Nicholas Sparks - The Best of Me

He nodded and looked at her, neither of them moving. Finally, he took a slight step backward, breaking the spell, and Amanda felt herself exhale. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.

After she slid onto the front seat of her car, Dawson closed the door behind her. His body was outlined against the setting sun, almost giving her the impression that he was a stranger. Feeling suddenly awkward, she pawed through her purse to find her keys, noting that her hands were trembling.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said.

“Anytime,” he answered.

Peeking in the rearview mirror as she pulled away, she saw that Dawson was still standing where she’d left him, as if hoping she’d change her mind and turn the car around. She felt the stirrings of something dangerous, something she’d been trying to deny.

He still loved her, she was certain of that now, and the realization was intoxicating. She knew it was wrong, and she tried to force the feeling away, but Dawson and their past had taken root once more, and she could no longer deny the simple truth that for the first time in years, she’d felt like she’d finally come home.

Ted watched little miss cheerleader pull out onto the road in front of Tuck’s and decided that she looked pretty damn good for her age. But then she’d always been a looker, and back in the day, there’d been many times when he’d thought about having his way with her. Just throw her into the car and use her up and bury her where no one could find her. But Dawson’s daddy had intervened, saying the girl was off-limits, and back then Ted used to think that Tommy Cole knew what he was doing.

But Tommy Cole didn’t know anything. Took Ted until prison to figure that out, and by the time he was free he hated Tommy Cole almost as much as he hated Dawson. Tommy hadn’t done anything after his son had humiliated them both. He had turned them into laughingstocks, which was why Tommy ended up being first on Ted’s list once he got out. Wasn’t hard to make it seem like Tommy had drunk himself to death that night. All he’d had to do was shoot him up with grain alcohol once he’d passed out, and the next thing you know, Tommy had choked on his own vomit.

And now Dawson was finally going to get crossed off Ted’s list, too. As he waited for Amanda to clear out, he wondered what the two of them had been doing up there. Probably making up for all those years apart, all twisted up in the sheets and screaming each other’s names. If he had to guess, he’d say she was married, and he wondered if her husband suspected what was going on. Probably not. It wasn’t the kind of thing a woman liked to advertise, especially a woman who drove a car like that. She probably married some rich peckerhead and spent her afternoons at the salon getting her nails done, just like her mama did. Her husband was probably some doctor or lawyer, too vain to even consider that his wife might be fooling around behind his back.

She was probably good at keeping secrets, though. Most women were. Hell, he should know. Married or not, made no difference to him; if they offered, he took. Didn’t matter if it was kin, either. He’d been with half the women out on the property, even the ones married to his cousins. Their daughters, too. He and Claire, Calvin’s wife, had been going at it a couple of times a week for the past six years, and Claire hadn’t said a thing to anyone. Ella probably knew what was going on, since she was the one who washed his drawers, but she kept her mouth shut, too, and she’d keep it shut if she knew what was good for her. A man’s business was his own.

The taillights of the car flashed red as Amanda finally rounded the curve, vanishing from sight. She hadn’t spotted his truck — no surprise, since he’d pulled off the road, hiding it as best he could in a thicket. He figured he’d wait a few minutes, just to make sure she wasn’t coming back. Last thing he wanted was witnesses, but he was still wondering how best to handle this. If Abee had seen Dawson this morning, it was sure as hell certain that Dawson had seen Abee, which would have gotten him thinking, so maybe Dawson was just sitting up there waiting, too, shotgun in his lap. Maybe he had plans of his own, just in case his kin did indeed show up.

Like the last time.

Ted tapped the Glock against his thigh, thinking that the key was to surprise Dawson. Get close enough to take the shot, then pitch the body in the trunk and ditch the rental car somewhere out on the property. File off the VIN and set the whole thing on fire, until it was nothing but a husk. Getting rid of the body wouldn’t be hard, either. Just weight it down, toss it in the river, and let water and time do the rest. Or maybe bury it somewhere in the forest, where no one was likely to find it. It was hard to prove murder without a body. Little miss cheerleader or even the sheriff could suspect all they wanted, but suspicion was a long way from proof. Things would get riled up, of course, but they’d eventually pass. After that, he and Abee were going to sort things out. And let’s just say that if Abee wasn’t careful, he might find himself at the bottom of the river, too.

Finally ready, Ted exited the car and began his advance into the woods.

Dawson set the wrench aside and closed the hood, finished with the engine. Ever since Amanda left, he’d been unable to shake the sensation of being watched. The first time it had happened, he’d gripped the wrench hard as he’d peeked out around the hood, but there was no one there.

Now, walking to the entrance of the garage, he scanned the area, taking in the scene. He saw the oaks and pines with kudzu climbing their trunks and noticed that the shadows had begun to lengthen. A hawk passed overhead, its outline flickering across the drive, and starlings called from the branches above. All else was quiet in the early summer heat.

But someone was watching him. Someone was out there, he was sure of it, and he flashed on an image of the shotgun he had buried beneath the oak tree near the corner of the house all those years ago — not deep, maybe a foot down, wrapped in oilcloth and sealed from the elements. Tuck had guns in the house, too, probably under his bed, but Dawson wasn’t sure they were warranted. There was nothing out here as far as he could tell, but in that instant a blur of movement flashed near a clump of trees on the far side of the drive.

When he tried to zero in on it, though, he saw nothing. He blinked, waiting for more and trying to decide whether it had been his imagination, when the hairs on the back of his neck slowly began to rise.

Ted moved cautiously, knowing that rushing in would be foolish. He suddenly wished he’d brought Abee along. Would have been good to have Abee close in from another direction. But at least Dawson was still up there, unless he’d decided to walk out of the place. Ted would have heard the car start up.

He wondered where Dawson was exactly. House or garage, or somewhere outside? He hoped he wasn’t inside; hard to get up to the house without being noticed. Tuck’s place was set in a small clearing, with the creek out back, but there were windows on all sides and Dawson might see him approach. In that case, it might be better if he hung back and waited until Dawson finally came out. Problem with that was Dawson could go out the front or the back, and Ted couldn’t be in two places at once.

What he really needed to do was cause a distraction. That way, when Dawson came out to investigate, he could wait until Dawson was close enough before pulling the trigger. He felt confident with the Glock up to about thirty feet.