Hemlock Veils (11 page)

Just as she escaped the greenery, her phone vibrated in her pocket, startling her. It displayed a number she didn’t recognize, and she put it to her ear while walking south on Alder Street again, toward the main part of a semi-civilized town.

“Hey, Beth,” Brian said. “It’s me.”

“How’s it coming?”

“Looks great for the most part, but I’d rather talk in person. Where are you? Sheriff Taggart and I have been looking.” She wondered what Sheriff Taggart usually did all day in a town of no law-breakers—on days he didn’t have to contain an outsider. Suddenly, she was nervous, even though she hadn’t technically broken any rules.

“I took a walk.”

“A walk?”

She
almost
laughed. “Not through the forest. I was just taking a look around town. I’m turning back onto Clayton now, from Alder.”

“That means you saw the mansion,” he said, his tone enlightened.

“It’s…impressive.”

“It’s private. And that’s how Mr. Clayton likes it. You might not want to tell him you went snooping around his place.”

“Snooping? I was hardly snooping. I was just—”

He laughed. “It’s okay, Beth. I’m just messing with you. I’ll see you when you get here.”

She hung up with a simple goodbye, and as she neared the small and neglected Henry Street, she took a deep breath. It wasn’t that she thought Brian a bad person—in fact, most people would find his charismatic personality likable—but there was something about him that left her guarded. Perhaps it was simply because she had never let herself be wooed by any man who pursued her, and finally being free of all that used to tie her down exposed her. Part of her wished she had the excuse of her brother and job to hide behind again, just to make rejecting him that much easier.

And that thought made her heavy with grief, as well as regret that she thought it.

But something told her it wasn’t just her recent availability that made her uncomfortable with Brian. It was something about Brian himself—the way he was nothing she would ever want in a man, had she actually had enough experience to make a list. Regardless of the reason, she mentally prepared herself for the way he might use her car’s condition to his advantage. Mostly, as she walked she prepared the words she would use to reject him.

***

Brian stood outside the open garage of his shop, his navy-colored jumpsuit stained in oil. As though he’d had nothing else to do but wait for Elizabeth. He smiled, wiping his hands on a holey, stained rag and flinging it over his shoulder. “Enjoy your walk?” he asked when she reached him. Still he smiled the smile that could be owned only by Brian Dane.

“Very much,” she said, folding her arms. “So what’s the damage, Brian?”

“You’re lucky. Everything besides the alternator looks top-notch. I’m not sure where you got it, but it was in bad shape. I’m surprised it got you this far.”

She looked sheepishly to his feet. “A scrap yard is where I got it.”

“Ah. Trying to save a buck?”

She met his blue eyes, shrugging.

“Well, don’t worry. I won’t mark up your price. Tell you what, I’ll charge you what it’ll cost me to order the alternator and the very minimum hourly rate for labor, and that’s it. By the time we’re done with everything, you’re looking at two-fifty out the door. You won’t find a better deal.”

“Thank you, and I’m sure I won’t. How long will it take to get the part in?”

He rubbed the back of his neck with blackened fingertips, cringing in an overly dramatic way. “See, that’s the thing. Parts for a ’91 Saab 9000 aren’t easy to come by. I found a place that could get it to me in two days, and with it being the weekend that’s a miracle. So…looks like you’ll be sticking around for a while. Sorry, Beth.”

There it was. Secretly, she jumped for joy. Not because she would get to see Brian again, of course, but because a couple more days would be good for her cause in trying to win over the town. Or at least Taggart and Mr. Clayton. How she would do that, she didn’t know. A small part of her said to stay holed up in her motel room for the next couple of days, then leave town the very moment her car was ready, as she was sure Taggart would want.

“Thank you, Brian,” she said, trying not to smile too cheerfully. She retreated when he seemed to pick up on her excitement, a smile of his own twitching the corner of his mouth. “I’ll let you get to it.”

***

Elizabeth sat on the edge of her springy bed, staring out the large motel window. Tonight rain didn’t obstruct her view, only darkness. People probably mingled at the diner right now, maybe even talked about her. It was strange, and perhaps detrimental, that she would rather stare at trees in hopes of seeing the monster than chit-chat over a horribly bitter cup of coffee.

