Chapter Eight
Drew ran at breakneck speed down the hill and into the barn. He could hear Jess behind him, laughing. “I’m gonna get you, Drew Barlow!” She’d never find him in here. She hated climbing the wobbly old ladder.
The smell of hay and earth met him, but he barely noticed. Ran for the ladder and pulled himself up into the loft, where he ducked out of sight and waited for her to appear in the doorway below. At the sight of her shadow, he ducked lower, peering down at her from behind the bales of hay.
“Drew, no fair! You know I don’t like this barn.”
He stifled a laugh. He had her now. No way she’d win this time.
She moved through the dusty space, searching in each stall, and then he heard it. A car door right outside.
“Drew?” Fear echoed in Jess’s voice. Another shadow appeared in the doorway, and Drew stood.
“I’m up here, Jess.” He rushed down.
Before he could reach her, something came at him from behind, knocked him to the ground. The smell of hay and earth filled his nose again. Then he heard the scream. The car door. The engine.
Then . . . blackness.
Drew shot up, sweat drenched and out of breath. He looked around, a few long seconds of panic passing before he remembered where he was.
The Dulles Inn. Willow Grove. Only a few miles from Fairwind.
He rose and walked to the sink, stuck his head under and took in a few long drinks of water.
He hadn’t had the nightmare in months. Hadn’t thought about it in months. He’d finally put it to rest, focused on work—finally felt like he could live a normal life.
And then his mom showed up with her guilt trip and the promise of something he’d chased for years, whether he cared to admit it or not.
Closure.
Something he’d never have. Without justice, there would be no closure.
Even then, he had doubts such a thing existed.
Drew pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and walked out onto the balcony, stared out over the sleeping town. Nestled on a hill, the Dulles provided a vast panorama of Willow Grove—a place he’d tried for years to forget.
Why had he come back here? He loved his life. Loved the horses. Loved the ranch. Loved working with his hands. Loved the solitude. He’d picked up so much knowledge in his years at Elkhorn. He’d learned to cook. He had his own garden. If something needed fixing, he fixed it. He liked being useful, and he liked being worlds away from the past.
What he didn’t like was small talk. Or questions. Or thinking about Jess.
He closed his eyes, and the dream rushed back at him. Too familiar, it had recurred off and on for years. A therapist would probably have a field day with him, but he’d never told a soul about his nightmares. They always ended at the same part, and they always felt unfinished. Something was missing.
Something he’d forgotten or blocked out. Something . . . Drew shook it off. No. He wasn’t going to do this. The past was the past. He didn’t need this—didn’t need to dig it all up and lay it out on the table.
He should go back to Colorado where he belonged.
But that laugh. He could still hear her. It taunted him. Even in the dream, it had been so vivid. She had been so vivid. Jess had one of those bubbling-over-from-the-gut laughs. Infectious.
Harold’s face flashed in his mind. The photo from his obituary. His face had hardened and gained deep wrinkles, the kind that come from a lifetime of worry. He’d called Drew every few months for years—and then one day, he’d just stopped. Why? Had something happened to make the man stop begging him to come back for “just one more look around”?
Had he finally accepted the fact that this side of heaven, he’d never know the truth?
But without Harold as her mouthpiece, Jess had no one. No one left to fight for her. Everyone else was gone.
Maybe it was the chill in the air or the suddenly unsettled feeling in Drew’s gut, but he knew he couldn’t leave here without at least trying to finally do the right thing.
It didn’t matter how much he hated it.
After a nearly sleepless night, Drew got up early. He was used to early mornings, but usually he had at least six hours of sleep before getting out of bed.
Not today.
He showered, dressed, grabbed a cup of coffee from the lobby of the hotel, then made his way out to Fairwind for the Community Work Day. He wasn’t part of the community, but if they were opening the doors to the place, he’d do his part—anything to get a chance to look around and get back to Colorado.
Even annoying kids were better than this torture.
He drove the country roads out to the farm, surprised to discover a line of cars waiting on the old orchard grounds. The lot was already full, and people had taken to parking on the grass.
The activity seemed concentrated right in front of the main barn. He could still remember hiding out in the kitchen, stealing pieces of broken apple-cider donuts when the workers weren’t looking. He and Jess had had their run of the place.
As he parked the truck and scanned the property, his heart kicked into high gear, pounding in his chest like the bass drum in a band.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Why am I here? I shouldn’t be here.
Again, Jess’s laugh echoed through his mind. He had to do this—for her.
“Just look around, Drew,” Harold had said in a particularly long voice-mail message. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Drew hadn’t bothered to respond. He could’ve at least called back to decline.
Guilt nipped at him like an untrained poodle. He’d been so selfish.
Still, sitting here on the lawn of Fairwind Farm, he didn’t know how to move forward. In his head, he was willing, but the ramifications would be great. Was there a way to jog his memory without actually reliving that day? To preserve his sanity?
