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He opened the refrigerator. Not full by any means, but there were small packages of cheese and lunchmeat, some half-used bottles of salad dressing and ketchup, and a quart of milk. Something, he wasn’t sure what, had spilled at some point on the top shelf and dripped down, leaving remains all the way to the bottom. It smelled sweet.
Brick had gotten sloppy in his old age. Or maybe he’d always been a pig and Sally Hollister had managed to cover up for him.
He turned, realizing that Raney had ventured off into the direction of the downstairs bedroom. He followed her, his chest feeling tighter with each step. He didn’t want to look at Brick’s bedroom, didn’t want to have that intimate of a connection to the man.
Raney stopped in the doorway. Chase stood behind her. There was a regular-size bed, made up with an ugly shiny green bedspread. The matching drapes were drawn tight, giving the room an eerie feel. The gold paint on the walls made the room look dirty. The door to the bathroom was open. With its dated green fixtures, it looked exactly like he remembered.
He sure as hell wasn’t sleeping down here. “Let’s take a look upstairs,” he said.
The wooden steps creaked as they made their way upstairs. He saw Raney flick her hand over her hair and realized she’d disturbed a large cobweb. The carpet in the hallway was threadbare and all the doors were closed.
“I don’t think your stepfather was up here much,” Raney said.
He nodded and opened the first door. This had been Bray’s room. He felt for the light switch and flipped it up. The room was completely empty.
He walked down the hall a few steps toward his old room. He turned the handle of the door, expecting it to open, but it didn’t.
The door was locked. And for some crazy reason, that irritated the hell out of him. Without conscious thought, Chase lifted his good leg and kicked the damn door. It flew back, breaking the top hinge. He heard Raney’s gasp but he ignored it. He felt for the light switch, flipped it and, when nothing happened, he stepped back so that light from the hallway could filter in.
The room was completely empty. He looked up at the ceiling light fixture. Even the lightbulb had been removed.
“Do you think perhaps there’s an air mattress somewhere?” Raney asked, her tone light.
There was only one bedroom left to try. Cal’s. The door swung open and the light worked. In the middle of the room was a queen-size mattress, still with its plastic wrapper, without any bedding or even a bed frame. The mattress and box spring sat directly on the wood floor. There was a bedside table with a lamp. There was no other furniture in the room.
Why the hell had Brick bought a new mattress and put it upstairs in Cal’s old room? And never put sheets or a blanket on it? Based on the layer of dust on the plastic, the mattress had been up here for some time. It wasn’t as if Brick had done it recently and just hadn’t finished the project.
Well, whatever the reason, it wasn’t great but it was better than sleeping on the wood floor. “You can sleep in here,” he said. He pulled a pocketknife out of his jeans, sliced open the plastic and ripped it off the mattress. Dust flew into the air and she sneezed.
“Sorry,” he said. “We can get some sheets tomorrow.”
She sat down on the edge of the mattress. “Where will you sleep?” she asked.
“Downstairs. On the couch. There’s no reason to believe that anybody knows that Lorraine Taylor is in this house. But if anything scares you, just yell. I’m a light sleeper. I’ll hear you.”
She looked around the room. She sighed a little dramatically. “All these years and I never ever envisioned my wedding night would go exactly like this.”
For the first time since Chief Bates had announced that he and Lorraine Taylor were posing as husband and wife, he felt like smiling. She was being a good sport. Her last safe house had no doubt been better.
He wanted to promise that everything would look better in the light of day but based on what he’d seen tonight, he thought the opposite was probably true. He would not have volunteered to bring her to Ravesville if he’d known the house was in this bad of shape.
“Good night,” he said.
He stuck his head into the bathroom that was across the hall. Ran the water in the faucet until it turned clear and flushed the toilet a couple times. There was toilet paper but it was covered with a layer of dust. He unrolled several sheets, ripped them off, and threw them in the small empty garbage can. There were no towels so he ran downstairs, got several clean ones from the cupboard in the downstairs bathroom and took them back upstairs.
It wasn’t camping but it was close.
Finally, he went back downstairs and, still fully dressed, stretched out on the couch. It was too short for him and his feet hung over the edge. He was so damn tired. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told his brother that he’d been awake for more than a day. He had managed to grab some sleep after he’d talked to Dawson but the knowledge that the chief was counting on them had weighed heavily on his mind.
