Last Straw (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 7) Page 14

  I didn’t have a clue what I’d just talked about with this stranger, and a feeling of dread washed over me as the realization of what I’d just done began to set in. I’d taken someone’s phone and pretended to be them, all based on two rather innocent text messages. Was that illegal? I’d just berated my own son for considering doing something against the law and here I was, accessing someone’s private messages and masquerading as them.

  My guilt lasted for about two seconds, because I kept coming back to the texts.

  Were they really innocent? They could be construed that way, sure, but what if they weren’t? I thought about the two that had come through on her phone. “Any progress” could refer to any number of things: had Jill completed her Christmas shopping? Did she top her high score on a game on her phone? But it could also be something like, Have you poisoned your mother yet?

  And the next one. “I need it back.” It could be a dress Jill had borrowed from a girlfriend. A book. Or an improvised explosive device.

  I cradled my head in my hands and sighed, willing my overactive imagination to take it down a notch. What had I been thinking when I grabbed Jill’s phone?

  But I knew. I’d read those messages and immediately jumped to conclusions.

  They’d sounded suspicious because I was desperate to find clues. And I’d decided that something was there, when it very probably wasn’t. More likely than not, these were innocent messages from a friend.

  I continued to mentally berate myself for the next few minutes. But then I stopped.

  Because I realized that there were two things, both of them rather subtle, that didn’t fit the narrative of this being a friend of Jill’s. First and foremost, the number didn’t have a name attached to it. Every contact on my phone was labeled, and I was pretty sure that practice wasn’t exclusive to me. People in general want to know who is calling them when they reach for their phone, and I had a feeling Jill was no exception. So that struck me as odd.

  And, two, the person on the other end hadn’t objected to my suggestion to meet at Gunnar’s house. They had even named the time. Thirty minutes.

  Jill was visiting Latney. I’d wager a guess that most of her friends were located in Charlottesville. Yes, she’d grown up in Latney, so maybe this was someone local that she was still communicating with, but I’d heard no mention of her having close friends in the area; not from her or Gunnar.

  I straightened my shirt and took a couple of deep, calming breaths.

  I still didn’t know what was going on, or how big of a hole I’d just dug for myself, but I did know one thing.

  Someone was coming to Gunnar’s house in thirty minutes. Well, twenty minutes now. And that someone was expecting to see Jill.

  Which meant I needed to pull her away from Luke and get her home so I could see just what those texts were about.

  I had a feeling they would be nothing at all, and that I’d simply given Jill ammunition to treat me with outright contempt instead of indifference.

  But that was a risk I was willing to take.

  Because I couldn’t take back what I had done.

  THIRTY FOUR

  “I don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Jill complained.

  I’d sprinted to the guest house to convince her that she needed to go home. She and Luke had been cozied up on the couch. His guitar was strapped to his chest and he was strumming a song and singing when I’d barged in. Jill was next to him, hugging a throw pillow to her chest, looking at him with complete adoration.

  “You need to go home,” I told her.

  Luke stopped playing, and it took Jill a moment to come out of her trance and focus her attention on me. “What?”

  I was breathing hard, trying to catch my breath. Running in the cold had sapped more strength than I’d realized.

  “Home,” I said again.

  “Why would I go home?” she asked, frowning.

  I contemplated making up a reason: something was wrong with Gunnar, there was some kind of emergency…something along those lines. But I knew I’d feel horrible for lying. As it was, I already felt bad about opening her phone and pretending to be her.

  “Um, because it’s our family time,” I said.

  She and Luke both said in unison, “What?”

  “Family time,” I repeated, putting on a bright smile.

  “We don’t have family time,” Luke said.

  “It’s something new we’re starting,” I told him. “It was Laura’s idea.” This was a lie, but it sounded like something she would want to do so I knew he would at least believe me.

  His expression darkened. “Oh dear god.” He sighed. “And what exactly is family time?”

  “Oh, you know,” I said, scrambling to come up with a definition. “A chance for us to hang out and be together.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “And we need a designated time for that?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I guess there’s supposed to be conversation, and games and…and eating.”

  Luke paled. “I am not eating those tacos.”

  I’d forgotten about the cow tongue boiling away in the kitchen. I shuddered. “No, we won’t eat that. There will be other food.” Satisfied that he bought my explanation, I turned to Jill. “You’re welcome to stop back later tonight, if you’d like. To finish your…concert.”

  She reluctantly disentangled herself from the pillow she was holding. She looked at Luke. “Are you free later tonight? We could…hang out.”

  I heard the double meaning in her words, and I was pretty sure Luke did, too.

  “Uh, sure. I think so, anyway.” He glanced at me. “Unless there is more family time scheduled?”

  I shook my head. “No, just this one time, I think.”

  Jill stood up. “Walk me home?” she asked Luke, batting her eyelashes at him.

  “Sure,” he said. He set the guitar on the couch and got to his feet.

  “I’ll come with you, too,” I said quickly.

  They both looked at me with surprise.

  “I…I need to see your dad for a minute,” I told her. There was no way I was staying put. I needed to be there to see who showed up because of the texts I’d sent on her behalf.

