CHAPTER 19 - Amon

T he drive into Disciple feels like it takes years even though I'm pushing ninety in the truck the whole way and it actually only takes twelve minutes. Of course I have to slow down when I get to town and since it's Thursday night in the summertime, Disciple is crawling with locals doing last-minute things before the weekend starts tomorrow.

Except on very rare occasions, there's no Revival on Friday. But that's when the tourists start coming in if they're from outside the local area. And most are, but not all. We've always had quite a few regulars who come in from Charleston each weekend like clockwork. Like the Revival is their actual church or something.

So Thursday nights are busy around here and though it is mostly a local thing, there's always a couple dozen strangers milling around the edges of the grounds eating dinner or getting ice cream or whatever.

There is no chance of finding a parking spot so I just go to Rosie's house and park my truck in her driveway. I don't go check things out inside. That can wait until I know they are safe. Instead, I walk up the hill to the Revival grounds and see her waiting, panicked look on her face, with an arm wrapped around Cross's shoulder. He's nearly as tall as she is, I notice. Which is kinda cute, even though the occasion for me being here is anything but.

"Rosie. You OK?"

She presses her lips together and nods, then makes a little eyeball motion towards Cross, like she hasn't said anything to him and she doesn't want me to either.

I respect her wishes and give Cross a playful punch. "What's up, partner?"

He makes a face. "Absolutely nothin', since my mother "—he stresses this word and gives Rosie the stink-eye—"came up to the park and pulled me away from my friends like she's a crazy person."

"Well, that's because we've got a surprise for you."

Cross shoots me a suspicious look and his question comes out tentative. "What kind of surprise?"

"You have won yourself a… a… a weekend kinda… camp-like… package deal thing up at my compound." I smile. That was smooth. "Yeah. You won. And you get to work the dogs, and shoot on the range, and stay at my house tonight."

His whole face lights up. "Really?" He looks at his mother. "Did you do this?"

"She sure did," I interrupt. "She wasn't gonna tell you about it unless you won, but of course you did! So… yeah. Now we're telling you about it." I make one of those all-teeth smiles at him. "Come on, let's go pack you a bag and hit the road so you can help me say goodnight to the dogs."

"Well, all right!" Cross pumps a fist in the air. "Finally, something cool happens." Then he takes off running.

Before Rosie can object, I put my fingers in my mouth and crack out a sharp whistle. "Cross Harlow, you were not dismissed. Get your ass back here and stand at attention until you are."

Cross has turned, his face about to morph into an expression of defiance, but he's a Revival boy and he's been playing his part in the show since he was born. So instead, he switches into ‘performer' mode and straightens his back and snaps off a salute. "Yes, sir."

Rosie chuckles but I keep a stern face as I bark commands at her boy. "You will walk exactly five paces in front of us and stay in our line of sight the entire way home. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." He says it all seriously, but when he turns to start walking, I catch a smile.

We give him five paces and then we take off as well, whispering a little, so as not to catch anyone's attention with the subject matter of our conversation. "Where was it?" I ask.

"On my bed. A puzzle, just like the others, but a crossword this time. Which worries me because the cross is in that puzzle by default. It was Erol. He was in my house, Amon." Her voice is a little shaky, and I don't blame her. It's a frightening thing to think you're safe, only to realize—way after the fact—that you aren't.

It's not the right time to tell her that it's not Erol. I'll break that to her later, once she's settled.

"We don't have to stay at your place, though, Amon. It's not that big of a deal."

"A strange man was in your house, Rosie. And not to be a dick here, or dramatic or whatever, but this is the very same house where Olive Creed was nearly kidnapped when she was a girl and where Collin Creed blew that man's head off. So. Yeah. It's kind of a big fuckin' deal."

"Oh. Well, I had kinda forgotten about the history of the house, but thanks for reminding me."

I chuckle. "I'm not trying to scare you or nothing, Rosie, but it's much better to be too cautious than it is to be indifferent. I've learned that the hard way, take my word on it. So the two of you are gonna pack a bag and stay with me until I feel it's safe."