Now, even though his body craved rest, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind trying to wrap itself around the fact that he was back in Ravesville, back in the house that he’d left thirteen years ago, swearing that he’d never return.
On the drive here, he’d wondered if he’d feel Brick in the house. Or even his mother. But the house just felt empty, so empty it seemed as if there had never been life here.
But that wasn’t true. There had been life and love when Jack Hollister had been alive. His father would have despised Brick, would have hated what had become of the family.
As odd as it seemed, he could feel his father in the house. He hadn’t been able to do that when Brick was alive and living here. But now it felt very different. It was almost as if he could see him standing in front of the big windows, waving at him and his brothers to come in for dinner. Could see him walking through the house, a fishing pole in one hand and sack lunches in the other, yelling for his sons to hurry up, that the trout were biting.
As if he’d conjured up old spirits, he heard a noise. Something soft. Outside. He eased off the couch, used a finger to pull back the heavy drapes and watched the yard.
Nothing moved in the darkness. He waited, continuing to watch. Five minutes later, a dark shape, low to the ground, crossed the gravel.
A groundhog. He let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d been spooked by an animal.
He lay back down, rubbed his sore thigh and closed his eyes. Upstairs, he heard a door open and close, then the sound of water running through the pipes as Raney turned on the shower. She’d had a hell of a day but had seemed to handle it well. She’d been shot at yesterday, hustled out of Florida this morning, pushed into a fake marriage and had ended up here, in a house of neglect.
He’d clean up the place tomorrow, at least get the top layer of dust off. Then he would pitch everything in the refrigerator and make a quick trip to town for food. If the dinner Raney had eaten tonight was any indication, she had a good appetite. Which was surprising considering she was pretty slim.
But the curves were there. He’d seen that firsthand in the wedding dress. That image had stayed with him the entire drive from St. Louis to Ravesville. That and the memory of the feel of her mouth.
He heard the water shut off. Let himself have the guilty pleasure of imaging Raney’s wet body stepping over the edge of the old tub. Of her drying off on the threadbare towel.
He heard the door open and the floor creak as she crossed the hall. He wondered if she’d brought pajamas or if she slept naked.
He let out a breath, happy to let that image rest on his brain.
* * *
WHEN HE WOKE UP, the sun was low in the sky. He checked the time. A little past seven. He sat up, stretched and went in search of coffee.
There was no coffeepot on the counter. He opened cupboards. Not even a jar of instant. It was another reason to despise Brick.
He walked up the stairs and muscle memory kicked in, making it easy for him to avoid the same squeaky boards that had been there thirteen years ago. Raney’s bedroom door was closed. He considered knocking but decided against it.
She probably needed her sleep.
He opened the door and stopped. The woman knew how to take up a bed. She slept on her stomach with her head at ten o’clock and her feet at four o’clock. She wasn’t naked but her sweet little body was plenty sexy in her lime green shorts and white-and-green-striped T-shirt. She was breathing deeply.
She’d tossed the clothes that she’d been wearing the night before into a pile. On top was her bra and panties, a silky pale yellow with lots of lace.
His face felt warm and when she stirred, he thought maybe he’d moaned.
Dawson was right. He needed to get more regular sex.
He took a step back, carefully closing the door. He could run into town, pick up some coffees and pastries from the bakery and be back before she ever woke up. Maybe that would make up for stashing her in this dump.
He left the house, making sure that he locked the door behind him. The drive to town took just minutes and when he walked into the bakery, the first thing he saw was the cakes in the display case.
It made him remember how the birthday/wedding cake had amused Raney. He debated buying another one just to see her reaction but instead got six doughnuts and a coffee cake along with two extralarge coffees.
He sipped his coffee on the way home. When he pulled into the yard, he did not notice anything amiss. Which was why, when he opened the door and looked down the hallway into the kitchen, he got caught short.
He saw the man. Catalogued his dirty blue jeans and dark sweatshirt and the greasy hair that hung to his shoulders.
Saw all that but what Chase focused on was the knife that the man held. It had a shiny six-inch blade and was raised and pointed.
At Raney.
Still in her pajamas, she had her back pressed up against the sink. Her face was pale and her eyes were big.
The man leaped toward her. Chase pulled his gun but knew that he was going to be too late.
