Better Left Buried Read online

  “Wait.” Adam jogged to catch up with her. “Please.”

  Her key was already in the lock. “What am I waiting for?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He covered her eyes, pushed open the door, and steered her inside. His heartbeat pounded at her back. She held her breath, terrified of what she was walking into.

  “Can I look?”

  Adam pulled his hand away. “Go ahead.”

  A scant trail of rose petals lead down the hall to the bedroom.

  “Adam, I don’t—” The scene looked like a staged offer for sex.

  “No, not that. God, Harm. Come on.” He looked hurt.

  She followed him down the hallway, a lump of fear swelling in her throat. Petals, in the shape of a heart, covered the bed. In the center was a black velvet box.

  She’d have rather had sex with him than open it.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She waited for him to get down on one knee, barely able to breathe. “Adam, what’s going on?”

  He took her hand and she pulled it away to keep him from seeing the bandage.

  “Please, it’s not what you think. Open it.”

  She opened the box, relieved to see that it wasn’t a diamond inside, but a heart-shaped silver ring. The kind that went along with a promise. She pretended not to know its significance.

  “It’s pretty, thank you.”

  He took the ring from the box and slid it on her left ring finger.

  “What I did was inexcusable. I’m sorry. I know things are confusing right now. You’ve got a lot on your plate, but that ring is my promise to never, ever hurt you again.” He pulled her to him by her wrist, his hand directly over the tattoo, and kissed her.

  She kissed him back, knowing that sooner or later she’d have to come clean.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The night was tense, full of interrupted sleep and “what if” conversations about the appointment that came faster than Harmony would have liked. She’d managed to keep the tattoo a secret, but Adam stared directly at her wrist as she entered the municipal building housing Dr. Bennett’s office.

  “I feel sick.” She pulled her hand away, nearly closing him in the door.

  A police cruiser sat parked two spaces over from Adam’s truck in the lot behind the building. It wasn’t unusual for someone to get a police escort, but Harmony feared they were there for her.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Adam said. “Just keep it together.”

  He didn’t live in the same world as she did, apparently. There was no feasible happy ending. She’d considered the alternatives most of the night and instead of sleeping, ran over scenarios from tracking down her mother to running away. Her mother had managed to outrun consequences most of her life. There was something simplistically brilliant in that.

  “Where do I tell them my mother is?” She stopped in front of the door to Bennett’s suite and waited for Adam to open it.

  “Maybe it’s time you start telling the truth.” She knew he didn’t just mean to them. “Six months until you’re eighteen, Harmony. If you’re honest, maybe they’ll work with instead of against you.”

  “I think it’s already too late.”

  The first thing she heard when she walked through the door was Sylvie, her case worker’s, singsong voice coming from behind a partly closed door. Harmony nodded to the receptionist, who waved for her to have a seat. There was no need for her to check in. Everyone was expecting her. You could have heard a pin drop.

  “Harmony, you made it.” Sylvie’s forced smile gave her away as she walked out of Bennett’s office. She’d dressed in a navy blue suit for the occasion, her dark hair neatly tied back, emphasizing her cartoon princess eyes. At twenty-nine-years-old, she could easily pass for a high school student and she had a reassuring way about her. The worst of her profession hadn’t yet caught up with her. Bitterness was an eventuality. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  Adam nodded, clearly not seeing the uniformed officer behind Bennett, now standing in the doorway.

  Harmony’s heart pounded as fight or flight mode kicked in.

  There was no way of her getting out of there without a convincing ruse. She moaned, clenching her stomach with both arms.

  “Ohhhhh.”

  “Harm, what’s the matter?” Adam grabbed her arm.

  She squeezed her legs together and doubled over. “Cramps,” she said, doing her best imitation of pain. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  There was a hint of suspicion in Sylvie’s expression as she offered to help. “Here, I’ll take you. We’ll be right back,” she said to Bennett as she ushered Harmony out the door.

