By the time Max found me, Harry had had me for seven hours. It wouldn’t be until much later, indeed when we were in my bed in Charlie’s house in England, that he would confess that those seven hours “were the worst seven hours of my fuckin’ life, Duchess.”
I hated Harry because he made Max experience that fear. And I hated him even more because he made my Mom and Steve experience it too. The only good thing to come of it was that I didn’t stay in Gnaw Bone an extra week and Max didn’t come to England for a couple of weeks’ visit. Instead, I stayed in Gnaw Bone an extra week and Max came to England and stayed with me for three months as I worked my notice, sold Charlie’s house and prepared to leave my old life behind.
Since that day, outside of working, trips to the mall or grocery store, when Max was in town doing something for his Mom and other normal life things, Max was never far away from me. He was usually right there and if he wasn’t, he could be right there in under thirty minutes.
This wasn’t suffocating. When you’d been kidnapped and narrowly missed being shot to death, having a mountain man at your back was reassuring.
And having an amazing man love you so much that experiencing the threat of losing you meant he didn’t like you far away was beyond reassuring. It was beautiful.
Harry had shot Damon in the heart therefore he was dead before his face hit the dirt. He wasn’t missed much because he was a serious jerk but no one believed that was appropriate comeuppance, even if he was a serious jerk.
Harry had confessed to three counts of murder, conspiracy to commit murder and four counts of kidnapping for, in the end, he’d kidnapped Bitsy too. Even if he confessed to the crimes, he still received a life sentence as, I thought, he definitely should. Max was of another mind, namely the death sentence but since the state of Colorado had only put one man to death since 1976, Max had to make do with Harry not breathing free and having plenty of time to reflect on his actions for the rest of his sad, wasted life.
Bitsy had confessed to conspiracy to commit murder.
The fallout had rocked the town of Gnaw Bone for no one suspected either Harry or Bitsy. Both of them were well-liked and the entire town was stunned that not only did they perpetrate this heinous deed (or, in Harry’s case, deeds, plural), they’d planned it for years.
That said, whether it was right or wrong, no one blamed Bitsy much. Curt had crippled her, killed her best friend, flagrantly cheated on her, gave money to his mistress and forced Bitsy, in a variety of ways, into a life she didn’t want to lead both in a wheelchair and also living in that house that lorded over the whole town. But the bottom line was, she spent years planning her husband’s murder. Nevertheless, her confession and the extenuating circumstances meant her sentence was relatively light but she was still in jail and would be for awhile.
Although I had been caught up in their mess, Max also didn’t blame Bitsy (much). This was because Bitsy, who had been hiding her bitterness against her husband, didn’t hide her repentance for what she, no matter what anyone told her (including me when I visited her), blamed herself that she’d led Harry to do. She took responsibility for all of it, most especially what happened to me. The events leading on from Curtis Dodd’s murder broke her. It wasn’t jail that broke her; she had, in her mind, the end of four lives on her hands and what happened to me.
In an effort to make amends, she sold Curt’s business to Max for a song. He argued with her about the deal but she refused to listen. She wanted to do her bit to keep Max in town with me and to keep Max and I fed and happy and she somehow convinced mountain man Max to take the deal. He did and as he’d said he’d do, he downsized the operation. Even so, with Max’s reputation as a man as well as for his quality craftsmanship, he kept his crew busy, his family fed and more than comfortable at the same time we, since I bought my lawyer’s desk and installed it in George’s offices when he and I formed a partnership, kept our mountain clean.
I completed my search for Max when I retraced my steps back to the kitchen and I mentally, and thankfully, shrugged off my thoughts when I saw Max’s note.
Duchess,
Charlie and me are out.
Max
I held the note and stared at it.
They were out. Out. Now. When we should all be getting ready.
I saw movement to my side and looked down at the big, fluffy gray cat who had her bottom in the air, her chest to the floor and her paws straight out in front of her, stretching and yawning at the same time, as usual oblivious to her mother’s irritation.
The cat was my idea, Max wanted a dog. He only capitulated because when I really pushed him about the cat, it was when I told him he was going to get Charlie.
So I got my cat.
“My husband is annoying,” I told the feline.