When We Let Go, Delancey Stewart [early reader books .txt] 📗
- Author: Delancey Stewart
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“Mads,” A gruff familiar voice came from behind me and I turned. Frank had wandered across the street while I’d been talking to Jack. “Everything okay here?” I felt a rush of affection to the older man. It was nice to know he was looking out for me.
I nodded. “It’s fine, Frank. Thanks. Jack was just leaving.”
Frank looked intimidating, even with his apron still tied around his waist. He was pulling a cigarette from a pack as he leaned somewhat menacingly toward Jack and then turned to me. “Better head back in before my better half blows a gasket. Your break ended fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh crap,” I turned on my heel and took a step away. “Thanks, Frank.”
“Good photo, love,” Jack called. “Remember what we talked about.”
Jack had spent more time in Kings Grove since we’d been divorced than he ever had when we’d been married. I wondered if I could be reimbursed somehow for all the irritation he’d caused me since I’d been legally unleashed from his side.
My cell phone rang as I pulled up to the trailer that evening after work. It was a Chicago area code and a number I didn’t recognize. My mind immediately jumped to my brother Cameron, but I knew he had a Los Angeles phone number. I hadn’t exactly kept up with him over the last three years, but I knew from Jess—who did call and email now and then, even though we’d never met in person—that he had not made a cross-country move to Chicago.
My brain shifted as the phone rang again and I stared at it. Hadn’t Connor said he was from Chicago?
I couldn’t help the quick scrabble I made to answer, excitement giving me sudden chills. “Hello?”
“Hi Maddie.” Connor’s rich deep voice solidified the goose bumps that had crept over my skin.
A strange mixture of excitement and muted fear rushed through me as I sat in the car pressing the phone to my ear. I realized I was smiling. “Hi.”
“Is this a good time?”
“Right now?” He wanted to go on our date right now?
“Right. Yes. Is now a good time to talk?”
“Oh. Talk.” I am an idiot. “Yes, it’s fine.”
“I think that’s what these phone contraptions are designed for.” I could hear him smiling.
“That’s my understanding, too.” I was definitely an idiot.
“Excellent. Glad that’s settled.”
I might have actually giggled. My nerves were jangling and my brain felt like butterscotch pudding.
“So,” he said slowly. “Would you like to come over for dinner? Maybe the day after tomorrow?”
“Dinner at your house?”
“I’m not very comfortable in town at this point.” His voice had shifted from playful to frank and low. “Plus, I thought you might want a break from the diner. And maybe from your trailer.”
“I do. Good point.” I wondered what in the world we would eat. It wasn’t like we could order in. Not that it really mattered. I wouldn’t even notice the food if I sat across a table from Connor, I’d be too distracted by his jaw, his hair, those searching eyes. Was he planning to cook, though? I had heard of men who could cook, but I’d never known one besides Frank at the diner. “Sure, uh, should I bring something?”
“Wine?” he sounded uncertain. “I mean, I have some here. And you don’t really have to bring anything. But if you wanted to bring something.”
“I can do that. Um …” My mind was still churning. Was I saying yes to this date? My body suggested that yes would be a good answer, and since my mind was stuck, my tongue forged ahead. “What time?”
“Six?”
“Okay.” I was still smiling. I couldn’t help it.
“See you then.” He sounded relieved, and I was pretty sure I could still hear a smile in his voice.
“Good night.” I ended the call and got out of the car.
I decided to admit to myself that I was more intrigued by Connor than I was afraid of him. And I wanted to get to know him better.
Adele called the next morning as I was getting ready for work to tell me that she didn’t need me to come in. I peered out the window. Blue sky, light breeze. Winter was not here yet. But there weren’t many visitors in the park and Adele and Frank were spending the day cooking for the search parties who’d been out combing the woods for Amanda Terry. Though the locals had organized and been searching the village and residential areas, we’d been advised to leave the more rugged areas of the park and backcountry to the officials, who were running search operations with helicopters, drones, and vehicles where the terrain allowed.
I had breakfast outside, feeling the warmth of the sun on my back and looking up toward the towering trees. I hoped Amanda was safe somewhere out there. Though the woods were a comfort to me, I wouldn’t survive long alone and lost within them. I didn’t know where Amanda was, but the scuttlebutt at the diner indicated that the police weren’t certain about anything. Though they couldn’t locate her, there were no signs of a break in or a struggle, and nothing in recent weeks beyond the contested relationship with Connor that might suggest she’d run away. Her parents continued to point the finger directly at Connor, but the more I got to know him, the harder it was to imagine he would ever hurt anyone, let alone a teenaged girl.
I was going to see Connor tomorrow. At his house. My body tensed at the memory of the last time I’d been at his house. When I closed my eyes, I could see the way his body moved as he’d walked across the room, and how easily he’d hopped over logs and navigated the woods with Austin on his shoulders. I could even imagine how it might feel to press myself into his arms, run a finger across those glorious lips.
But I shouldn’t let my mind go there. That was definitely not the point of tomorrow night, I told myself. The point was to have a nice dinner with an attractive man, to get a momentary respite from the overwhelming crapstorm that my life had become. The point was to pretend, for a little while, that I was not a woman on the verge of becoming destitute and living in a trailer for the rest of my life, and to try not to envision Connor as a potential stalker or kidnapper.
I had decided that Connor was just an unfortunate tabloid target, that the thing with Amanda was some kind of strange misunderstanding, and that he was just a normal guy. A normal guy who wrote really creepy books. And who’d had a few run-ins with people around town.
I’d seen nothing to suggest that I should actually be worried, but I texted Miranda about my plans just in case, asking her to text me a couple times and send the police if I didn’t answer. Just in case. After a few minutes, her shocked replies became less shocked, and she agreed.
Until tomorrow evening, distraction would be the goal. Since I didn’t have to go to work, I decided to go for a hike instead. I’d just committed to this plan and gone inside when I heard the crunch of wheels on the dusty road outside. An unfamiliar car rested behind mine, but the men who climbed out of it and stood squinting at my half-built house and trailer were familiar enough.
I pulled my hair back and struggled into some jeans before the knock came at the door.
“Hi.” I stood looking at two police detectives on the other side of the screen.
“Mrs. Douglas? Do you have a few moments to speak with us?” The detective held a badge up against the screen for me to see.
“It’s Turner now,” I said, the correction coming as a reflex. I wanted nothing to do with Jack—not his person, not his name. I had no doubt that everything legal that pertained to the land I was standing on still said “Douglas,” and I needed to deal with that right away.
“Sorry, uh, Ms. Turner.” The emphasis on the ‘Ms’ was almost a question.
“Divorced,” I said, stepping out the door. “We can talk out here.” I pointed to the table.
“Thanks.” Both men sat stiffly at the picnic table. “I’m Detective Rawley. This is Jensen. We wanted to ask you a few questions about Connor Charles.”
I tried to keep my face passive. I had wondered if I’d have to talk to the detectives eventually. “All right,” I said.
“Do you know him?” Rawley asked, a pencil poised over a black moleskin notebook.
“I’ve met him a couple times,” I told them. “I don’t know him well.” I was almost shaking with nerves, and couldn’t figure out
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