Next of Kin (11 page)

She nodded, then couldn’t help but watch as he walked away. His shoulders were bigger, his body more muscular, but he still had the same long, lanky stride. It was surreal to know she was with him again—that she could touch him and talk to him anytime she wanted. But it wasn’t the reunion she’d always dreamed of. The anger and tension between them simmered just below the surface, ready to explode at a careless word or a judgmental look.

When she went to use the bathroom, she calmly ignored the cracked linoleum and the rust line in the toilet bowl, thankful there was an indoor bathroom rather than an old outhouse. After she finished, she took the gauze pads off her hands and carefully washed, then winced when she tried to dry. Until her hands began healing again, she was definitely limited as to what she could do. After a glance at her windblown hair, she smoothed it down and then started toward the kitchen.

She was still coming down the hall when she heard Ryal laugh out loud at something James had just said, and she stopped, letting the sound wash over her. She had always loved his laugh. It felt good to hear it again.

When she got to the kitchen, she paused in the doorway. Ryal was filling glasses with ice and then refilling the old ice trays so they could refreeze. There were no ice makers in this kitchen, although the refrigerator wasn’t as old as she might have imagined. The stove was gas, which explained the propane tank she’d seen at the side of the house when they’d driven up.

Quinn was at the counter making sandwiches. She noticed Ryal kept watching him, and wondered why.

“Hey, there you are!” James said when he saw Beth standing in the doorway. “Come sit, girl, and tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself the past ten years…besides getting prettier.”

Beth smiled. “You first. What have you been doing?”

“Your cousin Julie and I got married. We’ve got two kids, a four-year-old girl named Meggie, and James Junior, who’s a little over a year old. I got me a small patch of tobacco and a couple of milk cows, and I’m the substitute mail carrier for Rebel Ridge. Maybe one day, when old man Hennings retires, I’ll get the job full-time.”

Quinn picked up a handful of potato chips and started eating, then stopped and handed her one.

“Watch the salt. It’ll sting your hands.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, Beth smiled.

“Thank you, Quinn.”

Again Ryal felt a surge of jealousy, but he shoved it aside. Whatever had been between them was gone, which meant jealousy had no place here, either.

“You still like mustard with your sandwiches?” Ryal asked.

Beth’s eyes widened—she was startled that he’d remembered such a small thing.

“Yes, please.”

Ryal finished making the sandwich that Quinn had started, then cut it in quarters to make it easier for her to hold. When he slid the plate in front of her, he saw her face flush.

“Is something wrong?”

She looked up, surprised by his concern.

“No, I’m just so appreciative of how thoughtful all of you are being.”

“Mama raised us right,” James said and winked.

“I put your drink in a mug, so you wouldn’t have to grip a whole glass. Is that okay?” Ryal asked.

Beth’s gaze locked onto his, and for a moment the silence between them was palpable. “So far you’re batting a thousand.”

Ryal smiled. Things had to be getting better. She’d almost bragged on him. He put his food on a plate and sat down at the table beside the others. Within a few minutes the tension was gone and they were talking among themselves as easily as if the past ten years had never happened.

Oddly enough, it was Quinn—and not Ryal—who brought the subject of the past up again.

“So what have you been doing with yourself since you moved away?” he asked.

Beth shrugged. “I graduated high school in L.A., which was a nightmare compared to Rebel Ridge. I went to a local community college and then began working before I graduated.”

“Where do you work?” Ryal asked.

“Where
did
I work is the better way of asking that,” Beth said. “I have no idea what any of the people I work with think about my sudden absence, although I was assured by the FBI that they had everything covered.”

“So where
did
you work?”

“I freelance, but on a regular basis, at a couple of publishing houses. I’m an illustrator, mostly of children’s books. I use Lila Bethany as my professional name.”

“That’s amazing,” Ryal said, and leaned back, eyeing Beth with newfound respect.

“You’re kidding!” James said. “Like, what are some of the books you’ve done?”

“I’ve done a lot of different things, but I’ve been working on a series for nearly six years that’s pretty popular. It’s called The Hitchhiker series, about a little ladybug—”

Ryal suddenly smiled. “Named Bitsy, who hitchhikes on the backs of different animals and birds, and learns something new with every trip she takes.”

