Page 8 of Mountain Murder

But now they were only faced with death.

There was a shift in the friendly faces she’d gotten to know over the past couple of weeks. Not just in gossip, but in suspicion. Grace hadn’t smiled back as they’d passed each other on the way to her session. Nadia had frozen stiff at the sight of Lance and turned back the way she’d come. Everything had turned on a head for these people. Everyone was a suspect.

Because of her.

She’d done this. She’d brought a killer into their sanctuary.

“It’s not your fault.” Lance nudged his arm into hers. Such a small gesture, as though they were just two kids walking down the hall on the way to math class instead of Easton Ford’s office. But ground-shockingly impactful on her senses. How had he known she’d needed that more than she needed anything else right then? “Whatever is going on here, you can’t take that blame.”

“Why? If I weren’t here, Inez would still be alive.” The words left her mouth harsher than she intended. Regret bubbled up her throat. “Everyone here is in danger of ending up just like her. All they wanted was somewhere safe to hide away for a little while, and I brought death straight to their door.”

Strong hands pulled her to a stop, turning her to face him. She had to notch her head back so far to meet his gaze at this angle her skull grazed her shoulders. The difference in their heights was laughable, but it didn’t feel so overwhelming right then. “I find it hard to believe a good trauma therapist doesn’t realize she’s taking on the blame of something that isn’t her fault.”

“What makes you think I’m a good trauma therapist?” Her knees threatened to fail, but his hold kept her steady. “You don’t know me.”

“Because I’ve watched you since the moment you came here to the ranch. I see how you interact with the other residents.” Lance’s touch warmed through her arms, seemingly trying to vacuum the heaviness straight from her body. “You care about them, even though they’re not your patients. You want what’s best for them. I see how you try to connect with them, with me, and the way your encouragement makes a difference in their days. Isn’t that what a good therapist is supposed to do?”

Her mouth dried. The way he talked about her, it was as though she’d become someone important. Wanted. Worthy. She hadn’t felt that…in a long time. “And what if that therapist really is responsible for someone’s death? Would you still think so highly of her, then?”

Three distinct lines deepened between his eyebrows. “Audrey, Inez’s murder wasn’t your fault. You weren’t the one who stabbed—”

“Not Inez.” Despite the fact she was standing in the middle of a white-tiled corridor, Audrey couldn’t stop her mind from conjuring the scene she’d run from these past few months. An open apartment door, no lights on inside, the sound of hinges protesting as she crossed the threshold. She could still taste the burn of copper and decomposition at the back of her throat. Like she was right there. Forever stuck in that moment.

“You lost someone.” His voice tunneled through the onslaught of memory and grief. An anchor in the midst of the emotional storm. “One of your patients?”

“I found her. In her apartment.” Voicing her deepest regret didn’t dislodge the hold it had around her heart. It hadn’t worked when she’d told her own trauma therapist or her emotional support piglet when she was sure no one else was around to hear. Why did she think telling Lance would do a damn bit of good? Freud believed putting words to the unspeakable experiences patients went through automatically took care of the problem, and while that was a first step, she knew better. The more she talked about it, the more she could pretend it’d happened to someone else. That she was just a narrator for someone else’s life. Disassociation. She worked hard to keep her clients in the moment, but she couldn’t do anything to help herself. Not when it came to this. “She hadn’t shown up for two sessions, and it took me that long to realize something was wrong. That she’d decided to end her life.”

Lance’s grip faltered, as though he wanted to take a step back, and she couldn’t blame him. Falling off the pedestal he’d set her on would hurt, but it was for the best. For both of them.

He dragged her into his chest, his chin setting against the crown of her head. He held her there when every cell in her body screamed he should run from her as fast as possible. “I’m sorry.”

Her fight-or-flight instincts battled with the closeness of another human being. Heart rate in her throat, Audrey couldn’t force herself to relax into him. She wasn’t in danger, but convincing her body’s responses was another beast entirely.

Until she pressed her ear over his heart. The rhythmic thud was easy to focus on. Faster on Lance’s inhales. Slower when he exhaled. The predictability of the sympathetic and parasympathetic systems was real and soothing as the past clawed through her.

“You blame yourself for your patient’s decision.” His voice rumbled into the recesses of her organs. “That’s why you came to Whispering Pines Ranch?”

“I couldn’t even stay for her entire funeral. The way her brother looked at me… And here you thought I was a good therapist.” Her heart rate leveled out, enough she could take a full breath. The hint of soap and pine coming from his clothes was enough to replace staleness and decomposition in her lungs, and the threat of losing herself to her guilt faded. He’d grounded her—knowingly or not—when she’d needed it the most. She wouldn’t forget that. Audrey swiped at her face. “How can people who’ve survived the worst day of their lives trust me when one of my own patients committed suicide? Helping those who can’t help themselves…it’s everything to me. It was everything to me.”

“It still can be,” he said.

She wanted to believe that. That she could right the wrongs she’d made, that she could go back to her life in Battle Mountain with a renewed sense of purpose and help the people of this town. But the real world didn’t fit fantasy. “Up until last night, I would’ve agreed with you. Once my treatment program here at the ranch was finished, I was going to pick up the pieces of my life and get back to work for the people of Battle Mountain, but now, I realize I didn’t just fail my patient who committed suicide. I must’ve failed whoever killed Inez, too.”

***

“You believe this former patient of yours, Jake Dugan, is the one who killed Inez.” Easton Ford settled back against the front of his desk.

Come to think of it, Lance had never seen the man actually sit behind it. Ford had not only built Whispering Pines Ranch with his own two hands and ran the place, he served as a part-time deputy chief of police for the department and shuffled his district attorney wife between Battle Mountain and Alamosa to fulfill her duties. The man didn’t have time to investigate the murder of a patient. But there was still something unhurried in the former green beret’s expression. As though this was where he was meant to be. Ford accentuated hard-earned muscle and an aggressive chin by crossing his arms over his chest. “What makes you think he’s our guy?”

“Jake was fixated on me from the very beginning of us working together. I’m not going to go into details as that may break confidentiality, but he was dealing with attachment issues. There was a void left in his life from the time he’d been a child, and he was looking for someone willing to fill it.” Audrey interlaced her fingers in front of her, suddenly looking a whole hell of a lot smaller than Lance had built her up in his head. Like her clothes were about to swallow her. “After some time, he determined that person should be me.”

“A school-boy crush is a long jump to murder, Audrey,” Ford said. “Were there threats? He give you some reason to believe he might be capable of this kind of violence?”

She sucked in an audible lungful of air, and Lance found himself doing the same. As if they were connected on more than the casual level they’d assumed over the past three months. Though, given the fact they’d each bared their souls to one another, his brain already wanted more. Like he’d had a taste of normalcy he’d starved himself of since coming home. It was easy to imagine her patients getting attached. How could they not? The possessive way she spoke about the people she’d helped, the warm-hearted concern she showed to him and the other residents here at the ranch. Hell, even the way she took care of her piglet stood out as a bright light in a world filled with nothing but darkness. Who wouldn’t want more of that in their life?

“In the months leading up to me ending our professional relationship, Jake had come to booking twice the amount of appointments with me. At first, I credited it with the increase of stress in his life. As I had with most of my patients. For the past year, the people of Battle Mountain have witnessed terror and violence on an unprecedented scale.” The slightest lift to her shoulders registered deep in Lance’s gut. “It made sense he’d need more support. We all did.”

“I have a feeling that’s not the reason he wanted to see you,” Ford said.

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