Dead End Road Page 31

  “You drive, I’ll direct,” Abby said, settling in the passenger seat and fastening her seatbelt.

  “Driving the Bitchmobile twice in one day. I must’ve been promoted.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  Seth chuckled. “Hey, did I see you talking to Sammy before we left? Did he have more news?”

  “No. He was doing the mandatory ‘make sure Abby knows what she’s doing’ thing. At least he won’t be issuing a kidnapping warrant for you the second we cross the state line.”

  “Are we crossing any state lines today?”

  “Nope. In fact, it’s closer than you’d think, but somewhere we’re sure not to be disturbed.”

  Chapter

  Twenty-One

  Seth

  “Turn here,” Abby said, pointing to the right. Seth slowed and guided the Jeep onto a narrow dirt road he hadn’t noticed on any of their previous trips. They’d driven only a few miles outside town, both of them casting frequent glances in the rearview mirrors, but trying to pretend they weren’t. He wasn’t an idiot, but they appeared to be in the clear. They only passed two cars, and Abby had waved at the drivers of both.

  The road wound through thick trees, the branches brushing the sides of the vehicle. He drove cautiously over the rocks and ruts in an effort to keep the jostling to a minimum. A few minutes later the foliage thinned, and the road ended in a wide spot showing signs other vehicles also parked there from time to time.

  Abby took the cooler and a faded green blanket from the back seat while Dilbert zigzagged happily, sniffing everything in the vicinity. Seth looked around speculatively. “Um, are we there yet?”

  Abby handed him the cooler, draping the blanket over her arm. “Almost. We just have to do a little walking.” She led the way to a path, calling to Dilbert not to wander too far ahead.

  The path didn’t look like it was used often. A few lingering puddles showed the last signs of Saturday night’s rain. They followed the path until it crested an incline and brought them to a wide clearing.

  Seth put down the cooler. It was strangely like stepping out of a tornado-tossed Kansas farmhouse and into Oz. After the deep shadows and unbroken canopy of the forest, a bright, inviting space spread before them. “So, where are we?”

  “Bainbridge Farm,” Abby said. She stood beside him, watching him to gauge his reaction. “It used to be an orchard, and there were some fields where they grew pumpkins or corn. Back in the ’50s or ’60s, the owner died, and his wife moved in with one of their daughters.”

  “They just abandoned it?”

  “More or less. The kids had all moved away, and I guess nobody was interested in running the place. It’s close to town, but hard to get to. Nobody who hasn’t lived here forever would even know it’s here.” She began walking across the clearing toward the remains of a brick chimney. “I’m not sure who owns it now. Someone must pay the taxes, but nobody’s ever done anything with it.”

  “What happened to the house?”

  “Burned down years ago.”

  Seth took in the flat area and patches of concrete adjacent to the crumbling chimney. When he looked more closely at the ground cover and creeping vines, he could see evidence of well-weathered wood and brick, all that remained of the farmhouse. Previously tamed flowers appeared in clusters on every side, having long ago escaped their untended beds. The grass was lush and green after the weekend’s rain. He imagined it would be much less inviting later in the season with no one to keep it trimmed.

  They stopped by the broken cement steps. “Leave the cooler here for now,” Abby said. “I want to show you around. I used to spend a lot of time here growing up. I’d load a backpack with books and snacks and ride my bike out.”

  Seth put the cooler down and sat on the most stable-looking part of the crumbling steps. Pulling Abby onto his lap, he pictured her as a shy preteen. He envisioned long, dark hair, freckles, and bare feet. Her legs were tanned and possibly bore skinned knees from bicycle-related mishaps. She sat for hours under one of these very trees reading her favorite books. He smiled as he savored the dual images of the quiet little girl she had been and the gorgeous, intelligent woman he held now.

  “I don’t blame you. It is beautiful here.” Seth studied the trees surrounding the remains of the farmhouse. He saw how the forest had slowly marched forward into the clearing, shrinking it. In a few more decades, it would be completely reclaimed, and visitors would have to search to find signs it had once been a family’s home. “Show me.”