Beth’s smile lit her expression from the inside out. “Yes! You’ve seen it?”

Ryal was stunned by the fact that all these years he’d been seeing the name Lila Bethany on the cover of his niece’s books and never once thought of Beth.

“Those are Meggie’s favorite stories. I have to read at least one every time she visits.”

James beamed. “Meggie is smart as a whip, and my boy is already ahead of his age developmentally.”

“Says the proud papa,” Quinn drawled.

“Well, it’s true,” James insisted, then eyed the clock over the stove. “And speaking of family, I need to be getting back to mine. I have a milk cow that freshened up, so I’m milking every evening now.”

“I’m ready when you are,” Quinn said, then eyed Beth’s hands. “Next time I come up, I’ll stop by Aunt Tildy’s and bring something for your hands. They’ll be well in no time.”

Beth instantly recognized the name of the old herb woman who lived on the mountain. When money was short, which was often on Rebel Ridge, locals went to Aunt Tildy rather than down to a doctor in the town. “I can’t believe she’s still alive. I thought she was ancient when I was a kid.”

“She isn’t as spry as she was, but she’s still mobile,” Quinn said.

“Is there anything else you want them to bring?” Ryal asked.

Beth shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask for more. I’m just grateful for what you’ve all done.” Then her voice broke, and it took her a moment to collect her emotions. She wouldn’t look at Ryal and couldn’t look at the others without crying, so she fixed her gaze on a spot near the toe of her shoe. “I was so scared. Every time they found me, I thought for sure I would be dead before it was over, but somehow I managed to live through it. I couldn’t imagine anything ever being all right in my life again…until now. I know what an imposition this is. I know how much you’re all sacrificing to do this, but thank you, all of you, so much.”

“Group hug,” James said, and they all embraced her, making her laugh.

Ryal followed his brothers out, then moved his pickup to the back of the house, beneath the trees, as they drove away. When he started up the back steps, he paused. Something didn’t sound right. He stood for a moment, listening, then quietly walked across the porch and peered in the screen door.

Beth was leaning across the table sobbing, her head buried in her arms.

“Well hell,” Ryal said softly, then took a deep breath and walked inside.

Caught by surprise, Beth straightened abruptly, but it was too late to hide the tears.

“I…uh—”

“Hush, girl,” he said, then pulled her up out of the chair and wrapped her in his arms. “No explanations needed. You’ve been blindsided in more ways than one. If it was me, I would be crying, too.”

Beth went limp in his arms and buried her face against his chest. His heartbeat was rock-solid against her cheek. His arms were strong, and his grip was sure. It was the final confirmation. She’d done the right thing by coming home.

Nine

M
oe Cavanaugh had been digging into Beth Venable’s background for six hours and had yet to uncover anything that might tell him where she’d gone. At this point it was his opinion that the woman had no life beyond work and the occasional workout at a gym. But this was only the beginning. By the time he was finished, he would know more about her than she did. It was why he got paid the big bucks.

So far he knew her parents were dead. She had no siblings. Her best friend was also dead, recently murdered. She was a freelance illustrator, mostly for children’s books, and had an apartment in a medium-income part of the city. She was solvent, but not rolling in dough, and she didn’t use credit cards. He wouldn’t mind finding a woman with that particular quality, but he was guessing they weren’t that plentiful.

She didn’t attend church. She didn’t do volunteer work, and as far as he could tell she didn’t have any hobbies. He’d pulled her phone records and accessed the names of every person she’d called for the past year, and not one of them had turned out to be a boyfriend. He was beginning to wonder if Beth Venable was a lesbian. Maybe she and this Sarah Steinman who’d been murdered had been a couple? It could explain the reason why she’d been at Steinman’s apartment the night Steinman had been killed.

It took him another hour to find a small news item about a gas leak at Venable’s apartment that had warranted an evacuation. When he noted that the evacuation and the murder of Sarah Steinman had happened within the same twenty-four hours, he realized his theory about her sexual orientation was no longer as solid as it had been. Venable had gone to a friend’s house rather than a hotel after being forced to leave her own apartment. Not an uncommon occurrence.

