30. Thirty
Thirty
Juliet
I quickly agreed when Henry suggested I come with him to the inn. Even with an unmarked police car outside the house, I had no desire to be alone just yet.
We definitely missed the half hour window of Henry’s estimate, but Mrs. Gregson greeted us with a broad smile that implied she understood the delay. Henry winked at me once we were alone in his office.
Covering my face with my hands, I whispered, “Do they all know that we’re . . . ?”
Another of my vague, embarrassed hand gestures had him grinning like a fool, though he tried for a look of innocence as he suggested, “Dating? Having nightly sleepovers? Making sweet, sweet love? Getting down and dirty?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, certain my cheeks were growing pinker by the second. This was yet another facet of small town life I would need to get used to. Henry bent down to kiss me, then sat behind the desk to fire up the computer.
“Yes, thank you for that, Mr. Walker,” I muttered as I sank into the chair in front of him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes, Juliet, everyone knows we’re together. Sneaking around in Spruce Hill is virtually impossible.”
“Fantastic.”
His gaze stroked over me, heating my cheeks further as memories of our morning flashed through my head. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you blush? Almost as good as when you—”
My outraged shriek cut him off, but he didn’t lose the smirk until the monitor flashed a blue screen of death at him. He scowled at the computer as his fingers flew across the keyboard, though I was grateful for the distraction.
“Maybe I can convince the new owner to upgrade these damned computers sometime soon,” he growled.
I laughed, thinking about all the ways he might convince me. Of course, he didn’t need to—if Henry thought it necessary, I trusted him to make that decision for the inn. Still, I wouldn’t mind seeing what tricks he had up his sleeve if he wanted to try to persuade me.
After a few minutes, however, I couldn’t stop bouncing my knee with the nervous energy still pent up inside me. Watching Henry growl at the computer was arguably more boring than him watching me sketch.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Computer Nerd, I’m going to take a very Victorian turn about the gardens. I saw Gerard out there weeding when we came in. I need some fresh air.”
He leaned across the desk to cup my chin in his hand, studying me with an expression that made his concern abundantly clear.
“Sure, but stick close to Gramps, okay? I’ll be as quick as I can with this. Will you tell Mrs. Gregson where you’re going, pretty please? I’ve had my fill of panicked phone calls recently.”
I caught his hand in mine and kissed the center of his palm. “Yes, I will. Good luck with the computer.”
Though I felt his eyes on me as I left the office, he didn’t say anything to stop me. I wandered into the sitting room, where Mrs. Gregson was arranging a vase of flowers. For a moment, I simply watched the older woman work, her capable hands and eye for perfection soothing my nerves.
The inn would probably never feel completely like home, not in the way the cottage had, but being surrounded by all that my grandmother had built soothed me as sweetly as a lullaby.
When Mrs. Gregson finished with the flowers, she glanced up and looked at me with such sympathy that it nearly unraveled the calm that had come over me. “How are you doing today, dearest?”
The endearment was all it took—such a little thing to pack such an emotional punch.
I covered my face with both hands and burst into tears. Mrs. Gregson’s arms came around me barely a second later, along with the kind of motherly comfort that had been absent from my life for more than half a year now.
Without shame, I accepted every soft word and gentle pat until I'd cried myself dry.
“I’m sorry,” I said with a shaky laugh as I rubbed my face with my palms.
Mrs. Gregson clucked, giving me a fond smile. “You have nothing to apologize for, darling girl. Can I get you some tea? I think there’s a tray of cookies in the kitchen. Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”
“No. Thank you for the sweet offer, but no. Henry's working on the computer, but I can’t sit still. I’m going out to the gardens. Some exercise will help settle me down, I’m sure.”
“Of course, dear. It’s such a beautiful day. I’m sorry to interrupt your weekend with the computer problems, but I’m sure Henry will have it fixed in no time. When it rains, it pours, hmm?”
“You can say that again,” I replied.
“If you need anything at all, Juliet, just say the word. We have a room here opening up tomorrow morning, if you want it. I can’t say I’d blame you for choosing young Mr. Walker’s house over a Lakeside suite, however.”
I laughed at Mrs. Gregson’s knowing smile, but she simply gave me another motherly embrace and told me to enjoy the sunshine. With a quick smile of thanks, I left through the heavy front door.
I didn’t want to stay at the inn, no matter how kind the offer was. All I wanted was for this nightmare to be over, to paint every day without a care, to make love with Henry each night, and to focus on building the life I’d been laying a foundation for here in Spruce Hill.
