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Her heart clutched with terror. And leaped with inexplicable joy.
“Don’t scream.” He spoke in the familiar whisper that always came as somewhat of a surprise. “Don’t do anything until you’ve looked at this.” He held out his hand. In the palm of his glove lay a silver trinket. She recognized it instantly.
“Where did you get that?”
“From underneath you where you supposedly fell.” He gave her a mere few seconds to assimilate that, then, “Are you staying with them? Or coming with me?”
Chapter 33
In advance of the meeting, Sam Knight hadn’t had much good to tell Jack about Emory Charbonneau
’s husband.
“Suspecting him of instant divorce, Grange and me did him a disservice. But he’s got an ego on him. Haughty, too. When we show up unannounced, you can count on him being a jerk at best.”
Jack had gone in with low expectations, and everything Jeff Surrey had said and done since their arrival had lived up to Knight’s characterization. Jack hadn’t warmed to the man, and it was clear that the feeling was mutual.
Emory’s abrupt departure upstairs, the slamming of the bedroom door at the landing, had left the three men suspended in a taut silence. After several moments passed and no one moved, Jack looked over at Jeff. “Is she all right?”
“Did she seem all right to you? After the bombshell you just dropped, would you expect her to be all right?”
“Maybe you should go up and check on her.”
Jeff expelled his breath. “Let’s give her a moment.” He got up and went over to the bar. “She declined a stiff one before you got here. She might have changed her mind.” He poured a whiskey and stared into it thoughtfully as he swirled it in the glass.
“Since you know your wife better than anyone,” Jack said, “I—”
“Possibly I don’t know her at all.”
“How do you mean?”
Jeff came around to face him. “I mean that I never would have thought she and I would find ourselves in such sordid circumstances. Emory is nothing if not stable and reliable. This Bannock must have worked some powerful mojo on her. She’s not at all herself.”
“In what way?”
“Ways, plural. Ordinarily, she’s confident and strong-willed. Now, skittish as a rabbit, nervous, agitated. She’s distracted, forgetful, absent-minded, when usually she’s centered. Almost to a fault. Shall I go on?”
“I’m listening.”
The man needed no further encouragement. “Emory is a forward-thinking person. But now she seems stuck inside that damn cabin with Hayes Bannock, still caught up in the distasteful situation he dragged her into with that family of rednecks.
“Whatever she witnessed and experienced up there maintains a grip on her. It’s changed her. I hope to God the effects aren’t irrevocable. If she doesn’t revert to the Emory Charbonneau everyone knows, the fallout from all this could be catastrophic. For both of us. Even more than it already has been,” he said, shooting a glare toward Knight.
Coming back to Jack, he added, “Of course, your appearance has been a major setback to her recovery and return to normal life. Thanks for that, Special Agent Connell.”
Using that as his exit line, he took the glass of whiskey with him and climbed the stairs. At the top, he tapped on the bedroom door. “Emory?” Getting no answer, he turned the knob and pushed open the door, closing it softly behind him as he entered the room.
Knight dusted popcorn salt off his fingers. “Told you he was a jerk.”
“You were being generous. It’s all about him, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“He didn’t show any compassion toward her for the ordeal she’s been through.”
“Oh, yesterday, he was all over that,” Knight said. “But after seeing the burglary video this morning, he—”
“She’s gone!”
