Grave Risk. Hannah Alexander
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“Grace Brennan’s on the road?” he asked.
“That’s right. She’s got a song that’s a crossover hit, and she and Michael Gold are getting married.”
Austin whistled softly. “When’s the wedding?”
“During the festival on the twenty-fifth of this month. Karah Lee Fletcher’s getting married to Taylor Jackson, too.”
Austin winked at her, his eyes suddenly teasing. “How about you? When do you get married?”
Fawn scowled. Now he was flirting, not taking her seriously. “I just turned eighteen. Why would I be getting married so young?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing you in Hideaway two years ago.”
She decided not to tell him where she was and what she was doing two years ago. She wanted to ask why his own life had gone down the tubes so quickly. But Karah Lee and Blaze were always reminding her that those kinds of questions weren’t polite.
“I came here one step ahead of some goon who wanted to kill me,” she said. “Karah Lee decided to keep me.”
Austin Barlow’s expression didn’t change, which intrigued Fawn. Usually, that announcement led the listener to ask for the whole story.
Fawn decided the winking and teasing were a cover. Austin had other things on his mind. “Why did you come back to Hideaway?” she asked.
“You should know why. You’re the one who’s been eavesdropping.”
“So you want to make amends? For your son’s actions? It’s not like you’re the guilty one.”
Austin scowled.
“Sorry,” Fawn said. “I guess a good father will always feel responsible for whatever his kid does.”
The scowl faded as he studied her more closely.
“Guess I wouldn’t know about that,” she muttered softly.
Austin’s eyes narrowed at her words, then he shook his head. “Guess I wouldn’t, either. But maybe it’s time to make up for a lot of things,” he said, almost as if to himself.
“Are you moving back to Hideaway?” she asked. Blaze wouldn’t be thrilled about that. Dane Gideon wouldn’t be happy, either, though he was too much of a gentleman ever to say anything.
Austin glanced around the lobby, appraising. “I’m not sure where I’ll be moving yet. I need to talk to Cheyenne Allison, Dane Gideon, make a few—”
“That’s Cheyenne Gideon.”
The guy blinked, as if startled. “Of course. I knew that.”
“I heard you had a thing for her,” Fawn said.
He gave a disapproving frown. “For a newcomer, you sure know a lot about me.”
“While you’re making apologies, are you going to apologize to Blaze Farmer?”
He leveled a long, steady look at her. “Have you suddenly decided to become my conscience?”
“I thought you said you’d come here to make amends. Seems to me you need to be making amends to Blaze for quite a few things.”
Austin continued to study her thoughtfully. “Yes, it would seem that way, wouldn’t it?”
His focused attention made her nervous.
Jill sat wiping the massage cream from her face with the turban that had been wrapped around her head. She couldn’t stop staring at Edith’s still form, listening to the soft echo of sobs coming from another room.
Sheena had run out when Cheyenne made the pronouncement, and Noelle had gone to comfort her and cancel clients for the remainder of the day. Apparently Sheena had loved Edith, too.
A quick glance told Jill that Rex Fairfield was still here. She returned her attention to Edith as Karah Lee pulled a sheet over that death mask.
Jill winced. She couldn’t do this. She needed to run away screaming, needed to shake her fist at God and ask what He thought He was doing. She needed to rail at Cheyenne for giving up so easily. These weren’t just impulses, they were compulsions that she had to control.
The real Jill Cooper was a rational human being, a responsible RN, an adult.
Oh, the awful terror that had been in Edith’s eyes…the horrible knowledge of something—but what? What had she been trying to say? Hallucinating, no doubt, but why?
“Jill?” A deep masculine voice broke into her thoughts.
With a start, she looked up, then looked away quickly, refusing to meet Rex’s gaze. Not now. It was just too much. She didn’t want to deal with this—couldn’t deal with it. All she wanted to do was fall to her knees at Edith’s side and weep against her shoulder as she had done so often as a young teenager.
“I’m so sorry,” Rex said. The gentle sympathy in his low baritone voice reawakened memories she couldn’t bear right now.
She nodded. What was this man doing here? What kind of crazy, tilted nightmare was this?
“The timing is awful,” Rex continued. “I would never have done this to you—”
“You haven’t done a thing to me, Rex.” She forced herself, then, to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re doing in Hideaway, but I doubt either of us is hung up on something that happened twenty-two years ago.”
“Some things were left in limbo then,” he said. “We parted without enough explanations, which was unfortunate. I take the blame. Eventually, we’ll need to clear the air. I owe you an—”
“I have other things to do right now, Rex.” Without waiting for a reply, she brushed past him and knelt to help Cheyenne pick up debris.
“I need to go tell Bertie,” Cheyenne said.
“No.” Jill couldn’t allow anyone else to do that. “That should be my job. I’ll need to contact Edith’s family. She has a niece who lives in Springfield, and others—”
“You need some time to recover.” Cheyenne squeezed cellophane wrappers into a tight ball with more force than normal. “Bertie’s—”
“Please, Chey. I need to do this.” Jill touched Cheyenne’s shoulder, then noticed what she should have seen earlier—the silent tears coursing down her director’s face.
“How about you?” Jill asked. “Are you okay?”
Cheyenne nodded.
Jill realized this must be bringing back horrible memories for her. When Cheyenne was an ER doc in Columbia, her younger sister had been brought in via ambulance after an automobile accident. Cheyenne couldn’t resuscitate her, and in the end she’d had to call her own baby sister’s death.
Jill couldn’t imagine how she would have felt had that happened to her with Noelle.
“I’ll go with her, Cheyenne,” Noelle said from the open doorway.
Jill continued to feel Rex’s attention on her, and she finally looked up at him. What she saw in his expression soothed her jumbled emotions.
“I can do this,” Jill repeated, striding from the room. She continued out the front door of the spa, wishing she never had to return to this place.
When would it all end? How many deaths would this tiny village have to endure?
She was halfway across the street when she heard footsteps behind her.
“You don’t need to keep vigil over me,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“I loved her, too, you know,” came a gentle female voice.
Jill softened.