The gardens were blooming with an overwhelming variety of flowers, far more than when I'd first arrived. Gerard was no longer kneeling by the roses, so I meandered, slow and aimless, between the rows as I looked for him.
I paused at the tiny plaque commemorating Nan and squatted down to kiss my fingertips before pressing them to the center of the cool metal circle.
“I’m sorry about the cottage, Nan,” I whispered. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow. I promise.”
As I rose to my feet, I wondered how long it would take me to recreate the painting that had been lost in the fire, then a soft scuffing noise reached my ear. For a moment, I cocked my head, listening until it came again. I followed the sound to the far side of the garden and swallowed the lump in my throat as I remembered trailing after Gerard along this path on our way to the cottage that very first day.
When I reached the final row of flowers and still didn’t see him, I frowned. Where the hell was he?
“Gerard?” I called, peering around a hedge.
Another few steps brought me to the source of the sound: Gerard, lying face down beside a bed of violets with blood trickling from a lump near his hairline. His eyes were open, imploring, while his left arm shifted helplessly against the stones beneath him. I gasped and started toward him, but I stopped short when cold, hard metal pressed into the small of my back.
Every muscle in my body froze.
This is it , I thought frantically. This is the end, and I didn’t even say goodbye to Henry. Or Sarah. Or Libby and Mark.
My blood ran cold even as my mind raced a million miles per second, thinking of all the people I would never see again if this was the end. Those galloping thoughts were so overwhelming that I jerked in surprise when the assailant spoke against my ear.
“He’ll be fine, assuming they find him in time,” the man said, his voice strangely kind. “You, on the other hand, well. I’ve waited a long time for this. With your mother’s pretty face and that red hair, I almost blew it that day at the grocery store. Can you believe my luck?”
He laughed softly behind me, nudging the gun against my spine to direct me toward the trees. The calm, polite tone he used contrasted sharply with my panic.
For an instant, I was struck silent. Where was he taking me?
Away from the inn. The realization filled me with a sinking sense of dread.
I knew I should keep him talking, try to buy myself some time until someone realized I was missing. Even though I wanted nothing more than to sink to my knees under the weight of my terror, I recognized that forcing his hand would only lead to death.
“Your luck?” I repeated, trying to inject a note of scorn into my voice to cover the tremor of fear.
When he responded with a cold laugh, I knew I hadn’t succeeded.
“Keep walking, Juliet. I’d hate to have to finish the old man off to motivate you to do as I say.”
My heart leapt into my throat. There was no way I would risk Gerard’s life—I couldn’t. I wanted to scream, cry, plead with him, but maybe I could get away from him once we reached the woods. If I tried to run while we were still out in the open, I was no match for him or the gun.
All I could do was keep him talking and hope for a distraction when I needed one.
“Where are we going?”
“A special little place I know,” he said, guiding me with the barrel of the gun. “In fact, your boyfriend found it very special, as I recall. I would have taken your mother there, if only she hadn’t ruined things. What a lovely circle this will make, her beautiful daughter taking her place.”
He sounded so normal. The words curdled in my stomach, and I thought for one terrifying moment that I was going to be sick. If I doubled over to vomit, he might very well make good on his threat to kill Gerard.
“Did you—” I broke off, gripping my abdomen with both hands. “Are you my father?”
Heller laughed. That bizarrely normal facade evaporated into mist as a strange, high-pitched giggle burst from him.
“Oh no, that bitch ruined my plans for her when she got knocked up. I would never have pegged her for the maternal type, but I guess nature won out in the end.”
I almost went limp with relief. I hadn’t thought too deeply about sharing DNA with a murderer until that very minute. It didn’t even matter now who my father was, as long as it wasn’t this killer.
My toe caught on an uneven patch of grass and I stumbled, causing him to grab my arm in a wrenching, iron grip. This time, the cruelty of Nan’s charcoal sketch was as evident in the harsh words as it was in the painful grasp of his fingers.
“One more day and I would've had her right where I wanted her, but she went and got pregnant. The bitch refused to do what she was told. So selfless, trying to protect everyone else, but I made sure every one of the girls I took afterward paid for her sins. You won’t make that mistake, now, will you? I’d hate to have to take it out on your new little friends.”
Henry .
I’d never forgive myself if this bastard hurt Henry. Though I wanted to scream his name, all I could manage was a gasping sob. He was probably still stuck behind that big old desk in his office, unable to hear me even if I managed to shout.
Tears blurred my vision when we reached the treeline and I struggled to drag enough oxygen into my lungs.
Just hold on, I told myself. Your mother bested this son of a bitch, and so can you. Just hold on.