Girls of Brackenhill(50)

How had the ring gotten into the shed? Hannah felt the first prick of a headache, tired of trying to make sense of so many questions. Tired of not having any answers. Of not being able to get the right information out of everyone she talked to because she didn’t know what to ask. She threw the latch on the shed door and started off back down the path, Rink in tow.

Hannah twirled the ring around her finger as she walked back toward the castle. Lost in thought about Stuart, Alice, a list of questions, the ring, Julia, Aunt Fae. She came into the garden, the wind picking up, and for a moment, she was disoriented. It felt like that summer afternoon, the one with the vase and the ring, all over again. The storm coming in, the clouds rolling, the sky a greenish gray, the smell of lightning just before it cracked.

And Wyatt standing in the arch to the driveway, his car parked behind him, a hand to his eyes. He raised his other hand in greeting, halting and unsure.

In the distance, thunder rumbled like a portent.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Now

Wyatt ducked his head as Hannah approached, suddenly shy. His hair, looking more brown than red in the gray morning light, his fists in his pockets, clenching and unclenching.

“Do you and Huck have a minute?” he asked, all business.

“Huck left. It’s just me now. But yes, come in.”

Hannah avoided looking at his face, not wanting to see anything resembling relief or hope. Not sure how to proceed now that Huck wasn’t there to buffer them. The diner had been different. Public.

Hannah led Wyatt in through the kitchen door and motioned for him to sit at the island. She busied herself with the coffeepot, realized only after a moment that her hands trembled. She flexed her fingers to get the tremor out and turned brightly, smile pasted on.

“So what’s today’s breaking news?” She placed a cup in front of him, steam curling. Set a bowl of fruit she had cut earlier on the table.

“Why did Huck leave?” Wyatt had the infuriating habit of answering a question with a question.

“Work called. He owns a landscaping company. Most of his clients are businesses in town. It’s fall planting season.” She shrugged.

“So he left you up here alone?” Wyatt raised his eyebrows.

“I’m a grown, capable adult, Wyatt.” Hannah felt the spark of annoyance. She didn’t need his misplaced sense of chivalry. “I’m not some fragile thing in need of being cared for.”

He laughed then, reached across the island and plucked a strawberry out of the fruit bowl and popped off the greens. He cocked his head, gave her a meaningful look. “Well, but aren’t we all?” He sat forward, tapped her hand once across the island, the touch making her skin burn. “I just meant there’s a lot going on. Your uncle dying, your aunt recently passed . . . you haven’t been back here in what, seventeen years? Dealing with Julia—we found a body, for God’s sake. It’s a lot; that’s all I meant. I never meant to imply that you weren’t . . . capable.”

He was dressed down: jeans and a short-sleeved button-up shirt. He looked like he was on the way to a backyard barbecue. She felt her heart betray her, a syncopated beat against her rib cage. She couldn’t help but notice the flush on the back of his neck, the line of his jaw as he spoke, his perfect straight teeth when he smiled, his hair in need of a haircut, a reddish-brown curl at his collar. A brief image of running her hands through it. She hated his compassion, his ability to tune in. So opposite Huck’s steady pluck.

“So what is going on, by the way? Do you have any more information on Aunt Fae’s accident? Or the remains in the woods?” Hannah cocked her head to match his.

He laughed, then turned somber. “I have nothing on the accident. We have evidence in queue at the state labs, but I can’t comment on anything else.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you about Ellie Turnbull.”

“Everyone’s favorite topic of conversation lately.” Hannah felt her edges go sharp, the dislike of that girl so close to the surface even now, after all this time. Suspicious of the coincidence. First Lila had brought her up, and now Wyatt.

“What does that mean?”

Hannah waved her hand around. “Forget it. What did you want to ask?”

“Eh, call it a hunch. I can’t prove it, not yet. I haven’t talked to Warren. So this conversation is . . . casual. I’m not on duty right now. It’s off the record, okay?” He studied his coffee, and Hannah was reminded of Jinny staring at the dregs of tea in the bottom of her reading cup.

“I’m not keeping a record, Wyatt.”

A chuckle. “Can we talk about that last summer?”

“Maybe. What parts?” Hannah felt brazen but tired. Tired of dancing around half truths and innuendos.

Wyatt paused, studied her face. His eyes, flecked with gold, so close to hers. They were separated by the island, but Hannah had been leaning on it. She straightened up.

“I’m sorry for everything. For hurting you, you know.” His voice was soft, but he looked surprised. He hadn’t planned that part, she gathered.

“For the part where you took my virginity? Or later, when you kissed my sister?” Hannah felt the rage zing through her, a surge under her skin.

“All of it. I was a stupid kid. A young, horny, stupid teenager. You know that, right? Both of you had me in a state that summer.”