Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Elly
STAY CONNECTED
Chapter 1
I’d been away from home for far too long. The truck stop which doubled as a bus station had been repainted; the dull, sad blue replaced by a dull, sad salmon. Across the street, Schultz’s Diner had been bought out by a chain which hadn’t bothered to sandblast the stenciled letters off the sidewalk.
I counted the benches as I stepped off the bus. There used to be three; two for general use, and one on the end that old Raff called home. Raff’s bench was gone—only a dark patch of concrete and four broken bolts showed where it used to be.
He’s probably dead. Six years is a long time for an old man to live outside. The unwanted thought settled on my mind, heavier than the rucksack over my shoulder. I shifted both to make them easier to bear. Raff probably won the lottery and moved into a retirement home. I’d gotten real good at believing my own lies. Hell, some of them even came true; like, they’ll figure out I didn’t do it and lift my sentence. If that turned out to be true, why shouldn’t this?
“Hey! Hey, you!”
First things first. I had a voucher in my pocket for a week at the motel—I should get myself a room before I did anything else. But my feet had a mind of their own and I found myself bypassing the motel entirely, heading up the road to the little grocery store on the corner. No reason I shouldn’t quench my thirst before setting up, I reasoned.
“Hey! I’m talking to you.”
My path was blocked, and so I stopped. I stared down at the rough work boots in front of me for a moment and sucked in a long, deep breath. The fact that home wasn’t home – not that it had ever been – was about to become incredibly clear. I could just feel it, the impending truth of just how unwanted I was around here.
“Prison make you deaf, boy?”
I raised my head slowly, to look the owner of the boots in the eyes. Bruce Rigget glared down at me, all two hundred muscled pounds of him twisted in disgust.
“You could’a said my name,” I said, keeping both my face and my attitude calm.
Rigget curled his lip at me and sneered. “Scum like you don’t deserve a name. You know my girl was set on marrying Hunter. She ain’t forgot. How’s that feel, boy? Knowing you broke a girl’s heart. She ain’t never gonna be the same.”
Hunter’s name sliced open the wound in my soul, stiffening my muscles with a rage born of loss. Just like it always did. Just like it always will. I shook my head. Can’t get in a brawl my first day back in town, the quiet, rational part of my brain whispered. Hard as it was, I kept my lips pressed together as I rolled the tension out of my shoulders and nodded.
“My condolences.”
“You son of a--!”
I ducked under his fist and kept moving down the street.
“Yeah, you better run!”
His shouts were drawing attention to me. Wide-eyed women ducked inside buildings and stared with bulging eyes as I passed. Men postured threateningly. My friends and neighbors, I thought bitterly. I can’t say this was the welcome home I was expecting, but then again, I never quite thought about what it would be like to come back.
Paint wasn’t the only thing that had changed in this godforsaken place. There were a surprising number of people out and about, and they all seemed to know exactly who I was. It was almost comical, like a play they were putting on for one another’s benefit. I couldn’t believe any of them were actually afraid of me—but they’d be damned if they couldn’t brag to one another about their near-miss with the town killer.
The newspaper stand in front of the grocery store confirmed my suspicions. There, on the front page, was my mug shot. Beside it, Hunter’s senior photo. His eyes haunted me. Deep as the sea, even on newspaper, just like his sister’s—but with a determined glint I’d never seen in hers.
“Determined to get yourself killed,” I murmured as I touched my fingers to the scratched plastic window on the stand. “Never could keep your mouth shut.”
“So the man talked shit and ya killed him for it?” An obnoxious cackle punctuated the erroneous remark, and I glanced over my shoulder to see a rickety old man. He wore a filthy apron over his filthy clothes and he was pushing dirt around with an ancient broom. “That’s the way to do it, boy. That’s how a man earns respect!”
Disgust churned in my gut, but I kept my face blank. Can’t give them the satisfaction of knowing you feel a damn thing. “That ain’t how it happened, Mick.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you gotta say to keep your freedom, right? So, just between me and you, how’d you do it, huh? What’s the get outta jail free card, jus’ in case I need it someday.” Drool seeped between the gaps in his rotten teeth as he grinned up at me. I suppressed a shudder and turned away and took a few unnoticeable steps back. I could still smell him from here, though and my skin still ran cold at the thought of what the stench could be related to.
“Simple,” I said. “Don’t kill anybody.”
“All right, I hear ya. Keep your secrets to yourself then. But if I’m ever in a jam, I’m gonna give you a call.”
“Don’t bother,” I told him and turned to walk away for good, adamant on putting as much space between him and me as possible. His grating laugh followed me into the store, though he remained outside.
The old-fashioned lemonade shop still sat in the
