Page 89 of Just Between Us

When I finally caught my breath, I inhaled deeply. “She was gentle and kindhearted and funny. Part of me hates that for the rest of my life, I’ll be without that particularthing, you know? The thing that made life with her so special.”

“Oh, Royal ...” Veda was also crying, and she held me. I searched her jade-green eyes as they bounced between mine. “Don’t you see?” She planted her hand on my bare chest, across my heavy heart. “That part of her lives here. It’s one of my favorite things about you. You are gentle and kindhearted and funny. That’s a part of her that you carry with you, and it will never go away.”

Vulnerable and wrung out, I clung to her in the darkness. With my face buried in her dark hair, I finally understood—when it came to Veda Bauer, I was no longer in control.

TWENTY-SIX

VEDA

Royal’semotional breakdown had left my heart in tatters. In the dark, something had clicked—like a fierce and intense side of me was finally unlocked, and I was determined to rain down hellfire on anyone who dared hurt the man I loved.

Particularly Russell fucking King.

I glared at him over my macchiato espresso from the window seat at the Sugar Bowl as he casually chatted with someone across the street. Dressed in a pair of taupe khaki pants, boat loafers, and a short-sleeved polo, he looked like any other wealthy vacationer in Outtatowner. His pinkie ring glittered in the afternoon sun, and I ground my molars together.

A gentle hand landed on my back, and Sylvie leaned over my shoulder. “It’s better if you just pretend he doesn’t exist.” She shrugged. “That’s what I do, and it helps.”

My nostrils and hatred flared in tandem. “I don’t think I am capable of doing that.”

“Well, if you grip that mug any harder, you’re going to crush it and make a mess.” She tipped her head toward my white knuckles as I clutched my ceramic coffee cup.

I released my grip and let out a sharp exhale. “Can I ask you something?”

Sylvie leaned a hip against the window-front counter and flipped the white dish towel onto her shoulder with a pretty smile. “Anything.”

My face scrunched as I mentally tried to put the pieces together with my working timeline. “Has Duke ever mentioned seeing footprints or tire tracks on the farm? Or maybe even near the Sullivans’ house? Anything like that?”

Sylvie’s eyebrows raised and she nodded. “Oh yeah, it’s a whole thing.” I sat up to listen and she continued: “Every once in a while they’ll find ATV tracks or footprints. For a while I think everyone assumed it was hikers wandering off the trail, but Duke is suspicious.” She playfully rolled her eyes. “He’salwayssuspicious.”

I offered a tight smile and tipped my head. “What can you tell me about Bootsy?”

Sylvie’s smile faltered. “He’s pretty harmless ... I think. A couple of times he’s been extra creepy, but for the most part it’s just sad—the hold my dad has on him. I also tend to ignore him.” She leaned in. “Which I advise you to do too.”

I nodded into my coffee cup. “Thanks.”

“Well, that’s my cue.” Her eyes flicked toward the glass door, and she straightened. I followed her gaze to see Russell King headed across traffic and straight toward the bakery. “See you tonight at the Bluebirds?”

I nodded, and Sylvie slipped past the patrons and disappeared through the saloon-style doors to the kitchen.

When Russell entered, he was immediately recognized. Old ladies swooned. Others offered polite hellos and dainty handshakes. He was making the rounds in the bakery, greeting everyone and making friendly small talk. Nearly everyone in the bakery was enchanted by his smooth smile and fawning attention.

My blood boiled.

I knew exactly what he was doing. Ever since Casselyn started probing townies about Maryann’s disappearance, soft rumblings were floating around town. Russell King was trying to control the narrative.

Movement from the kitchen caught my eye, and I watched as Sylvie walked through, wearing her mother’s favorite denim jacket. Her head was held high, and she smiled as she greeted customers and helped to clear plates. My attention bounced between Sylvie and her father.

I was close enough to him to hear him stop midsentence when he finally saw his daughter. He blanched and coughed to attempt to hide his visceral reaction, but I had seen it. He paled instantly.

As if he’d seen a ghost.

Unfazed, Sylvie acted as though her father didn’t exist while he stared at her with a shocked expression. His right hand shook, and I knew he was losing it. The man was used to playing checkers to win, and we were playing chess.

A sick, satisfied thrill shot through me to see him unraveling so publicly. A wicked idea sparked and instantly I was on my feet.

With my cup still clutched in my hand, I brushed past him, tripping on the tip of his shoe. Coffee splashed over the rim of my mug and onto his chest in a seeping brown stain.

“Oh my!” I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. “I amsosorry!”

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