Home to Whiskey Creek

“Whiskey Creek. At the moment,” she added because she hadn’t yet come to terms with the fact that, depending on what she convinced Gran to do, she might need to stay longer than the few months she was planning.

“Hey! I’m from Whiskey Creek, too,” he said with obvious surprise. “What’s your last name?”

“Davies.”

“Have we met?”

How could she tell? What she’d seen of him so far had been dark and indistinct. He was tall and muscular; she’d gathered that much from his general shape. He was strong, too, or he couldn’t have lifted her out. But that was all she knew. She couldn’t even see the color of his hair.

“Maybe,” she said. “Who are you?” Chances were good she’d recognize the name. Gran owned Just Like Mom’s, one of the more popular restaurants in the area, and she used to help out there.

She’d anticipated some degree of familiarity, but the name came as a shock.

“Noah Rackham.”

She said nothing, could say nothing. It felt as if he’d just punched her in the stomach.

“My father used to own the tractor sales and rental place a few miles out of town,” he explained to provide her with a frame of reference.

Fresh adrenaline made it possible for her to scramble to her feet, despite the pain the movement caused her scraped and bruised body. “Cody’s brother?” She had the urge to rip off the sweatshirt he’d given her.

Noah stood, too. “That’s right. You knew him?”

He sounded pleased, excited. She might have laughed, except she was afraid that if she ever got started she’d end up in a padded cell. Of all the people who could’ve come by and offered her aid, it had to be Cody’s fraternal twin. There wasn’t a greater irony than that.

“You and Cody were friends?” he prompted, trying to interpret her reaction.

She was glad she couldn’t see his face. That would be like meeting a ghost, especially here, at the mine. “Not really,” she said. “I was behind the t-two of you in sch-school, but...I remember him.”

She’d never be able to forget him, but it wasn’t because they’d been friends. Not only had Cody raped her, he’d talked some of his baseball buddies into joining the fun. And, when he came back after the others were gone, she’d done what she had to in order to get away.

3

Noah didn’t know what to make of Addy. Although she claimed they’d gone to the same high school, he didn’t remember her. He didn’t recognize her from around town, either. Of course, that could be due to the condition of her face. Someone had done quite a number on it.

While he drove to the accompaniment of a classic rock station, she curled up, as much as a tall woman could curl up while wearing a seat belt, against the passenger door. He’d told her three times she could lie in the seat, knew she’d be more comfortable if she would. But she acted as if she didn’t want to get too close to him. She went stiff whenever he touched her, which hadn’t made it any easier to wheel her out to the road or help her into the truck. The whole process had taken a couple of hours.

“Which hospital?” he asked.

She lifted her head. “Excuse me?”

He pulled his gaze away from the headlights flowing toward them on the other side of the road. “Which hospital should I take you to? I have a first-aid kit, but that won’t be enough.”

“I’m not going to the hospital.”

He felt his eyebrows notch up. “But...you’re hurt, and you’re still shaking even though it has to be a hundred degrees in here.” He’d been slightly chilled when he got in, too, but thanks to the heat blasting through his vents, he was sweltering now. “I really think you should be checked out.”

“Great idea. And what will I tell them?”

Her tone indicated it was a rhetorical question, but he answered, anyway. “How about the truth?”

Her head bumped against the door. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not doing yourself any favors, you know. If you go back to the bastard who did this, he could do it again. And maybe next time there won’t be anyone around to help you.” She was lucky he’d heard her. What if he hadn’t gone riding today? Or chosen a different location? It was only when he was feeling particularly nostalgic or really missing Cody that he took their favorite trail.

“A repeat performance is precisely what I’m hoping to avoid.”

He turned down the volume on “We Will Rock You” by Queen. “Meaning what? You think he’ll come after you if you go to the authorities?”

She raised one hand. “Look, I’m grateful for your help but...will you let it go?”

Shouldn’t he insist she seek medical assistance? “You need to document your injuries. Then, if you change your mind, you can file a report later and have proof to go with it.”

