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Briar
Pushing open the door of Royce’s car, Briar stepped onto the road and immediately found her semi-dry foot soaked again by a puddle she hadn’t seen getting out of the vehicle.
“Dammit,” she muttered, trying to shake the water out of her shoe. “Dammit,” she whispered again and then wondered why she was whispering.
It was Royce King, she decided. He had some kind of weird effect on her brain and libido. She was caught off guard by him, hadn’t expected to see him, and here he was, sheriff of Rexville—and he wasn’t bald with a potbelly and hairy ears. Not at all. He wasn’t any longer the boy she’d had a secret crush on either. Nope, Royce was all grown up. She could see the outline of heavy muscle hidden underneath the Henley shirt he wore, his broad shoulders looking like they could support anything, and he had a confidence to his walk that had Briar understanding why someone had appointed him sheriff.
Royce waited for her at the front of the SUV, and he didn’t seem to have stepped in a puddle. He was weather-ready in heavy boots, jeans, the rain parka that had been hanging on the back of his chair the day before, and that grubby baseball cap he kept in his car. She saw now that the logo read “Tainted League.” Which she would’ve laughed at if she hadn’t just landed in a pond-sized puddle.
“Ready?” he asked.
No.But Briar nodded anyway, even if she didn’t want to admit that she was glad he’d insisted on coming with her. Royce’s presence was comforting—and unnerving, a little voice in her head whispered. Unnerving because that draw she’d felt almost twenty years ago hadn’t disappeared. In fact, it was more compelling now that they were adults. But this was so not the time.
Together, they crossed the road and moved toward the house. The sun had risen but was still hidden by the clouds, and Briar doubted the day would get much brighter. The rain began to come down even harder, turning into the kind that defied the best-designed outerwear, probably even Royce’s. Briar was going to need to find a way to dry her clothes when they were done. There was a chance Tor had a working washer and dryer but—she thought back to the weekly trips they’d made to the Rexville coin-op laundry—she wasn’t betting on it.
Unease rippled down her spine, making Briar unzip her jacket so she’d have access to her holster. Then she slipped through the break in the hedge, Royce King following right behind her.
From over her shoulder, Briar heard Royce’s muttered, “Jesus.”
She felt the same. “I had no idea.”
From what they could see in the darker shadows, the yard consisted of looming overgrown shrubs and trees that Briar didn’t remember being allowed to grow that large when she lived there. There was, however, a faint path worn through the too-tall grass, and she followed it to the porch, where she gingerly tested the first stair. It held firm so, with trepidation, she moved up the steps, pausing at the front door.
This was it. She would be returning to the one place she’d swore she’d never go back to. And yes, she’d been a teenager at the time, but still.
As Briar had expected, there weren’t any lights on inside. But it was still eerie to be standing at the front door of a house she’d last seen almost twenty years ago. She twitched away a shiver that ran up her spine, refusing to let old ghosts bother her.
Did she feel guilty that she’d never come back? Not exactly. Leaving Rexville had been the right decision. Juliana had been supportive and Briar had finished high school with good grades, gotten a few scholarships to college, and made the life she wanted. She wished she’d realized how isolated Tor had become though.
But still, she stood there waiting, as if Tor was going to answer the door.
“Open the door,” Royce said quietly. “We might as well get this over with.”
Reaching out, Briar grasped the door handle, not entirely surprised to find it unlocked, especially after what she now knew about the town’s late sheriff. For some reason, she expected a Hitchcockian screech, but the door swung in easily.
“Who left the door unlocked?” Royce demanded, stepping closer. “If Garrison wasn’t already dead, I’d demand an explanation from him. Be careful,” he added.
“Maybe there’s someone inside? Or someone broke in, knowing Tor was gone?” It didn’t feel like someone was there though. It felt empty.
Built around 1915, the house was two stories, with an attic that Briar remembered playing in as a child. When they stepped through the doorway, she knew, they’d find themselves in the living room, and on the other side of that was the dining room. Beyond there was the kitchen and then the door to the backyard. Between the dining room and the kitchen would be a staircase that climbed to the second floor, where three bedrooms and a bathroom were located, and across from those stairs was the door that led to the basement.
“It doesn’t feel to me like anyone is here,” she said out loud. “And all the lights are off.”
Oddly enough, Briar still had a key to the front door on her ring. She’d just moved the house key from one ring to the next, even as she’d known in her heart that she was never coming back.
And now she didn’t need it. And she had come back.
Ignoring the apprehension in her gut, she pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold, automatically reaching to her right and flipping the overhead light on.
“At least the electricity is still on,” she said, gazing around at what seemed to have become Tor’s bedroom. A couch she didn’t recognize had a pillow and blanket laid out on it. A newer flat-screen TV hung on the wall opposite and half-read books were open and stacked on the coffee table. Dirty laundry—she assumed it was dirty—was heaped on the floor while folded clothes were piled on a chair.
“It’s only been a few days,” said Royce.
“I suppose.”
Briar couldn’t say what she’d actually expected to find, but this was probably about it. At least Tor hadn’t turned into a hoarder. It looked like he’d made somewhat of an effort to keep tidy.
The house smelled like old man, mostly. Although there was something else that made her nose tingle, something that had the little hairs on the back of her neck rising.
