Chapter 47
Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d come up here to hunt.
Not since his daddy had died eight years ago.
Ray never had cared much for hunting, but his daddy had loved the sport.
Though he had considered hunting a definite sport, Ray’s old man never targeted anything he didn’t intend to eat.
Raymond Hale Sr. had insisted it was the only right way to do it.
Ray had come to this secluded place since then.
Recently, in fact. But the visit had nothing to do with hunting.
He had met her here, in this cabin that his daddy and granddaddy had built more than half a century before, to discuss the possibility of Clint Austin’s impending release.
She’d been adamant that Ray had to do something to stop the process.
A smile nudged the corners of his mouth upward. He’d reveled in telling her that it was too late. Way too late. She’d just have to deal with it.
In fact, Ray had worked extra hard to ensure that last brief to the appeals court filed by Clint’s lawyer had everything necessary to ensure a new trial was granted. He did this partly to make her life miserable. But mostly he’d done it because it was the right thing to do.
Austin had paid enough . . . more than enough. All total by the time the conviction was overturned, he’d spent ten years in that shithole prison.
Ray had hoped that being supportive of Clint and fighting for his freedom would relieve some of the guilt he felt, but it hadn’t.
Not even a little bit. Especially after it was clear that Clint wanted more than his freedom—he wanted the truth and that was the one thing he could not have.
Ray stared past the buildup of new dust and old pollen on the cabin window, some part of him appreciating the gorgeous view he’d taken for granted so many times.
There wasn’t a better view to be found than from this cabin resting on the shoulders of the Cumberland Mountains, overlooking the verdant valley and the small, farming town of Pine Bluff.
He and his family should take the time to enjoy it more often.
If he and Sarah got past this standoff.
His wife thought he was getting too involved in Clint’s problems. She didn’t understand. There were things she didn’t know. If Ray had his way, she would never know.
“Well, isn’t this just like old times?”
Ray wheeled around to face her, fury instantly clenching in his gut.
“I’ve questioned Troy.” He went straight to the point, ignored her stupid question. “He denies having anything to do with the fire.”
She flicked him her usual why-would-I-give-a-shit glance. “And you would be telling me this for what reason?”
The move was so fast . . . so unexpected that it startled even him. He was in her face, glaring down at her feigned look of wide-eyed innocence. “Don’t even fucking act like you don’t know why.”
“Are you threatening me, chief?”
He wanted to kill her. The realization hit him so hard and furiously that he shook with the impact of it.
It was the first time he’d allowed the thought to fully form in his brain.
The devil himself couldn’t possibly be more evil than this woman.
She should have been the one to get murdered instead of Keith.
“Yes,” Ray said frankly, with all the menace he had harbored for more than a decade. “I am threatening you.”
She smiled, a purr of pure satisfaction passing over those vile red lips. “That’s what I thought.”
She had the nerve to flatten her palms against his chest and glide them up to his shoulders. He stiffened with revulsion. “You know how excited I get when you act rough with me.”
Narrowly suppressing the impulse to turn thought into action, he encircled her wrists and wrenched her hands away.
“You were my first mistake, my biggest mistake,” he said bluntly. “I should have recognized you for what you were before someone died.”
Her smile was patient, so sweet it made him want to vomit up the acid churning in his gut. “I’m certain you don’t mean that, Ray. I remember how you loved to have me and one of your buddies . . .” Her smile turned poisonous. “. . . at the same time.”
She inclined her perfectly coiffed head, totally unaware that he barely, barely held on to a semblance of calm. Or maybe she did know and that was part of the thrill for her. The urge to end this now was almost overwhelming.
“Tell me, Ray, was it more fun to have me on my knees in front of you or did you prefer one of your buddies like Caruthers? I’m sure there are people who would love to see that. We can call it Cops Out of Uniform.”
His fingers were around her throat, squeezing, before he could stop the instinct. “That was your doing,” he growled, his voice echoing in the room like a wild animal’s.
She didn’t fight him, just relaxed in his hold as if she welcomed his brutality.
Whore . . . she probably did.
He released her. She swayed . . . caught her breath.
“Do you know what happened to Keith?” The words raged out of Ray. The reality of what he had allowed to go on . . . to happen . . . ripped like a bullet through his heart.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Of course I don’t know what happened to him! Don’t you have any evidence? Any suspects? Good God, Ray, what’re you doing about this?”
Lies. Shift the focus to someone else. He didn’t know why he even bothered to question her. “Are you responsible for what happened at Clint Austin’s home?”
Every single muscle in Ray’s body was rigid with the wrath he’d suppressed for far too long. That she could still, despite the circumstances, arouse him made him want to tear that traitorous organ from his body.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sniffed. “Your accusations are becoming tedious, Ray.”
His mouth twisted so tautly for one instant that speech proved impossible. Finally the words spewed from him. “You fooled me once. It won’t happen again.”
She rested her hands on her silk-clad hips. “You act as if I’m one of your suspects. I won’t put up with that again.”
Everything inside him . . . every cell . . . every molecule . . . went utterly still. “I will do the job right this time,” he warned.
“I’m finally happy, Ray,” she pleaded, her voice cajoling. “Don’t try to ruin it for me.”
The sound of her begging made him sick. “Final warning,” he growled, barely holding on to his composure, “I’m watching. You in particular.”
Clint had suffered a terrible price but there was no changing the past. Here and now was Ray’s current concern. There would be no more mistakes.
Satisfied that she had nothing more to say, he brushed past her. “Lock up when you leave.”
Ray walked out the door without looking back, crossed the porch, and started down the steps feeling liberated for the first time in years. She was no longer going to manipulate him.
A blunt object connected with the back of his skull, and he plunged face down in the dirt. He tried to push himself up from the ground, but his body would not obey the commands from his brain.
Hands rolled him onto his back. His eyes refused to open . . . his arms wouldn’t thrash against the threat. The pain in his skull throbbed, showering the backs of his closed lids with pinpoints of light.
Suddenly he was moving. Hands tugged at his arms. His heels dragged in the dirt. What the hell?
He was lifted, hefted, and shoved until his jaw flattened against fabric. His body felt crumpled in an odd position. The familiar scent nudged him. His truck? It smelled like his truck. How had he gotten into his truck? Then he remembered the hands . . . the tugging and pushing.
Why couldn’t he move or open his eyes? He felt heavy.
Head trauma. He recognized the signs. Concussion . . . no, something worse. Way worse. He needed to call for help. Where was his cell phone?
Something wet dampened his shirt . . . his jeans. Was he bleeding?
His mind faded. He fought the nothingness edging out his thoughts. He had to hang on! Had to fight.
Something pungent, stinging, assaulted his senses.
Gasoline? He struggled to analyze the new intrusions against his failing senses. The sound and smell of a match lighting? Awareness was diminishing.
Focus! Don’t let go!
A new odor penetrated the darkness and denial swallowing up his brain . . . something burning . . . he’d smelled it before . . . human flesh searing . . .
He was on fire.