“I’ll pass, but thanks,” she muttered.

“If you decide to press charges, you’ll need pictures.”

“I won’t be pressing charges.”

Obviously, she was covering for someone. No woman wound up stranded at the bottom of a mine shaft in her underwear, in the middle of the night without a little help getting there. “I wish you’d see a doctor.”

“I’ll do it later if I have to.”

“Why not now, when you need it?”

“If you drive me to a hospital I’ll walk out. Please, take me home. Or if that’s too much trouble, drop me at a pay phone so I can call someone else.”

“I’m happy to drive you. It’s just...” Did he have any right to keep pushing? No. He didn’t even know this woman. “Never mind. We’ll do whatever you want.” She wasn’t his problem. But telling himself that didn’t make it any easier. He hated to see whoever had attacked her get away with it.

“Thank you.”

She’d spoken so low he could barely hear her response, but she’d softened, or seemed to have softened, and that tempted him to dive back into the same argument. “So...where’s home?” he asked, fighting the impulse.

Her eyes had drifted shut. He could see her profile in the light of his instrument panel, thought she might be pretty without the swelling and abrasions. Lord knew she had nice legs....

“Mildred’s place on Mulberry Street.”

“You’re staying with Milly?”

The widow who owned Just Like Mom’s was one of his favorite people; he’d had no idea this woman might be associated with her. She’d said her name was Davies, but that was a common enough name, and Milly had lived alone for so long he hadn’t connected them.

“For the time being.”

He gave the truck enough gas to pass the car ahead. “Are you related to Milly, or—”

“I’m her granddaughter.”

The vision of a tall, gangly, flat-chested blonde with more hair on her head than any two people popped into his mind. She’d come to all the varsity baseball games. She’d even walked up to him once, after he’d hit a home run, and stammered her congratulations.

Could this woman be that shy girl?

She wasn’t flat-chested anymore. That was for sure. But she still had thick hair. Although matted and snarled at the moment, it was one of her best assets because it was such a rich blond color and so full of body.

He steered back into the right lane before glancing over at her again. “How long have you been in town?”

Her eyelids rested against her cheeks. If he had his guess, her head was pounding like a jackhammer, but she didn’t complain. “Since Saturday.”

“I mean...before that.”

“I was born in Whiskey Creek.”

“Then we’d be more familiar with each other, wouldn’t we?”

“Not necessarily.”

“I know most people in town pretty well, especially those close to my age.”

“You were caught up in your own life.”

There was a slight undercurrent as she spoke, but it was subtle enough that he couldn’t call her on it. In any case, he wasn’t convinced he’d been any more self-absorbed than other teenagers. “In what way?”

“Never mind.”

“Are we talking about when I was ten or fifteen or...twenty? ‘Caught up’ at twenty being the least flattering, of course,” he added with a chuckle.

A muscle jumped in her cheek. Then she sighed and opened her eyes, as if she was about to give him all the facts about her background at once so he’d leave her alone. “I spent my summers with Milly until eighth grade,” she recited in clipped syllables. “Then, when my mother left for Germany to be with her—what was it then, third?—husband I stayed with Gran.”

He skipped over the number of marriages, figured it wouldn’t be wise to comment on that, not when he was trying to put her at ease. “She married a German? How’d that happen? I’m guessing this was before online dating.”

At this, she actually smiled. “It was. They met via a dating service. He’s American. After dating here, they married. Then he accepted a contract with the military for some consulting work and that required him to live in Frankfurt. She wanted to tour Europe.”

“What about your father?”

“He died in a motorcycle accident before I was born.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was racing when he died. He and my mother weren’t married. I don’t get the impression he would’ve been a big part of my life if he’d lived.”

He veered away from that subject, too. “So we were teenagers during the period you were referring to?” He grinned at her. “At least that’s younger than twenty.”

She didn’t hurry to reassure him that she hadn’t meant anything negative by her earlier statement. And he noticed the slight, couldn’t help wondering if it was intentional.

“Yes,” she said. “I lived with her until I graduated from high school.”

