The Unmaking of June Farrow(33)

It vanished across the road seconds later, leaving a drifting trail of steam behind it. The sound of it bled away before the rumble of another engine surfaced at the top of the riverbank, and I listened, going still as it got closer. The pop of tires on gravel and the screech of brakes drew my eye to the opening in the brush I’d come through, and a few seconds later, I saw him. The man from the house.

His eyes frantically searched the riverbank before he spotted me and he let out a heavy breath. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Again, that image of him holding me in the picture painted itself across my thoughts. I wanted to erase it.

When I didn’t answer, he walked toward me.

“Stay away from me!” My feet splashed into the river, cold water filling my boots.

“You need to come with me. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I cast my gaze behind me, to the other side of the river, judging the distance.

“It’s not safe, June.”

Hearing him say my name sent another chill up my spine. There was no formality in it. No edge of uncertainty. His mouth moved around it like he’d said it a thousand times.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, as if there was pain there. “My name is Eamon,” he said, impatient. “Eamon Stone.”

“Why do you have a picture of me in your house?” I blurted out. I was cold all over now.

“Come with me and I’ll tell you.”

“No. Tell me now.”

His face changed as he measured his words. “I know you. You just don’t know me yet.”

“Yet?” I stilled, watching him. The panic I’d felt standing in that bedroom with that picture frame in my hands was now terror. “How do you know me?”

His hands fell heavily to his sides, fingers curling into fists. “Look, you need to come with me.”

I took another step deeper into the water before his eyes snapped up to the road. I could hear another car pulling onto the shoulder behind the trees.

Eamon shifted on his feet before he set the hat back on his head and a car door opened. There were footsteps moving behind the brush.

“Everything all right?” a man’s voice called out.

“Yeah.” Eamon smiled at whoever stood on the road, but it looked wrong on his face.

“Saw your truck.”

A man in an old style of police uniform appeared at the top of the bank, attention on Eamon. He had one thumb hooked in his belt as he wiped a handkerchief across his brow, and the badge on his chest was engraved with the word DEPUTY. He froze when he saw me.

“June? That you?”

I looked to Eamon, the cinching feeling around my lungs now an excruciating pain. What the hell was happening?

Eamon’s eyes bored into mine, like he was truly afraid of what I might say. “Just got back,” he stammered, turning so that he was half blocking the man’s view.

Back? From where?

The man stepped aside, trying to see me. His hand absently moved from his belt, and I had the fleeting thought that it could be drifting toward the gun at his hip.

“Well, it’s good to see you. Your mama doin’ all right?”

I looked from him to Eamon. My mother? Susanna?

My mouth opened, but before I could speak, Eamon was cutting in again.

“Much better,” he answered, eyes shooting to me. The muscles in his throat tightened, and he gave me an almost undetectable nod of his head.

“Yeah.” I swallowed, taking my cue from him. I didn’t know what else to do.

“Good.”

I nodded awkwardly.

His gaze moved to my feet. “Everything okay?”

I looked down, remembering that I was standing calf-deep in the river. My boots were completely submerged now.

“Yeah,” I said, more loudly than was necessary. I was still out of breath.

The man looked confused, but before he could ask any more questions, I trudged back up the rocks, to where Eamon stood. Behind his truck, the glossy black-and-white paint of the police car reflected the sun. A single red light was fixed to the hood.

I didn’t even see Eamon moving before his arm came around me, hand hooking my waist. I stared at it, watching his fingers curl into my shirt. He pulled me closer to him, but I could feel the tension coiled tight around his body. Whatever was happening, Eamon was doing his best to smooth it over.

“Well, like I said, it’s good to have you back.” The officer was still watching me intently. “Been a hell of a year.”

I nodded again, keeping my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to risk saying or asking anything that would make this more complicated. Not before I could figure out what exactly was going on here.

The officer tipped his hat before he walked back to the car, opening the door with one more look in our direction.

“I, uh.” He hesitated before he glanced to Eamon. “I’ll need to let the sheriff know.” He said it as if he were apologizing.

“Of course.” Eamon nodded, his voice finding a more convincing ease. “Don’t worry about it, Sam.”

The deputy got into the car, and Eamon lifted a hand in the air before it disappeared around the curve in the road. As soon as it was gone, he dropped his arm from where it was wrapped around me, eyes pinching closed for just a moment. When he finally turned to look at me, it was with a coldness that made me recoil.