Someone across the room sneezed, drawing his attention back to the machine. Enough stalling. He needed direction, or he’d spend the next few weeks trudging aimlessly around the mountains. He wasn’t sure why he needed to go there for closure. Instinct just told him he did, and he’d learned long ago to trust that inner voice.
He placed the slide, adjusted the view, and scanned the local newspaper. It didn’t take long to find the right issue—it was the day after it had happened.
The headline read “Governor’s Wife Murdered on Camping Trip.”
Wyatt swallowed hard and forced himself to review the article as if he were a subjective reader. He scanned the bits he knew all too well, searching for the exact location of the crime. But the journalist only named the Blue Ridge Mountains as the police hadn’t released many details at that point. He moved on to the article in the next day’s paper.
A fist tightened around his chest at the sight of his mother’s beautiful picture.
It was a full five seconds before he could tear his gaze away long enough to read the article. It contained a few more details. The suspect was still at large. More background about his mother. Wyatt was also mentioned, but not by name, as he’d been a minor at the time.
Finally, in an edition a couple weeks out from the crime, an article declared that the culprit had been apprehended in Florida. A regurgitation of the crime turned up a few new details, but nothing regarding its location.
He kept going, searching for other articles, but the subsequent ones focused on the trial and prosecution of Gordon Kimball.
Wyatt turned off the machine. He’d learned nothing helpful, and the search had come at a cost. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his palms were cold and clammy. But the worst of it was the memories that had been stirred up. A necessary evil, he knew. He would have to dig it all up—feel it all—if he wanted to reach the other side of this and finally reclaim his life.
Chapter Seven
Molly smiled as she pulled the door shut, feeling rather smug about the way she’d set up her sister on a walk to town with the hunky guest. She stowed the dirty towels in the cart, pushed it into the laundry room, then started a load of sheets and towels. That done, she grabbed the bag of garbage and hauled it downstairs.
At the front desk Levi looked up from the computer. “Hey, you got a minute?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Robin sent the pictures this morning. Did you see them?”
“Yeah, they turned out great.”
“Did you get the listing written up yet?”
“It’s only been a day, Levi.”
“I know, but the sooner we get it online, the sooner we’ll have a buyer.”
“Somebody’s eager to get out to LA.”
“I have a prospective job—a commercial construction company. They want to interview me about a position that’ll be opening up soon.”
“Hey, that’s great.” The thought of Levi leaving for good weighted her chest. This was happening so fast. But it was the plan. She was leaving too. They’d all be going their separate ways. “I’ll get the listing written up today.”
“Thanks.”
Molly picked up the bag of trash and headed toward the back door.
“Hey, one more thing,” Levi said. “What’s up with that Wyatt guy?”
“What do you mean?”
“It seemed like there was something strange going on between him and Grace earlier.”
Molly lifted a brow. “That was just tension, Levi. Good ol’ sexual tension.”
He flinched, the thought of his baby sister experiencing attraction no doubt making his stomach heave.
“I was glad to see it going both directions,” she said. “I haven’t seen anyone turn her head like that before. That’s some stare he has, huh?”
“What stare?”
“Never mind. You wouldn’t understand. I’m taking this out, then heading home.” She started down the hall.
“Wait. What do we know about him?”
Molly paused again. “We know he’s a guest. And his name is Wyatt.”
“That’s it? And you just sent Grace out the door with him?”
“In Bluebell? In broad daylight? She’ll be fine, Levi. She’s not a child anymore.”
“How long’s he staying?”
She shrugged. “It’s open-ended—and you’re overreacting again. You said we should let you know when you’re doing it, and I’m letting you know—you’re doing it.”
Levi shifted. “He seemed kind of secretive, that’s all.”
“During your extensive onetime conversation? People usually don’t spill their life story upon first sight.”
He pinned her with a look.
Well, fine. “Most people don’t. I’m leaving now. Can you throw the load in the dryer in twenty minutes?”
“Sure.” She could tell he wanted to say more, but he wisely held back. “See you tomorrow.”
Two hours later, Molly sat at her kitchen table, frowning at the document on her laptop. She glanced out on the deck where her husband’s fingers were practically dancing across his keyboard, feeling a moment’s jealousy.
Sure, sure, he wrangled words for a living, but this was her beloved childhood home. She knew everything there was to know about it. Loved everything about it. Why couldn’t she find the words to make others see how special it was?
She stared at the cursor blinking where she’d left off. She placed her fingers on the keyboard and wrote out the spiel they gave every new guest upon arrival. A nice long paragraph.
She reread it, finding it didn’t feel right in print, not for a listing.
She placed her finger on the delete key and watched all the words disappear. Outside, the sunny deck and cushy lawn chairs beckoned. But Adam was working, very productively apparently, and she wasn’t about to interrupt his flow.
Her gaze drifted around their lake house. He’d bought it when he moved here from New York. She’d thought he’d choose something new and modern like he’d had in the city, but this home was fifty years old and loaded with charm. They’d done some updating, but the two-story home retained its lovely character.
Settling in here after the wedding had been easy. She felt at home on the lake where she’d grown up. At home with Adam. She hated the weeks when he went on tour, but that was only when a new book released. The rest of the time was easy breezy. They’d settled into a nice routine. Most nights she cooked or he grilled out, and once a week they ate with Levi and Grace. Molly did the grocery shopping, and Adam took care of the lawn. They had a couple favorite shows they watched together.
All that would change when they moved to Tuscany. They’d have to find a new routine. But she was so grateful Adam was willing to move. She’d already started tackling the red tape necessary to own and operate a business in Italy. It was complicated, and she’d likely have to hire an Italian lawyer to help her muddle through it.
In the meantime she scoped out potential inns and homes online, but she didn’t want to get her heart set on anything. It would probably take a while to sell their inn, maybe over a year.
The glass door slid open, and Adam slipped through, looking handsome as ever. His brown hair was windblown, and he had a few days’ stubble on his jaw. He’d gotten new glasses a few weeks ago, and she was crazy about the way he looked in them.