He found it odd that a mother would give up her child to tour Europe, but he didn’t want to probe what could be a sensitive subject. He was more interested in figuring out why he didn’t remember her, and why she was so...prickly. He’d never encountered anyone determined to dislike him right from the get-go. He might’ve thought he’d slept with her and never called, but he hadn’t done anything like that until college. In trying to cope with the pain of losing Cody, he’d done what he could to distract himself, and sex had been a more effective distraction than any of his other options. “Which would mean we went to Eureka High together for what...two years?”

“You were a junior when I first noticed you.”

She seemed to remember him distinctly, which made him slightly uncomfortable. Was it possible that she’d had a crush on him? Was that what she held against him—some unrequited love thing? Unlike his brother, he hadn’t been interested in girls until he’d started at San Diego State. “Was it on the baseball diamond?”

“It was in the halls, but I saw you on the diamond, too. I watched you play every game.”

So that was her who’d congratulated him so awkwardly. And...she’d watched him play? Specifically? Maybe he’d guessed correctly about the crush, too. The girl who’d approached him after that home run had turned beet-red the moment he’d looked at her, had seemed to regret being impetuous enough to draw his attention.

“Then you’re a baseball fan.” He was about to explain that he could now recall having seen her, but she cut him off.

“Not anymore.”

Why did it feel as if there was a personal element in that response, as well? As if she was saying she was no longer his fan? “What’s wrong with baseball?” Or me, for that matter?

“It’s become a bit of a symbol to me.”

“That’s cryptic.”

She’d gone cold again, remote. “I’m a cryptic person.”

“So you won’t tell me.”

“There’s no point.”

But he was curious. He’d always loved baseball, still played slow-pitch softball in a co-ed league. For him, sports didn’t symbolize anything except a challenge. “Listen, if I said or did something that hurt your feelings back in the day, I’m sorry. I honestly don’t remember it.”

She attempted another smile, but this one fell short of the more sincere grin she’d flashed him after his online dating comment. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “Don’t mind me. I’m not at my best.”

He could understand why. She had to feel like shit. So he cut her some slack. “No problem.”

He drove farther before breaking the silence again. “Where’d you go after high school?”

She stared straight ahead, through the windshield, instead of turning like most people would during a conversation. Her resistance gave him the impression that she didn’t like looking at him. He almost checked the mirror to see what the sweat and mud from his ride had done to his face.

“The California Culinary Academy in San Francisco,” she said.

“You’re a chef?”

Her eyes still wouldn’t meet his. “I was. I quit my job a week ago.”

“In the Bay Area?”

“No, Davis.”

“Why’d you quit? Were you planning to move back to Whiskey Creek? Or are you in town for a visit?”

Sliding lower in her seat, she pulled her legs up under his sweatshirt. “I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll stay. I quit because Gran needs my help. She’s getting old and can’t move around like she used to. She shouldn’t be driving, for one thing, yet she visits me once a month.”

“You can’t come here?”

“I haven’t been back since I graduated.”

“Because...”

“I don’t enjoy returning. But I don’t want to put her in assisted living. That’s never been what I envisioned for her. And some decisions have to be made about the restaurant.”

“Darlene Bigelow basically runs it for her, and she seems to do a good job. Won’t she continue?”

“I plan to keep Darlene on as long as possible, but I’m hoping Gran will agree to sell the restaurant and come back to Davis with me.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “I’d hate to see the restaurant go to anyone else,” he said. “Just Like Mom’s is an institution in Whiskey Creek.”

She cleared her throat. “As much as I wish otherwise, Gran won’t live forever.”

“But you have restaurant experience. And you need a job.” He grinned, hoping to tempt her into taking his suggestion seriously, but she shook her head.

“I’m a good chef. I’ll find something elsewhere.”

“Then, considering how you feel about coming home, it’s nice of you to give up your job.”

“Actually, quitting wasn’t completely altruistic,” she admitted. “My ex-husband was coming on as manager, so both things sort of cropped up at once.”

