Howlers were dogs that were afraid of storms, and they made life miserable for the other dogs. Beth recognized the conversation's shift as an opportunity to change the subject. Nana usually offered a way out, but as Beth took a bite of her toast, she realized there was something else she wanted to discuss.
"I think they've met before," she finally said.
"Who? Thibault and the loser?"
Beth raised her hands. "Please don't call him that. I know you don't like him, but he's still Ben's father and I don't want you to get into the habit of calling him that when Ben can hear you. I bow he's not here right now…"
Nana gave a rueful smile. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry. I won't say it again. But what were you telling me?"
"Do you remember when I told you about the night Keith brought Ben back home with the black eye? You were at your sister's…" She saw Nana nod. "Last night, I got to thinking about it. I didn't pick up on it then, but when Keith saw Logan, he didn't ask who Logan was. Instead, it was like a switch went on and he got angry right away. He said something like, 'What are you doing here?'"
"So?" Nana's expression was blank.
"It was the way he said it. He wasn't so much surprised that some man was at the house as much as he was surprised that Logan in particular was at the house. Like Logan was the last person he'd expected to see."
"What does Thibault say?"
"He hasn't said anything. But it makes sense, doesn't it? That they've crossed paths before? Since he thinks Keith broke into his house?"
"Maybe," Nana said, then shook her head. "I don't know. Did Thibault say what he thought your ex might be looking for?"
"No," she said, "he didn't. Other than to say that there wasn't much to find."
"Which is a way of answering the question without really answering it."
"Mmm," Beth agreed. She took another bite of toast, thinking there was no way she could finish all of it.
Nana leaned forward. "And that worries you, too?"
"A little," Beth said, giving a small nod.
"Because you feel like he's keeping something from you?"
When Beth didn't answer, Nana reached across the table and took her hand. "I think you're worrying about the wrong things here. Maybe your ex broke into Thibault's house, and maybe he didn't. Maybe they have come across each other before, or maybe not. But neither of those things is as important as whether or not your ex has been working behind the scenes against you. If I were you, that's what I'd be concerned about because that's the part that mainly affects you." She paused, letting her words sink in. "I say that because I've seen you and Thibault together, and it's obvious how much he cares for you. And I think the reason he told you his suspicions was because he doesn't want the same thing to happen to him that's happened to the other men you've dated."
"So you think Logan is right?"
"Yes," Nana said. "Don't you?"
It took a long time for Beth to respond. "I think so, too."
It was one thing to think it; it was another thing to be sure. After their conversation, Beth changed into her jeans, threw on her raincoat, and drove into town. The rain had started in earnest a couple of hours earlier, a gusty downpour powered by a tropical storm that had come up through Georgia by way of South Carolina. The news was predicting six to eight inches of rain in the next twenty-four hours, with more to come. Two more storms in the Gulf of Mexico had come ashore in recent days and were expected to eventually roll through the area as well, bringing even more rain. The hot, dry summer was officially coming to an end.
Beth could barely see through the windshield even with the wipers at full speed. The gutters were beginning to flood, and as she drove toward town she saw jagged eddies of water making their way to the river. So far, the river hadn't risen yet, but it would: Nearly every tributary within fifty miles fed it, and she suspected the river would reach the flood stage before long. The town could handle flooding; storms like these were a part of life in this region of the country, and most of the businesses were far enough away from the river to avoid most of the effects of all but the most exceptional of storms. The road that led to the kennel-because it ran parallel to the river-was another story. In heavy storms, especially during hurricanes, the river would sometimes stretch across it, making passage dangerous. It wouldn't be a problem today, but later in the week, she suspected things might get a lot worse.
In the car, she continued to mull over her conversation with Nana. Yesterday morning, things had seemed so much simpler, but now she couldn't shake the questions going through her mind. Not only about Keith, but about Logan. If it was true that Logan and Keith had met before, why hadn't Logan said anything? And what had Keith been looking for in Logan's house? As a sheriff, Keith had access to all sorts of personal information, so it couldn't be something along those lines. What was it, then? For the life of her, she couldn't figure it out.
And Keith…
What if Nana and Logan were right? And assuming they were right-because after giving the matter some thought, she felt instinctively that it was all true-how could she have not seen it?
It was hard to admit that she could have misjudged him. She'd been dealing with the man for over ten years now, and though she'd never regarded him as a beacon of goodness, the idea of him sabotaging her personal life was something she'd never considered.
Who would do something like that? And why? The way Nana described it-that he thought of her as a toy he didn't want to share-had a ring of truth that made her neck tense as she drove.
What surprised her most was that in this small town, where secrets were nearly impossible to keep, she'd never even suspected it. It made her wonder about her friends and neighbors, but mostly it made her wonder about the men who'd asked her out in the first place. Why wouldn't they simply have told Keith to mind his own business?
Because, she reminded herself, he was a Clayton. And those men didn't argue for the same reason she didn't press Keith when it came to Ben. Sometimes it was easier just to get along.
She really hated that family.
Of course, she was getting ahead of herself here. Just because Logan and Nana suspected that Keith was up to something didn't necessarily make it true, she reminded herself. Which was why she was making this trip.
She took a left at the major intersection, heading toward an older neighborhood, one dominated by Craftsman-style homes and large, spacious porches. The streets were lined with massive trees, most at least a hundred years old, and she remembered that as a kid, it had always been her favorite neighborhood. It was a tradition among the families there to lavishly decorate the exterior of the homes on holidays, giving the place a picturesque, cheery feel.
His house was in the middle of the street, and she could just make out his car parked beneath the carport. Another car was parked behind it, and though it meant he had company, she didn't feel like coming back later. After pulling to a stop in front of the house, she put up the hood on her raincoat and stepped out into the storm.