Chapter Four (#ulink_bf58fe9b-9321-57ad-8e3c-d254f2ce6f9d)
Raney twisted, brought a knee up, connected with something and used every bit of strength in her arms to push the man backward.
It was enough to buy a few seconds and give Chase a chance to leap across the space that separated them. She saw the knife go flying and within moments, Chase had the man on the ground, his knee in his chest and his gun pointed at his head.
He turned to look at her. “Are you hurt?” he asked. His eyes were dark, flashing with anger.
She managed to shake her head.
Chase looked down at the man. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, his voice hard.
The man squinted his eyes. “Get off me,” he said. “You’re heavy.”
Raney took a closer look at the man. He’d surprised the heck out of her. She’d just gotten a drink of water when she’d heard a noise behind her. She’d turned, seen the man and the still-open back door, and realized that she was in a world of trouble.
Chase had walked in just in the nick of time.
Chase used the palm of one hand to knock the man’s head back against the dirty kitchen linoleum. “Start talking.”
“You need to get out of here,” the man said. “You need to get out of my house right now.”
Raney saw the change in Chase’s eyes and realized that he’d figured something out. Good, because she didn’t have a clue what was going on.
Chase let up on some of the pressure on the man’s chest but he didn’t let him get up. “Lloyd?” he asked.
“How do you know my name?” the man asked.
“I’m Chase. Chase Hollister.”
“I know you,” the man said. He smiled.
Chase looked up at Raney. “This is Lloyd Doogan. He’s my stepfather’s biological son.”
“So you’re sort of related?”
“I don’t generally think of it that way.” He looked back down at the man. “Lloyd, I’m going to let you get up. I’m not giving you back your knife. You need to sit, so that we can have a conversation.”
Chase was speaking deliberately and didn’t move until the man nodded his understanding.
Lloyd got up and sat. He looked at Raney. “Who are you?”
“Her name is Raney,” Chase said, jumping in. “My wife.”
Lloyd seemed to consider this. “I thought you were one of those teenagers from town. The ones who are always causing trouble.”
Teenager. Granted, she wasn’t dressed for success in her shorts and tank top, but she surely didn’t look sixteen. Chase turned his head but not before she caught a glimpse of a smile.
“Hey!” she challenged.
“I think it’s a compliment,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. He turned back to Lloyd. “This house never belonged to Brick. He was just living here after my mom died. This house doesn’t belong to you now. It belongs to my brothers and me.”
Lloyd didn’t answer. But he was frowning.
“Do you understand, Lloyd?” Chase pushed.
“He told me I could live here,” Lloyd said. “A couple years ago. Said he bought me a bed and everything. But then he got mad about something, I don’t even know what. All I know is that he stopped talking to me, told me I couldn’t come here no more. That ain’t no way to treat a son.”
Chase didn’t say anything.
“I hated him. I really did,” Lloyd added.
“I imagine so,” Chase said quietly.
Even Raney was tracking now. They might not be blood but these two men shared something.
Chase looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with her. “Lloyd,” he said, his eyes still locked on her. “I need to talk to Raney. I need you to stay in your chair.”
Chase pulled her to the side, keeping her back to Lloyd, which allowed him to keep his eyes on his stepbrother.
“I don’t know Lloyd well,” he whispered. “But I’m sure he really did think you were trespassing in his house. Now, that didn’t give him a right to go at you with a knife,” Chase said, his tone hard, “and if he’d managed to hurt you, we’d be having a very different conversation.” He paused, looking back at Lloyd, then at her again. “We have a choice to make. We can call the police or we can pretend this never happened.”
Calling the police would attract attention to them, which was what they didn’t want to do. Plus, Chase would likely be putting his stepbrother in jail. By the looks of him, she thought it might be possible that the man wouldn’t have the resources to post bail.
“I’m not hurt,” she said. “No harm done, right? Although we may want to make sure that we confiscate his key to the back door,” she said, nodding at the silver key on the floor near Lloyd’s feet. “Let him go,” she added.
“You’re sure?” Chase asked, his eyes searching her face.
She nodded.
“Thank you,” Chase said simply.
He moved around her and sat down across from his stepbrother. “Lloyd, do you understand that I could call the police? That you would be the one in trouble because we belong here?”
Lloyd nodded.
“Do you understand that you can’t come back to this house?”
