Page 15 of Blackwood

“Who made that?” I arched an eyebrow and wriggled up in the bed.

He placed the tray across my thighs. His nails were dark again, his fingers tinged gray and black at the tips. “I did.”

“Really?”

“No.” He smirked. “Bonnie dropped by when she heard about you laid up in here. Gave me the evil eye.” He backed away, then dug in his pocket. “Before I forget, here’s the pain pills.” He leaned over and dropped two white, powdery tablets on the edge of the tray. “Eat some first. Those will hit you hard if you don’t.”

“She didn’t come up to see me?” My closest friend was three hours away scouting dig sites in Tennessee. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to. Someone other than Garrett. But I was heartened by the news that others knew I was here. Maybe Garrett didn’t intend to dismember me after all.

“Ty would lay into her if she missed the lunch rush.”

“Rush?” I grabbed my knife and fork. “I’ve never seen more than four people in the diner at a time.”

“Right. The rush.” He deadpanned and crossed his arms over his chest.

I laughed despite myself.

Something softened around his eyes, and I realized what a handsome man he was. The beard and the hair couldn’t hide the man underneath, the one with sharp eyes and a sinful mouth. I forced myself to look away. There was no room for thoughts like that, especially when I wasn’t sure if Garrett could be trusted. I glanced to the marks on my wrists.Definitely can’t be trusted.

I began cutting my steak. “Thanks for the food.”

“Don’t get used to it. You’ll be back on my cooking tonight.” His softness left as quickly as it had come.

“Hey, did you ask the sheriff about my car?”

“No, I figure he’ll drop by here soon and you can lay all your concerns on him. Your car, your phone, my beard, all that.” He turned to leave. “Take the pills. I’ll check your bandages when I come back for the tray.” He strode out and closed the door.

I stuffed a spare pillow behind my back and settled into the bed. Getting well enough to continue my investigation was the most important thing. I ate as much of my lunch as I could stomach, then popped the pills.

The afternoon floated away, and I was only vaguely aware of Garrett cleaning and replacing the gauze along my leg and foot.

Whenever I drifted to sleep, my dad was there. Sometimes it was a replay of a memory—him waving at me at my high school graduation, him snugging on his Braves hat as he watched a game, him kissing my mom on the mouth after he’d been drinking and showed up at the house uninvited. Sometimes, I found him sitting in his rusted-out car in the woods, smoking a cigarette and watching as I walked around and inspected the damage.

No matter what sort of dream he appeared to me in, two things were always the same—his shirt was drenched in blood, and he had a smile on his face.

Chapter Ten

It tooktwo daysbefore I could go to the bathroom without Garrett’s help, then another two days before I could take a bath with my leg draped over the tub. By that time, I couldn’t even bear to sniff my pits, and I found a new admiration for Garrett. He’d been attending to me dutifully and hadn’t commented on my desperate need for a bath.

I sighed as I lay back and rested my head on the edge of the tub, the warm water swirling around me.

Garrett had remained distant, only warming to me in rare moments of wry humor. They were so brief and dry that I sometimes wasn’t sure if he was joking or just saying something to shut me up. Any time I’d felt like I gained ground with him, he’d leave abruptly and not return until it was time for one of his terrible meals or one of Bonnie’s delicious ones.

I didn’t know how long I’d been soaking before I heard the familiar creak.

“Garrett?”

Assuming he wouldn’t show up until mealtime, I’d left the door to the bathroom open. The bath was just water, no bubbles to hide my nude form, though I don’t know why I was shy. He’d perused my body plenty as he changed my bandages and carried me to the bathroom. His fingers lingered on my skin longer each time, his hold on me tighter.

“Elise?” A man’s voice.

I sat up straighter in the water and cursed myself for not laying my towel closer. “Who’s there?”

“Sheriff Crow.”

I relaxed against the porcelain. “Hi. I’m in the tub.”

“Oh.” The creaking stopped. “Sorry about that.”

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