Wolfhunter River (Stillhouse Lake #3)(76)

“He’s got a wall,” Fairweather agrees. “It’s topped by cameras and floodlights. I don’t think he likes visitors much. I’ve never had any cause to go inside.” But I get the idea that he’d like to nose around in there.

“And he’s friends with Chief Weldon.”

“Cousins.”

“They have any other relatives around here?”

“It’s a small town, Ms. Proctor. And cousins abound.”

“Any of them accountants? Bankers, maybe?”

He stares at me for a few seconds before he says, “Carl Weldon works at the bank. His father is Chief Weldon’s daddy’s brother. Why do you ask?”

I don’t think I want to tell him any more details; if I do, and I’m wrong, my kids are in even more danger. He has enough to be on his guard about if he’s not in on all this. I just shake my head and leave it there. “How long before they let us leave?” I glance at the clock hanging over the coffee machine; it’s now three thirty in the morning. Despite the coffee, I feel like I’m running on empty, and my stomach rumbles to remind me that it’s been many hours since I last ate. I made sure the kids had something, but I’ve skipped a couple of meals now, and I’m suffering for it.

“Well, you can go anytime you want, but your SUV’s going to be in evidence processing and held here. You got another way home?”

I don’t. And I’m not even sure it’s worth going home at this point. “I’m not sure where to go from here,” I tell him. “I’ll be honest: I’m so exhausted. And I’m really afraid that the place we were staying—the lodge—might have been part of this attack on Sam and Connor. Can’t go back there.”

“There’s always the Motel 6 . . . it ain’t fancy, but I can guarantee you that it’s not owned by one of the Weldons. I can send you back there in a cruiser and ask them to stick around, make sure you’re okay. At least you can get a few hours of rest.”

I hate it, but he’s right. “I still need transportation for later, if I can’t get my SUV back.”

“I got a buddy with a garage out of Fountain Ridge; he can get one of his loaners out in about an hour. He’ll want a good-faith deposit, though.”

“Okay.” I feel immense relief, honestly; being without some means of escape feels awful. “Hook me up with that. I’ll give you a credit card number. Thank you.” He nods, clearly wanting it to be No Big Thing. I leave it there.

I sit and nurse my coffee while he makes the calls. My kids are still sleeping, and I just want to crawl in and join them, but I can’t. Even here, surrounded by supposedly impartial county deputies, I can’t really relax. I’m not even sure why, but I just feel like there’s more to this. More coming.

I need to find a way to bail Sam out of this mess, fast. And I need to protect my children from this circling, dark storm. Right now, those two feel like opposite goals. But something in the back of my mind is telling me that they aren’t, not really. That the solution to everything is in a town I’d rather not go back to, and people I’d rather not face again.

Wolfhunter isn’t finished with us yet.



The cruiser takes us to the Motel 6. The officer walks in with us and, once we’re in the two adjoining rooms, tells us that he’ll be out in the parking lot until we’re ready to go back to the county sheriff’s office for that rental car. I intend to sleep. I do.

The kids definitely are worn out; they crash in the two beds in their room, exhausted as they’ve ever been. But not me. I can’t stop. I’m worn to a thread, but I keep moving. Thinking about Sam. Thinking about Vee Crockett. Thinking about the spiraling disaster of my life.

I keep the connecting door open for a while, but the mounting panic inside me needs an outlet, and finally I shut it, go to the bed, and curl up on my side. I put the pillow to my face.

I shatter.

The pillow stifles the sound that boils out of me like steam. It’s pure grief. Pure anguish. Pure hell.

When it finally stops, it isn’t because I don’t hurt inside; it’s because I just can’t find the breath to scream anymore. I gasp for air. I tuck myself into a protective ball and pray, pray, pray that I can find a way to live through this one more time. I meant what I said to Sam: I’m not running away from Stillhouse Lake. I can’t. Whatever comes, we have to meet it here in the house that we made a home, in a town that doesn’t want us. I thought the lake would drown the last traces of Melvin Royal forever. But he’s not gone. He’s never going to be gone. The damage he did to me, to us, is permanent.

Melvin would laugh to see me like this. Paralyzed. Traumatized. It’s what he would have wanted.

I put the pillow aside. I’m still shaking. I’m raw and bleeding inside. But the thought of Melvin’s satisfied grin makes me sit up, take deep breaths, and get myself the fuck together. The path out of this might be black and full of sharp edges, but I’ll find my way.

And Sam? What about Sam? I know he’s wandering the same dark territory that I am. He’s hiding something from me. But he’s also the man who came after me when I was alone and hurt and desperate. The man who helped me find my children when they were lost. The man who cracked Absalom. Who saved Connor just yesterday.

Doesn’t that count too? Can’t there be some way, any way, back to the light for both of us?