You Shouldn't Have Come Here(29)

I sipped slowly, peering over the rim of the glass to keep an eye on the mounted taxidermy. I knew it was just a dream but it felt real, and sometimes there wasn’t a difference between the two.

Calvin strolled back into the living room holding a glass of wine and a bottle of lotion.

“Did you talk to your brother about my car?” I asked.

My mind kept going back to that. There was nothing worse than feeling stuck. The mounted animals reminded me of that. Actually, I didn’t feel stuck—I was stuck, just like them. Maybe that was the warning.

“No, haven’t been able to get ahold of him yet, but he should be here tomorrow,” Calvin said, setting his glass of wine on the coffee table.

I chewed at my lower lip.

“Don’t worry, Grace. Let’s take your mind off of that.” He smiled. “Massage?” Calvin held up the bottle of lavender-scented lotion. His cheeks reddened to the same shade of merlot we were drinking.

“You did promise.” My voice was low.

He smiled and knelt beside the couch while I rolled over on my stomach and pulled my shirt up. I heard him take a deep breath, and even though his hands weren’t on me, I could feel them there like burns on my skin. I pulled my shirt farther up past my bra clasp. He swallowed hard, making a gulping sound. I slid my shirt up over my head and tossed it aside. I could practically hear his heart beating, fast and loud like the applause of an overenthused audience. I tensed up when the cold lotion splatted against my skin. His hands pressed against me, first gently and then he applied much more pressure, working up and down my back. This was clearly not his first massage. The hairs on the back of my neck stood, and my heart raced. His touch stopped at the clasp of my bra and then his hands worked their way back down. I undid the clasp, letting my straps fall down my shoulders. His hands left my body for a brief moment and then returned, pushing on my skin, moving up and down and side to side.

Several pounds on the front door interrupted us. Calvin jumped to his feet, and I quickly sat up and redressed. Goose bumps covered my skin, but they had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

“Fremont County Sheriff’s Department,” a man called from the other side of the door. His voice was hoarse like a smoker.

Calvin opened the drapes partially and peered out. Red-and-blue flashing lights danced across the ceiling and walls.

“What is it?” I whispered, but my voice cracked.

His mouth opened and closed twice before he spoke. “I don’t know.”

Three more pounds on the door. The man on the other side had grown impatient. Calvin dragged a hand down his face.

“Maybe the dead animals. Did you call about that?” I asked. My eyes bounced from Calvin to the flickering lights.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s probably it.” A look of relief rushed over him. Placing his hand on the door handle, he hesitated for a moment. Another pound shook the door. Calvin jumped, then threw it open.

“Evening, what can I help you with?” Calvin’s voice was calm.

“Good evening. I’m Sheriff Almond from the Fremont Sheriff’s Department. Are you Calvin Wells?”

I shifted to the side so I could get a good look at the officer. He was a large man with a full beard and weathered, sun-damaged skin. He wore a campaign hat and a belt buckle the size of a deck of cards. The sheriff’s dark eyes bounced over to me for a moment. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgment and returned his gaze to Calvin.

“Yeah. How can I help you, sir?” Calvin shifted his stance.

“I’m following up on a missing person’s report for a woman by the name of Briana Becker. Her sister from Michigan reported her missing early this afternoon. Apparently, she was traveling alone on a cross-country road trip, and they expected her home three days ago but hadn’t heard from her in over two weeks.” Sheriff Almond slid a piece of paper from his front pocket and held it out. “Have you seen this woman?”

Calvin took the photo. His eyes lingered for a few moments before he shook his head and handed it back. “Nope, she doesn’t look familiar.”

“What about you, miss?” The sheriff extended his hand out.

I closed the distance and glanced at the photo. The woman was striking. Long, wavy blond hair. Blue eyes. A pearly white smile. And dimples so deep, you could hide a penny in them. I looked up at the sheriff and shook my head. “No, I’ve never seen her.”

He flicked the corner of the photo in disappointment and slid it back into his pocket. His eyes returned to me. “And you are?”

“Grace Evans.”

“You run an Airbnb, Calvin?” Sheriff Almond pulled at a thick strand of his mustache and twirled it.

With his attention off of me, I backed up a couple steps. He wasn’t here for me. He was here for Calvin.

“That’s right.”

“According to Miss Becker’s Airbnb account, she was supposed to arrive here two weeks ago and stay a few days. Does that sound right to you?” Sheriff Almond raised an eyebrow.

I wished I could see Calvin’s face, but I was standing slightly behind him. I focused on his back where his lungs expanded. He didn’t twitch or tense up.

“She must have been a no-show. It happens on occasion. Someone books a room to rent and then radio silence. I marked a person as a no-show two weeks ago.”

Sheriff Almond tilted his head. “Yes, we were able to access her account and see that she checked in and out at a previous place over in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, but she never checked in here.”