Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

Cassie somehow got through the next four days. The weddings were on Saturday, and she needed every spare minute to prepare. She worked like mad but took time off to take Presley to some fun Christmas events around town. She also tried to zone out whenever Presley started chattering about her prince cowboy Easton or begged her to see him. Thankfully she didn’t see him, except at the sledding event where he was on the huge sledding hill messing around with Walker and Marci. Different girls approached him. He kept his distance from the other women and from Cassie. Presley was distracted enough that she blessedly didn’t see him from their spot on the kiddie hill.

The gall of that man. Thinking she should be the one who apologized. She’d stewed about that fateful evening often over the years and supposed it was possible he didn’t know she’d seen the photo of him kissing that redhead and cheating on her. Still, that made him even more of a liar, thinking he could hide his indiscretions and accuse her of cheating because she’d danced with her boss and let him brush her lips with his. Now that she knew Baxter, she knew his intentions were all dishonorable and she didn’t mind that Easton had slugged him, but that didn’t make Easton’s cheating go away.

Thursday afternoon, she had a break and Presley needed to get out of the house. She decided it was time to pay her mother a visit. Then she’d take Presley to the hometown diner, Mary’s Café, and decompress with one of their famous cinnamon rolls.

They loaded into the car and drove to town. Presley was chattering about her cowboy prince. Cassie tuned it out, her hands clinging to the steering wheel, moist with perspiration. How would her mother react to seeing them? Cassie had called occasionally over the years and had gotten through the stilted conversations with her embittered mother, but she hadn’t been back to visit.

Pulling up to the rundown home, frustration filled her. She hated this house, the memories, the despair. The only good thing in her life after her dad left had been … Easton. She missed him, despite how angry she was at him.

Cassie shook her head and focused. She could do this. She was a strong, capable woman who took care of her daughter, paid for her own home, and succeeded at her business. Until she’d run from Baxter, she’d been lonely for the love and happiness only the off-limits Easton Coleville could give her, but for the most part she’d been content and busy.

Please help me, Lord , she asked in her mind. Please bless that Mom will be nice to Presley .

Climbing out of the car, she savored the bright, high winter sun and the crisp air. She’d missed Montana’s dry air and big sky. She opened the back door. Presley had already undone her car seat.

“All right, love. We’re going to meet your grandma.”

Presley’s eyes clouded. She hadn’t seen her Grandpa and Grandma Churchill in years. After the divorce, they had chosen not to keep in contact. Presley most likely didn’t remember them. “I have a grandma?”

“Yes.” Cassie’s body trembled, and she prayed this wouldn’t be a horrific experience for Presley. If her mother was mean to Cassie it was to be expected, but please not to her daughter.

She set Presley on the ground, and they walked hand in hand up the crumbling walk. The porch overhang was sagging and the wooden steps rotted out. They carefully walked up the steps, the scents of mildew and decay overpowering most everything else. Cassie rapped on the door. She waited, her stomach tying itself in knots.

“She might be resting,” she told Presley, smiling down at her daughter and squeezing her hand. She knew her mother wouldn’t be out anywhere. Her sister Janey had arranged a couple years ago for a kind neighbor to bring her groceries and medicine in.

Knocking once more, she felt relief sweep through her. Her mother wasn’t going to answer. They’d tried. Now they could leave.

Turning Presley back toward the car, Cassie said, “I guess she’s not … awake.”

Presley tugged on her hand. “Mama. Try more.”

Cassie’s eyes widened and her stomach flipped over. Guilt stung. Presley was right; they couldn’t give up too quickly. She stepped forward and tried the door handle. It turned in her hand, so she pushed the door open. The hinges squeaked and it swung slowly. A waft of stale, rank air rushed over them. It smelled much worse than mildew and decay or even rotten garbage and unwashed toilets. It smelled like … something dead.

“Ooh, pee-yoo, Mama.” Presley plugged her nose.

Cassie actually smiled, though her entire body was tight and she had to swallow down bile. “Stinky, huh?”

“Worse than stinky.”

They waited there on the porch and Cassie called out, “Mom?”

No answer. Nothing moved in the stillness. Where was her mom? Had she actually left the house and a mouse had died and that was why it stunk so horribly?

“I need to go check if she’s all right,” she said aloud. “Plug your nose and wait just inside the door. Okay, love?”

“All rights, Mama. Ooh.” Presley gave a delicate all-over-body shudder. She was an adorable princess, that was for sure.

Cassie suddenly wished Easton was here with them. He’d make them laugh and sing something to get her mind off the stink and the upcoming visit with her mother. He’d hold Presley in the crook of that brawny arm and Cassie with his other arm around her waist. He’d gallantly go inside to check on her mother for her.

