He moved close, his eyes gleaming silver in the gloaming. “Blade,” he repeated slowly, “to your throat.”
The fire in his eyes awakened a strange warmth in her body. Blood pounded through her veins, sending tingles through her stomach. “Misplaced gallantry.” Gallantry she did not deserve nor want.
“Not gallantry.” His shadow mingled with hers. “Justice.”
“There isn’t any justice, Cooper.” Her voice sounded so breathy and sad, she almost didn’t recognize it. “Haven’t you learned that by now?”
“Sometimes there is, Ruby, but it’s a long time in coming.” He reached out, and she held her breath as he plucked a twig from her hair and sent it floating to the ground.
Tears crowded her eyes. “After what happened to Alice and Peter, you should know better.”
“Whoever took Alice will get his punishment eventually. I’m just hoping I can do my bit to set things right now. If that means I have to step up and chase a crazy old guy now and then, I’m game for the challenge.”
He reached for her and his palms grazed her shoulders so tenderly, so tentatively, it weakened her.
“Cooper,” she breathed. “You scared me.”
“I’m honored that you care.” He trailed his fingers through her hair.
“I don’t...” She wanted to push closer, to keep him close, to trust him. Panic prickled her skin. She could not allow the strange thud of weakness to undo her. She jerked away. “What if you learn it was your brother who took Alice?”
He stiffened. “I won’t, because he didn’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I know my brother like you know yours.”
Pine needles drifted in the breeze, coming to rest at her feet. She was suddenly bone weary. “Sheriff’s people are going to meet me back at the house. You’d better come, too.”
He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “One thing.” He tipped her chin back and leaned close.
Her eyes closed as his breath played over her neck. “Wanted to be sure he didn’t cut you.”
“I’m okay,” she said, but she could feel her knees trembling. From his touch? Or the aftermath of Lester’s rage? She was not sure as they picked their way through the trees.
* * *
Cooper answered all Sheriff Pickford’s questions as did Ruby until it was nearly ten o’clock and he could no longer suppress a yawn. Pickford promised to have his people find Lester Walker and bring him in.
“He’ll come back to the house sooner or later and we’ll get him. In the meantime, we’ll search the house for the locket.” Pickford eased his bulk out of the kitchen chair. “Need a ride back to your cabin, Cooper?”
“No, thanks. I’ll walk.”
Ruby shot him a look. “What if Lester is still out there and he finds you?”
“I’ll win him over with my easygoing charm.” Cooper enjoyed her exasperated eye roll.
“He has a knife.”
“A box cutter, actually,” Cooper said, “and I’m scrappy. I’m pretty sure I can take him.”
That elicited a laugh from Mick. “You would have made a good marine with that attitude.”
It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but at least Mick didn’t look murderous. Then again, why should he care? Mick would be thrilled to pin Alice’s disappearance on Peter. Not gonna happen, Hudsons.
Cooper watched Perry, who was silently sipping a cup of coffee. He had tracked every syllable of the police questioning without comment. Now his eyes shifted in thought. When he felt Cooper’s gaze on him, he offered a small smile.
“Mr. Hudson, do you know something about Lester Walker?”
Perry regarded Cooper calmly. “If I knew anything that would be of help, I would mention it.”
Pickford looked up from his notebook, eyes narrowed. “How about sharing everything, and I’ll decide if it would be helpful.”
Perry’s voice did not increase in volume, but it seemed to Cooper that the tension kicked up a notch. “My daughter was attacked, Sheriff. I’ve got every reason to cooperate.” He smiled. “No hidden secrets here. You know what I know.”
Pickford did not look convinced. Cooper wasn’t either. He wanted to push harder, to get past the sanctimonious surface of this perfect family patriarch. Instead, he excused himself, suddenly desperate for the solace of the forest. Ruby watched from the door as he left, so he gave her a wink and a jaunty wave. Mick put an arm on her shoulder and guided her back into the house. Keep away from Cooper and his brother, the gesture said. They’re bad people.
The injustice of it burned in him afresh. It had been a mistake to return to Silver Peak to check on the brother who he’d come to learn could not be saved by fraternal love. But that stubborn something rumbled inside him, that raw aching need to believe that maybe this time, unlike the hundred times before, would be the moment when Peter really did beat his addiction once and for all and grab hold of the life he had left.
But here in this small town would be the hardest place in the universe for Peter to face down the shadows of his past now that Alice Walker’s case had been reopened. Then again, maybe it was the only place where he would truly know he’d beaten back the darkness.
Cooper let himself into the dusty cabin. He called for his brother and once again received no reply. The night chill had crept in. The place offered only a stone fireplace for warmth and it was late to start a fire, but he trudged out to the woodpile anyway, the feverish energy inside his body telling him there would be no sleep forthcoming. Might as well warm up the place. Besides, the cramped space aggravated his claustrophobia.
There was no kindling that he could find, so he put the axe to use and split more logs than he could possibly need into small pieces. It felt good to swing the heavy blade. The motion soothed him, the way the axe reduced the mammoth mound of wood into manageable units. With an armful of kindling and a couple of gnarled logs, he headed back, picking his way along the moonlit path that he and his father had graveled over one unusually warm Oregon summer. He’d much rather have been out exploring the woods or eating ice cream in town, but as his father said, “Take care of family first.”
He shot a look at the vast dome of sky above him. I’m trying, Dad.
Each crunch of the gravel underfoot echoed with his father’s admonition and he wondered for the millionth time if he had done enough to care for Peter. Or, as he’d learned over the years, had he done too much? Encouragement and enabling were perilously close.
He shifted the wood in his arms to free up a hand to shove the door open. He was startled to find it already was. Had he left it ajar and the wind took it? Or could it be his prodigal brother who’d finally seen fit to return?
Could be either, but there was also Lester Walker to consider. Cooper eased the pile of wood down on the spongy ground and extracted one slender log from the jumble. Club-size, about eighteen inches long. Enough to protect himself against a box cutter if the easygoing-charm thing didn’t work out.
He pushed the door open with a foot. The interior was dark except for the light he’d left on in the kitchen. He eased inside.
“Peter?”
A figure emerged from the kitchen.
“Couldn’t have been more wrong,” he muttered, as the cabin lights snapped on and dazzled his vision.