Elliot snorted from the doorway to the barn. “The crazy religious people who live up here in the hills,” he said.
I saw recognition flicker across Humbolt’s face, but he restored a professional expression fairly quickly. “I’m sure rumors aren’t entirely accurate.”
“Probably not,” I acknowledged. “It’s probably worse.”
He looked alarmed. “I?—”
I waved a hand, interrupting him. “You should go to your meeting, Mr. Humbolt. Thank you for your assistance. We’ll try to go through the house and the barn. And look into making arrangements for the animals, although they seem to have been taken care of by someone.”
He nodded. “Yes, indeed. That sounds like a very practical plan. Do stay in touch, Mr. Mays. Let me know if you hear anything more about the case—and I will do the same if I find out anything first.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“And I will reach out when they release your mother’s body.”
I started at him for a full three or four seconds before I processed what he said. “I’ll have to make arrangements.”
It was half a question, half a statement.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I can recommend a local mortuary, if you like.”
God, I did not want to deal with this. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
“I’ll have Michelle send the information,” he said, then held out a hand, which I shook. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Mays. And good luck.”
“Thanks.”
He exchanged farewells with Elliot by the doorway, then I heard his shoes crunch their way across the driveway. His Mercedes drove away before I heard Elliot’s boots crossed the straw and dirt of the barn floor.
“Do you actually want to go through the house?” he asked me, settling a hand on my lower back.
“No,” I answered honestly. “But I should.”
Much as I loved him,Elliot was getting on my nerves. Or, more specifically, his constant questions were getting on my nerves. Just being in my parents’ house was stressful enough without having to literally think about the things that had happened here.
I hadn’t yet gotten up the courage to go anywhere near the basement, so when Elliot asked what was behind the basement door, I’d nearly panicked.
Instead, I’d said, “Basement,” then asked him if he would mind doing an inventory of all the tools in the barn, since I didn’t know what most of them were for, and then we could get out of here sooner.
I was fairly sure he knew I was avoiding answering his question more comprehensively, but he also understood—or seemed to, anyway—that I needed to get us out of that house sooner rather than later.
He put a hand on my arm, then leaned in close, presumably to kiss my cheek or temple the way he often did.
Except that this time, I shied away from him.
He froze for a split second, sucking in a breath.
I’d hurt him. I knew I had, but before I managed to figure out how to explain myself, he’d squeezed my arm and left the room. A few minutes later, I heard the front screen door slam back into place as he left the house.
I was in the kitchen, and I let myself sink to the old wooden floor, my butt on the rag rug my mother had tied, my back against the cupboard doors. I covered my face with my hands and let the tears come, swallowing back the violence of the sobsthat would have been loud enough for Elliot to hear, but letting them shudder their stifled way out.
This house was poison. Everything about it was toxic, and the last thing I wanted was to associate anything at all about this house with Elliot. I was glad he’d come with me—his presence was giving me the strength to keep going, or it had been, anyway—but I didn’t want even the slightest part ofusto be touched by the years of abuse I’d faced within these walls for wanting to love someone the same gender as Elliot.
I could only imagine what my father would think of Elliot himself. Gay, a shifter, Indigenous, openly activist… My father wouldhatehim.
Those same things were some of the reasons I loved him.
And yet, when the man I loved had tried to touch me, I’d moved away from him. I’d let my father get between us when he wasn’t even here, and I hated everything he represented and believed, anyway. I hated the fact that the fear was so deeply ingrained that I’d let it separate, however slightly, Elliot and me.
