Page 24 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter eighteen

Killian

It’s five in the morning, and I’m sitting on the front steps of the house.

I need to get started with chores, but I’m still processing everything she told me.

We took a break yesterday. She could muck out her own stalls, and I could do my own for the day.

We needed the space, and I needed to wrap my head around her.

The Spirits situation is odd, and I can accept it. But her mention of a curse and its relation to the dead woman on my land threw me. I don’t like the idea of having anything to do with what happened to that poor girl.

The sun is up, and I close my eyes, taking a centering breath of the morning air. It clogs my lungs, hitting the rooted breaths of grief. For a second, I allow myself to miss them. My parents were amazing, hardworking people, and I’ve been nothing but a disappointment since both of them died.

My father deserved a better son.

Forcing more oxygen into my body, it eventually makes its way around the sludge and back out in an exhale.

No one talks about what life is like a year or more later when the people that matter most in life leave you.

It’s why I don’t want to get too close to anyone and leave them behind because it means someone could leave me again.

Love is difficult and terrible. It’s this thing that can kill you or make you thrive. But no one talks about when the embodiment of it is gone.

I groan in pain, closing my eyes, willing the cleave of sadness in my heart to dissipate.

A picture of white hair blows in my mind, and I envision her sitting on Sunny.

Bright, happy, stunning. But then a cloud blows over, interrupting the illusion, darkening her features, and that’s when I see it.

She’s drowning, and no one is there to pull her out.

Maybe the Spirits are the only ones convincing her to get up every day.

Or maybe I’m looking for someone to understand how it feels to suffocate.

Grief is like being buried alive with someone who is already dead. What you bury is a shell. It’s not them, but you’re choking on the dirt, just the same.

Gravel crunches, and I see Wyatt pulling his Sheriff’s truck up next to mine. Wonderful.

He hops out and slams the door. I lean back on my elbows, the picture of nonchalance.

“Mornin’ Killian,” he says.

“Sheriff,” I drawl.

Wyatt crosses his arms and studies me for a moment. My hackles rise, and I force myself not to go for the throat.

“You know why I’m here,” he says.

“At—” I glance at my watch. “Five-thirty in the morning? I can’t say I do, cousin.”

“None of this looks good Killian, I know you understand that, but I’m at a dead end, and the only semblance of a lead that I have is you.”

“Well then, that’s a pretty shitty lead. Causation does not equal correlation, Sheriff.”

“Then tell me where you were the night before you found her body,” Wyatt demands.

“Is this a question or an interrogation?” I ask him.

Anger rises in my veins, and I want to throw something, but I force myself to appear calm.

If I respond in any way other than relaxed, he will think I have something to hide.

Never mind that I am hiding things from him, but it doesn’t matter.

I didn’t do this, and I need to be faster about proving it.

But clearly, I’m going to need Eliana for that.

“It’s a question,” Wyatt says.

He’s off. He could be tired, he could be stressed, but something isn’t right about him.

I’ve known Wyatt my entire life. I worked with him for years, and my gut tells me something is very wrong.

I have no choice but to continue with the plan and tell him my alibi.

Even though the thought of Wyatt even looking at Eliana makes my skin crawl.

“I was with Eliana Greer,” I tell him.

His expression drops, and he blinks in disbelief. At least that’s what I think it is.

“Do you know her?” I ask him.

He shrugs and breaks eye contact. “She’s not exactly a social butterfly, keeps to herself, but yes, I know her. Her grandmother, Juniper Greer, recently died.”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“And you’re … seeing her?” he asks.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I mutter.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Because it wasn’t relevant,” I snap.

“And she can corroborate this?” Wyatt asks.

I smile and lean forward on my thighs. “Yes because she was there, Wyatt.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I went over to the apothecary to ask?” he asks me like he’s trying to call my bluff.

I swallow the growl that builds in my throat and stand. “Sure, I’ll lead the way.” Because I sure as shit won’t let you say a word to her without me being there.

My teeth are virtually nubs by the time we pull up to Eliana’s house. It’s white with blue shutters and a nice front porch that doubles as the entry to her apothecary. Needs a paint job, but it fits her.

She’s probably out back with the animals, and I don’t want to scare her, but she doesn’t have a cell phone, and I’m not all that sure if she has a working landline either.

Forcing myself to stay levelheaded, I walk up to the door and notice a few deck boards are coming loose, too. I’ll fix those later.

I knock and glance at Wyatt behind me.

“You knock?” Wyatt asks as he pops a peppermint in his mouth. “I figured if you’ve been seeing her, then you could walk right in.”

“It’s called respect,” I grunt. Even though he’s right and I should have walked in because it would support that we’ve been seeing each other and there’s a familiarity between us.

The door opens, and my mouth goes dry. Her long white hair is piled on top of her head with a pencil stuck through the center. She’s wearing a white sundress with little flowers all over it that curves deliciously over her chest.

It’s a good thing Wyatt is here because I want to scoop her up in my arms and taste every inch of skin my eyes can see. And past experience tells me she has no idea how beautiful she really is.

“Hey, darlin’, we have a visitor,” I say, clasping her hip and pressing a kiss to her temple. I swear she gasps.

Gripping her hip tightly, I hope she picks up what I’m putting down.

“Hi,” she says with a smile in her voice as she gazes up at me.

“Um, how can I help you, Sheriff Sawyer?” she asks.

I stand right behind her, my hands on both of her hips, sending Wyatt every signal to back off.

“Hi Ms. Greer, can I come in?” Wyatt asks.

“No.” “Yes.” We say at the same time.

I gently squeeze her hip. “No, Wyatt, you cannot come in.”

He glares and then looks at Eliana.

“We can sit out on the porch,” she says softly.