  Harmony shuffled along, struggling not to break character and run. She hadn’t planned on an escort, but she’d make do.

  The county building had a small two-stall bathroom on each floor and, of course, Sylvie insisted on coming in with her.

  Harmony knew the layout from having been in there before and locked herself in the far stall. The toilet had recently been cleaned and the seat was up. She dropped it with a bang.

  “You okay?” Sylvie asked.

  “Mmmhhmmm.”

  “You want to talk before we go back in there?”

  Harmony unzipped her purse, as if searching for feminine hygiene products. “I didn’t exactly come in here to talk.”

  “Your mother called me last night, Harmony. Can you guess what about?” Harmony groaned to keep from answering. “She told me your boyfriend hit you. Is that true?”

  “What do you think? She slings accusations and then doesn’t show up to address them face-to-face. Says something, doesn’t it? She’s probably drugged out of her mind in some flop house somewhere.”

  “She’s not. She stayed at the shelter and is planning to go for outpatient treatment today. She left last night because she didn’t want to come here. She’s struggling, and whatever Adam did upset her enough for her to think you’re better off away from him. She doesn’t think she can stay sober and take care of you.”

  “I take care of myself.”

  “It’s only six months,” Sylvie said as if passing a sentence. “After that, you’re on your own.”

  She’d been on her own for as long as she could remember. This time was no different. She made more noise with her bag and did her best to sound distressed. “Crap.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t have anything with me.” She alluded to being unprepared for her period. Some things didn’t need to be said between women. “Do you have anything?” The machines on the wall were perpetually empty, but she heard Sylvie check just in case.

  “I didn’t bring my purse.”

  Harmony had noticed, which is why she was asking. “Please. It’s really bad. I can’t walk around like this.”

  Sylvie huffed, clearly fighting the battle between trusting her instincts and helping someone who claimed to be in need.

  “Please?” Harmony sniffled as though she were about to cry.

  “Fine. I’ll be right back, but this better not be a trick.”

  Harmony flew out of the stall and locked the door the second Sylvie closed it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Harmony turned over the metal trash can and reached for the lever of the frosted glass window that had been her planned escape hatch all along. The narrow space offered little room for egress, which was probably why Sylvie left her alone in the first place.

  She had underestimated her determination.

  Rust colored corrosion cemented the handle in place. It took Harmony hanging her body weight from it to force it open. The glass panels stuck in the dirty track and only opened a little better than three-quarters of the way. Harmony tossed her bag into the side alley and hoisted herself up with her sleeves covering her hands for protection.

  Bennett’s office was on a ground floor that was more like a basement, the building cut into what was now a concrete hill.

  “Harmony.” Sylvie’s voice came thro
ugh the locked door. “Harmony, open up.” Harmony dangled half-in and half-out of the window, her hips and the buttons on her jeans making it hard to get the rest of the way through. “Harmony, come on. Open this door.”

  It was only a matter of time until she sounded the alarms.

  “I’ll be right there.” She turned her head to project her voice at the door, hoping Sylvie wouldn’t notice the distance.

  “Unlock this door,” Sylvie whispered. “This isn’t funny.”

  She had that right. It wasn’t the least bit amusing.

  Harmony pulled herself off-center so she was more out of the window than in and braced for the slight drop. She hit the concrete palms first and a sharp pain shot up both her wrists.

  “Shit.” Harmony shook out her hands and grabbed her bag.

  Sylvie was still knocking when Harmony started to run.

  There was no going back.

  She was officially a fugitive.

  The bus line only a few blocks away from Bennett’s office was the cheapest option to get out of town, but also the most likely to get her caught. The bus was too indirect and certainly Sylvie, the cop, or both would be waiting at the next stop to drag her off to Midtown.

  Cooperating came off the table the minute she had decided to flee.

  Her feet pounded the pavement, her flat-bottomed canvas sneakers doing nothing to absorb the impact. She was short of breath and nervous about running through the alley where she’d been attacked.

