Page 83 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

Eventually, the phone calls, texts and emails from Mom stopped. Friends forgot about me, or at least, they clued into the fact that I wasn’t coming back. People stopped trying to rescue me and just left me to my grief.

When it subsided to the point where I was able to breathe again, work became my first priority. I needed the familiar tasks, the distraction—the money. So I called some old clients, drummed up some business and got busy.

Work and solitude weren’t going to save me this time, but that didn’t stop me from getting in my truck and driving the hell away from Lark Cove.

I was lost in my own fears. I didn’t think about the road or where I was headed. I just drove and let the memories from the past keep my foot on the gas pedal.

No matter how many miles I drove, the voices in my head haunted me.

I’m pregnant.

One statement but two different voices. Shannon’s voice had been so soft. Piper’s had been strong and sure, even though she’d been nervous.

There was an accident.

I’d hardly recognized Mom’s voice as she’d called from the hospital.

We tried to save the baby, but we lost them both.

The doctor’s hoarse voice was burned into my brain. I heard it in my nightmares. Just like I heard the muffled sounds of a hospital floor as I sat behind a closed door with a lifeless baby in my arms.

I’d begged the doctor to let me hold her, just once. He’d hesitated at first because of how small and discolored she’d looked, but when I’d pleaded again, he’d ultimately relented.

She’d been so tiny and precious. Most of her face had been hidden in that pink blanket, but she’d been so peaceful as she’d rested against my chest. She would have been a beautiful child.

Oncoming headlights on the black highway caught my attention. I’d driven for so long that the sun was just disappearing behind the horizon. I

shifted in my seat, switching hands on the steering wheel as the other car came my way.

Its low beams flashed as they crested a bump, and the flicker was enough to catch a streak as it bounded for the road.

A deer.

It ran full speed, barely crossing the centerline as the other car whizzed by. Its hooves and spindle legs staggered on the asphalt as it scrambled to get out of my lane. But I was going too fast and it wasn’t fast enough.

My truck crushed its innocent body.

“Goddamn it.” I pressed the brake, slowing down and veering off to the shoulder. I shoved the truck in park, unclipped my seatbelt and hustled outside. Behind me, the carcass was lying in the shallow ditch that ran along the highway.

I approached, knowing exactly what I’d find. Even in the twilight hour, I saw blood sprayed across the pavement. Raw guts and broken bones were not in their rightful place.

“Son of a bitch.” I cursed and walked back to inspect my truck, leaving the animal for the varmints.

There was a clump of hair wedged into a joint of the grill guard, but the thick steel bars had served their purpose. Deer were a major hazard on Montana roads, and it was better to hit one than swerve and risk crashing into another car or rolling your own.

That didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

I hung my head and climbed back in my truck, continuing down the road. Another life lost. The guilt of killing that animal gnawed at me as I drove. It took the place of the fear and pain I’d been reliving for hours.

Where was I? I didn’t have my phone—I didn’t have anything, not even my wallet. I was lucky that I’d run away with a full tank of gas. A green sign came into view and my headlights reflected the white letters.

Ahead was a junction. If I took a right, it would wind me around to Lark Cove. If I took a left, it would take me somewhere I’d avoided for too long.

Home.

I turned left.

I arrived in the dead of night, standing outside the house where I’d grown up. The porch light cast a soft glow my direction. The trees in the front yard, the ones I’d planted in high school as saplings, were nearly as tall as the power lines. The siding that had been white when I’d left was now gray. The front door was a dark red instead of denim blue.