Keeping What's His(12)

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Sutton pushed the broom under Pap’s bed, sweeping several huge dust bunnies out along with am old shoebox. She stared down at the box, recognizing it instantly. Bending over, she set it on the bed then returned to cleaning under the bed. She grabbed the dustpan, sweeping the huge pile up and tossing it into the trash can in the kitchen.

She went to the refrigerator, taking out a cold beer and popping the top. She took a long drink before going back into the bedroom and picking up the box, tucking it under her arm. Carrying the box and beer to the front porch, she sat down on the rocking chair, propping her feet onto the porch rail. She drank half the beer before she took the top off the box and stared at the myriad photos taken the summer she had been with Tate.

Taking another swallow of her beer, she picked up the first photo, gazing down into Tate’s roughly hewn features. He was wearing the straw hat she hated. Shirtless and covered in sweat, he had stood, braced against the same porch rail that her feet rested on now.

She still remembered that day. They had walked through the woods from his house. He had stopped halfway to her house, pulling her close for their first kiss. The unexpected passion he had raised in her had frightened her into breaking away from him. Then she had run the rest of the way back to Pap’s house. Tate had chased after her, his laughter following her.

He hadn’t changed much from his picture other than a few lines at the corners of his eyes, and his body had become more muscular. The biggest difference was his eyes. The man she had seen the other day showed no mercy.

Sutton dropped the picture back into the box, picking up another one. In this one, they were lying on a quilt under a huge oak tree. She was on her back, staring up into his face. Tate was lying next to her as they stared at each other. The truth of their relationship was caught in that moment by Rachel who had caught them off-guard, taking the picture.

Her face was filled with a mixture of love and need, baring her soul. Tate’s expression was just as telling. She had just been too innocent to recognize it for what it was—passion and want. His was missing the deeper emotions so easily read on hers.

Sutton crushed the photo in her hand before returning it to the old shoebox and putting the lid back on top. Then she lifted the beer bottle to her lips and was staring blindly into the dark woods, lost in the past, when a crack of gunfire filled the night.

Sutton’s feet dropped to the wooden porch as she jumped up, listening as another shot rang out. She then ran inside the house, picking up her cell phone and calling 911.

The emergency operator sounded tired when she came on the line. “911, what is your emergency?”

“This is Sutton Creech. I live at 540 South Benson Road. I was outside and heard gunshots.”

“Is there a victim?”

“I don’t know. All I heard was gunfire.”

“We’ll send a patrol car out and a deputy to take your statement.”

“Thank you.”

After the operator disconnected the call, Sutton went to her front door, which she had left open, closing it and slamming the lock in place. She hadn’t heard another shot, so to calm her taut nerves, she told herself it was probably Tate or one of his brothers out hunting.

She stood there, looking out her front window, until she saw a police car pull up outside her house with its blue lights flashing. Sutton watched a huge man get out of the sheriff’s car. His size alone was reassuring enough for her to unlock and open the door before he was able to reach the front porch.

“Ms. Creech?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Knox Bates. The dispatcher said you heard shots. Any idea which direction they came from?”

Sutton pointed to the woods that led down to the road into town. The sheriff pressed a button on the radio on his shoulder, sending a deputy to the direction she had pointed.

“Thanks for your help. Go inside and lock your doors.” Sheriff Bates turned to leave.

“That’s it?” Sutton questioned, thinking he would at least take down a statement.

“Pretty much. You told the dispatcher you didn’t see anything. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I only heard two shots.”

“Then there isn’t any more information you can give me. My time is better spent trying to find where the shots came from. Don’t you agree?” The huge man raised a questioning brow at her.

Sutton blew out an aggravated breath. “Yes.”

“Go inside and lock your door. Let me and my deputy do our jobs.”

She went inside her house, shutting the door behind her and locking it again. She stared out the window as the sheriff pulled out of her gravel driveway then dropped the curtain to hide the inky darkness that had her regretting her decision to stay alone at Pap’s house.

She needed her head examined. She knew from the stories Pap had told her that these mountains were dangerous. Tate had made no effort to hide the danger the summer they had been together. With the property left vacant for so many years, it was just another mistake in a long line she had made.

First thing in the morning, she would go into town and contact a realtor. She would sell the house as quickly as possible and go back to California. Then the only problem she would have left would be to figure out where home was.





Chapter 9



“Did you hear they found Lyle Turner dead? He was shot in the back of his head a half mile from your house.”

Sutton almost dropped the Styrofoam coffee cup in her hand. She had stopped in at the diner to buy herself a cup to help wake up and had passed Cheryl in the parking lot as she was leaving.

“No, I hadn’t heard.” Sutton didn’t tell her she had called the police when she had heard the shots last night.

“It’s all people are talking about when they come into the hardware store. The sheriff is looking for Tate.”

Sutton frowned. “Why Tate?”

“Lyle and Tate have had some bad blood between them lately. Lyle had a protection order against Tate. It only makes sense that he’s the one who shot Lyle.”

“Not to me,” Sutton snapped back. “Tate might be a jerk, but he wouldn’t shoot anyone in the back of the head. He wouldn’t hesitate to shoot them between the eyes, but Tate wouldn’t shoot anyone without giving them a chance to defend themselves.”

Cheryl shrugged. “I’m just repeating what everyone is saying.”

“Then everyone is wrong.” Sutton opened her car door, getting inside.

“Wait, are you mad at me?” Cheryl placed her hand on the car door, preventing her from closing it.

Sutton sighed. She didn’t know why she was taking up for Tate, anyway. He didn’t need her to protect him. He hadn’t in the past and certainly didn’t need it now.

“No, I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little freaked out finding out someone was killed not far from my house.”

“Oh.” Cheryl’s smile of relief filled her face. “That’s fine. I shouldn’t be repeating gossip. I hated it when I was the one everyone in town was talking about. Want to go out for a drink Friday night? I don’t have many friends left in town since I alienated most of them when Jared and I were going through our divorce.”

“I’d like that. Seven o’clock at that new restaurant?”

“King’s?” Sutton nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bye, Cheryl.”

“Bye.”

Sutton closed her car door as Cheryl moved away, going inside the diner. Sutton was sure she would find someone else to talk to who would be more interested in spreading the gossip about Tate. In the meantime, it was only a couple of miles to the realtor’s office.

Hall Realty was the only realty company in town. When she had looked it up online, she had realized she knew the owner of the business since Drake Hall had attended high school with her. Sutton missed the anonymity of a larger city. In Treepoint, everyone knew everyone and who your parents were, going back generations.

Cheryl knocked on the office door before hearing a brusque male voice telling her to come inside.

Drake Hall rose from behind his desk as she entered. He was powerfully built with the same smile she remembered from high school. He had been one of the handsomest boys in school, and she was sure he was still one of the best-looking men in town.

Sutton introduced herself, taking the hand he held out.

“Judge Creech’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t seen you in Treepoint for years.”

“I live in San Diego now. I want to sell the house my grandfather left me.”

Drake’s smile slipped for a brief second as he waved her to a chair in front of his desk before returning to his own. “Property isn’t exactly selling right now. What kind of condition is the house in?”

“I’m cleaning it, and I’m going to put in a new kitchen and bathroom before we place it on the market. It should only take a couple of weeks. I’ve already contacted a contractor.”

“I see.”

“I thought the improvements would help it sell?” Sutton inquired, seeing the heavy frown on Drake’s face.

“Usually, it does, but in your case, I don’t think it’s going to make much of a difference. I don’t know how you’re set financially, and I would hate to see you wasting your money on a house that’s going to take time to sell.”