I shrug. “You know, I'm just doing my neighborly duty, Sheriff. Now, I hope you didn't drive all the way out here just to ask that one question. I'd hate for you to have wasted your time."
“I heard that Autumn Mayburn was at the restaurant,” he says. “Some patrons said you were harassing her, arguing with her about something. She wanted you to leave.”
My jaw clenches just hearing him speak her name. “Did she say I was harassing her?” Would Autumn think I was harassing her?
“I haven’t talked to her yet,” he says. “What do you think she’s going to say about the incident?”
“Well, I imagine she can go ahead and speak for herself,” I say. “If she wants to file a claim of harassment, I expect that you’ll come back and pick me up.”
He gives me a long hard look. “Or maybe you and your brothers decide that West Bend isn’t the place for you anymore,” he suggests, “and you decide to go ahead and get gone, leave this town in peace.”
“The way you left my mother in peace?” I ask. I can’t help myself. I want to know whether he killed her, and I want to hear it from his lips. I want to look him in the eye when he answers.
Jed’s eyes narrow. “Your mother never knew her place. That was really her problem, you know. People get uppity, think they deserve better than what they’re born into. They think they’re better than their lot in life. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, though, does it?”
“You did it. You killed her." Anger rushes through me, floods me like a wave, and I lunge for Jed without thinking.
In a flash, Jed draws his weapon, and I’m looking at the barrel of his gun. “You really think that’s a good idea, Saint?” he asks. “Out here, in the middle of nowhere? Someone unhinged like you would be easy to get rid of. Just as easy as your crazy mother."
“Shoot me, Jed,” I say, taunting him. “If you’re going to do it, just go ahead and do it instead of talking about it. Look me in the face and kill me like a man. Or do you only kill women?"
He stands, his hands steady, holding the gun at me, and I think he might actually shoot me right here, leave me for dead in front of my camper. “Nah, Saint,” he says instead. “I’m not going to shoot you here. I don’t need to. You’ve got more powerful enemies than me.”
“You have no idea the world of shit you’re in, you stupid prick," I say, my teeth gritted.
He laughs as he backs away slowly with his gun aimed at my head. I contemplate rushing him or pulling my weapon on him. But I don't – because of the image that flashes in my head. When I think about drawing on him, I see Autumn's face. And I know I can't do that to her. I'm going to make sure she's safe.
“Yeah, Saint?” he taunts, several feet away, with his back nearly against his patrol vehicle. “Seems to me that I’ve gotten away with shit just fine.”
The thing that consoles me as he backs into his vehicle and then pulls down my driveway is that it’s just a matter of fucking time. Tempest's crew is working the angles to take them down in a way that doesn't come back on us, that doesn't involve me being sent to prison and away from Autumn and Olivia.
Before them, I wouldn't have given a shit about possibly going to prison. Before them, I'd been living full-throttle, on the edge, with no obligations and no demands placed on me. Because I thought that was really living.
Now, I'm beginning to realize I was just running.
And I don’t want to run anymore.
33
Autumn
“I haven't been clear enough that I'm not selling my orchard, Mr. Benson?” I ask, looking down at the name on the business card I'm holding. I’m standing on the front porch, and it’s been a hell of a fucking morning. I just fired a great foreman – the best one I've had, besides Luke – because Luke sent him to watch me. Harvest is over, so it's not like I need someone running the orchard right now anyway, and the fact that he was watching me for Luke is unsettling.
I've been on edge all morning. And now this guy shows up, uninvited, someone else from the mining company. Not even the douchebag board member or whoever who took me out to dinner last night. This guy is just a lackey of some kind.
It’s enough to make me want to start greeting visitors with a shotgun instead of a smile.
Greta pokes her head out the screen door with Olivia balanced on her hip, and I shake my head no, waving her back inside, casually but quickly.
He’s not a good man.
You don’t know the whole story. I can explain.
Luke’s words echo in my head as I look at the representative from the mining company, but I push them away. Luke is an immature asshole who’s just trying to cover up the fact that he acted like a jerk and dumped you over a text message for another woman. You can’t trust your instincts when it comes to men.