He left.

  Huck wasn’t sure there was any way on earth to fix this, but he had to try.

  Chapter Twelve

  1:30 p.m.

  Huck walked out the back door. Olivia stood on the stone path amid the hundreds of blooming plants bordering each side. If Willy were here, he would say what a perfect shot the scene would make. Her dark ponytail hanging against the pink shirt. The contrast of the silky pink against the worn blue cotton of her jeans. The multitude of colors in the blooms surrounding her and all of it facing a backdrop of blackened rubble where the shed once stood. Beauty and tragedy.

  Pulling in a deep breath, Huck moved in behind her. He bowed his head, could smell the sweet scent of shampoo in her hair.

  She whirled around, faced him. “Did you know any of this?”

  The misery on her face made him want to pull her into his arms and promise her anything. She was too hurt and angry to allow him to touch her right now. He shook his head in answer to her question. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for Willy to carry that burden all this time.”

  “He lied to me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I can see how he rationalized this scheme in the beginning. But not now, after all these years.” Her breath caught. “There’s no excuse.”

  “You’re angry,” Huck said. “When you’ve had some time to think, you might be able to see his reasoning.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t see that happening.” She laughed then, the sound painful. “It’s such a cliché. Everything I’ve believed my entire life is a lie.”

  Huck took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “No. Willy and Joyce loved you. More than anything. Laura loved you, the best she could. I might not remember her, but you’re her daughter. I can’t imagine she was that different from you when you get down to the basics. Whatever illness plagued her, I’m betting she did the best she could. Everything your family did was to protect you.”

  She stared up at him, the tears sliding down her cheeks gutting him. “It’s still all lies any way you look at it.”

  He had to find a way to make her see...

  “I lied to you.”

  She stared at him. New pain settling into her features.

  “When I left, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to be with you anymore. It was because I didn’t want to hold you back.”

  She shook free of his touch. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I couldn’t take being apart so much. So one Saturday morning, I drove over to surprise you.” He swallowed back the doubt. “I watched you and your friends all weekend. Watched the way this one guy watched you...laughed with you. I was just a rookie cop. No way I’d ever be able to offer you the kind of future that whole college scene, guys like that one, could offer you.”

  She held her hands up as if she felt the need to protect herself. “You didn’t say a word. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

  “I couldn’t. I just needed to let it go.”

  “You mean, let me go.” Anger lashed across her face. “You threw us away because you...”

  “I thought I was doing the right thing.” Damn. This was not helping at all.

  “You took the coward’s way out. It was easier than fighting for me—not that a fight would have been required.” She clenched her fists at her sides as if she needed to hold herself back from punching him. “You gave up and walked away when there was no reason to. That guy—the big flirt everyone in our group complained about—was just a jerk trying to get in every freshman’s pants. He was no one to me. And you—” The breath shuddered out of her. “You were everything.”

  Before he could find the words to say, she shouldered past him and went back into the house. Well, hell. He’d screwed that one up big time. So much for his big confession. Idiot!

  * * *

  OLIVIA SLAMMED THE back door shut and stormed through the house and into her room. This was too much. She could not think about all the lies anymore. The most urgent issue at the moment, in her opinion—not that she was a cop—was who the hell was behind Willy’s death? Who killed the private investigator? And who burned down the damned shed?

  She grabbed a tee and changed from the pink blouse, which was the best one she had available here.

  Dragging her fingers through her ponytail to free it, she had to ask why the hell she was still here.

  Willy was dead. The shed was destroyed. She could just change the locks on the cabin and walk away.

  Staying wouldn’t change one damned thing.

  Fury roared through her. Except she wasn’t going anywhere until she found the person who hurt Willy. He’d protected Olivia her entire life—even if some of his decisions weren’t the best ones. She loved him. She owed him. Nothing was going to stop her from getting this done.

  She dug through her closet and found her sneakers.

  “I made the wrong choice.”

  She turned from the closet to find Huck standing in her doorway, looking for all the world like a lost puppy with nowhere to go.

  “You did.” She steadied herself, tamped back the rising anger. She walked to her dresser and dug out a pair of socks, then sat down on the bed. She took her time, putting on the socks and then slipping on the sneakers. “You should have trusted me. Talked to me. Instead, you threw me away.”

  He closed his eyes, shook his head. “Don’t say that.” His eyes opened once more, and he searched hers. “I would never do that. I thought—at the time—I was doing the right thing. It was a while before I realized I was wrong.”

  She stalked over to where he stood still bracketed by that doorway as if it might somehow protect him from the coming storm. Not happening. “And just when did you have this epiphany? Was it after the fifth time I tried to call you? Or after I came back home and knocked on your door until my knuckles bled? Or maybe it was months after I had cried myself to sleep every damned night.”

  If she’d sucker-punched him, he wouldn’t have looked any more damaged.

  She wanted to be glad, but somehow couldn’t muster the triumphant feeling.