Wyatt takes a step back, gesturing for Eliana to go first. I close the door behind me and sit in the rocking chair, pulling her into my lap. Her wide eyes meet mine before she schools her expression, the picture of happiness.

Her hands rest in her thighs, and I slide my hand up her back to her neck, checking her pulse.

It gallops harder than any horse. I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

Eliana’s posture relaxes a little, and she turns, draping an arm around my neck.

It takes everything in me not to tuck my nose into her neck and take a deep breath of her.

But then again, it would probably sell it.

“Well, Ms. Greer, I don’t know if you’re aware of the murder that happened recently.”

“You’re talking about the woman Killian found?” she asks, pressing her hand on her chest. “It was terrible what happened to her.”

I dip my nose under her jaw and take a breath. Goosebumps rise on her skin, but she stays in character. That’s what this is right?

“Where were you the night of May 17th?” he asks her.

Eliana’s hand rests over mine on her thigh. She glances at me and then back to Wyatt. “That was not quite two months ago, so I’m pretty sure Killian and I were together.”

“Pretty sure?” Wyatt says, leaning forward, staring at her a little too closely for my liking.

I love my cousin. He’s the only family I have left, but the primal part of me is close to ripping his throat out with my teeth.

“Wyatt,” I drawl.

His eyes flick to mine before focusing on Eliana.

“We spend a lot of time together, so yeah, I’m pretty sure,” she says with a glass full of attitude I’d like to guzzle.

“And can you tell me what you were doing that night?” he asks.

I freeze, and Eliana’s hand on mine squeezes. “That’s none of your damn business,” she snaps.

“Well, ma’am, it is if you were involved in—”

“First of all, I resent the implication that Killian or I were involved in a murder on his land. But I can assure you he was with me the night before he found her. All night. Is that clear enough for you?” she says in a sickly sweet tone that makes me want to lick her.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Wyatt stands from his chair. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your time,” he says and tips his hat.

Eliana leans back into my chest.

“Killian,” Wyatt grunts.

I don’t say anything, watching him walk down the sidewalk and get in his truck.

“That was … weird. Good thing we made a plan,” Eliana says.

“I was thinking the same thing,” I mutter as we watch him drive off.

She looks over her shoulder, clearly not in a hurry to get up, and I don’t mind.

“How do you feel about everything?” Eliana asks quietly.

Her body is tense like she’s bracing herself, and I continue rubbing circles on her thigh with my thumb in an attempt to reassure her, or maybe it’s because I simply like the fact she’s letting me touch her.

“I am. It’s unusual, and the fact that this murder I’m suspected of is part of something larger makes it all a little hard for me to believe.”

“It’s hard for me too,” she says.

“I know. But we’re in it together. You said the Spirits told you we have to work together, right?” I ask.

Her lips roll together, trying to hide her smile, and she nods.

“Do you think Wyatt has some kind of evidence you don’t know about?” she asks.

I shrug, focused on my hand on her thigh.

“I don’t know what there could be because I have more evidence than he does. In the past, these cases have had very little to go on, which is why they’re still cold,” I mutter and peer at her.

Her eyes glaze over, and she blinks rapidly. They must be saying something to her. Eliana’s jaw clenches, and then she meets my eyes.

“They think there’s something fishy going on, and we should dig in places we haven’t thought to look,” she says and rolls her eyes.

I chuckle at how irritated she is.

“Because you know that makes total sense, and we live to solve their riddles,” she says to me, I think.

She stills again.

“Yes, well maybe if you were a little more detailed, I could actually do that.”

She’s obviously not talking to me.

“That’s not … no, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says quickly. “Why in the world would I say that to anyone?” she asks them.

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s irrelevant to the fact that there’s no way it’s true. You can’t see into the future, but you can meddle in things, and that’s what you’re doing,” she says.

That’s a weird one.

“What are they saying?” I ask her.

Eliana humphs and crosses her arms. “They … think that you do have something to do with the murder, but not in a ‘you killed the woman kind of way’.”

I frown. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“I don’t know what they’re talking about. The only way that would make sense is if you’re connected to the killer somehow because you didn’t know that poor woman,” she says to me.

“You mean as in, I know who he is?” I ask her.

Her eyes glaze again as she listens to what they are saying.

I have to admit it’s different, but there are voices speaking to her, and far be it from me to consider that it’s anything other than real.

Her story is too odd not to be real. Why would someone make that up?

Regardless, she’s strangely endearing to me. Or maybe I’m the weird one.

My father always told me we have a tendency to discount the supernatural.

We finite humans are too quick to dismiss things we don’t understand, like the supernatural.

Being faced with it in the form of Eliana in my lap shows me he was right all along.

There’s no discounting her connection to the veil. I believe all of it.

“They think it could be someone who knows you personally.”

My mind immediately goes to Wyatt, my cousin, but that’s not possible.

He’s a pain in my ass and the Sheriff, but he would never hurt someone like that.

He puked the first time he saw a dead body.

Many people do. At least that’s what I thought he was doing because he walked away quickly.

In his defense, the body had been in Black Lake for a week. It wasn’t … pretty.

It can’t be him.

“I don’t know who it could be,” I tell Eliana.

I’m not going to suggest my cousin. That feels all kinds of wrong.

“We can think it through together. I have to get the apothecary opened. Are you going to stick around for a bit?” she asks me.

I absently rub my hand up her thigh, briefly touching her skin. Her cheeks get rosy, and my lips twitch in satisfaction.

“Is that an invitation?” I ask her.

“Call it what you want, cowboy,” she says and hops off of me, floating into the house.

“Well, how can a man say no to that?” I holler.

She pokes her head back out the door. “Good because I made a quiche I couldn’t possibly eat all by myself.”