Noah had to adjust the heat. He could hardly breathe. “Your ex, huh? That’s bad luck.”

She shrugged. “Luck didn’t have much to do with it. His family owns the restaurant. That’s how we met. But after our divorce, he lost his business—a pest control company—and hasn’t been able to get anything else going. They feel obligated to help, of course. And if I’d forced them to choose between us...well, you know who’d they’d pick.”

“Blood’s thicker than water and all that.”

“Exactly.”

“So...you’re divorced?”

“The marriage was so short it doesn’t really feel that way.”

She was quite an enigma. He leaned forward, hoping to get her to look at him, but...nothing doing. It was almost as if he repelled her. Maybe he stank. After such a difficult ride, that was possible. “Any chance you said ‘I do’ following a hard night of drinking in Vegas?”

He was teasing and he could tell she understood that. “Sadly, we were both sober, just...misguided.”

“How?”

“I thought he’d be true. And he thought I’d put up with him seeing other women.”

Noah knew better than to ask, but he couldn’t resist. “He’s not the one who did this to you....”

“No.”

“Then I don’t understand why you won’t let me take you to the—”

“Who’d you end up marrying?”

She’d interrupted because she didn’t want to deal with the pressure he was putting on her. This was the first personal question she’d asked; he knew it was merely an attempt to distract him.

“No one.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a professional biker. Mostly I race in Europe—during the spring and summer. This is the off-season, so I get to stay home and run my bike store, which is a nice change. Traveling so much can get old.”

“You own Crank It Up?”

“You’ve been there?”

“No, I saw it when I drove through town on Saturday. You took over the building where the old thrift shop used to be.”

“That’s right.”

“So...business is good?”

“Fortunately, mountain biking has become a popular sport. For the most part business is good.”

“Do you ever see Kevin Colbert?”

There was an odd, husky quality to her voice with this question that hadn’t been there before, but he didn’t know what to attribute it to. “Occasionally.”

“Who’d he marry?”

“Audrey Calhoun. They were an item back in school, remember? Got together junior year.”

“I remember. So they’re still in Whiskey Creek?”

“Yeah. They live in that new development not too far from the Pullman Mansion—the place where they have weddings and stuff? He’s a P.E. teacher at Eureka High these days. He’s also the football coach.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“He was always a decent player.”

“Any kids?”

“Three.”

“What about Tom Gibby?”

She seemed to know all his old teammates. “He’s around. He’s a postal clerk. Figures that the nicest guy in school turns out to be the steadiest, most devoted family man. You’re never going to believe this, though. He married Selena.”

“Parley Mechem’s little sister?”

He couldn’t tell if she was surprised. He couldn’t even tell if she liked the people they were talking about. She gave no indication one way or the other. “Yeah. She was about twelve when we were in high school.”

She rested her chin on her knees. “Are Cheyenne Christensen and Eve Harmon still friends?”

“Definitely.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “I’d be shocked if they weren’t. They were always close.”

“Except for Gail, who moved to Los Angeles, that whole clique still hangs out together.”

“You mean your clique?” she said dryly.

Minus the baseball players. He wasn’t quite as close to the guys who used to be on the team with him, but they had a drink every now and then. “Yeah. I see Eve and Cheyenne and the others at the coffee shop on Fridays. But...those people were all in my graduating class. Did you hang out with seniors?” He couldn’t recall seeing her at any of the parties, dances or other get-togethers. That one moment on the ball field was his only memory of the girl she used to be.

“By the end of the year, I had quite a few senior friends because those were the people in my classes.”

“What classes did you have?”

“AP Econ. AP World History. Honors Chem. The usual. I had calculus with Cheyenne and Eve.”

He whistled. “That isn’t usual. You were in calculus as a sophomore? And advanced placement classes? You must’ve been a brainiac. A shy brainiac,” he added, combining the two images he now held of her.

“I was naive,” she stated flatly.

They’d reached Jackson, so he pulled into the first fast-food restaurant he could find. She’d downed two energy bars and finished his water, but she needed a full meal. “What would you like?”