He knew Harold had been collecting details on the case. The old man likely had a larger file than the police did—Drew would have to find it, assuming no one else already had. What if Harold had unearthed something new? What if there was something that filled in the blanks of Drew’s nightmare?
Could he even handle such a thing?
Twenty years had passed, and Drew had never spoken a word about that day. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to speak up if he did remember something.
He had no time for shameful thoughts today. He got out of the truck and watched for a few long moments as people flocked toward the barn. Probably many of the same people who’d been there that day—had they all forgotten the horror? Sure, most of them hadn’t been as close to the front line as he had, but they’d been there. They’d seen the heartbreak it caused. There had never been justice—why weren’t they demanding it?
Instead, they were scurrying around with their to-go cups of coffee and their lawn equipment. They moved in groups toward the main barn, which bore almost no resemblance to the image in his mind. The paint was peeling, and the weeds had nearly overtaken the place. It was almost summer—surely these sisters didn’t hope to have Fairwind up and running by early autumn, did they? They had no idea what they were up against.
Drew glanced at the clock. Almost half past seven. The flyer said to meet in the main barn for pastries and coffee, and while an urgency to explore Fairwind bubbled inside him, he’d skipped breakfast. After his sleepless night, more caffeine was in order.
Besides, he was a stranger. He couldn’t bypass the meeting and snoop around like he owned the place.
Outside, the sun shone but the air was still crisp. Pretty perfect weather for a Community Work Day. Almost like God was smiling down on Fairwind.
Why did the thought irritate him?
Wooden folding chairs, probably left over from long ago, had been set up in rows like a church in the center of the barn. Old tables had been pushed to the edges, and the brunette he’d met on the street appeared to be serving pastries and coffee off to the side. She smiled a kind smile, happy, like she had an excitement inside her she couldn’t contain.
He didn’t remember if he’d ever felt that way about anything.
People filtered to their seats, and Drew made his way over to the coffee. As he poured himself a cup, he glanced up and saw the blond sister—the uptight one—standing on the other side of the table, staring at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Getting a cup of coffee.”
“No, I mean, you don’t live here. I didn’t think I’d see you here.” She seemed nervous, but he didn’t know if it was because of him or because she and her sister had so obviously taken on more than they’d bargained for.
“Does that mean you thought about me?” He took a sip of his coffee.
Her face reddened and she stuttered, but before she could respond, the girl from the street—Molly—appeared beside her. “I can’t believe you showed up.” She grinned, then looked at the blond one. “Do you two know each other?”
Drew took a bite of a donut and shook his head. “Nope.”
“I saw him at Butler’s the other day, that’s all.”
“She brought me my food.”
Molly frowned. “You waited tables? That doesn’t sound like the Beth Whitaker I know and love.”
The blond one—Beth—stiffened. “I was helping Callie.” She turned to Drew. “All I meant was, I thought we’d only see locals today.”
“He used to come here with his parents,” Molly said. “So he’s practically local.”
Beth raised her eyebrows. “That so?”
He finished the donut and took another drink. “It was a long time ago.”
“So, what? You’re here for nostalgia’s sake?”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
Molly’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “We should start, Beth.”
She grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her to the front of the barn, where a makeshift stage had been created. He scanned the space. They might be in over their heads, but they knew how to get people excited. From the looks of it, most of the town was there.
The building had seen better days, but there were flowers on the tables and plenty of pastries and coffee to keep anyone from complaining. He had to admit, he might’ve underestimated the plan to revive the old farm, although donuts weren’t going to rebuild ramshackle barns.
Drew sat in the back row and waited for the room to quiet down. The sisters intrigued him. The younger one reminded him of a girl who’d worked at the ranch for a summer. Amanda had been excited about everything and willing to learn, but she’d also had unrealistic expectations and about as much common sense as a ball of lint. He didn’t have the right to judge Molly based on their two brief interactions, but he couldn’t ignore the similarities.
The older sister, though? She remained a mystery. She was pretty, if a little plain. Blond. Big blue eyes that seemed to look right through him. Probably wondered, even more than she let on, what someone like him was even doing here.
If he had his way, she’d never find out the truth about that. No sense dragging her into the sordid past that followed him around wherever he went, whether he liked it or not.
She stood at the front of the room, elevated just a few inches off the ground. He couldn’t say for sure, but it almost seemed like she was trying extra hard not to look at him. Twice their eyes met, and both times, she quickly looked away.
And that was just fine with him. He didn’t need a connection with a pretty girl who lived in Willow Grove, after all; he wasn’t there for social reasons.
And yet, as she cleared her throat and avoided his eyes, he found himself helpless to ignore a nagging curiosity about Beth Whitaker. And as she began to speak, he kept his gaze firmly on her, oddly hopeful that their eyes would meet again.