She clasped her fingers tighter, forcing the memory away, and settled in, watching Dawson as he began to piece the engine back together. As the afternoon wound down, they talked easily of everyday things, past and present, filling in pieces of their lives and exchanging opinions on everything from books to places they had always dreamed of visiting. She was struck by a sense of déjà vu as she listened to the familiar clicks of the socket wrench when he adjusted it into place. She saw him struggle to loosen a bolt, his jaw clenching until it finally came free, before carefully setting it aside. Just as he had when they were young, he would stop what he was doing every now and then, reminding her that he was listening intently to everything she said. That he wanted to let her know, in his own understated way, that she had been and always would be important to him, struck her with almost painful intensity. Later, when he took a break from his labors and went to the house before returning with two glasses of sweet tea, there was a moment, just a moment, when she was able to imagine a different life that might have been hers, the kind of life she knew that she’d always really wanted.
When the late afternoon sun hung low over the pines, Dawson and Amanda finally left the garage, walking slowly back toward her car. Something had changed between them in the last few hours — a fragile rebirth of the past, perhaps — that both thrilled and terrified her. Dawson, for his part, ached to slip his arm around her as they walked side by side, but sensing her confusion he stopped himself.
Amanda’s smile was tentative when they finally reached her door. She looked up at him, noticing his thick, full eyelashes, the kind that any woman would envy.
“I wish I didn’t have to go,” she admitted.
He shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m sure you and your mom will have a good time.”
Maybe, she thought, but probably not. “Will you lock up when you go?”
“Of course,” he said, noticing the way the sunlight skimmed over her glowing skin, the stray wisps of hair that lifted in the gentle breeze. “How do you want to do this tomorrow? Should I meet you up there or do you want me to follow you?”
She weighed the options, feeling conflicted. “There’s no reason to bring two cars, is there?” she finally asked. “Why don’t we just meet here around eleven and drive up together?”
He nodded and looked at her, neither of them moving. Finally, he took a slight step backward, breaking the spell, and Amanda felt herself exhale. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
After she slid onto the front seat of her car, Dawson closed the door behind her. His body was outlined against the setting sun, almost giving her the impression that he was a stranger. Feeling suddenly awkward, she pawed through her purse to find her keys, noting that her hands were trembling.
“Thanks for lunch,” she said.
“Anytime,” he answered.
Peeking in the rearview mirror as she pulled away, she saw that Dawson was still standing where she’d left him, as if hoping she’d change her mind and turn the car around. She felt the stirrings of something dangerous, something she’d been trying to deny.
He still loved her, she was certain of that now, and the realization was intoxicating. She knew it was wrong, and she tried to force the feeling away, but Dawson and their past had taken root once more, and she could no longer deny the simple truth that for the first time in years, she’d felt like she’d finally come home.
8
Ted watched little miss cheerleader pull out onto the road in front of Tuck’s and decided that she looked pretty damn good for her age. But then she’d always been a looker, and back in the day, there’d been many times when he’d thought about having his way with her. Just throw her into the car and use her up and bury her where no one could find her. But Dawson’s daddy had intervened, saying the girl was off-limits, and back then Ted used to think that Tommy Cole knew what he was doing.
But Tommy Cole didn’t know anything. Took Ted until prison to figure that out, and by the time he was free he hated Tommy Cole almost as much as he hated Dawson. Tommy hadn’t done anything after his son had humiliated them both. He had turned them into laughingstocks, which was why Tommy ended up being first on Ted’s list once he got out. Wasn’t hard to make it seem like Tommy had drunk himself to death that night. All he’d had to do was shoot him up with grain alcohol once he’d passed out, and the next thing you know, Tommy had choked on his own vomit.
And now Dawson was finally going to get crossed off Ted’s list, too. As he waited for Amanda to clear out, he wondered what the two of them had been doing up there. Probably making up for all those years apart, all twisted up in the sheets and screaming each other’s names. If he had to guess, he’d say she was married, and he wondered if her husband suspected what was going on. Probably not. It wasn’t the kind of thing a woman liked to advertise, especially a woman who drove a car like that. She probably married some rich peckerhead and spent her afternoons at the salon getting her nails done, just like her mama did. Her husband was probably some doctor or lawyer, too vain to even consider that his wife might be fooling around behind his back.
She was probably good at keeping secrets, though. Most women were. Hell, he should know. Married or not, made no difference to him; if they offered, he took. Didn’t matter if it was kin, either. He’d been with half the women out on the property, even the ones married to his cousins. Their daughters, too. He and Claire, Calvin’s wife, had been going at it a couple of times a week for the past six years, and Claire hadn’t said a thing to anyone. Ella probably knew what was going on, since she was the one who washed his drawers, but she kept her mouth shut, too, and she’d keep it shut if she knew what was good for her. A man’s business was his own.
The taillights of the car flashed red as Amanda finally rounded the curve, vanishing from sight. She hadn’t spotted his truck — no surprise, since he’d pulled off the road, hiding it as best he could in a thicket. He figured he’d wait a few minutes, just to make sure she wasn’t coming back. Last thing he wanted was witnesses, but he was still wondering how best to handle this. If Abee had seen Dawson this morning, it was sure as hell certain that Dawson had seen Abee, which would have gotten him thinking, so maybe Dawson was just sitting up there waiting, too, shotgun in his lap. Maybe he had plans of his own, just in case his kin did indeed show up.
Like the last time.
Ted tapped the Glock against his thigh, thinking that the key was to surprise Dawson. Get close enough to take the shot, then pitch the body in the trunk and ditch the rental car somewhere out on the property. File off the VIN and set the whole thing on fire, until it was nothing but a husk. Getting rid of the body wouldn’t be hard, either. Just weight it down, toss it in the river, and let water and time do the rest. Or maybe bury it somewhere in the forest, where no one was likely to find it. It was hard to prove murder without a body. Little miss cheerleader or even the sheriff could suspect all they wanted, but suspicion was a long way from proof. Things would get riled up, of course, but they’d eventually pass. After that, he and Abee were going to sort things out. And let’s just say that if Abee wasn’t careful, he might find himself at the bottom of the river, too.
Finally ready, Ted exited the car and began his advance into the woods.
Dawson set the wrench aside and closed the hood, finished with the engine. Ever since Amanda left, he’d been unable to shake the sensation of being watched. The first time it had happened, he’d gripped the wrench hard as he’d peeked out around the hood, but there was no one there.