Elle Returns: The Sequel: A Psychological Thriller Page 5

  She could smell the food cooking, yet in her weakened state, food was the last thing on her mind.

  The sheriff’s words resonated through her like acid. But he was right. Staying in the detective’s house would only bring him trouble.

  Elenore had lived in Wexler long enough to understand what the sheriff meant. There wasn’t a person in town that hadn’t heard about her. And the ones that didn’t pity her, judged her, forcing her to only leave the farm out of necessity.

  She couldn’t let that happen to the detective. She wouldn’t.

  A few minutes later, he stepped into the room, holding a large tray in his hands. He set it on the nightstand. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  The incredible aroma of the food wafted up, causing hunger pangs to grip her insides.

  She attempted to push up in bed, wincing from the sharp pinch in her abdomen.

  “Whoa,” Evan gently scolded, rushing to her side.

  Elenore instinctively cringed at the feel of his arms going around her.

  He froze, pulling back slightly. “I’m just going to help you to sit up. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I know,” she whispered, embarrassed by her display of anxiety, yet unable to control it.

  She remained stiff as he gently hoisted her up higher against the pillows. “There. All better.”

  Once settled, he plucked a paper plate of food off the tray and set it on her lap, grabbed the remote, and switched on the television.

  Evan then plopped down in the overstuffed chair next to the bed, lifted another plate from the tray, and placed it on his own lap.

  He began to eat without paying her any more mind. Which, to be honest, made Elenore relax a little. Only a little.

  She picked up her burger and took a bite, her eyes rolling back in her head. That had to be the best hamburger Elenore had ever tasted.

  Evan reached over and took a glass of milk from the tray and slid it closer to her side of the nightstand. He then picked his own up and took a big swallow.

  As good as that milk looked, nothing could pull her away from that burger.

  She took another bite and then another. Before she knew it, the burger was gone.

  Then and only then, did she eat the potato chips on her plate and drink some of her milk.

  Just as she was about to return the glass to the nightstand, she noticed Evan had fallen asleep with his half-eaten hamburger in his hand.

  Elenore almost smiled…almost.

  * * * *

  Elenore awoke the following morning to the smell of bacon and the sound of dishes banging around in the kitchen.

  She carefully eased her feet over the side of the bed and stood, noticing she didn’t feel quite as weak as she did the night before. Probably due to that delicious burger she’d had. The pain was also minimal.

  After taking care of her bathroom needs, she took her required pills and slowly made her way through the living room to the edge of the kitchen. She noticed Evan rinsing a plate and loading it into a dishwasher perched beneath the sink.

  Her gaze moved to the small table behind him. There, situated next to what she assumed to be a cup of coffee, sat a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast.

  Her stomach growled.

  Evan must have sensed her there. He turned his head in her direction, a smile on his face. “I was just about to come get you. Your breakfast is on the table. I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, so I left it black. There’s cream and sugar there if you need it.” He dried his hands on a towel.

  “I’ve never had coffee,” Elenore quietly admitted, inching toward her breakfast.

  That gave Evan pause. “Never?”

  She shook her head. “Daddy said it was foolish and a waste of money. So I wasn’t allowed to buy it on grocery day.”

  Something akin to sadness flashed in Evan’s eyes, but he turned back toward the dishwasher before she could be sure. “Well, I think you’ll like it. It’s one of my favorite drinks. I couldn’t imagine starting my day without it.”

  It did smell good to her.

  Reaching the table, Elenore held the material of her hospital gown together and gingerly sat in the chair Evan had obviously readied for her.

  She picked up her fork. The eggs and bacon looked delicious. “Thank you, Detective.”

  “Please,” he began, closing the dishwasher door. “Call me Evan. Detective just sounds so formal. And I’m anything but formal.”

  He approached the table. “And since you’ve never had the pleasure of coffee, I’m going to doctor yours up in the same fashion as mine. Being a coffee connoisseur,” he continued with a lopsided grin, “I know all the ins and outs of good flavor.”

  Elenore watched him add some heavy whipping cream to the steaming cup in front of her and then stir it with a spoon.

  “Now, try that.” He removed the spoon and moved to bring his own cup to the table.

  Watching him from the corner of her eye, Elenore lifted the cup to her mouth and took a sip. It had a slightly bitter flavor, calmed by the cream he’d added.

  She actually liked it.

  “Well?” Evan prompted, holding his own cup to his lips.

  “It’s different, but good.”

  Evan smiled. “Eat your breakfast. The items I picked up for you are in the bags next to the dresser in my bedroom. If any of it isn’t to your liking or doesn’t fit properly, just let me know, and we can go exchange them.”

  “W-we?” Surely, he didn’t plan on taking her to a department store. He would never live that down. In fact, the gossips would meet up at the diner to compare stories before Evan and Elenore could make it back to the apartment. And that gossip would reach the sheriff before the sun went down that evening.

  Evan lowered his cup. “You don’t have to go, Elenore. It was just a suggestion.”

  She nodded.

  Picking up her fork, she proceeded to eat her eggs, all the while wishing Evan would look anywhere but at her.