  “Don’t you have to get ready for family time?” Jill asked pointedly. I could tell she was bent over getting kicked out.

  “No, Laura is in charge of that.” I knew there would be hell to pay when Luke and I got back to the house, especially when Laura told him in no uncertain terms that she has no idea what this family time thing actually was.

  But I would deal with that later.

  Neither of them said anything, and I fell in step behind them as we headed outside.

  I had no idea who—or what—would be waiting for us at Gunnar’s.

  And I was pretty sure Jill was going to be in for a surprise, too.

  THIRTY FIVE

  There was no one waiting on the doorstep at Gunnar’s house, and I didn’t know whether to feel panicked or relieved.

  I pulled out my phone and checked the time. We still had ten minutes. Which meant that I had to figure out a way to stall, to stay there to see who showed up.

  Jill opened the front door and turned to say goodbye. Not to me, but to Luke.

  “So I’ll see you later?” she asked hopefully.

  “Sure. I’ll be around.”

  “Should I just come straight to the guest house?”

  He shot a quick glance at me and then shrugged. “Whatever works.”

  I craned my neck, trying to see into the house. Gunnar was on the couch, and it looked like he was holding a bottle of beer.

  “I’m going to pop in and say hi to your dad real quick,” I said, figuring this was as good of an opportunity as I was going to have for hanging out for an additional few minutes.

  “Uh, what about ‘family time’?” Luke said, a sardonic expression on his face as he pointed to a nonexistent watch on his wrist.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” I promised.

  I
pushed past Jill, as gently as I could, and made my way into the living room. Gunnar looked up from his beer.

  “Rainy.”

  I smiled. “Long time no see.” I glanced around the living room, but Gunnar was alone. “Where’s Lucy?”

  He waved his hand. “Around here somewhere.”

  I moved closer to the couch and lowered my voice. “You didn’t accuse her of anything, did you?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet.” He held up his beer. “Needed fortification first.”

  “Do you want a beer?” Jill asked Luke.

  “I don’t think we have time…”

  Jill giggled. “How long does it take you to drink a beer?” She disappeared and then returned a minute later with two open bottles. “Bottoms up,” she said, and proceeded to chug her entire bottle.

  Luke watched her, and I couldn’t tell if he was fascinated or horrified. It was probably a little bit of both. Gunnar just shook his head and sipped his beer.

  Jill held up her empty bottle. “Done!” she announced, and I had flashbacks to Thanksgiving and just how quickly she’d gotten buzzed off the wine that had been served.

  “Let’s go get more,” Jill said. She grabbed Luke by the arm and pulled him from the living room.

  “That girl will be the death of me,” Gunnar said, sighing.

  I smiled. She did seem like a bit of a handful.

  “She’s a good kid,” I said, because it seemed like I should say something reassuring.

  “She is,” he agreed. “But she needs some tough love. Her mother has allowed her to run wild these past few years, and her taste in men is horrible.” He looked up with alarm. “I’m not talking about your son. He seems like a good guy.”

  I chuckled, and wondered if he would still say that if he knew Luke had considered arming a man who wasn’t supposed to have one.

  But I knew what Gunnar was referring to. Jill had been involved with Owen Nichols, Dawn’s brother, off and on for a couple of years, and he had definitely been a piece of work. And then she’d shown interest in Owen’s friend, Erik, who’d turned out to be the real culprit in Owen’s murder. She certainly didn’t seem to have the best track record, that was for sure.

  “Sorry,” Gunnar said. His beer bottle was empty and he tapped it against his thigh.

  “No apologies needed,” I said. “You don’t know Luke from Adam.”

  “I wasn’t apologizing for that.”

  “You weren’t?”

  The bottle continued hitting his thigh, a rhythmic tapping against his jeans. He was staring at the floor, seemingly lost in thought.

  “Gunnar?”

  He shifted his gaze so he was looking at me. “I’m sorry for being dumb.”

  I gave him a blank stare. “Dumb?” What was he talking about? Was he confessing? Was he saying he had been dumb for bringing drugs onto his property?

  He nodded. “I made a huge mistake. And I know I’m going to regret it forever.” He shook his head and snorted. “And I don’t do regrets, remember? Live in the moment. Don’t think about what’s past. Look forward to the future.”

  I sat down on the corner of the couch. My heart pounded in my chest, and I tried to take a few steadying breaths. I was having a hard time processing what he was telling me, and an even harder time coming to terms with the fact that I’d been wrong about him all along.

  “Are you…?” I stopped, not sure how to phrase what I knew I needed to ask. “Are you…confessing?”

  His eyes locked on mine. “That’s an awful strong word.” He waved the empty beer bottle in the air. “But, sure, yeah. I’m confessing.”

  His eyes were glassy, and I wondered just how many beers he’d had.

  My eyes narrowed, because it occurred to me that we might not be on the same subject. “Um, what exactly are you confessing to?”

  He chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  No. It wasn’t obvious at all.

  “I love you,” he said.

  I blinked.