She's got a hold of my upper arm with both hands and when these words come out, she hugs it a little, pressing her cheek up against my shoulder.

When we get to her house, I tell her and Cross to wait outside while I go in and check things. Inside, I pull my sidearm and check the first floor, then go upstairs and check there too.

The puzzle is propped up against Rosie's pillow. A crossword, just like she said.

After checking the bathroom and closet, I go back outside and wave Rosie and Cross inside.

"What's goin' on?" Cross asks.

Rosie would probably like me to lie to him, but I'm not gonna. "There was a break-in, Cross, and your mom called me so I could check it out. So I did. And the house is safe now."

"A break-in?" Cross's eyes go wide as he looks to his mother. "What the fuck?"

"Cross! Mind your mouth!"

"A break-in?" he says again, ignoring Rosie's admonishment and looking up at me instead. "Who the hell in their right mind would break into a house in Disciple, West Virginia?"

His innocence is adorable. But he's only half wrong because the answer to his question is—a stranger. That's who would break into this house. A stranger. Someone not from here.

And then a wave of déjà vu hits me and I'm in high school again, the day after Collin shot that man in his house who was trying to kidnap his baby sister.

Collin was one of those good kids, as are most Disciple boys, except for me, of course. But something hit me sideways that morning. Deep, too. Because it was a realization that I didn't know Collin Creed. We had grown up together, played sports together when I was very young and into that. He was never in the children's choir, of course, because he was always on stage, behind his daddy. But I was in the choir until I was eleven, so I was on stage too, and we were friendly.

Collin was never small, or passive, or weak, but he was never aggressive either. Even on the football field, everything about how he caught that ball was about job performance and had nothing to do with ego.

And that morning, when I found out he had killed a would-be kidnapper, everything I knew about Collin Creed reset to zero.

I am thinking about all this because Cross's attitude about this intruder has me rethinking my opinions about him as well. If he was home and someone came in, threatening him or his mother, and he had the chance to get a shotgun—or a rifle, as it was in Collin's case—he'd take that shot too. I know he would.

"Pack a bag, Cross." I say this the way I would say anything to Collin, or Ryan, or Nash. "You've got five minutes."

He wants to say more. He wants to demand answers from me. But he recognizes this tone of voice and instead presses his lips together and gives me a small nod, then retreats to his bedroom.

"You too, Rosie. Go pack something."

"For how long, Amon?"

I smile at her. "A long weekend."

"Should I bring my Revival costumes then?"

"Sure. Bring 'em."

She nods as well, then disappears upstairs while I walk out onto the front porch and stare across the street, listening to the river down below in the valley.

Someone came in this house.

Someone was in her bedroom.

And it wasn't Erol Cross, so who the hell is stalking my woman?

I think about that the whole way back to the compound. Cross wants to listen to the radio, and there's a station that runs out of Revenant that plays oldies—which, for reasons unknown to me, seems to be all the rage around here at the moment—so we listen to that instead of trying to have a conversation. It's useless to pretend that this is anything but what it actually is, so we don't even bother trying.

It's dark by the time I pull into the compound, but nights out here don't end with the sunset. The dining hall is lit up bright as I pass and there are dozens of men wandering about. Some have fires going in the various pits, some are sitting on the church steps, just talking, and some sitting at picnic tables, cleaning their weapons.

My eyes track up to the rear-view mirror and I catch Cross practically pressing his nose to the window, trying to take it all in.

I park in front of my house and spy Lowyn and Collin sitting on their porch steps, talking.

Lowyn gets up first when she realizes who's getting out of my truck. "Rosie!" she says. "What's goin' on?"

"Well…" Rosie looks to me, wondering what to say.

I look at Collin. "Someone broke into Rosie's house earlier today."

"What?" He looks at Rosie, then Cross, then back at Rosie. "Are you all right?"

