Chapter 10
NOAH
The look on her face is fucking priceless.
A grin stretches across my face as she drops the bloody foot, her face growing ghastly pale.
I keep my back shoved against the bar wall adjacent to her and watch as Rue struggles to regain any sense of calmness.
A strangled noise comes from her throat, and I tilt my head, wondering if she might pass out.
Poor thing. It’s so hard to carry all those secrets.
“What the fuck,” she whispers, her eyes shifting to the open laundry room door. She jumps to her feet, and then rushes toward it, slamming it closed and sliding the deadbolt.
I smile to myself. Oh Rue, you can’t keep someone out who’s already inside.
Still, I stay crouched and watch her as she delicately plucks the damn foot up from the floor and stares at it for a beat or two longer.
She takes a pained deep breath in, and then tosses the foot into the trash. “You need to quit murdering rabbits,” Rue says to Bullet, her voice an eerie kind of quiet, as she starts the water in the sink. I raise my brow at the blame shift.
What a brat.
The dog dances at her feet as she washes her hands, completely aware of my presence but uncaring for now. It’s not hard to make friends with a Beagle obsessed with rabbits. You just give him what he wants. The same could be said for most men, too, probably.
“Rue!” A voice calls from deeper in the house, jarring everyone in the room, including me. “I need that body wash!”
Fuck, I hate that woman.
My gaze jumps to Rue’s reaction, and my heart unexpectedly squeezes at the sight of her closing her eyes and letting out a ragged exhale. Her mom gets under her skin more than a fucking mangled rabbit foot and nasty note.
“Coming,” Rue chokes out, and then reaches for the bottle. Her eyes never drop back down to Bullet, the trash, or the utility room. She just grabs the bottle and leaves me alone in the kitchen with the dog, nothing but the bar between us.
She’s distracted. Maybe tortured.
I should feel vindicated by that, but I don’t. I don’t know how the fuck I feel about it, really. My mood is all over the place.
Maybe it’s a lack of food. I eye the crockpot on the counter, knowing that if I try to make a move for it, it’ll put me right out in the open. I listen in closely.
“I need you to help me wash my hair. I can’t do it on my own,” Rue’s mother snaps from the bathroom. “Then you can leave me alone.”
I can’t make out Rue’s response, the distance muffling the sound. However, I can still make out the sound of defeat. And momentarily, my mind takes me back to the way her mother would verbally wear her down over every little thing.
Love from Rue’s mother was conditional at best.
And I hate that for her. But also, she could’ve had my unconditional love.
If she would’ve just written me back.
I roll my eyes at the sensitive little bitch I’m being right now, and as a distraction from my own self, I slide around the front of the bar, and stand to my feet. I shove the crockpot lid open and reach for the spoon beside it, resting on a paper towel.
Without a care in the fucking world, I dip the spoon into the stew and then to my mouth. I chomp through a still-cold, hard potato.
Gross. I drop the spoon back down on the paper towel, and then reset the lid.
Well, sort of. I leave it askew. But just slightly.
I like the idea of driving Rue crazy in all forms of the word. I mean, yeah, I’d love to come face to face with her and actually say something, but the way she’s reacting is almost too enticing to refrain. She’s such a jumpy little thing.
It’s like she thinks there’s a ghost around here.
“Rue, I don’t know why you’re so clumsy,” her mother cuts into my thoughts, and I ease back toward the laundry room. It gives me a clean exit, if I need it. Bullet is already positioned at the front set of windows, staring out into the afternoon. He wiggles and then lets out a bark.
And that’s when I catch sight of the police cruiser tearing down the driveway.
My gut clenches. Oh no.
Part of me tells myself it’s time to make a run for it out the back, but the other part of me takes a stronger hold. I drop down to my knees, and then retreat to the spot on the other side of the bar.
“What is he barking at?” Rue’s voice carries from somewhere on the other side of the house.
I can’t hear an exchange between her and her mom, but I do catch the heavy knock on the front door. My entire body tenses, and I shut my eyes, focusing on the sounds rather than the panic building in my chest.
Panic won’t do me any good right now.
“It’s the police,” Rue’s voice falters in a satisfying way, though at the moment, it doesn’t have the impact I’d like it to.
“Well, answer it,” her mother shouts. “I’m still in the bath.”
I peer around the corner of the wall, barely able to make out the shape of Rue, and the way she’s raking her fingers through her hair. For a second, I imagine those fingers being replaced with mine…
But the sound of the door opening kills that fantasy real quick.
“Miss Iverson?” the deputy’s voice is deep and unrecognizable. I can’t see the guy, but just based on his tone, my guess is he’s young.
“That’s me,” Rue answers, albeit reluctantly. “What can I do for you?”
“We were just stopping by to inform you about an incident at the neighbor’s place.”
“Which neighbor?” Rue rushes to respond, and I furrow my brow. Rue only has one close neighbor within a quarter mile… And that’s my old place.
“The Wilsons,” the deputy answers without judgment. “Martha Wilson reported seeing a man in the loft of her barn this morning, but we couldn’t locate him. We did find a set of boot prints, which confirmed her story.”
Rue is silent for a minute, and I risk another glance. Her soft jaw is set, her lips pressed together in a flatline, eliminating the volume entirely. I can’t tell how she’s feeling.
And obviously, neither can the deputy.
“We just wanted to make everyone aware,” the deputy’s voice fills the gap. “Sometimes we have drifters around here, and the occasional illegal hunter. The fact he didn’t attack Mrs. Wilson makes us believe that he’s not much of a threat. He’s probably already moved along.”
I guess they haven’t been made aware of my prison bust.
Or maybe they just don’t think I’d end up here again.
That relieves some of the tightness in my chest, giving me a little hope that maybe this town has forgotten my face, at least.
“Do you happen to know what he looked like?” Rue asks, her voice maintaining that same eerie calmness that it had when she spoke to the dog.
“Uh…” The deputy pauses before continuing. “The description was pretty vague. Just a man, probably over six feet, had a dark beard, athletic build but not skinny. Had on jeans, boots, and a dark coat.”
“Well, that’s almost any man in this town,” Rue states the obvious, her voice sounding almost annoyed. “But why would someone be in the woods this time of year? It’s freezing.”
“I don’t know.” The deputy sounds like he’s caught off guard.
Rue has that way about her.
“Okay, well, thanks for the information,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll keep it in mind, if I go outside or whatever.”
“Again, I don’t want to scare you,” he urges.
“I’m not,” she snaps, and then moves to close the door. “Have a good day, Deputy.” As soon as it clicks shut, she lets out a massive breath, as if the man just fully ruined her day. She angles her body toward Bullet, who’s sitting and staring up at her.
“At least they didn’t come for me,” she says, her voice barely audible. “I swear, I hate being in this stupid fucking town. It makes me feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Rue! Come tell me what the police had to say.”
“Okay.” Rue angles her body toward the hall, and then starts toward the bathroom.
“Was it about the escapee?”
Rue freezes mid-step. “What? What escapee?”
“Oh, nothing,” her mom quickly replies. “Tell me what he had to say.”
I lean my head back against the wall, my stomach rolling as Rue starts in about the drifter in Martha Wilson’s barn.
I tune it out, my brain still swimming with the knowledge that Rue’s mother has—and is withholding. Someone knows I’m out, and I have no idea why she’s keeping that information from her daughter.
There has to be some ulterior motive behind it.
Because I know for damn sure, it’s not out of the kindness of her heart.