  “And I was stupid to let you go. And I’m sorry.”

  THIRTY SIX

  I was speechless.

  And I was also thinking I needed to get my hearing checked.

  Had Gunnar just told me he loved me?

  And that he regretted what had happened?

  I sat frozen on the couch, my eyes closed, trying to process what I’d just heard.

  “I’m sorry,” Gunnar said quickly. “I didn’t mean to spring all this on you.”

  I opened my eyes. He was staring at me, a contrite expression on his face. The bottle was now on the coffee table, his hands folded together in his lap. His knuckles were white.

  “No, no, it’s okay,” I said weakly. “It’s just…”

  It was just a whole lot of things.

  I was with Declan.

  But was I?

  And I was over Gunnar.

  Wasn’t I?

  I hadn’t come to his house expecting this. I’d come over hoping to figure out who Jill had been texting and to see if it offered any clues as to what was happening with Gunnar’s case. And even after I’d sent the texts, I’d realized the likelihood of me communicating with anyone other than one of Jill’s friends was pretty slim. I was prepared to look like a fool, and to accept responsibility for sending the texts, if it came down to that. I’d done dumber things before, but I figured what was the worst that could happen? Jill would be upset with me, which in the grand scheme of things, really didn’t matter. Unless she and Luke hit it off and somehow started dating.

  I shook my head. There I went, jumping to conclusions. Again.

  And there I went, veering completely off topic.

  Because Gunnar had just told me he loved me, and I was thinking about something else.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Gunnar told me.

  “I…I don’t know what to say,” I admitted.

  I didn’t. My head felt like it was ready to explode.

  But so did my heart.

  A knock sounded on the door and I immediately forgot about Gunnar’s words.

  Gunnar frowned. “I wonder who that could be.”

  I knew exactly who it was. The person I’d texted from Jill’s phone.

  I leaped off the couch. “I’ll get it.”

  I crossed the living room and opened the door slowly, trying to see who was on the doorstep before they saw me.

  A guy, probably no older than Luke, was standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. He was wearing a thin nylon athletic jacket and a pair of baggy jeans, and his dark hair ruffled in the breeze.

  “Jill around?” he asked, his eyes darting nervously from me to the ground.

  “Yes,” I said. The door was open just a smidgeon, so Gunnar wouldn’t be able to see who was there. “Can I tell her who’s here?”

  The guy cocked an eyebrow. “Wyatt.” And then he added, “Her boyfriend.”

  My shoulders slumped, and I realized it was exactly as I’d suspected. The texts I’d read were innocent. I’d just jumped to conclusions about the vague messages that had been sent.

  And I’d been the one to act irrationally, to open Jill’s phone and send messages back, pretending to be her.

  I closed my eyes, trying to figure out how I was going to explain all of this, when someone stepped up behind me. I spun around. Jill was next to me, her arms folded across her chest, a murderous expression on her face

  “What are you doing here?” she screeched.

  Wyatt took a step back and I covered my ears, hoping my eardrums were still intact.

  “I told you we were through,” she said. Her eyes were filled with hatred. “Especially after what you did!”

  Wyatt looked confused. “You told me to come,” he said. “You said everything was straightened out.”

  I was mortified. I’d literally responded to the aftermath of a break-up. I thought back to the texts Jill had received. Any progress? I need it back. He’d been talking a
bout their relationship. He’d needed it back. Wanted it. And I’d responded in a way that made it sound like Jill was fully on board.

  I swallowed a couple of times. I needed to own up to it. Now. Before it got any worse.

  But Jill wasn’t having it. She glanced down at the beer bottle she was holding—another empty one—and chucked it at Wyatt. He ducked and it crashed to the porch. The sound of breaking glass threatened to shatter my eardrums again.

  A horrified silence filled the air. Someone broke it by clearing their throat. It was Luke. “I’ll go get something to clean that up with,” he offered.

  I didn’t see him, but I heard the sound of his feet as he walked from the living room and further into the house in his search for a broom or paper towels.

  “Look, this is all my fault,” I said.

  Jill ignored me. “When did I tell you to come?” she said to the guy in the doorway.

  Wyatt looked shaken. “Earlier…you said we should meet here. That…” His voice trailed off and he suddenly looked uncomfortable.

  “What are you even talking about?” she seethed. “I would never get back together with you! Not after what you did to my dad.”

  I jerked to attention.

  “I told you it was a mistake.” The desperation in Wyatt’s voice was obvious. “I got the addresses mixed up!”

  I took a deep breath.

  Because suddenly, everything made sense.

  “It was you,” I said, slowly turning to face Jill.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her frown slicing across her forehead, her eyes narrowed.

  “You two put the drugs in your dad’s barn.”

  THIRTY SEVEN

  I expected indignation. Outrage.

  I expected Jill to vehemently deny it.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead, she collapsed into a heap on the floor, sobbing.

  Gunnar sprang to his feet. “What in the world is going on?”

  Jill continued to cry and Wyatt stood on the front porch like a deer caught in the headlights. Gunnar grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and hauled him into the house.