Blood and Sympathy (25 page)

"Hey, pretty
girl." My tone was light--much lighter than I felt with the ton of bricks
sitting on my shoulders. She sat with her arms folded across her chest, watching
me through narrowed eyes. "Claire?"

"How long have
you known?"

My mouth opened but
nothing came out.

She got up and
approached me until we were standing face to face. "I asked you a
question. How long have you known your brother escaped from juvie?"

The bottom of my
stomach dropped out, and the blood drained out of my head. I pinched the bridge
of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. "Sheriff Thirtyacre told us right
away."

"And you
didn't think that news was something you should share with your
girlfriend?"

"I figured
he'd get caught, and they'd take him back. I didn't think it was anything to
worry you about."

She fisted her
hands and pounded them against my chest, pushing me back three steps. I barely
had time to steady myself before she smacked me again and again. "You
fuck. Did you ever stop to think that maybe
you're
the reason Olivia's
dead? How does that make you feel right now?"

I held up my hands
to deflect her punches. "I'm sorry."

"You're
sorry
?"
She laughed bitterly. "My sister's dead, and if I hadn't gotten away from
that sick son of a bitch, I'd probably be dead, too. And all you have to say is
'I'm sorry'?"

Tears streamed down
her cheeks. From anger, sadness, or from loathing, I couldn't say for sure, but
all that emotion was directed at me with such force that I stepped back.

"Claire, I
didn't..."

She held up her
hand. "Just shut up." She turned and bent to retrieve her duffel bag.
"I can't even look at you right now without wanting to hurt you and
physically pound you through the damn floor."

"Don't go. Please,
Claire, don't leave me."

"You make me
sick." She shook her head. "How the fuck do you think you're any
better than he is? As far as I'm concerned, you're one in the same. I have so
much hate and disgust for him that I may never be able to look at you again and
not see his face."

She moved past me
and I reached out to grab her hand. "Claire. Please."

"Get your
filthy, murdering hands off me. I hate you so much right now."

I dropped her hand.
I kept my back to her. I couldn't watch her leave, and there was nothing I
could do to stop her. She was right, and I fucking knew it.

Brogan
Sayer

We'd been driving for several hours, heading west
into Arkansas. Aja was quiet, and I sure as fuck didn't have anything to say. I
found myself looking in the side mirror every few minutes.

"Nobody's following us, if that's what you're
worried about."

I jerked my head in her direction. "I ain't
worried about nothing."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

That was the extent of our conversation. I pulled
the gun from the waistband of my pants and put it in the glove compartment. I
leaned my head back and closed my eyes. When I woke up, we were stopped at a
rest area somewhere along I-40. "Why did we stop?"

"Because I have to pee." She looked at
me like I was a frigging moron. "Get out, stretch your legs."

I walked toward the bathrooms, and she lagged
behind a few minutes before climbing out and going around to the trunk. When I
got back, she wasn't there, and the car was locked. I folded my arms across my
chest and waited.

She returned several minutes later and smirked at
me before she unlocked the door. I climbed into the passenger seat as she
walked in front of the car and got behind the wheel, but made no move to start
the car so we could get back on the road.

"What the hell we waiting for?" When I
turned to look at her, I was staring down the barrel of a gun. "What the
fuck?"

She was dangling a cell phone in her left hand.
"Claire Copeland."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "What about
her?"

"This is her cell phone. Suppose you tell me
what Claire Copeland's cell phone was doing in the trunk of my car."

"How the fuck should I know?"

"What the hell did you do, Brogan?"

"Don't worry about it. It's all good."

"I'm not the one you need to convince."
She twisted her mouth and ducked her head to look in the mirror. She thumbed
over her shoulder. "Tell it to them."

I spun around in the seat in time to see the
highway patrol car speeding toward us. "You called the cops? You fucking
called the cops?"

"Get out of my car." I hesitated, and
she shook the damn gun in my face. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now."

"Crazy bitch," I mumbled, and opened the
car door to climb out with my hands in the air.

Claire Copeland

It was late, and I
didn't know where to go, but I'd sleep in a ditch before I went back to my
dad's. Thunder rumbled overhead and flashes of lightning lit up the humid
night. It hadn't rained all summer, and now that I didn't have any shelter, it
was going to storm.

Alistair's cabin
was the only place reasonably close that I could think to go. Raindrops the
size of oranges started pelting me, and I took off running. Icy blades stabbed
my skin, but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as my heart.

I was soaked to the
bone by the time I pushed through the cabin's front door. Even the clothes
inside my bag were drenched. Thankfully, the place was empty. One more
encounter with someone who pissed me off, and I'd probably straight-up lose my
shit.

I peeled off my wet
clothes and draped them over a kitchen chair. Hopefully, they'd be dry by
morning since I didn't plan on hanging around here any longer than I had to.
There wasn't much in the way of creature comforts; it was a fishing cabin, and not
much more. I managed to find a couple towels--one to wrap around my hair and
the other to cover myself--then I searched for something to help me sleep.
Booze, weed, I didn't care. All I wanted was a few hours of uninterrupted
sleep.

One partial bottle
of vodka--the cheap shit--wasn't exactly my sedative of choice, but beggars
couldn't be choosers. I uncapped it and downed a few big gulps. On an empty
stomach, it didn't take long for the liquor to spread warmth through my veins.
I got up and propped a chair under the doorknob to help deter any unwanted
visitors, and curled up on the sofa.