She stood, put on her light jacket, stuffed her motel key into her pocket, and left her room. Alone at the top curve of Red Cedar Loop, she took slow steps toward the diner. It was true what she’d said that morning, strange or not, about how she felt safe in these woods. Thoughts of that haunting wind from earlier, as well as this darkness, threatened that safety ever so slightly, but her mind and eyes adjusted quickly. She paused at the corner instead of crossing Clayton Road, when that same awareness of watching eyes hit her. Directly behind her, his stare felt like a physical pressure against her back. He was close.

She tried putting herself in Nicole’s shoes, ever so briefly; even Holly Farrell’s. Had they felt the same awareness before they’d been taken? Had there been any curiosity in them as they’d made eye contact with him, or had every emotion or thought been flooded by pure, unbridled fear?

Elizabeth turned, slowly. The chill up her spine left her wary, but curiosity—and the same amazement from the night before—won out. A branch cracked and leaves rustled a short distance ahead. She made out the large black silhouette of his mass, rising against a tree no more than ten feet away. He breathed, slow and deep.

She stepped closer, fighting her urge to run, and touched the trunk of a cedar, damp from the absence of sunshine. Again, the mysterious instinct that guided her confirmed he wouldn’t harm her. So why didn’t he take her? Why would he take someone like Nicole, and not her? Did her lack of fear threaten him? And why did he take Nicole in the first place, if his intention wasn’t to harm her?

“Beth?” Regina said from behind, interrupting her many questions. With a violent shake in the trees, the beast was gone. Elizabeth turned. “Is that you?” Across the street, Regina folded her arms over her uniform and stood in front of the diner, peering in Elizabeth’s direction.

Elizabeth crossed the street, reluctantly. “Yes, it’s me.”

Regina sighed and placed a hand to her heart, relaxing her shoulders. “Good Lord, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you doing out here anyway?” She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “And by the trees?”

“Nothing, I was just—”

“I swear.” She glanced around to make sure they were alone. “If Sheriff Taggart finds out…”

“What’s he going to do, put me in jail?”

With a hand on her hip, she harrumphed. “You’d be surprised.”

“He’s not going to find out, okay?” She made eye contact. “Right, Regina?”

Sighing, Regina lowered her shoulders. “I like you, Beth. You just worry us, you know.”

“I thought I heard something in the trees. I didn’t know if someone was there. I wasn’t going to go in.”

Regina’s voice returned to that harsh whisper. “You
heard
something? Heaven’s sake! You could’ve been taken! I don’t think you realize—”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. It was careless. It just might take me some time to get used to the rules.”

She narrowed her stare. “You say that like you’ll be staying some time.”

“You mean Brian hasn’t told the whole town by now?”

Her laugh was clipped, nearly a snort. “Usually would, but he ain’t in here tonight.”

“Is that normal?”

“It is when Nicole ain’t working.” Regina pulled a cigarette from the breast pocket of her uniform and lifted her brow before lighting it. “You mind?”

“No, go ahead.”

“You should mind.
Someone
needs to stop me. Lord knows I’ve tried.” She placed the butt between her lips and lit the end, her deliberate drags making the tip glow brighter with each inhale. “I take it he couldn’t fix your car.”

“It’ll be a couple days before the part gets here.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I have nothing to get back to if I’m being honest—nowhere to go. So, I guess I’m…okay with it.”

Regina lifted the corner of her plump mouth, and her dark, round eyes smiled along with her lips. “I’m okay with it, too. No matter how reckless you may be.”

Elizabeth smiled.

“I mean it though. Just promise you’ll be careful. There’s something about you being here.” She stopped herself, as though embarrassed to show such feeling.

“What?” Elizabeth asked.

“It just feels…” Their eyes penetrated each other’s under the single light of the diner.

“I know,” Elizabeth simply replied. She swallowed hard, feeling it herself. Whatever it was. The smoke from Regina’s Newport burned her throat and tingled her nostrils.

Regina nodded, ever so subtly. She took another deep drag and began walking the length of the diner. “Walk with me a minute?”

