“Fill this out.” He hands me a form to complete. “You have ninety days to buy it back and then it becomes property of Pickerman’s Pawn and Loan.”
“Not necessary. I won’t be back.” I shove the cash in my purse and get the hell out of Bonesteel Creek, this time by choice.
Chapter Forty-Five
Leighton
One week later…
“You want some more tea, Grandma?” I take a seat on the edge of her sofa as she shuffles cards for another round of Gin Rummy.
After making it back to Arizona, I was able to collect my final earnings from Harold, collect the last of my things, hire an attorney to threaten Grant with a restraining order. It wasn’t until after an hour-long heart to heart with Grandma Joyce over the phone that she convinced me to come stay with her for a while.
“Yes, but I can get it myself.” She rises. “You need to sit down, Leighton. You’ve been flitting around like a busy bee all morning. I’m getting exhausted just watching you.”
“But at least your kitchen is sparkling and your laundry is all caught up.” I follow her to the kitchen, glasses in hand. I might be busy, but she’s stubborn. “Didn’t the doctor tell you to take it easy from now on? And to accept help when it’s offered?”
Clucking her tongue, she yanks the fridge door and pulls out a heavy pitcher of freshly brewed iced tea. It shakes in her hand, but sure enough, she refills our glasses without missing a drop.
“I didn’t fly you here to help me,” she says. “I flew you here because I wanted to spend time with you. Now that you’ve finally seen the light with that Grant asshole …” She shuffles back to the living room, her house slippers scuffing across the linoleum floor. “I’m so sorry it didn’t work out with River. I really liked him.”
“I did too.” I force a bittersweet smile. “Ready to play?”
We take our seats, and I try to focus on the game. I haven’t exactly given her all the details as to why River and I parted ways. With her health being so fragile, I didn’t want to cause her any added stress, and I didn’t want the family knowing I was rolling in the proverbial hay with our father’s killer.
It still makes me sick to my stomach when I think about it … and when I’m not physically ill, I’m heartsick.
I was starting to fall in love with that man.
My phone rings in the next room, and I excuse myself while my grandmother mutters something along the lines of, “You kids and your electronics these days …”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m expecting a phone call about a job, or I wouldn’t take it.” The number flashing across the screen is unfamiliar, but I answer anyway on the off chance it’s tied to that coffee shop I applied to the other day. “Hello? Leighton Hart speaking.”
“Leighton, oh my God, I’m so glad you answered.”
“Who is this?”
“Molly,” she says, slightly offended. “Molly Fasthorse.”
I take a seat at my grandmother’s kitchen table, heart pounding.
“I stole your number from River’s phone when he wasn’t looking,” she says. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you need to come back here.”
“Absolutely not.”
“River’s about to turn himself in,” she says.
“Good.”
“And he’s going to leave his entire estate to you,” she adds.
“Tell him I don’t want it.”
“He’s innocent, Leighton,” she says, her voice breaking.
I scoff. “He confessed.”
“Of course he did. He believes he was responsible for what happened, but I’m telling you, this whole thing has Seth written all over it.”
My nose wrinkles. “What does Seth have to do with this?”
“Everything,” she says. “Didn’t River tell you the whole story?”
“I didn’t exactly give him a chance to explain.” I bury my face in my hands. “And he wasn’t exactly saying a whole lot. I think we were both in shock.”
“Come back,” she says. “Talk to him.”
“I really don’t want to see him, Molly. I’m sorry. It’s really hard for me right now, and I don’t expect you to understand, but I ask that you respect my—”
“Well, you’re going to have to tell him you don’t want his estate,” she says. “He’s leaving everything to you … the house, the livestock, the machinery.”
“Why? So he can haul off to prison with a clean conscience?”
“Look.” Molly exhales into the phone. “I realize I’m asking the world of you right now, but please. He’s innocent, and I can prove it. Don’t make him spend the rest of his life paying for a crime he didn’t commit while Seth McCray walks around free as a bird.”
“What am I supposed to do about this?”
“Come back,” she says. “Talk to River. Convince him not to turn himself in … yet. I need more time, but I’m so close to tracking down the one person who might know the truth.”
I take a deep breath, holding it in my chest until it hurts.
Returning to Bonesteel Creek is the last thing I want to do.
But I miss him.
I hate him. And I miss him. And I never knew those two feelings could coexist, but they do, and I can’t deny either of them no matter how hard I try.
Chapter Forty-Six
River
The police have been called. My attorney’s going to meet me at the Bonesteel County Sheriff’s office. He spent the last week drafting documents that would leave everything I own to Leighton. She may not want any of it, but there’s no one else I could imagine giving it to, and in a roundabout way, I took this from her.
At least now, I can give it back.
I place my phone face down on the table and take one final look around at the house that once held the happiest moments I’ve ever known.
The police should be here soon, and they’ll take me in for questioning.
I’ll never step foot in here again after they book me.
Life, as I’ve known it, is officially over, and while I’m facing the possibility of decades behind bars as a prisoner, my soul will finally be free because there’s freedom in the truth.
The knock at my door comes sooner than I expected, but I’m ready. Pushing myself up, I make my way to the door, only the person standing on the other side isn’t dressed in a uniform.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Can I come in?” Leighton tightens her grip on the strap over her shoulder, her posture stiff and uncomfortable.
“Of course.” I pull the door open and stand back.
“I’m only here to tell you I don’t want your farm,” she says, exhaling. “All of my memories … all those moments that belong to this house … to this place … they’re all ruined now. Tarnished. I don’t want this farm. I don’t want any of it.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll donate it to charity. Is that why you came here? You could’ve just called.”
I’m angry.
Angry at the situation.
Angry at this shitty excuse for a life I’ve been given.
Angry at having to stare at the one woman I was starting to fall in love with and knowing she’s never going to look at me the way she did before.
“Molly seems to think you’re innocent,” she says.
“Molly sent you.” It makes sense now. Molly’s the queen of persuasion, with nagging persistence as her trump card.