There were a lot of
decisions I needed to make. Summer was coming to an end, and for so long I'd
fought against what I didn't want to do that I'd given little thought to what I
did want.

***

My eyes ached with
a minor hangover. Good thing the bottle hadn't been full. The morning sun came
up with a renewed intensity after yesterday's rain, and it didn't take long for
the cabin to become stifling hot. As humid as it was, my clothes hadn't dried
all that much, but it was time for me to get the hell out.

Jeb pulled up alongside
me as I walked toward town. He rolled down the window. "Claire?"

"Yeah?" I
kept walking, unable to look at him.

"Can I give
you a lift?"

"No thanks,
I've got it." Truth was, I wanted a ride in the worst way, but
stubbornness kept me from accepting. If it had been anyone other than Jeb, I
might have said yes.

He opened the
passenger door. "Come on, get in. I'm not taking no for an answer."

I took a deep
breath and puffed out my cheeks as I exhaled. We were clearly at an impasse.
"Fine." I tossed my duffel bag into the bed of the pickup and climbed
inside.

"Where you
want me to drop you off?"

We drove down the
main drag into Hensteeth. I had no real plans. I didn't know what I was looking
for. Just as I hoped for an idea out of the blue, a sign to hit me over the
head, Belle's and Whistles blue and white awning fluttered in the wind.
"Here, let me off at the bakery."

"I'm not one
of those buttinsky types, but this is one time where I'm going to speak my
piece."

I glanced sideways
at him and couldn't help but smile. "I kind of figured."

"I ain't condoning
what Braden did. I wish he would have told me everything from the beginning. I
hate that he kept things from both of us."

I stared at the
dirty bandage on my hand and nodded.

"He didn't
intentionally set out to hurt anyone. That boy don't have it in him to be
deceitful or hurtful. He's always wanted to see the best in everyone,
including--no especially--his lowlife brother. Don't hate him for having hope,
Claire."

I reached for the
door handle. "I'll keep that in mind, but right now I just don't think I
can forgive him."

"Everything
happens for a reason, Claire." Jeb rested his hand on my arm and squeezed.
"That's about as close to me being philosophical that you're ever going to
hear."

"You need to
find someone else to work at the bait shop." I blinked several times and
swallowed the painful ache in my throat. "Take care of yourself,
Jeb."

Belle was busy
wiping down the display cases when I opened the bakery door. She looked up from
her work. "How soon?"

"Pardon
me?"

"How soon can
you start?"

I laughed.
"Now?"

"Now's good,
but I'll give you until tomorrow."

"I'll take as
many hours as you can give me until classes start, but I'll need a place to
stay. Just a room with a couch is fine." I needed much more than that but
didn't want to overwhelm her.

She pointed toward
the ceiling. "The apartment upstairs is vacant."

"I can't
afford much." Translated, that meant I didn't have jack shit to spend.

Her face grew
serious, and I half expected her to tell me no. "Sugar, after everything
you've been through this summer, don't you dare insult me like that. You don't
have to pay me right now. Of course, after you see the dump, you may be asking
me to pay you to live there."

I grinned.
"Okay."

She waved me over.
"Come on, let's get you settled. There's an outside entrance, too, but this'll
come in handy when you're coming down to work at the butt crack of dawn."

We climbed the narrow
flight of stairs. She flipped the light switch, and I looked around.
"Please tell me there's air conditioning?"

"There
is." The front door buzzer rang downstairs and she sighed. "No rest
for the wicked. You get settled in, come on down later if you feel up to
it."

"Okay. Thanks,
Belle."

It wasn't bad.
Actually, it was pretty decent. It was clean and furnished. There was even a
washer and dryer. Once I found the thermostat and the place started to cool
off, I went to talk to Belle.

"So what's the
plan, honey?"

"I thought
maybe, if you'll let me, I could work mornings here and take some night classes
at the community college."

"Sounds like
you've thought everything through except for wheels." She measured the
flour into a mixing bowl and watched me pointedly.

"Yeah, there
is that minor problem." No one had ever told me what became of Olivia's
car. It was time to find out. "Hold that thought. I'll be right
back."

I darted out the
door on a mission to find out.

Braden Sayer

"Are you going
to try and talk to her? Tell her your side of things?" Uncle Jeb hovered
while I worked at trying to get an ancient lawnmower running.

"Don't see
much point. She made it pretty clear she hates me."

"So you're
just going to give up then?"

I glared at him. I
didn't want to talk about Claire. Not to him or anyone else. I'd fucked up and
couldn't blame her if she never spoke to me again. "I reckon so."

He shook his head
and walked away, muttering under his breath.

"Besides, I
have no idea where she went or how to even find her." I reattached the
sparkplug wire and wiped my hands on a grease rag.

"Belle's and
Whistles."

The bakery.
"I'll think about it."

Sheriff Thirtyacre
walked in, and I began sweating bullets. He nodded in my direction. "Your
Uncle Jeb around?"

"Yes, sir. He's
in the office."

"You're
probably going to want to hear what I have to tell him." He smiled, and I
felt a little better about his visit.

Uncle Jeb looked
surprised when I followed the sheriff into the office. He stood up and shook his
hand. "Sheriff, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

Sheriff
Thirtyacre's eyes shifted between Uncle Jeb and me. "Just thought you
should know, we arrested Brogan early this morning. He confessed to murdering
Olivia Copeland and kidnapping Claire."

"What's going
to happen to him now?" Not that I cared. I wanted to make sure we wouldn't
have to worry about him surprising us with another visit to Hensteeth anytime
soon.