No. Easton was not her hero or her prince, and she was angry at him. She was an independent woman. She had this under control. She could check on her own mother without wishing for him.

Resolutely walking into the house with Presley bravely stomping by her side, and admittedly plugging her own nose, Cassie closed the door behind them and glanced around. There were dishes on the counter and blankets and pillows on the couch. It was dusty and could use a good scrubbing but it wasn’t cluttered. She couldn’t see her mom anywhere.

“Okay, sweetie,” she said through her plugged nose. “You stay right here and I’ll hurry.”

“You sound funny, Mama,” Presley said, giggling.

“You too.” Cassie squeezed her hand and then released it. “Don’t move an inch.”

“I won’t .”

They both laughed. Oh, how Cassie loved her girl. She made everything better. They didn’t need Easton. They had each other.

Straightening her back, she held onto her nose and walked quickly toward her mother’s bedroom. She swung the door open and glanced around. She could see her mother’s slight frame in the bed, underneath the covers.

Her steps slowed as she approached the bed, anxious to awaken her grumpy mother and longing to be out of here. Her mom made no movement or sound. Was she sick? What if she was … No. She couldn’t be dead. But that would explain the awful scent.

Oh, no. Her pulse spiked and chills pricked at her neck.

“You okay, love?” she called to Presley.

“Not movin’ one inch, Mama,” Presley hollered back.

“That’s my girl.”

She could imagine Easton saying those words to her and she longed for him.

Cassie edged closer. She could see her mother’s face clearly now. Her skin was gray, her eyes closed. She really might be …

Cassie peered closer and could see dark, dried … was that blood staining the blanket covering her mom’s chest? Her heart started racing out of control. Darkness clawed at her mind, and she sw ayed on her feet.

No! She could not lose it. Not now. Presley needed her in this house of horror more than ever. Still, Cassie had to know. Was it really blood? Could her mom truly be gone?

With her nose pinched even tighter, she edged just a bit closer, praying for strength to not pass out, to get through this. For Presley. She noticed a note pinned to the blankets.

I’m coming for you next, Cassie.

Baxter!

Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Her blood turned to ice. A scream ripped from her throat.

Turning, she raced back out of the bedroom, her eyes searching but not seeing him. Was he hidden in one of the other bedrooms? The bathroom? Horror choked her, and she had to release her nose to catch a breath of the foul air.

“Mama?” Presley stared at her in confusion.

Cassie grabbed her girl, lifted her into her arms, and yanked the front door open. She raced across the porch, stumbling on a broken board and crying out in horror as they pitched forward.

She and Presley tumbled down the steps, her daughter howling in pain. No, no, no. She couldn’t hurt her girl, and she couldn’t slow down. He was here. He would rip Presley from her arms and kill Cassie like he’d killed her mother.

Scrambling back to her feet, one knee aching, she cradled Presley close and sprinted for the car. Reaching the vehicle, she flung the driver’s door open, slid in, and slammed it shut.

“Mama!” Presley cried, tears racing down her smooth cheeks.

“Sorry, love, sorry.” She hit the lock button and looked frantically back at the house. No movement from inside. Was he outside somewhere? Watching, waiting, laughing at how terrified she was? Her eyes darted around the snow-covered yard and the neighboring properties. Nothing. He’d follow them, let her horror mount, strike when she was least expecting it.

“Honey, please climb back into your car seat,” she begged her daughter. The horror had cleared her head but made her entire body ache with fear.

“Mama?” Presley’s teal-blue eyes were full of confusion.

“Are you all right, baby?” She could have hurt Presley in their tumble down the steps.

“So-so.” Presley lifted a trembling hand.

“Oh, love.” She didn’t dare stay here. Hugging Presley one more time, she lifted her toward the back seat. “Get in your car seat, love.”

Presley thankfully obeyed. Cassie started the car and pressed the button on the steering wheel. “Call 911,” she commanded.

She drove straight to the sheriff’s office. Could Sheriff Clint Coleville keep her and Presley safe from her monster of an ex-husband? Could anyone?

Easton’s face flashed in her mind’s eye as the dispatcher picked up.

No. Easton took nothing seriously. He might be strong and a wildland firefighter, but he couldn’t protect her and Presley. They weren’t safe in Coleville. They weren’t safe anywhere.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to report to the dispatcher what she’d found and told her she was driving to the sheriff’s office as they spoke.

Please, Heavenly Father, not for me but for Presley. Please find us a safe haven.