  Abby led him to the far side of the clearing. Past a small cluster of trees, they came to another open space and an old barn. Its roof and part of the hayloft had collapsed and the walls canted at unstable angles, but it was mostly intact. The rusted-out shell of a 1950s-era tractor stood to one side under a tangle of vines.

  “I used to poke around in there,” Abby said, nodding toward the barn. “Sometimes it was cooler in there, and I liked how it smelled. The orchard is over there.”

  They went around the barn and down a narrow path through another area where the trees had almost completely reclaimed the property. The path ended abruptly, and Seth found himself standing in an orchard straight out of a dark fairy tale. The trees had gone without care for so long they were overgrown and unruly, their branches gnarled together over the spaces once separating them into orderly rows. It could have felt like another Oz moment, reminiscent of the scene where the apple trees come to life and hurl fruit at Dorothy and her friends, but it didn’t. These apple trees were in full bloom, their white-and-pale pink blossoms covering every twig and saturating the air with their fragrance. Seth looked around him in amazement.

  Beside him, Abby smiled. “I used to sit up in these trees and read when I was a kid, but I haven’t been here in the spring for a long time. I’d forgotten about the apple blossoms. This is great.”

  He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. With his chin on her shoulder, he said, “Maybe we should have lunch here.”

  “Let me show you the rest, then we can decide.”

  They made their way through the orchard, only slightly impeded by the saplings and underbrush uncleared since the property’s caretakers had moved on. The fresh, sweet scent of apple blossoms surrounded them, and the breeze sent an occasional petal wafting toward the ground. Bees buzzed, still doing their work for the trees, even if the people no longer did. Dilbert trotted along with them, sniffing and marking those trees to which he felt some particular canine attachment.

  At the far side of the orchard they came to a small creek. It meandered along and emerged in what Seth guessed was the abandoned farm fields. The creek curved to bisect the space, and the skeleton of a decaying split-rail fence paralleled its course.

  Abby leaned against him. “This is pretty much it, except for one more spot.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see. I hope it’s the way I remember it.” She moved back through the orchard and toward the barn, veering off to the left before they reached it.

  The trees gave way again to an open area. To the right was another derelict outbuilding, perhaps a shed or chicken house, and sunlight filtered through the surrounding forest. At their feet, the grass blended with a profusion of blooming violets. From one side to the other, the whole place was carpeted in them.

  Abby clapped her hands. “Oh, wow! I hoped this was the right time. It’s only like this for a week or two every spring.” She crouched and swept her hand through the grass, touching the individual violet blossoms.

  Her recollection added another dimension to his image of the little girl who’d grown up here. “We’ll pick some before we leave and take them home. They remind me of the top you wore to the concert Friday night. I think I’m going to have a soft spot in my heart for violets from now on.”

  “It’s why Monique knew I’d like the halter so much. She knows I used to come out here a lot.”

  Seth had visions of lying with her in the viol
ets, but couldn’t decide if it was a romantic or corny notion.

  Standing, Abby said, “I was thinking maybe we’d have lunch and come back here.”

  Romantic, then. Excellent. Sometimes it was a fine line. “How about if we just have lunch here?”

  She agreed it was a fabulous idea, and they quickly transferred the cooler and blanket to the violet-filled clearing. She spread the blanket under a large maple tree, while he opened the cooler. Dilbert appeared from the woods, following the canine instinct signaling when there was food to be mooched. Seth opened the wine and a beer. Abby unwrapped a sandwich and handed him half. Dilbert focused his lone eye on them, tracking every bite they took, until Abby tossed several doggie treats into the grass in various locations around the clearing. Seth chuckled as the dog bounded off in search of crunchy snacks.

  Seth leaned back against the tree and positioned Abby to sit between his legs, her back to his chest. She let her head fall against the front of his shoulder and sipped her wine from the plastic cup. He knew his growing arousal had to be evident to her, and he wondered if he’d ever stop wanting her so fiercely.