Now that he’d run into a small wall on Beth Venable, it was time to expand the search, which meant running backgrounds on her parents. Even though they’d been deceased for several years, he might pop up some extended family in the area.

He started with Samuel Venable. The man hadn’t shown up in the California DMV records until ten years ago, and after a quick search of property tax records, it was obvious he had never owned property in the state, either.

Moe leaned back in his chair and reached for a handful of pretzels. He liked the crunch and the salt, and the chewing it took to get them down helped him think. What he needed was a birth certificate and a social-security number. Not a problem.

He stopped long enough to get up and get himself a cold longneck, then took a big swig on his way back to his office. Beer and pretzels were food for the gods—at least the gods that Moe worshipped.

He popped a couple of tiny twists into his mouth, and then centered his fingers on the computer keyboard and let them fly, running through firewalls and password-protected sites as easily as a kid going from the swings to the slide to the merry-go-round. Within an hour Moe had a fresh trail to follow that led him right out of California and across the country to Kentucky and more Venables than he could count. If she wasn’t still in California, he would bet money she’d gone home. However, betting wasn’t an option when it came to Ike Pappas. Pappas was paying him for a sure thing, which meant Moe needed to book himself a flight. He checked the screen again, making notes to himself before he got back online. He didn’t know where the hell Rebel Ridge, Kentucky, was located, but he was about to find out. He hit MapQuest and typed in the address, then stared in disbelief. According to the computer, Rebel Ridge did not exist. Great. Every good plan always had a hitch.

Night had finally come to the old Foster home. Beth was taking a bath, and the supper dishes had been done. Ryal wanted to talk to Quinn, to see if everything was set up as they’d planned. He couldn’t help but worry about his younger brother. At this point, getting him mixed up in what amounted to a tense, warlike situation was about the worst thing they could do to him, but Quinn wouldn’t be dissuaded. He was a Walker. Beth was his kin, too, distant though the blood link might be. And of all the Walkers, he had argued successfully, he was the most suited for the job.

Ryal picked up his phone to call but couldn’t get a signal in the house, so he walked outside into the yard, moving and turning until he got a clear signal, then made the call. Quinn answered almost immediately.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me,” Ryal said. “Are you settled in?”

“Yep. Tent’s up. Gun’s loaded. Cold camp. Plenty of water.”

“Come eat with us in the morning.”

“I’ll swing by and pick something up, but I won’t be dawdling.”

“Good enough,” Ryal said, and then felt obligated to ask, “Are you still okay with this?”

“Stop worrying, damn it. I would feel the same if we were hunting turkey or deer. I’m just better at hunting men than the rest of you are.”

“I am well aware of that. I am also aware that the U.S. Army wouldn’t let you re-up for a third tour, and we all know why.”

There was a moment of silence, then a low chuckle. “Yeah. At the moment, I’m a shade on the crazy side.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryal drawled.

Quinn laughed softly. “Stop worrying. Make me some biscuits in the morning.”

“Consider it done. Sleep well, brother.”

“It’s all good,” Quinn said.

The enigmatic comment didn’t fit what Ryal had said, which meant Quinn probably wouldn’t sleep at all. But Ryal knew there was nothing he could do to change the situation. He disconnected and headed back to the house.

Beth had crawled into the old claw-foot tub, ignoring the chips and rust stains as she sank wearily into the deep, warm water. There were two things she was grateful for tonight. One had to do with the fact that she was no longer going cross-country via eighteen-wheeler, and the other was that there were no FBI agents around. She was home. Surprisingly, it felt good to be here. But she didn’t linger. Instead, she washed her hair, then herself, as best she could and got out.

When she came out of the bathroom in her pajamas, her hair clipped up at the back of her head, the house was quiet—too quiet. Even though she knew Ryal was somewhere close by, she felt vulnerable.

“Ryal?”

He didn’t answer.

Droplets of water from her still-wet hair ran down the middle of her back as she walked through the house to the front room, then looked out. He was standing out in the yard, a short distance away from the house, and talking on the phone. He was probably trying to get the best signal, since cell-phone reception was spotty, at best, in the mountains. She wondered who he was talking to. Just because he wasn’t married, that didn’t mean he didn’t have someone special.