  “I was wrong, Liv. I would’ve done anything to make it up to you, but I realized it was too late by then.”

  “Coward.” She pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him back from the door.

  She had stuff to do.

  He followed her out of the house. Let him. He wasn’t going to stop her.

  In the barn, she searched until she found a shovel. Then she rummaged around for a second one. When she found it behind the rakes and hoes, she grabbed it and tossed it toward him. To her surprise, he caught it.

  “If you’re going to keep hanging around,” she said, her voice a little wobbly despite the anger, “you can help me.”

  “Okay.”

  He might feel differently if he bothered to ask what she planned to do. Since he didn’t, she headed away from the barn and the house and that damned pile of charred metal that was once the shed. She didn’t stop until she reached that big old oak so close to the cliffs it was a miracle its roots went deep enough to hold it in place.

  She stopped next to her mother’s grave. “Both my parents are dead. Willy’s gone. Gran. Then who’s doing this? Who would have a motive to want to hurt me or hurt the people I love? Think about it. Why wouldn’t Gran or Willy want to be buried here, next to their only child—their daughter? That alone should have set off warning bells ages ago. Something isn’t right about this grave.”

  A realization dawned and his head moved side to side. “Liv, I get what you’re saying. But you can’t do this.”

  “I can.” She swallowed back the tears that crowded into her throat. “You can either help me or you can walk away. You’ve done it before.”

  He stared at the ground a moment, properly chastised. “What do you expect to find?”

  She lifted her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe some proof of what the truth really is.”

  “Decker said she’s dead.” Huck glanced toward the grave at Olivia’s feet.

  “Then why was Rogers looking for her? Why did that patient at Pineville asked me why I was back?”

  “I don’t know what the PI was doing, but Decker said your mother was a patient at Pineville.”

  “He did,” she agreed. “But the woman who spoke to me was thirty-five at most. Are you telling me she remembers my mother from more than twenty-five years ago?”

  Huck held her gaze for a moment. “You didn’t mention that she was so young.”

  “It wasn’t relevant until Decker’s confession.” The way Huck was looking at her now had anticipation zinging through her. He was thinking the same thing. If it wasn’t Olivia the woman had seen...then who?

  “You’ll need gloves.”

  “We both will,” she admitted.

  They walked back to the barn together. No one spoke. Finding the gloves was easy because Gran had been meticulous at organization and Willy had ensured it all stayed that way.

  Huck’s hands barely fit into a pair of Willy’s leather work gloves. Gran’s gloves fit Olivia perfectly.

  The walk back to that big old oak was equally quiet. They’d both said more than enough. There was nothing left to do but dig.

  By the time they were standing in a hole the length of a coffin and about waist deep, Huck paused. “We should take a break. Drink some water.”

  He’d long ago discarded his shirt. The tee beneath was streaked with sweat and dirt.

  Olivia’s tee was damp. Her arms ached. She was thirsty, but she wasn’t stopping. “Not yet.”

  She dug her shovel into the dirt. Hit something. Probably another rock. “Damned rocks,” she muttered.

  Apparently convinced she wasn’t stopping, Huck began digging again.

  She crouched down and dragged her finger around the rock. She’d discovered that to get them out, she had to dig around the damned things until they were loosened from the soil. She alternated between prying around it with her shovel and scrapping away what she could with her gloved fingers.

  White peeked from the dirt.

  The color wasn’t the same as the other rocks she’d unearthed. She swiped at the dirt, pushing aside a little more.

  A hole in the rock appeared...then another.

  Not holes. Eye sockets.

  Olivia tumbled back. Let go of her shovel. The handle banked off Huck’s broad shoulder.

  He stared at what she’d revealed. He muttered something unintelligible as he dropped to his knees. He tore off the gloves and scratched at the dirt around the skull. Moving by rote, she joined him, scratching and tugging.

  Once the skull was free, Huck sat it on the ground next to the base of the tree, away from the pile of dirt on the other side of the hole they’d dug.

  More bones...fragments of fabric. The better part of a sneaker.

  Olivia sat back, the sneaker’s rubber sole held between her gloved fingers. Not a woman’s sneaker. Too long...too wide. This was a man’s sneaker.

  Her gaze collided with Huck’s.

  He started digging again, his movements as frantic as the pounding in her chest.

  The other sneaker or what was left of it appeared. Then the parts of a belt buckle. Rivets from a pair of name-brand jeans...nothing was left of the cotton.

  Olivia’s fingers closed around an object...black...wallet.

  She pulled it from the dirt. Stared at it a moment then handed it to Huck. She couldn’t open it...no way.

  He opened the wallet; deteriorating pieces fell away. His dirt-crusted fingers struggled, tugging at what Olivia hoped was an ID of some sort.

  When it was free from the plastic slip, he held it out for her inspection.

  Driver’s license. Kasey Aldean.

  Olivia stared at the bones spread over the grass then at the image of a young man on the driver’s license.