  He’d never experienced desolation as complete as he had last night when he was sure he’d lost her. The prospect of living his life without her left him with a hopelessness he wished never to feel again. If only he could rid them of the threat hanging over their heads everything would be perfect.

  As if reading his mind, Abby said, “Do you think we should’ve stayed in town and helped Joey and Marshall?”

  “It doesn’t take four people to make a few phone calls and do some web surfing.” Though he admitted to himself he did feel somewhat guilty for running off on a picnic while they did the work.

  “I know. It’s why I didn’t say anything earlier.” She twisted around enough to be able to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Now I’m sitting here with you, and I started wondering if I was being selfish.”

  “We’ll see them again in a little while.”

  Abby murmured her agreement. “One thing is bothering me, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If Pam really did see a picture—and I’m not totally convinced she did—it means Stacy’s brother is still out there. And whether they made up before she died or not, he cared enough to show up at her memorial service.”

  This thought troubled him too. “I knew she had a brother, but that’s about it. She wouldn’t talk about him, and it wasn’t a big enough deal for me to push her on it.”

  “Pam said his name was Drew, though, and it’s what has me confused.”

  “She was the one who was confused. You should’ve seen her. She wasn’t tracking at all. She’d most likely seen Drew Purcell outside some of the shows, and followed the trial in the news. She just combined everything into one mixed-up thought.”

  Abby sighed. “You’re probably right. But it still doesn’t tell us who she saw in town who wasn’t supposed to be there. If anybody.”

  “True. We’ll have to put our heads together with Marsh and Joey when we get back. See if we can come up with some ideas.” He really didn’t want to think about this now.

  Luckily, it appeared she didn’t, either. She took his beer bottle and her wine cup and placed them a safe distance away. She returned to where she’d been sitting between his knees, only sideways. He slid his left arm behind her, and she leaned back onto the light support of his arm and bent knee. He’d noticed she’d applied a touch of sheer coral lipstick earlier, and he had an almost overwhelming urge to lick it off. Unable to think of a single good reason to resist, he bent and traced his tongue around the edges of her sinfully shaped lips. She allowed this for a minute, and he followed the changing shape of her mouth as it spread into a smile.

  Apparently wanting more, she stretched her arm upward and placed a hand on the back of his neck. She pulled him more tightly to her and kissed him. Heat coiled in his stomach. He shifted on his hip until they lay side by side on the green blanket. What was wrong with them, wearing so many clothes? Something had to be done about that. Moments later their shirts were on the grass and he was slipping her bra from her shoulders. Better. But not good enough. He needed to touch every bit of her. He set about remedying the situation, and breathed a sigh when they finally lay together amidst a scattering of discarded clothing.

  He remembered what Joey had said about how he should kiss his way up her body and not stop until he reached her earrings. Joey Garvin was a damned genius. He started at the peacock quill tattoo on her calf, but had to admit he didn’t distribute his time equally. He did some lingering when he reached the juncture of her thighs, lost in her delicious and vocal responses to his touch.

  When he finally made it to her earrings, he wasted barely a thought on the splendor of their surroundings. Why bother? The most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen was lying beneath him. She was every song he’d ever written—hell, every song he’d ever heard—all wrapped up into one.

  She skimmed her hand over his stomach, and he felt a nearly electric surge as her fingers closed around him. She shifted until she was positioned properly to guide him where she wanted him to go. He didn’t need any clues. He already knew how wet she was, how ready for him. He was glad she wasn’t shy about letting him know what she wanted, though. Especially now, since he was nearly frantic with the need to be inside her.

