Page 7 of Corrupting Ivy

Deep breath.

She tapped her finger to her chin, thinking. “Weeks ago. She found them. It was her. It’s her fault. Now she’ll find me too.”

I cleared my throat. “Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

This woman was a code that came without a cipher. Small bits of truth interlaced the psychobabble, and I had to determine which was pertinent and which one to ignore.

She continued rambling about a woman who didn’t exist. I’ve had enough of this already. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Focus, Ma. Did they find him?”

Her eyes widened as she threw her head back and wailed. “She found him. There is no place to hide now.” Dropping to her knees, out of my grasp, she covered her face as the water spilled onto the thread-bare rug beneath her.

I stepped out the door, tightening the reins on my overwhelming hatred towards this woman.

Picking out my phone, I rattled off a message to Alek, business partner and friend, telling him not to expect me for a few more days while I figured this out.

Walking back inside, I picked her keys off the hook and took her truck into town, leaving her hysterical on the dirty floor.

There was no way I would get anything from her tonight. Not with her like that. Besides, being in that home only dredged up memories I shoved down a long time ago.

I threw her rusted truck into gear and headed towards town, driving past the forest. I should go in there and see, take a small peek. No. That place is crawling with investigators, I’m sure. If they caught me, I’d get put on their radar and, in turn, the people around me. We couldn’t afford that type of heat.

No, I’d wait until I spoke with Sheriff Kennedy. He’d tell me everything I needed to know in the morning, but for now… I needed a drink and a bed.

There was one bar in this town and one place for me to sleep that wasn’t Ma’s home. Remy would welcome me with open arms. She always did.

I pulled up to the bar, which was alive with country music and booming voices. A sense of nostalgia covered me in a blanket of lies. No matter how many wonderful memories I had in this town, they’d always become overrun with the bad. There were just too many of them. I slammed the truck door shut. Its rusty hinges screamed their protest, then walked inside.

Not much changes in a small town, and that goes for the bar. It was just as I remembered it.

The same Coors sign hung on the wall along with flashing neon blue lights that said Lite with an orange lit tube around it. Scattered around the floor was a mish-mash of chairs and tables, and to the right, regulars occupied the stools tucked underneath the bar.

Not much had changed, indeed. Most of these people, I recognized. The rest didn’t look as though they belonged. Outsiders.

I took a seat at the bar and looked for Remy. Instead, I found someone new that stirred something heavy in my gut.

A woman with long wavy black hair cascading around her shoulders, barely tall enough to hit my chin, and curves that had you sucking in a deep breath as the thoughts of holding on to them with a tight fist buckled my mind. The corners of her bright green eyes wrinkled as she smiled at the customers while she handed them their beer—a genuine smile. She enjoyed what she was doing.

This woman was like the rest of the out-of-towners. You could see it in the way she dressed and the style in which she spoke. There wasn’t a southern twang to her words, and she wore blue jeans, but with sneakers, not boots. She didn’t belong here, just like me.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” the familiar voice said loud enough that it stopped conversations around the bar and drew their attention to me. Great.

I like to think of myself as a quiet, reserved man. I kept to myself, mostly.

If I didn’t hold myself with confidence, the weight of their stares would have sunk me into my seat.

“Remy.”

She popped off the top of a long-neck beer, squeezed a lemon into the mouthpiece, then slid it my way. The dark-haired beauty wiped down the counters, paying close attention to something extra sticky on the bar top. I followed her movements out of my periphery as I took a swig of my beer.

“What drug you back to these parts?”

“Ma.”

She pulled out two shot glasses and a bottle of Jack, then filled them to the brim and passed one over.

“That hideous bitch is getting more insane by the day. Haven’t you locked her up yet?”

“Nope.”

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