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“It’s beautiful,” she said, smiling up at him.
“It’s useful.” But despite the correction, her praise pleased him. “The living area is to this side. It’s the original part of the house.”
The spacious room still contained all of the pieces from his mother’s time, along with the newer furniture he’d built and she praised it as well before giving his kitchen area a fascinated look.
“You cook here?”
“Yes, although I use the wood stove more in the cold months. During the summer I mainly eat from the garden or use the outdoor grill.”
“Did your mother teach you about preserving food as well?’ she asked, inspecting his pantry.
“She did, but I have a homesteading guide as well.”
He showed her his small precious collection of books and she ran her finger lightly over the spines.
“It seems like you have everything you need right here.”
“Not everything.”
He didn’t have anyone to share his life. Perhaps she heard the sorrow in his voice because she leaned against him for a brief comforting moment, then yawned.
“I wonder what time it is.”
“Very late, or very early, depending on how you look at it. Three hours until sunrise.”
“Maybe I should try and get some more sleep.”
“You should, but first…” He drew her over to the couch and gently urged her to sit. “I think you need to tell me why you ran.”
CHAPTER 7
Rorie bit her lip at Marsh’s request, but he was right. She did owe him an explanation, and a warning about the kind of man who was after her.
“You remember that I told you Harold is very wealthy? No one was ever willing to say much directly, but I’d heard rumors over the years about how he’d acquired his money - shady land deals, driving away competitors, things like that - but I didn’t realize how far things had gone.”
She twisted her fingers together nervously, and he reached over and covered them with his own, his big hand warm and unexpectedly comforting.
“The house is on the edge of town. It backs up against the swamp, but his property extends a long way back into the woods along the road as well. It’s all fenced. There are fancy brick walls and an iron gate across the driveway in front of the house, but most of it consists of tall wire fences.” It was one of the reasons it had been so hard to come up with a way to leave. “I thought it was a control thing, but I discovered yesterday that it was more. There’s an old travel trailer in the woods at the far end of the property. He’s using it as a meth lab. Not him personally, I mean, but someone working for him.”
Marsh tilted his head with that inquisitive look.
“Meth lab?”
“It produces a type of drug, a very dangerous drug. He even has a network of dealers to distribute it, although Elmer is the one who handles that part of things.” She shuddered at the memory. “I went for a walk after dinner last night and discovered him… teaching the dealer a lesson, he called it.”
She wasn’t even sure how she’d ended up at the old barn. She’d gone for a walk after dinner, restless and frustrated, even though dinner had gone well enough. Harold had given an approving grunt when he finished, a welcome change from the morning when he complained that she burnt his toast and backhanded her when she dared to disagree.
She’d suddenly been overwhelmed at the thought of the day being repeated over and over, scant approval mixed with brutal blows and it had been too much. She’d slipped out of the house as soon as she’d finished cleaning the Kitchen, trying desperately to come up with a way to escape. At one point she’d even found herself on his dock, staring across at the swamp. Perhaps that was why she’d headed for it when she ran.
“You don’t have to tell me anymore,” Marsh said gently.
“I think I do. Elmer killed the man. I’m not sure if he meant to or if he just went too far, but either way it didn’t seem to bother him. Or Harold. He was there too, watching the whole thing.”
She shivered and this time he pulled her closer, tucking her against his side. She went willingly, breathing in his herbal scent as she nestled against him. His chest and stomach were smoother than his arms, hard with muscle but still warm and flexible beneath her hand. She blushed when she realized her hand had ended up on his chest but before she could pull it away, he covered it with his own.
“There was so much blood. I must have made a sound because Harold looked up and saw me. He didn’t even seem worried that I’d seen what happened. Certainly not worried enough to come after me when I ran away. At least not at first.”
She hadn’t even returned to the house, just taken off into the night. She’d still been hovering on the edge of the swamp, torn between her fear of the swamp and her fear of Harold, when he yelled her name. When she didn’t respond, he’d started shouting threats and that had been the impetus she needed to travel deeper into the swamp. She’d initially planned to stay close to the edge and follow it further north, away from Harold and Cypress Landing, before heading back to dry land, but she’d quickly become lost.