She nods. "I'm fine. We weren't home at the time. I just…" She looks at Lowyn. "Someone's been sending me weird letters. With puzzles inside."

" What ?" Cross says. Because of course he hasn't heard about this yet.

"Let me get them settled and then I'll be back," I tell Collin.

He nods and pulls Lowyn a little closer. And of course he does. Because, like me, right now Collin Creed and Lowyn McBride are picturing that night twelve years ago when that man tried to kidnap Olive and Collin killed him for his troubles.

Lowyn was there. She saw the whole thing. And I bet, all this time that she's been living in that house—remodeling and redecorating it so there was almost no trace of what happened that night—she's been telling herself it would never happen again.

And now it has.

No one was there and no one got hurt, but that hardly matters.

Someone came into that house uninvited. Again .

"Wow," Cross says . He stops in the middle of my living room and looks around. "Your place is cool, Amon. Where's my bedroom?"

I'm looking at Rosie when this comes out of his mouth and she blushes a little. "Cross. Don't be silly, you don't have a bedroom here."

"You take that first room in the hallway right there, Cross. That's your room."

"Thanks, Amon!"

He goes off to explore and Rosie turns to me. "Your place is… not what I expected."

I look around, taking it in with new eyes. "Well, most of this was Lowyn. When we bought the compound, everything was a mess and needed reno. But my kitchen was this cool-as-fuck turquoise and black color. It even had black velvet wallpaper."

Rosie makes a face.

"Cool, right?" I know she's not thinking ‘cool,' she's thinking ‘gross,' but I'm playing with her. "So I told Low that I wanted to keep that vibe. And this is how it turned out."

I grin and spread my arms wide, completely ignoring that this house has ‘man' written all over it. It's nice though. Lowyn is partial to mid-century modern, and what do I know about decorating? I picked things from the samples she showed me. None of the mid-century modern furniture is actually vintage, that's just not my style. But I do like me some tapered legs and soft curves.

"Turquoise ceilings are… a… bold choice." Rosie laughs. "But it looks good."

"That was Lowyn. Again. Because I tried to paint the walls black, and she pitched a fit. So she met me halfway with black baseboards and crown molding, but the walls had to be gray."

"Black walls." Rosie shakes her head and tsks her tongue. "Thank God for Lowyn." Then she turns to me. "It's actually quite nice. You've got style, Amon. Who knew?" She grins, shooting me a side-eye. "Where do I sleep?"

"Well… I do have another spare room. Or"—I shrug—"you could stay upstairs with me."

"She'll stay with you," Cross calls from his room. Then he peeks his head out. "She's gonna say, ‘I'll take the spare room.'" He says this last part mimicking his mama's voice. "But don't let her, Amon. She'll boss you all over the place if you let her. Better to take control now." Then he retreats back into the room and closes the door.

"Oh, my God. My son. Please excuse him."

I ignore that and stay on point. "Spare room or upstairs?"

Her eyes roll up to the ceiling, then she looks at me. "Well, I at least want to see it or I might die of curiosity before morning."

I grab her shoulders and point her in the direction of the stairs. Then I follow her up, but hold back at the top so I get a good look at her as she learns something new about me.

Rosie's bedroom is all vintage cottage core, mostly because that's how Lowyn had it decorated when she left. But my bedroom, much like the downstairs, says upscale man cave.

The turquoise and black theme continues, but this time it's reversed. Black ceilings and turquoise trim with dark gray walls. Like the downstairs, the furniture is new mid-century modern.

Rosie walks forward, the tips of her fingers tracing the gleaming brass bedframe as she passes. It's a modern and masculine take on the canopy that looks like an open cube. It was custom-made by someone Lowyn knows down in Kentucky and she thought of me when she saw it.

"It's king-size," I tell Rosie. "So there's plenty of room for you."

She turns, letting out a breath at the same time. "Black velvet, huh?" She nods her head to the bedding—which is, in fact, silk velvet. But it's about two shades lighter than true black.

