodriguez blew out a breath. “It’s hard but she’s going to have to be brave and trust her sister.”
“But she doesn’t need to heap more pressure onto herself in the process.
” Mrs. Rodriguez’s quiet calmness and understanding of others always made her seem like a guardian angel, and I was glad that Charity and Faith now had her in their corner.
She always managed to make the ground feel less shaky. “She’ll make herself ill.”
Scratching the back of my neck I sighed, recalling the same advice she’d given me fourteen years before.
“I’ll tell her, but we’re not really that close, so not sure she’ll listen to me.”
Another chuckle. “Sweetie you don’t need to tell her anything, I get why she’s worried, but I know you’re going to check on her as soon as you end this call. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
Already considering if I had time to call Charity before my next meeting, I lied. “Nope, she’s her own person. I just offered some help last night. That’s as far as it goes.”
“Liam, sweetheart,” she said, softly. “I know you blame yourself for things in the past, but it doesn’t mean you should close yourself off to other people.”
Her words fell heavy. Like a bomb dropping. Hard and devastating, causing a growing ball of debris to form behind my heart. It pressed on my sternum until I could barely breathe.
I didn’t want to think about opening myself up. It felt like too big a step. Too much.
“I’m fine, Mrs. R.” I swallowed so hard it hurt my throat. “Trust me.”
“Oh, I trust you, Liam, you just need to trust yourself from time to time.”
As we ended the call, her words started to embed themselves in my head, but not deep enough for me to be open to accepting them. So, instead of calling Charity, I dropped her a message.
Liam
Hey Charity. Spoke to Mrs. R and everything is okay with Faith. Stop stressing and give her a couple of days before you call her again.
Yeah, maybe it was harsh, but it was necessary. I’d already spent hours the night before trying to help Charity and Faith. I had a job I needed to do and didn’t have time to spend any more of it on the Dawson sisters and their problems.
I hadn’t even got two steps toward the office before my phone rang. Shrill and piercingly insistent like a bird at dawn chorus it scraped along my nerves, setting them on edge. I already knew whoever was on the other end was angry. I could feel it in my bones.
“Charity.”
“Do you start your day deciding to be mean or does it just sneak up on you? I’m allowed to be worried about my sister.”
“Not being mean, just suggesting you let Mrs. Rodriguez do what she’s good at.” My jaw tightening, I swung around, putting my back to the noise and chaos of the site. “Calling her all the time won’t speed up the process.”
“Did she say I was being annoying by calling her?” Charity demanded. “Because if she did I’ll apologize to her.”
“No, of course she didn’t.” Regret was already starting to roll in my gut. “She has a process that works.”
Mostly.
“What if Faith—”
“Faith is in good hands. Stop stressing.”
“Well stop being mean.” She sighed heavily. “Did you eat breakfast this morning? Do I need to get you some food delivered?”
Her voice softened with genuine concern, and it hit me like a physical blow to the chest. Here I was, all sharp edges and deliberate distance, and she was worried about whether I'd eaten breakfast. The tenderness in her tone wrapped around something fragile inside me, something I'd thought was buried too deep to ever resurface.
“I’m fine, Charity,” I snapped. “I don’t need a food delivery. I just need to work.”
She paused a beat, and I waited for a barrage of abuse, but none came.
“Okay, I’ll let you get going with your day. And thanks again for helping with Faith.”
I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye because the line went dead. The silence after she hung up felt deafening. No anger, no fight, just quiet acceptance of my cruelty.
I stared at the phone, my thumb hovering over her name, wanting to call back and say everything I couldn't seem to find words for.
But she deserved better than my sharp edges and emotional walls.
Everything in me wanted to be different, but I wasn’t sure how to be anything else anymore.
How to deal and say things differently because the memories always insisted on dragging me back to the past. The day I buried my son, the day Mallory said her final goodbye, the lonely silence that swallowed everything that mattered.
Maybe it was time I stopped letting fourteen years of grief make my decisions for me.
Liam
Charity let me know when you next want to meet up about the business dinner
It wasn’t much but it felt like a hint of an apology and maybe a tiny step toward being the person I used to be.