  Gliding in until he was fully sheathed, he paused as her legs wrapped around him. He gathered her in his arms and rolled until she was on top, and edged himself into a sitting position, leaning against the tree. He decided he was quite fond of this position in spite of the prickly bark. They were free to kiss and touch, and the tight, dusky peaks of her breasts were conveniently within range of his mouth. She tightened around him, and his hips lifted to match her rhythm. When her pace increased and she leaned her upper body against him, he knew it was because she craved even more contact. Her skin practically blazed when she pressed against him. He brought his hands up and down her back in bold, full strokes as she began to tremble. Her thighs stiffened, and he hugged her to him as she came, riding the wave with her until he too was swept away.

  When he was able to think again, he edged his back away from the tree. Frankly, he wasn’t as open to the potential for splinters as he’d been earlier. Abby reached behind him and brushed the chunks of bark from his back.

  “Maybe next time one of us should keep his shirt on,” she said, her lips by his ear.

  “I’ll see if I can remember that.”

  “What time do you think it is?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

  “I haven’t seen Dilbert in a while,” she said, her eyes scanning the perimeter of the clearing.

  “If you open the cooler, he’ll show up in no time.” Plus, another sandwich sounded like a good idea.

  Abby refilled her cup with wine, and took both a sandwich and another beer from the cooler. They lay on the blanket for a while, snacking, sipping, and talking about some of the houses they’d seen online. Someone eventually said they should get dressed. Seth was pretty sure it wasn’t him. After he put his gray t-shirt back on, she stepped up to him and smoothed his hair out from beneath the collar.

  Seth put the leftovers away in case Dilbert came back for a snack while they weren’t paying attention. He noticed they hadn’t eaten the croissants yet. Maybe they’d go for another walk, come back here and try the leave-the-shirt-on thing, then have the croissants. Abby’s purse strap was looped through the cooler handle, and he considered checking her cell phone for the time, but decided it didn’t matter.

  Abby went over by the old outbuilding where there was an especially thick cluster of violets, as well as some other wildflower Seth didn’t recognize. “If I lay them in the cooler, they might stay nice till we get home. They won’t be in good enough shape to put in a vase, but I want to press a few.”

  Seth thought that sounded sweet. He liked her having mementos of their day together. He wandered across the clearing, thinking he’
d take another look around the barn, though he might rather just watch Abby gather violets. He paused before he entered the trees, suddenly feeling he should stay close. Had he heard Dilbert barking? He strained his ears, but decided if he’d heard a dog bark, it had been very far away.

  He heard a short, strangled cry and spun around. The world as he knew it came apart in an instant when he saw Abby being held from behind by a man, one arm around her waist, and his other hand pressing a gun under her jaw. A flood of useless information assaulted his brain. The only thought that mattered was to get to Abby. Get her away from that man.

  Away from Andy Hicks. A member of his crew. A friend. A kid.

  With a fucking gun jammed against Abby’s neck.

  He took several lunging steps before Andy barked, “Stop! Any closer and it’s over, man.”

  Seth froze. Every instinct he had screamed at him to move, get to her, keep her safe. But moving even a single muscle could cause Andy to make good on his threat. Abby was about twenty-five feet away from him. Fright was evident in her eyes, but there was a calculating look too. She was evaluating the situation and looking for a way out. There wasn’t one. He gave his head a minute shake. She shouldn’t move. He had to think. Andy?

  “You gave me a real run, Seth. Seeing you die alone in a hotel room seemed like a great plan at first, but I think I like this way better.”

  Seth’s brain was experiencing a huge disconnect between the apprentice lighting technician with the long, sandy bangs always falling in his face and the dead-eyed stare of the bastard holding Abby’s life in his hands.

  His mouth was desert dry, and he swallowed several times until he could trust his voice. “So it was you who messed with the Jack Daniel’s bottle in Cincinnati.” Why he did it was another question, and one Seth hoped he had time to ask.

  “Yeah, I thought it’d be appropriate. I wanted you to die the same way she did, but I must’ve mixed it wrong.” Abby winced as Andy ground the gun against her neck. “Don’t move,” he ordered. Turning his attention back to Seth, he said, “I still could’ve finished you if Marsh hadn’t decided to play nursemaid.”