Her eyes widened as if his actions surprised her. “Nothing. I thought maybe you wanted dinner. I can wait.”

“There’s no reason to. We’re already here, and it’s only getting later. Nothing will be open in Whiskey Creek.”

Her eyes were riveted to the clock, which read eleven-thirty. “Gran will have food. I really don’t want to be seen like this.”

“You’re in a dark truck. No one will notice you. Let me buy you a bite to eat.”

She hesitated.

“Come on. It’ll help your headache.”

“How do you know I have a headache?”

He waited for her to finally look at him, and made a face that suggested anyone would have a headache.

“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll have a burger. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“No, that’s enough. I’ll mail you a check since I don’t have any money with me.”

Assuming she must be joking, he laughed. “It’ll be all of a couple bucks. And even if I wanted it back, why would you mail it? We live in the same town, remember?”

“True, but our paths won’t cross.”

She didn’t know that. She’d only been back a few days, and one of those had been spent in the mine. Their paths could cross. For whatever reason, she didn’t want them to. “I think I can afford to buy you a burger.”

After ordering two double cheeseburgers, two fries and two shakes, he idled forward to wait for the food. “Have you been in touch with anyone from Whiskey Creek since you left?”

“Besides Gran and Darlene? No.”

That didn’t sound as though she’d been particularly close to the people she’d mentioned. “Do your friends know you’re back?”

“Not yet. I’m not here to socialize. I’m here to help.”

So she’d said, but wouldn’t most people automatically do both?

He slung his arm over the steering wheel. “I could go to my father for you. He’s the mayor these days. Once he retired, he decided, out of the blue, to go into politics. Shocked us all. But the point is, he now has some pull with the police. If I tell him what happened, I know he’d have Chief Stacy look into the situation...discreetly. Would that make a difference?”

She shook her head, a resolute no.

“He’ll see to it,” he pressed. “And no one will be the wiser. Trust me.”

“No! Please. I don’t want your father to know anything about this.”

“Why not?”

“I’d rather go on about my business. Why does it matter to you whether I report what happened?”

“Okay, I get it.” And yet he hated feeling so...out of control when there was something he wanted to control. “It’s just...beyond me to let this go,” he explained. “Whoever did it deserves to be punished.”

“That’s not up to you.”

She had a point there.

The girl working the drive-through pushed open the window to collect his money—and gave him a thousand-watt smile the moment she recognized him. “Hey, Noah!”

He was tempted to roll his eyes at her enthusiasm. She was maybe seventeen. “Hi, Cindy.”

“What are you up to tonight?” A calculated dimple appeared in her cheek. She didn’t live in Whiskey Creek, but he saw her when she came to visit her married sister, who happened to be his closest neighbor.

“Just got back from a ride. How’s school going?” He hoped that would remind her of her age.

“Fine. Can I get you anything else?”

As he’d promised, she hadn’t realized he had company. The way Adelaide hugged her door kept her completely in shadow. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a woman sit so far away from him in his truck. He could only assume that, after what she’d been through, she was afraid of men. “No, thanks.”

Cindy counted out his change and passed him his receipt with the sack. “Well, if you’d like something later, you know where to find me.”

Embarrassed by the innuendo in her voice, he pretended not to notice. “Thanks.”

He handed the food to Adelaide as he drove off. Had she picked up on the offer he’d just received? He hoped not. He knew it wouldn’t reflect well on him.

Why he cared, he couldn’t say.

Addy stretched her legs as she sat up, and he cranked the heat again so she’d be comfortable.

“If you won’t go to the police, what will you tell Milly?” he asked.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“I really think you should come forward.”

“That changes everything.”

The sarcasm in her response took him by surprise. “Pardon me?”

She lifted her chin, revealing her unwillingness to bend on this issue. “I can’t, okay? If I come forward, whoever did this will hurt Gran. He told me so.”

“Why would anyone want to hurt either of you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Are you not going to respond?”