  This was her father’s grave.

  Her father’s remains.

  Then where the hell was her mother?

  Chapter Thirteen

  6:00 p.m.

  “We wanted to save you the additional pain,” Sheriff Decker explained.

  Olivia wanted to scream! Instead she steeled herself against the raging emotions. “What’re you saying?”

  Decker stared at the bones scattered on the ground. “I told you Willy and I hid his body to protect your mother. This is where we buried him.”

  Huck stood next to her, but so far he had allowed her to do the talking. She appreciated his deference to her need to demand answers.

  “Where is my mother buried?”

  “She isn’t.” Decker’s shoulders sagged. “You know how the waters are around that dam. We searched for days to no avail. Her body was never recovered. I guess you can say she’s buried in the river.” His shoulders squared then as if he’d decided there would be no more appeasement from him. He gave Olivia a firm look. “You need to stop this, Liv. You need to get on with your life. Digging around in that part of the past will never bring you the peace you’re looking for. What’s done is done, and some things are best left alone.”

  With that, he gave Huck a nod and he walked away. Huck followed him. Probably had a few things of his own to say. This news about the cover-up had shaken him too. To find the remains had been the last straw.

  Olivia couldn’t remember when she had felt so angry...so damned disappointed. She blinked. Realized it had been ten years ago when Huck threw away her hopes and dreams. But that had been different. This was... Olivia shook herself, couldn’t quite label what the hell this was.

  The sheriff. A lawman vested with the power of enforcing the law...wanted her to pretend she hadn’t just dug up the remains of a murdered man.

  Her father.

  His skull hadn’t been bashed in. She hadn’t seen any sort of damage to any of the other bones. Huck hadn’t noticed any readily visible damage either.

  Had her mother poisoned him? Shot him?

  Olivia squeezed her eyes shut. Didn’t matter. She had killed him, and then she’d taken her own life. Had she not once considered how her actions would affect her baby? Or maybe she had known that Olivia would be better off with her grandparents.

  She couldn’t be here any longer. Olivia walked away from the shallow grave with its bones laid bare on the open ground. She needed to think. To consider all this painful information.

  She’d almost reached the house when Huck met her in the middle of the backyard.

  “He’s gone.”

  Olivia considered this man—the one person she felt she could still trust. “Do you believe him?”

  “Which part?”

  “Any part?” Olivia surveyed the yard with all its blooms that had given her grandparents so much pleasure. “Obviously, my father is dead. I’m sure Willy wouldn’t have helped cover up his murder without a very compelling reason, so I suppose it’s true that my mother killed him.”

  Huck pulled out his cell and tapped a few keys. Olivia waited to hear whatever he had to say.

  “I can find your mom’s obit on here, but nothing about her death or a drowning at the dam.”

  Olivia shook her head. “That makes no sense. Wouldn’t that have been on the news?”

  Huck nodded. “Definitely. Unless they covered it up too.”

  “They certainly never told me she took her own life.”

  “Decker wasn’t the sheriff then, but he was an up-and-coming chief deputy,” Huck pointed out. “He could have called in a favor with a private search and rescue team.”

  Olivia lifted her chin and offered a scenario of her own. “What if she never jumped? What if she just left that note and ran away?”

  Huck nodded slowly. “Then suddenly came back recently for reasons that worried Willy. He hires a PI to try and figure out what her game is and...well, you know how that ended.”

  “I have to know for sure.” Olivia moistened her lips, struggled with the conflicting emotions. “If she’s alive, I want to find her. If she hurt Willy, I want...”

  Huck reached out, took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We can figure that part out as soon as we determine where she is.”

  Olivia nodded. He was right. “We should go back to that house, where the sleeping bag was. Maybe she was staying there, and the guy watching for her just never saw her.”

  “We’ll start there.”

  Vine Street, 7:10 p.m.

  THE STREET WAS QUIET. At this hour on Saturday evening, most people were probably out for the evening or inside having dinner and watching their favorite television program. They would have gotten here twenty or so minutes ago, but they’d had to clean themselves up after digging up those bones. Olivia hadn’t wanted to take the time for showers, so they’d washed up, changed clothes in record time and headed out.

  Huck parked at the curb in front of the house that was for rent, the one they’d used as a decoy to see the one next to it. And like before, the old lady sat on her porch rocking the evening away.

  “I’m going to talk to her,” Olivia said.

  “We’ve got nothing to lose,” Huck agreed. They had already been in the house and found nothing useful other than evidence that someone had been staying there.

  They climbed out and headed to the lady’s front porch. She stopped rocking and watched their approach.

  Olivia opened the gate to her picket fence. “Good evening,” she said. “Do you have a moment for a few questions about the house for rent?”

  Olivia stopped at the bottom of the steps. Huck stood behind her.

  The older lady surveyed them a long moment, lifted her chin as if she might banish them from her property. “I thought you were looking at the one for sale.”