She splashed through shallow puddles that had accumulated on the walkway and climbed the steps to the porch. Through the windows, she could see a lamp blazing in the corner of the living room; a television nearby was broadcasting the latest race from NASCAR. The visitor must have insisted on it; there wasn't a chance that the owner of the house had tuned it in. The man hated NASCAR, she knew.
She rang the doorbell and took a small step back. When his face appeared in the doorway, it took only an instant for him to recognize her. In his expression, she saw a mixture of surprise and curiosity, along with a trace of something else she hadn't expected: fear.
His gaze traveled quickly up the road in both directions before coming to rest on her.
"Beth," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"Hi, Adam." She smiled. "I was wondering if you had just a couple of minutes. I'd really like to talk to you."
"I've got company," he said in a low voice. "It's not a good time."
As if on cue, she heard a woman's voice call out from somewhere behind him, "Who is it?"
"Please?" Beth said.
He seemed to be calculating whether or not to close the door in her face before he sighed. "A friend," he called out. He turned. "Give me a minute, okay?"
A woman appeared over his shoulder, holding a beer and wearing jeans and a T-shirt that were a little too snug. Beth recognized her as a secretary in Adam's office. Noelle, or something like that.
"What does she want?" Noelle asked. It was obvious by her tone that the recognition was reciprocal.
"I don't know," Adam said. "She just dropped by, okay?"
"But I want to see the race," she pouted, draping an arm possessively around his waist.
"I know," he said. "I won't be long." He hesitated when he saw Noelle's expression. "I promise," he reassured her.
Beth wondered whether the whine she'd noticed in his tone had always been there, and if so, why she hadn't noticed it before. Either he'd tried to hide it or she'd been willing to ignore it. She suspected the latter, and the thought left her feeling a bit deflated.
Adam stepped outside and closed the door behind him. As he faced her, she couldn't tell whether he was frightened or angry, Or both.
"What is so important?" he asked. He sounded like an adolescent.
"Nothing important," she countered. "I just came by to ask you a question."
"About what?"
Beth willed him to look at her. "I want to know the reason you never called after our dinner date."
"What?" He shifted from one foot to the other, reminding her of a skittish horse. "You've got to be kidding."
"I'm not."
"I just didn't, okay? It didn't work out. I'm sorry. Is that what you're here for? An apology?"
It came out like a whine, and she found herself wondering why she'd ever gone out with him.
"No, I'm not here for an apology."
"Then what? Look, I've got company." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I've got to go."
As the question hung in the air, he glanced up and down the street again, and she realized what was going on.
"You're afraid of him, aren't you," she said.
Though he tried to hide it, she knew she'd hit a nerve. "Who? What are you talking about?"
"Keith Clayton. My ex."
He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he swallowed again in an attempt to deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She took a step closer. "What did he do? Did he threaten you! Scare you?"
"No! I don't want to talk about this," he said. He turned for the door and reached for the knob. She grabbed his arm to stop him, pushing her face close to his. His muscles tensed before relaxing.
"He did. didn't he?" she pressed. "I can't talk about this." He hesitated. "He…" Though she'd suspected that both Logan and Nana were right, though her own intuition had prompted her to come here in the first place, she felt something crumple inside when Adam confirmed it. "What did he do?"
"I can't tell you. You should understand that more than anyone. You know how he is. He'll…" He trailed off, as if suddenly realizing that he'd said too much. "He'll what?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. He's not going to do anything." He stood straighter. "It didn't work out between us. Just leave it at that."
He opened the door. He paused, drawing a deep breath, and she wondeted if he was about to change his mind. "Please don't come back," he said.
Beth sat on her front porch in the swing, staring at the sheets of rain coming down, her clothes still wet. For the most part, Nana left her alone with her thoughts, intruding only to hand her a cup of hot tea and a warm, homemade peanut-butter cookie, but she'd been uncharacteristically silent when she'd done so.
Beth sipped the tea before realizing she didn't want it. She wasn't cold; despite the relentless downpour, the air was warm and she could see fingers of mist crawling along the property. In the distance, the driveway seemed to vanish into the grayish blur.
Her ex would be here soon. Keith Clayton. Every now and then, she'd whisper the name, making it sound like a profanity.
She couldn't believe it. No, scratch that. She could-and did-believe it. Even though she'd wanted to slap Adam for being such a wimp about the situation, she knew she couldn't really blame him. He was a nice guy, but he wasn't, nor had he ever been, the kind of guy who would have been picked first for a pickup basketball or baseball game. There wasn't a chance that he would have stood up to her ex.
She only wished Adam had revealed how Keith had done it. it was easy to imagine; she had no doubt Adam rented his office from the Clayton family. Almost every business downtown did. Did he play the rent card? Or the "we can make life difficult for you" card? Or did he play the law enforcement card? How far had the man been willing to go?
Since she'd been sitting outside, she'd tried to figure out exactly how many times it had happened. There weren't that many, maybe five or six, she thought, that had ended in much the same sudden, inexplicable way it had ended with Adam. That was counting Frank, which was what? Seven years ago? Had he been following her, stalking on her, that long? The realization made her sick to her stomach.
And Adam…
What was it about the men she picked that made each of them roll over and play dead the moment Keith intervened? Yes, they were a powerful family, and yes, he was a sheriff, but whatever happened to being a man? Telling him to mind his own business! And why didn't they at least come to her and tell her? Instead, they'd slunk off with their tails between their legs. Between them and Keith, she hadn't had the best of luck with men. How did that saying go? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me? Was it her fault for picking such disappointing men?
Maybe, she admitted. Still, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that Keith had been working behind the scenes to keep things exactly the way he wanted. As if he owned her.