Secret Refuge. Dana Mentink

can’t hide from shame, Micky boy,” his grandpa had said.

       No, you can’t, Grandpa.

      When there was nothing left to say, Mick accepted a ride from Uttley back to his truck, parked a half mile from where he’d finally caught up with Keeley and Tucker.

      Uttley was quiet for most of the trip, but Mick knew his wheels were turning.

      “Got a call from Reggie Donaldson alerting us that Rivendale was likely on his way. Not time enough for us to do much.”

      Mick watched the moon glittering in brilliant streaks through the spires of the fir trees.

      “So I get that this is personal.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been here awhile, so I was on the team that found LeeAnn. I wasn’t the chief then. We were dispatched after Keeley got the text from her sister. I replay it in my mind all the time. I think if we’d found her sooner, if we got there quicker, we could have taken him into custody. More bad luck that your pal Reggie spotted him and tried to make the arrest. Tucker took him down, the car rolled into the pond, and he was long gone before we made it on scene.” He huffed out a breath. “I had a bad feeling when we pulled that car out of the water, but I hoped it wasn’t true. Kept right on hoping until we popped the trunk.”

      Reggie had told Mick later that the sight of LeeAnn in that trunk would never leave his memory to his dying day. “It was as if she was staring at me, asking how we let it happen.”

      How had Mick let it happen? How had he been so completely fooled about Tucker’s character?

      Uttley shook his head. “Poor kid. LeeAnn was only guilty of loving the wrong guy. Never understood how girls could be so led by their hearts and not their heads.”

      Mick kept quiet.

      Uttley tapped the steering wheel. “I’ve had situations that went bad, too. It stays with you. I understand. I know what it’s like to believe in a parolee, to want them to succeed so much it blinds you to the facts.”

      There was something naked and raw in his tone that spoke of personal experience, but Mick knew cops, and they didn’t share with people who didn’t wear badges. Mick waited for the bottom line.

      “But you’re not a cop, and you make things worse by being here, so I’m glad you’re going home.”

      Mick knew Uttley was right. Go home. Stay out of it. It will only make things harder for the family I’ve already ruined.

      Still, he wondered as he thanked Uttley and gunned the engine on his truck.

      What had Tucker said to Keeley back there in the darkness?

      And why had she chosen not to tell the police about it?

      * * *

      I want what’s mine. Had Tucker really said it? Did he really know? She’d not heard correctly. That was all. Her mind played a vile trick on her.

      Keeley could not dislodge the words from inside.

      Jaw tight, she finally convinced John to leave.

      “I’m fine. The house is locked up. The police are increasing their patrols. I’ll be at the vet clinic tomorrow evening to help with the birds for a couple of hours.”

      “Keeley, it’s okay to admit you’re scared. Why don’t you take some time off? Let me cook for you, or we can go for a walk.”

      She shook her head. “Thank you, but I need to work.” Did she ever. The tiny house was hers after LeeAnn’s death, but debt circled around her like a flock of ravenous crows. It was another ten days until the check would arrive, that mysterious check that showed up in time to save her, or so it seemed, every month.

      “John, you don’t, I mean, you don’t, um, send me anything in the mail, do you?” She watched him closely for any flicker of emotion that would give him away.

      “The mail? No. Why?”

      “No reason.” Part of her breathed a sigh of relief. John could be lying—maybe he really was her mysterious benefactor—but she was happy that he did not appear to be guilty of that generosity. LeeAnn had left a hole in John’s heart, even though she’d never done the smallest thing to encourage his affections, and he tried to assuage the ache by caring for Keeley. It won’t work, she wanted to tell him. Nothing will take that pain away. It was uncomfortable to watch him try. And she certainly had no intention of being anything other than a friend to John, a fact that she’d made crystal clear, or so she hoped.

      She succeeded in escorting him out the door.

      “Please call me if there’s anything at all that you need,” he said.

      “I will. Thank you.”

      She bolted the door behind him. For a moment, she leaned against the wood and let the quiet wash over, whispering a prayer of thanks that she had survived her face-to-face encounter with Tucker Rivendale. It was not so much for her physical safety she was grateful, but for the fact that her soul was still intact. So much rage coursed through her when she thought of him. For so long she’d worried that her desire for vengeance might just lead her to losing herself if she ever confronted him.

      But she’d faced him; she’d stood inches from Tucker Rivendale, the man who killed her sister, and she was still standing.

      And still filled with a black and roiling anger that she knew would never dissipate. Where had the old Keeley gone? The fun-loving, curious athlete who found paths to hike where there were none? Who traveled the country to photograph birds, those unfettered kings of the sky? She remembered her sister’s laughter, the way she would throw back her chin and let loose her joy in big belly chuckles at Keeley’s antics. “I miss you, LeeAnn. I was a better person when you were here with me,” she said to the empty room.

      * * *

      The next morning, when memories of the previous day ignited her anxiety, she applied the antidote and went for the duffel bag that had become her constant companion. Cameras, tripod, batteries, change of clothes, toiletries, a nearly empty wallet and a book. This time it was What’s New Boo Boo Bear? At the secondhand store in town, she’d scored it for a dime.

      Money couldn’t buy happiness, but a well-spent ten cents could still get you some fun.

      When everything was carefully stowed, she considered the time, nearly ten o’clock. She wasn’t expected at Aunt Viv’s until the afternoon.

      “There are plenty of things I can do here,” she said aloud to beat back the heavy silence. Shelves could be dusted. Another endless round of magazine queries could and should be sent out. At the very least, she should go to the hardware store and install an extra lock on the front and back doors.

      But the flat emptiness in Tucker’s eyes stirred a deep longing inside her that could only be counteracted by a certain bright cobalt gaze. Locking the door behind her, Keeley headed for the Jeep.

      She drove out of Silver Creek, the small town of no more than five hundred people, past John’s vet clinic. His lights were on. No surprise. He was probably the hardest-working man she’d ever met. Each stoplight and every mile covered lifted her spirits a little. Everything was okay, she told her unsettled nerves.

      Tucker wouldn’t dare return with the police out looking for him. Likely he would actually be caught this time, and she would have the pleasure of watching him sent to prison permanently like he should have been before.

      Again her mind tried to fill in the details of LeeAnn’s final day. LeeAnn had gone to check on a wounded bird on the top of an abandoned warehouse and somewhere along the way she’d met up with Tucker. A couple of hours after her departure, she was dead in the trunk of Tucker’s car, submerged in a pond. Not dead from drowning, but from a massive blow to the back of the head.

      And Tucker? The man LeeAnn had believed in despite his criminal past? The man she’d taken up with again after he’d proved himself a louse? He’d