I shrug. "I was pretty keen on the idea and bedding is easy to change. Though, if you take a moment to touch it, I doubt you'll hate it."

She bites her lip as she bends over to run that fingertip down the velvet comforter. "It's very soft." Then she straightens up and looks around, turning in a slow circle until she's facing me again. "Skulls?"

She's referring to my theme. Which is, indeed, skulls. The pictures on the wall, the pillows on the bed, and the lamps on the bedside tables—gold ones, also made of gleaming brass and which look a little bit like candlesticks with skulls at the base. "What can I say? It's kinda my style."

"Well, it's a bit disturbing. But in a classy way."

"Thanks." Then I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in as well. When I meet Rosie's eyes, I say, "I like it. But everything can be changed if you don't."

"It's your bedroom, Amon. Why would you care if I like it?"

There are only a few steps between us, so I erase that distance and wrap my arms around her waist, tugging her close to me. "Because I want you. It's as simple as that."

Her breasts heave as she takes in a deep breath. "How do you know?"

"That I want you? Come on, Rosie. Everyone wants you."

She nearly snorts. "That's simply not true. Or why would I still be single?"

"Well, that's obvious, of course. You're still single because I just got back. You and I were meant to be. It's just… well, the last time I saw you, that boy of yours was in your belly and I was on my way to the marines. The world wasn't ready for us."

"And twelve years later, it is?"

"More than ready. It's dying for us to get serious."

She lets out another breath, pulling back, making me let go of her. Then she turns and takes a seat on the bed. I watch, grinning, as she traces her fingertips over the silk comforter. Then grabs a fistful of it as she looks up at me. "It really is soft."

I sit down beside her, then flop back onto the bed, looking up at the open top of the bedframe. "Rosie, you will sleep naked every night in this bed just to feel this silky velvet across your body, that's how soft it is."

She flops back with me, our shoulders touching. "Is that how you sleep?"

I turn my head and grin at her. "So. Guest room? Or my room?"

"Your room!" Cross calls from downstairs.

Rosie sits up. "Cross Harlow! You better not be eavesdropping! That's rude!"

"Just tell the man you're sleeping upstairs. Can I go outside and check out the dogs?"

I say, "Sure," just as Rosie says, "No!" And we look at each other.

" Moooom !"

"It's safe out there, Rosie. Collin and I have put together a little army that every nation on the planet would die for. No one is gonna get him here."

She closes her eyes, then opens them again. "OK," she calls down. "But stay close to this house. And do not go in those woods!"

Cross grumbles. "Why in the world would I go into the woods in the middle of the night?" Then we hear the slapping of a screen door as he leaves.

Rosie looks at me, shaking her head. "Sometimes he's a handful."

Which makes me laugh. "Rosie, think back to when I was twelve and picture what I was getting up to. Cross is an angel compared to me."

She chuckles. "Well, I didn't know you then. I would've been only ten." She side-eyes me. "But I did follow your antics and I do believe that was the summer that you set off firecrackers in the tent during Revival."

I laugh just thinking about it. "Oh, those days were fun."

"You must've exasperated your parents to no end."

"Well, yeah. They did get pretty tired of Jim Bob demoting them over my chronic unruliness. But they were very good sports about it in the grand scheme of things. Probably because they had pinned their hopes and dreams on the sisters coming up behind me." I wink. "It was a good hedge, that bet. Speaking of, do you hang out with any of my sisters? I haven't had time to ask them."

"Not really. Eden is four years younger than me, which would put her at eleven that year I became an adult. And the rest are even further apart. But of course I know them, like I know everyone else in this town."

"We've got a bowling thing going with them on Fridays and that's tomorrow. Collin and Lowyn will be there. Nash and Ryan too. Plus a few of the incorrigible assholes outside. Should we make a date of it? Cross could come as well."

"Our first Disciple date." She looks up at me, those gray eyes bright and shining. "Sounds fun, so yes. I would love that. But as far as tonight goes, I'm gonna stay downstairs with Cross. I just feel like sharing a bedroom should be more intentional, and not based on fear."

