Picnic in Someday Valley (Honey Creek #2)(65)

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. It was closing time. No one seemed to notice she’d stopped playing. She scanned the room, making sure he wasn’t standing behind her or hiding in a corner.

She sat unmoving on her stool. Her eyes wide, her hands shaking, staring into the smoky room. Wishing she was anywhere else.

When the door opened she held her guitar so tight she was surprised it didn’t crack. The yellow ribbon she’d tied to the neck wiggled as she shook.

Then Brand walked in. Big, strong, safe Brand.

She wanted to run to him, but she couldn’t. Somehow she had to stand on her own. This was her problem, and it wasn’t fair to bring him into it. She couldn’t go to him every time she was afraid. He could take care of himself in a fair fight, but she knew the bald guy wouldn’t fight fair.

She packed her guitar and did her best to smile as Brand walked toward her.

He took the case. “I missed all your playing tonight?”

“Yep.” She linked her arm in his, ignoring the money in the tip jar. “Now, if you want me to sing, you’ll have to feed me.”

“I can do that. Name the place.”

“The truck stop outside of Honey Creek is probably the only place open this late. You want to follow me to my place at what Pecos and I decided to call the Winston House? Then I’ll ride with you to pick up food and we can eat it in my sitting room.”

She wouldn’t tell Brand the bald man had frightened her, but she wouldn’t go back to the trailer tonight, or ever.

“You have a sitting room?” Brand asked as if he hadn’t seen it.

“Of course.”

He walked Marcie to her car, then followed her back to the Winston House. When she slid into his truck, she moved over next to him and said, “Since this is a date, mind if I have my good night kiss first?”

He laughed and kissed her. Both of them forgot about eating for several minutes. His kiss was warm and inviting, but not hungry. This man seemed to think a kiss was the event, not the preshow. She loved that about him.

By the time they got back with day-old fried chicken that had been in the warmer oven so long it looked dehydrated, both laughed and tossed the meal in the trash. They split a bag of Oreos and a half gallon of milk that she insisted they drink from wine glasses.

Marcie had slowly calmed down. She wouldn’t let the bald guy scare her. He was just playing with her mind. If she was careful there was no way he could get to her. She was safe here, and even safer at the sheriff’s office. She got off after sunup and would make sure she got to work early.

When the Oreos were gone, they moved to the front of the house, far away from the other bedrooms. As she played, she decided not to tell Brand about the threats. It would only worry him.

Tonight she played low and slow; in case anyone was above and heard her, they’d listen and drift back to sleep. Unfortunately, the music worked on Brand as well.

For a few minutes she tried to figure out how to wake him up. He looked so comfortable in an overstuffed chair, probably bought in the ’50s. Laying her guitar on the couch, she pulled off her boots and crawled up in his lap.

He sighed and circled her with his arms.

Marcie closed her eyes, feeling completely safe.

When she woke later, she knew Brand had carried her to bed and covered her with a quilt. As she rolled over to cuddle further under the covers, she thought he was a good man, too good to get mixed up with her.

She wanted to drift back to sleep so she could dream his arms were still holding her even though he’d left.

But dark dreams haunted her, as they did now and then. She’d been braiding her doll’s hair when a man opened the door of their trailer. He’d asked where her dad was. When she’d said she didn’t know, he’d stepped inside. For a long time he just watched her, and then said they might as well have some fun. It was time she learned a few things.

Marcie cried in her sleep as the dream continued. The man had called her names she didn’t know the meaning of and he’d slapped her hard when she made any sound while he hurt her. When he’d left, she ran out into the trees. She curled up in the brown grass and dead leaves, wishing she could disappear. She cried until no more tears would come.

Marcie jerked awake and sat up. She was through crying, finished hiding, over feeling sorry for herself. She’d always be that hurt little girl if she didn’t do something. She couldn’t let one man frighten her now.

As the day dawned, she dressed and headed out. Her plan might not do any good, but she had to try.





Saturday





Chapter 41


Brand


Long after midnight, Brand left Marcie at Mr. Winston’s place, and drove around. He’d broken half a dozen laws, so what would a few more matter? In the twelve hours since he’d talked to Colby, he’d secured Mr. Winston’s place and checked on Widows Park’s security to make sure it was working. He’d put trackers on all three of the junk cars in Leon’s front yard.

Brand had watched the man enough to know he lived alone, but now and then a buddy would crash at his place. Through a cracked window he saw Leon watching a big-screen TV.

Brand waited. One hour. Two. Three.

He was standing fifty yards away when Leon pulled out of his yard half an hour before dawn. Maybe he planned to make a drug deal, maybe he thought he could steal something. Or, he might be planning a visit to Marcie.