  He must have sensed her unease. He cleared his throat and headed toward the door. “I have a couple of errands to do in town. I’ll be back in about an hour. Call my cell phone if you need anything.”

  Elenore paused with the fork halfway to her mouth, but she didn’t look at him. She knew she acted awkward, but she could no more help it than she could change who and what she was. “Okay, Detective.”

  “It’s Evan,” he gently reminded her and then stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Evan slid behind the wheel of his personal car, a heavy feeling in his chest. He recognized it as pity. He also knew that pity was the last thing Elenore wanted or needed.

  No matter what that girl had been through, she had pride. And she sure wasn’t comfortable with charity. Evan had picked up on that right away.

  He blew out a breath and backed out of the drive. What could he do to make her feel more at ease? She would need things—things he doubted she would want him buying for her.

  Evan drove to the bank to make a deposit. He’d chosen that particular bank to do business with because it was open until noon on Saturdays.

  Pulling up to the drive-thru window, he waited for the small glass drawer to slide out and then placed his check inside along with a deposit slip.

  Back in Atlanta, his pay had been direct deposited by the police department he’d worked for. But he wasn’t in Atlanta anymore. This was Wexler, and Wexler did things the old-fashioned way.

  “Good morning, Detective,” a petite brunette announced through the intercom.

  Evan sent her a friendly smile. “Mornin’, ma’am.”

  Then, a thought occurred to him. He waved to bring her attention back to him.

  She pressed the intercom button. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering… What would I need to do to open an account for someone other than myself?”

  “Well, that person would need to come in with you. We would need his or her signature
to begin the process.”

  Evan nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

  “Of course.” She slipped his receipt into the drawer and sent it back to him.

  Evan placed the receipt in his wallet and drove away from the bank.

  His cell phone vibrated from the console before he reached the main road. He snatched it up and brought it to his ear. “This is Evan.”

  “Mr. Ramirez?” a woman tentatively asked.

  “Yes, this is Evan Ramirez.”

  A brief pause ensued. “My name is Esther Falk. I work at the Blue Ridge Nursing Home, where your grandmother resides.”

  Evan’s stomach tightened in dread. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ramirez, but your grandmother passed away about an hour ago. I tried calling you immediately, but there was no answer. I left you a voicemail and then called the emergency contact we had on file and left you a message there as well.”

  Numbly, Evan murmured, “Emergency contact?”

  A brief pause ensued. “Yes, you have a Linda Duke listed with us.”

  Evan gripped the back of his neck. He’d forgotten about listing Linda as an emergency contact.

  “Should I not have contacted Miss Duke?” the woman hesitantly asked.

  “No, no, it’s fine, Mrs. Falk.” With his heart now in his throat, Evan pulled his car behind the bank and put it in park.

  “I…” He swallowed and tried again. He’d known this day was coming, but it didn’t make the news of his grandmother’s death any easier. “Did she…suffer?”

  “No, Mr. Ramirez. She passed away in her sleep.”

  Somewhat comforted by that knowledge, Evan thanked the woman, assuring her that he would be there within a few hours.

  He cranked his car and headed back toward his apartment.

  His sweet grandmother was gone.

  Memories exploded inside his mind. Elsa Lovejoy had been his mother’s mother. She’d been a significant part of Evan’s life since the day he’d been born.

  After Evan’s father passed away, Elsa had jumped right in to help his mother with anything she’d needed to raise her only child. Whether by keeping the lights on, buying food, or purchasing school supplies for Evan, Elsa had never let them down.

  Evan’s mother’s death had nearly destroyed Elsa, sending her into a depression she almost didn’t come out of. Had it not been for Evan’s daily visits, she would have grieved herself into an early grave.

  Elsa had eventually regained her strength and slowly began to live again…but she was never the same.

  As for Evan, he’d taken his mother’s death hard as well, but joining the police force had given him a purpose and a reprieve from the nearly unbearable grief.

  Elsa had been the last of Evan’s family… And now she was gone as well.

  A strange sensation washed over him in that moment—a bereft feeling that settled deep inside his chest.

  Though Evan was no stranger to being alone, he’d never truly understood the depth of that reality, until now. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

  * * * *

  Evan arrived home approximately twenty minutes later. He’d forsaken the rest of his errands, needing to leave at once for Atlanta. Since it was a three-hour drive, he wouldn’t arrive until three-thirty or four that afternoon.

  Inserting the key into the knob, he unlocked the door and pushed it wide. What he saw there nearly took his breath.

  Elenore stood in his small living room, wearing a pair of beige pants and a pink T-shirt that he’d bought her. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, and her crystal-blue eyes sparkled with nervousness and insecurity.

  She had to be the prettiest thing Evan had ever seen.

  He glanced away before she saw the look of awe shining in his eyes. “You look nice.”

  Elenore fidgeted, folding her arms around her waist. “I, um. I’ve never worn pants before.”

  That bit of information sent his gaze back in her direction. “Never?”

  She shook her head. “Daddy wouldn’t allow it.”

  Evan wished Elijah were alive in that moment. He’d kill the man himself.

