Her stomach clenched tight. Clayne? Why would Mama hurt Clayne?
He hadn’t been her favorite person in the world, and she’d hated the yucky old bed in his guestroom, but her mama had liked him, so she’d tried her best to be polite. “You’re lying. That doesn’t make any sense.”
But the triumph in his dark eyes made her think that maybe the bad man was telling the truth. “Bad people don’t always make sense when they do terrible things. But one truth you can count on, my dear, sweet girl, is this…Katarina is one of the villains.”
Bethany wanted to punch him right in the nose but settled for balling her fists. All those stories he’d told about her mama made her chest hurt, and her throat felt funny. She wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him. Whether her mama had done all those awful things or if he was trying to trick her again.
One thing Bethany was sure of, though. Her mama would never hurt her. She loved Bethany, and Bethany loved her mama right back.
“So, what if she is?” Bethany looked Dr. Rotten square in the eye. “Even bad guys can be good guys when they need to be.”
17
Branches from an overgrown section of trail clawed at Clay’s shirt as he trekked back down the mountain. He moved to the side and held them out of the way for Lucas to pass through before rejoining the descent.
They’d spent hours traipsing along the trails already, starting close to the river where the ranger found Lucas all those years ago. The drawings Lucas had created from his time in the cabin were tucked away in Clay’s backpack. At several points along their hike, Lucas had stopped in his tracks to scrutinize certain sections of the mountain, asking Clay to hand him the drawings to compare.
His gaze would travel back and forth from the sketch to the landscape, sometimes for up to a minute before he’d finally nod and hand Clay the paper while pointing out the landmarks. “See…there and there.” He’d indicate the landmarks on the mountain, then show Clay where to find them on the drawing.
Sometimes, the landmarks were so overgrown that Clay needed additional help to spot them, and Lucas would guide him closer, or to a different angle, until he could finally make the connection too.
The kid had endless stores of patience, and a damned good eye.
Man, Clay corrected, not kid. Not anymore. Lucas’s youth had been stolen long ago by the people who’d snatched him. He was a young man now.
Clay had worried the hike would be too rigorous for Lucas, both physically and emotionally, but out on the mountain, the other man was in his element. What could have been a grim day turned out surprisingly enjoyable, with Lucas halting on the trail every so often to point out a squirrel, or a fox, or a hawk spiraling up in the sky, along with the best items to use to start a fire, and how to build a shelter from branches, plants, and moss.
Only once had the other man needed assistance, and that was when they’d meandered along the river and come to a bend where boulders protruded from the flowing water like stepping-stones.
Lucas’s eyes stuck on one stone in particular, and he’d begun rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Clay had finally calmed him down by asking for his help to identify a nearby bird perched on a tree limb. His sister had sometimes gotten stuck in a mind rut like that, and the thing that had worked the best for her was distraction.
No luck so far in terms of finding any sign of Caraleigh, but Clay had managed to accrue an impressive number of mosquito bites. There was always tomorrow. And the day after that. Clay would spend as many days as necessary to track his sister down.
The sun was only an orange smudge on the horizon by the time they finished hiking back down and reached Clay’s truck. He was dusty, sweaty, but most of all, starving. The power bars they’d devoured on the trail weren’t cutting it, so once they’d snapped on their seat belts, Clay turned to Lucas. “You hungry? Why don’t we find somewhere to eat? We can start searching again in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“Anything sound good to you? I’m sure there are plenty of places around.”
The other man stared straight out the windshield, rubbing his palms up and down his jeans. “It’s Tuesday. They serve burgers on Tuesdays at the center.”
He stated that bit of information in a stiff, solemn voice, like burgers on Tuesdays was an unbreakable vow.
Clay smiled. “Burgers sound good to me. Let’s see what Yelp has to say.” He consulted his phone to search for a local spot with high ratings. “How about Billy’s Burger Barn? It’s only a mile away and has rave reviews. Here, listen to this one: ‘A real hole-in-the-wall gem of a place. If you care more about taste than fancy tablecloths and snooty waiters, then this is the spot for you.’”
Lucas frowned. “Is hole-in-the-wall good?”
“Depends, but some of my favorite diners and bars are tiny little spots that you’d miss driving along the street if you blinked.”
“Okay. But that doesn’t seem like very effective advertising if you could miss seeing them by blinking.”
Clay laughed at Lucas’s logic. “That’s very true. Also, I can see why you and Caraleigh got along so well. She used to say stuff like that all the time.”
Of course, as a teen, Clay had often found some of his little sister’s quirks annoying. He only hoped he’d get the chance to appreciate them now that they were both adults.
When they pulled into the crowded parking lot five minutes later, Clay whooped at the miniature barn-shaped building.