She did, and Regina made an effort not to blow smoke in her direction. “I hope whatever you’re running from doesn’t find you here, Beth. Not for our sake, but your own.”

This took Elizabeth by surprise. “Thanks,” was all she could say.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me about it. Like Nathaniel used to say, personal things are personal.”

“Nathaniel?”

“My husband. He moved onto the next life six long years ago. He was a good man, good enough to be the pastor here. Bill Thurman took over when he died.” She sent her a smile. “He ain’t as good at it as Nathaniel was, but I might be biased.” It wasn’t surprising that Bill Thurman, who owned the motel, was also the pastor. Knowing what she knew about his wife Anita, she’d half-expected it. “He was loved by this town. Even by frosty Mr. Clayton.”

“It’s hard to imagine Mr. Clayton loving anything.”

Lost in a fond memory, Regina laughed. “Pastor Washington was fearless. He used to call Mr. Clayton to repentance every Sunday.” Elizabeth laughed too, the thought giving her a hint of satisfaction. “Mr. Clayton stopped coming to church eventually, but I get the feeling it was for some other reason. He ain’t one to let someone else dictate what he does and where he goes. Besides, my dear husband was the only one he used to smile at.” She paused, taking another drag. “That ain’t true, actually. He did smile at me once, a year after Nathaniel passed. It was the only time the man ever came into my diner in the middle of the day.”

A genuine smile on Mr. Clayton: Elizabeth couldn’t conjure the image. “How long have you run the diner for Mr. Clayton?”

“Oh, nearly twenty years now.”

“You must be tired. You’re here at first light and stay until the middle of the night. When do you sleep?”

Regina chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. It’s no big deal. Mr. Clayton’s had it that way for ten years. I’m used to it.”

Anxiety rose in Elizabeth’s chest and she took a deep breath. “He seems to control everything around here.”

“Pretty much.”

“And that’s okay with everyone?”

“We get a peaceful place to live, as long as we obey the rules. So I’d say so.”

“Obey the rules,” Elizabeth repeated under her breath.

“All right now,” Regina said with a sort of chuckle. “You give yourself a day and you’ll be agreeing with me. People are wary of what he might do, or take away, but believe it or not, he does take care of us, in his own ways.”

Her chest and face were on fire, and she thought it best to redirect the conversation. “Mr. Clayton is really against the forest, too, isn’t he?”

Regina nodded.

“Strange, coming from a man whose mansion is enveloped in it.”

“Honey, the man’s untouchable, don’t you know?”

They laughed, and she had a feeling Regina would prove to be a good friend. Just knowing she had both Regina and Eustace filled Elizabeth with sudden, warm emotion. It wasn’t until now, she realized, that her lifestyle could truly lend itself to friendships.

Chapter 8

“You should’ve stuck around yesterday,” Brian said to Elizabeth. Gray, low clouds blanketed the morning sky, which was unsurprising for April in Oregon. Just the two of them sat at the booth in the diner, this time at the one directly behind Mr. Clayton’s. With Brian’s back toward him, Elizabeth was right in Mr. Clayton’s line of sight. Thankfully, the man’s face was mostly blocked with a newspaper.

“Stuck around?” she asked Brian, confused. For the second time, she scooted herself closer to the wall, inviting someone else to sit—
any
one. The way Brian sat in the middle of his bench made it obvious he didn’t want anyone sharing their table—which had originally been
her
table, before he’d intruded.

“At my shop. It would’ve been more eventful than walking through town.” Her eyes shot directly behind him, where Mr. Clayton’s paper lowered ever so slightly. He revealed nothing more than the intensity of his defined brow. “Besides,” Brian added, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m pretty good with my hands.” He winked, smiling his Brian smile.

She exercised all her willpower not to roll her eyes. “I’m sure that would have been a real treat.” After taking a sip of coffee, she pulled it back abruptly. She would never adjust to the taste.

“So, Beth, you came here alone, and I don’t see a ring on your finger…”

“And…?”

“Just trying to figure out why someone like you is still single.”

She folded her arms, resting her elbows on the table, and leaned toward him. “Someone like me? You don’t know anything about me. For all you know, I could be running from a bad marriage. Or better yet, killed my husband.”