"Are you afraid?"

"No. But the whole reason I'm here is because my ex is stalking me. And I don't want to combine the two things to the point where they are inseparable."

Even though we've already had sex twice now, she's right. Sharing a bedroom is a step above. Especially with a kid in the mix. "That sounds fair. But if you don't mind, I think I will sleep on the couch then."

"Why?"

"It's just my nature. To put myself between you and the door. And in my world, a door equals danger. Even here on the Edge compound." I put up a hand. "Not literally, Rosie. No one is coming through that door. It's just training. Ingrained and all that, ya know?"

"Well, truth be told, I would actually feel safer with you on that couch between me and that door, so thank you very much."

I stand up and offer her my hand. "Come on, I'll show you the room."

She takes my hand and we go downstairs. She likes the room—which carries on the same color scheme, but in a more muted way. Light gray instead of black and a swimming-pool blue color instead of turquoise.

Rosie smiles when we enter. "Lowyn did this room, didn't she?"

"Lowyn did all the rooms, but she took a particular interest in this one because I said she could do it any way she wanted."

Rosie smiles and starts talking about Lowyn and their friendship. But my mind is wandering to what I meant to do tonight, and didn't.

Which is tell her that Erol is dead.

But I can't. Not tonight. Erol, at least, is someone she knows. He's the father of her son. He has a reason to stalk her.

A stranger using Erol's name and sending her puzzles that allude to her boy?

That's something else altogether.

Cross is outside sitting on Collin's porch petting Mercy as he and Lowyn discuss the finer points of oldies music when Rosie and I join them. When Rosie ushers Cross back over to my house and Lowyn goes inside, I corner Collin so we can have a word.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "What's up?"

I check one last time, just to make sure no one is listening, then lean in. "Remember that forensics thing I told you about?"

"The one you sent Penny?"

"The very one. Well, I got it back and it's not Rosie's ex."

"It's not? Is she sure?"

"Oh, she's sure. He's dead, Collin."

"Well, that's definitely a certainty. It also elevates this little mystery to a new level."

"Especially after finding a puzzle in her bedroom tonight. Whoever this stalker is, he's serious."

"And scary." Collin looks off in the distance like he's thinking, and I can only imagine that once again he's picturing that night twelve years ago. He looks at me again. "What should we do?"

"First of all"—I point at him—"I like that ‘we' tag you just put on this problem. And second, I dunno. I think we have to start with a more thorough background check."

"On who though?"

"Erol Cross, of course."

"But if the man's dead?—"

" Is the man dead?"

"If Penny says he is, then I can't see a way around it, Amon. She's in a class of her own when it comes to this kind of thing."

"She ran the ink, fingerprints, and paper through all the databases and came up with nothing. But there's something not right about it."

Collin's eyes narrow. "Not right about what? Penny?"

"No. Just…" But I can't explain what I'm feeling. "About this whole stalker thing. I feel like I'm missing something."

Collin blows out a breath. "Yeah. I hate that feeling."

"It's not that I don't trust Penny," I add. "It's just… well, these days anything can be faked, ya know?"

This makes Collin chuckle. "If people only knew how easy it was to create somethin' from nothin' in this day and age, they'd never trust a single thing they read or see again. All the world's a stage, after all."

"Yeah. That's the thing. This whole stalking thing, with the worksheets and whatnot, it all feels very… staged."

"You think it's fake?" Collin asks.

"I'm not sure. It just feels off ."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think Rosie's about as safe as one can be. You've done all the right things. She's staying here on the compound now and she never leaves Trinity County. If anyone tried to mess with Rosie someone would be there, even if you weren't. Everyone knows Rosie. But if you're worried, then…" He shrugs. "Hell, just keep her with you. It's a hard job, monopolizing a woman's time. But someone's gotta do it."

I chuckle. "Yeah, all right."

Collin nudges me. "We'll figure it out, Amon. And she'll be OK. Just… keep her close."