“It’s just a freak thing that happened. If I put it behind me and forget, it won’t happen again.”

“You hope.”

She didn’t answer.

“What if Milly already filed a missing-person report?”

Obviously not enchanted by that idea, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Would Chief Stacy allow her to? It’s only been one day. Doesn’t it take, like...three days for the police to consider a missing adult as a criminal case?”

“Depends on the circumstances.”

“Right.” She slumped over, as if her chances of having the ordeal go unnoticed weren’t as good as she’d hoped. “I was taken from my bed.”

“How’d that happen?”

“There’s a door to the outside in my bedroom, where the porch wraps around the house. I left it open to get some air, and he cut through the screen door.”

“Then it’s not like you drove off with him. I’m guessing the police are already involved.”

She stuck a French fry in her mouth. “So...I’ll just tell everyone the same thing I told you.”

“That you must’ve been sleepwalking.”

She had to roll back the sleeves of his sweatshirt; they were too big to stay pushed up on her long, thin arms. “Why not?”

The marks on her wrists suggested she’d been bound, which upset him more than any of it.

“Because no one will believe you.” Especially once they saw what he did.

“That part doesn’t matter.”

“It only matters that they not learn the truth. Is that it?”

She’d been shoveling the food down pretty fast, but at this she slowed. “Basically.”

He stopped at the light where he needed to turn to go to Whiskey Creek. “You’re not making sense,” he said in frustration. But then something occurred to him that he should’ve thought of before. “Wait a second. He didn’t...rape you, did he?”

She’d had her panties on, and they’d been intact. Her shirt hadn’t been torn off, either. But those marks on her wrists...

“No, he didn’t,” she said, but she’d spoken too quickly and the tears that welled up called her a liar.

Shit! He was an idiot for not catching on sooner. She’d been beaten but his sweatshirt had covered her wrists until she started eating. And the way she’d responded when he questioned her led him to believe she knew the person who’d hurt her and was even trying to protect him. That screamed domestic violence, not rape—at least, not stranger rape.

If she’d been sexually assaulted, maybe she was refusing to go to the hospital because she didn’t want anyone to find out, didn’t want to go through the humiliation.

Or she had no confidence it would make any difference.

“Adelaide, please,” he said, “let me take you to the hospital. I know it’ll be degrading and...terrible but...I don’t think you should make this decision in your current, uh, condition.”

A tear crested her lashes and ran down her cheek as she shoved the rest of the food away. “You don’t know anything.”

A car honked behind them. The light had turned green, and he hadn’t noticed.

“I know this is...a hard situation,” he said as he accelerated. “But...they have what’s called a rape kit. You need to try and get a sample of his DNA while you can.” He grappled for other reasons that might convince her. “You don’t want anyone else to be hurt, do you?”

She covered her ears. “Stop it! He won’t hurt anyone else. That’s not an issue.”

Could he believe her? Or was it wishful thinking?

Either way, her expression broke his heart. She’d reached her limit. One more push and she might shatter. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll back off.”

After that they drove in silence. When they reached the house, he thought she’d get out and go in without saying goodbye. Although they couldn’t see Milly through the windows, every light seemed to be on. He could sense Adelaide’s eagerness to get behind that closed door. But she turned back with her hand on the latch. “So...is this our little secret?”

He studied her. “Is what our little secret?”

She hesitated, obviously trying to define what she was asking. “Just...don’t make a big deal out of what happened. That’s all. Let me do the talking.”

“I’m not going to make a big deal of it. But if your grandmother’s called the cops, others will know about it. Even if it doesn’t reach the major news outlets, it’ll be reported in the weekly paper. You won’t be able to avoid the Gold Country Gazette.”

Her shoulders drooped as she recognized the truth in what he said. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She started taking off his sweatshirt.

He stopped her. “Keep it. I get free T-shirts and sweatshirts all the time, and it’s cold out.”

She seemed tempted to return it, anyway, but probably realized that would reveal more of her than she wanted him to see. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” he murmured, but she’d already climbed out and was limping across the lawn.