As soon as she had that thought, her stomach knotted. She didn’t want to think about Ryal making love to anyone, but thanks to her parents, he no longer owed his heart or allegiance to her. Not anymore.

Saddened at the loss of what might have been, she turned away. With no television, there wasn’t anything to do but talk, and they’d said enough to each other for one day. Even though they had called something of a truce, there were many things still unsaid between them. But that conversation wasn’t happening until she read the letters. Granted, she was reading them ten years too late, but she wanted to know what his state of mind had been. She’d lived with the anger of thinking he’d abandoned her, although she knew that was no longer the case. At least that part of their history could be resolved.

Once back in her room, she turned on the lights, then crawled up onto the bed with the packet of unopened letters in her lap. She didn’t have to read them to know they were going to be hurtful, but she’d learned a long time ago that to get over pain, she first had to go through it.

Her fingers shook slightly as she picked up the packet, then untied the ribbons holding them together. Every one of them had been marked Return to Sender.

She shuffled through the postmarks until she found the earliest, but as she was about to open it, she heard footsteps in the hall. Ryal must be back. She stilled, waiting to see if he passed by her door. When he did, she breathed a quick sigh of relief. This was something she needed to do in private.

There was a knot in her stomach as she slid a finger beneath the flap. The glue was old—the envelope opened easily. She pulled out the page, but when she unfolded it, something fell out into her lap. She started to brush it off her leg, then realized it was a flower that had been tucked within the letter—a tiny mountain violet. The colors were still as vivid as they’d been the day he’d slipped it inside.

Beth felt like crying. The first time they’d made love had been under a tree near the spring at her parents’ house, next to a bed of mountain violets. She slid the flower into the envelope for safekeeping, then began to read.

Beth,

What’s happening? I’ve been going crazy, trying to find out where you went and why. If it hadn’t been for your granny Lou, I don’t know that I would have ever had a way to contact you. All the Venables shut down. They won’t talk to the Walkers, and I don’t know why.

Lou finally took pity on me and drove up to our house just to give me this address. It’s only a post-office box, which still doesn’t tell me where you are, or I would have already been on your doorstep asking these questions in person. I love you. I thought we were forever. Why did you leave me without a word? Are you coming back? If you say the word, I’ll come get you. Write to me, darlin’. Tell me what to do.

All my love,

Ryal

Beth didn’t even know she was crying until she realized the spots on the paper were her tears. She put the tiny flower back into the letter and slipped it into the envelope. The pain in her heart matched the pain she’d felt in Ryal’s words. What must he have thought?

Her first instinct was to go find him, but then she stopped. That was just the first letter. She needed to read them all before they talked. Her parents’ betrayal, which was shocking, to say the least, couldn’t be denied. Somehow she was going to have to find a way to forgive them, too, but tonight was not a night for dwelling on the past. She had too much on her plate with her present situation.

She heard footsteps again, and then a knock on her door.

“Hey, Beth, can I come in?”

“Yes, sure,” she said, and shoved the letters beneath the pillow.

He came in carrying her hairbrush from the bathroom.

“Did you get your hands doctored okay?”

She turned them palms up, showing the Band-Aids she’d put on the larger cuts that had reopened.

He waved the hairbrush in the air. “Uh…I saw the shampoo and guessed you might have washed your hair. I brought your brush in case you need help combing it out.”

“Thank you,” Beth said, and took the clip out of the back of her hair and let it fall. “I’m warning you, it’s a tangled mess.”

Ryal’s smile was genuine as he moved toward her. “Tell me if I brush too hard or if it’s pulling.”

“I will,” Beth said, and turned around so that her back was to him.

Ryal took a deep breath. The thick fall of dark hair was still damp, which always made it curl. He thought about running his fingers through it on the pretext of combing out the worst of the tangles first but knew better than to start something he couldn’t finish. It was tempting enough to be in a bedroom with her and know she didn’t have a thing on under those flimsy pajamas.

Instead of focusing on his lust, he started at the ends of her hair, working out the tangles. As he worked his way up to the crown, he felt her begin to relax. He could only imagine how horrifying the past few days had been for her, and the thought of someone trying to hunt her down enraged him.