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Well, you can wear all the pants you want from now on, without fear of repercussions.”

  She didn’t answer, only looked away, her thin arms still wrapped around her waist.

  Evan cleared his throat. “I got a phone call while I was out. My grandmother passed away. I’ll be leaving for Atlanta in the next twenty minutes.”

  That brought her gaze back to his. “A-Atlanta?”

  Evan wasn’t sure if she was afraid of being left alone or afraid he would ask her to accompany him. “I’m her only living relative…just as she was mine. I’ll need to go handle the arrangements.”

  When she remained quiet, he stepped out on the proverbial limb. “Would you like to go with me?”

  She visibly swallowed. “I-I wouldn’t want to be in the way.”

  That statement told him everything.

  “You won’t be,” he assured her, moving deeper into the room. “Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll be there, and I’d hate to leave you here alone.” Had he really just said that? He had.

  Elenore gave a jerky nod. “I’ll go get some things together.”

  She fled the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elenore laid the black trash bag on the bed and carefully placed her new clothes inside along with her medications and toiletries.

  Though still sore from the surgery she’d recently had, the bleeding had slowed somewhat.

  Anxiety over going to Atlanta with Evan ate at her. She needed to be alone, to process everything that had transpired over the past few days.

  But Evan’s grandmother had died.

  Elenore sighed, understanding that Evan didn’t want her anywhere near her farm, since the police would be watching it closely. And going back there would appear suspicious since her father was presumed to be alive.

  She couldn’t seem to sort through her feelings. Her heart still grieved the loss of her unborn baby. She had no room for anything else.

  Yet Evan was now alone, just like her.

  She trailed to the bathroom to retrieve her toothbrush, returning to the bedroom to add it to the garbage bag on the bed.

  A soft knock brought her head up.

  Evan stood at the bedroom door, holding a small suitcase. “I thought you could probably use this.”

  He trailed cautiously forward and laid it next to the trash bag.

  Elenore’s gaze touched on the luggage. “I need to go home, Detective.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We talked about this. Your father’s truck was discovered at the farm. And with the sheriff’s department watching, not to mention obtaining another search warrant, there’s a good chance they’ll find those bodies. How you react to that could set off a chain reaction of suspicions with the sheriff. Not to mention, they wouldn’t expect you to stay there with your father supposedly on the loose.”

  Elenore swallowed, unable to meet Evan’s gaze. “What am I supposed to do? What if it takes them months or even years to find the bodies? What then? I can’t stay here forever.”

  Evan moved deeper into the room. “I understand you’re anxious and scared. I’m anxious too. But this isn’t only about you, Elenore. It involves me as well.”

  He looked away for a moment and then met her gaze once again. “If you’re implicated in any way, you’d probably get the chair. With any luck, you might get off with an insanity plea. I wouldn’t. What do you think they would do to me, a cop who covered up half a dozen murders?”

  Elenore flinched. Said aloud, the word murder slid through her like an oily film. She was a murderer, a killer capable of horrendous acts of violence.

  Nausea gripped her.

  Evan took another step toward her but then stopped, as if uncertain what to do next. “I’m sorry. I know that sounded harsh, but it’s our realit
y at the moment. And you’re not a killer. You simply did what you had to do to survive. They’d been hurting you for years.”

  “Tell me about Elle.” Where had that come from? She reached for the bedpost closest to her.

  Evan’s head tilted slightly. “Pardon?”

  Elenore’s throat worked, seemingly unable to swallow. “I-I don’t know where that came from.”

  “Do you need to sit down?” Evan moved a step closer. “Your face is chalk white.”

  Elenore’s gaze shifted around the room, her breathing increasing along with her heart rate. “I…don’t know what’s happening to me.”

  “You’ve had a traumatic experience. Your mind needs time to process it all. Which is exactly why I want you to come with me to Atlanta. The last thing you need is to go back to that farm right now. That would put us both at risk. And I’m not willing to chance it.”

  Listening to the calm manner in which Evan spoke helped slow Elenore’s heart rate. She inhaled as deeply as her starving lungs would allow and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Evan gently pressed.

  “I’ll go with you to Atlanta.”

  He looked relieved. “Thank you, Elenore. I know you just had surgery, and I’m really sorry you have to travel so soon after. Thankfully, it’s only a three-hour drive, and really…we have no choice.”

  Elenore slowly reached for the suitcase. She’d never owned one before—never been anywhere to need one. “I know.”

  Her fingers came in contact with a small tag wired to the handle.

  She tugged the tag toward her, turning it over to see the words on the opposite side.

  “Linda Duke,” she whispered, more than a little confused. Did Evan have a woman in his life? Not that it mattered to Elenore. She simply didn’t want to provoke the woman’s anger by taking her bag.

  An odd feeling enveloped her.

  Evan cleared his throat. “Is something wrong?”

  Elenore fidgeted and then gestured to the suitcase. “No, I— The bag has a woman’s name on it. I— Is she—”

  “She’s not important,” Evan interrupted, stepping forward and ripping the tag free. “There, you’re good to go. That tag has been on there for over five years. I must have overlooked it during the move to Wexler.”