  She managed three city blocks before the stitch in her side slowed her down. She cast intermittent glances over her shoulder and found no one, not even Adam, chasing her. It was only a matter of time. She walked quickly, pinching the site of the burning pain until it subsided and she was able to jog again. There was a cab stand in front of a hotel less than a quarter-mile away. She pulled the twenty she had taken from Adam while he was sleeping out of her pocket. Stealing his last twenty bucks, given the circumstances, was the least of the things he had to forgive her for. She picked up speed, her bag pounding against her back despite her trying to steady it. The air burned as it moved into her lungs and she all but collapsed by the time she reached the row of waiting taxis.

  She opened the back door of the one closest to her and got in.

  “27 Poplar Street, Reston.” Coughs punctuated every other word. The dark-skinned man eyed her warily. “Please, hurry. It’s an emergency.”

  He pulled out of the line and started the meter, heading toward town.

  “Whereabouts is that address in Reston?” He had GPS, but didn’t bother to use it.

  Harmony waited until her breath normalized. “Pinewood Estates. You know it?”

  He nodded and turned on the radio.

  She peeked over his shoulder to see him doing ten miles per hour under the speed limit.

  “Is there any way you can drive faster, please? My mother’s sick. I need to get to her as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, Miss.” The outdated car labored under the acceleration.

  The lie about her mother brought to light doubt that Lance’s was the best place she could be headed, given the circumstances. She tried to come up with an alternative, but the repeated vibrating of her cell phone demanded her attention. She checked the screen and seeing it was Adam, sent him directly to voicemail. A text message followed: “Where are you?” She didn’t answer. There was nothing he could do and she knew it, the way she knew it was wrong having gone back to him in the first place. She’d felt it the entire previous night. He stopped being part of the solution when he hit her and started being part of the problem when her mother told Sylvie about it.

  Harmony shook her head at the thought of her mother selling her up the river.

  The betrayal stung worse than any in the long line of those that came before it. Addicts were selfish, they lied, and stooped to unimaginable lows in the pursuit of their drug of choice, but this was none of that. Her mother had made a conscious decision to hand her over to a system she’d fought so hard to stay out of. She’d sacrificed her, and in that moment, the love she told herself she was supposed to feel for her mother turned to hate.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  2:00 AM.

  The Pinewood Estates trailer park was quiet except for the low hum of The Cure playing in the living room where Harmony and Lance’s escapade had started. She rolled onto her elbow and picked at the itchy scabs where the knife cuts on her arm had all but healed. The tattoo, farther down, was still a bit raw.

  “Thanks for letting me hide out.” She hadn’t given him much choice in the matter, showing up on his doorstep and seducing him on sight.

  “You’re very welcome.” A satisfied grin spread across his face as he lit the end of a joint and inhaled.

  She sat up and reached out for a hit.

  A bit of the sheet covered her lap, but she was otherwise naked, scars exposed and unashamed.

  “Sooooo,” Lance said.

  “So.” Harmony held her breath, needing the escape of the high she’d condemned her mother for chasing all of her life. The pot served as a filter, straining away the disappointment she knew she should be more than used to.

  Lance pulled on a pair of black boxers and Harmony saw his back scratched from his shoulders to his hips. He wandered into the living room and returned with her clothes, a lit cigarette hanging between his lips. He took a drag and sat down next to her.

  “We need to talk.”

  No good conversation ever started that way and she went immediately on the defensive. “About what?” She shook a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand and lit it off his, reinstating the guardedness she’d accidentally let down.

  “About us. You’ve been gone for months and suddenly, you’re … just … here, all of the time. I enjoy being with you, but I’m not sure I’m ready for full-time, yet.” He looked down when he said it. “I only wanted to help a friend out.”

  Friend.

  She hadn’t expected more, but the word stung.

  “I don’t know what you think I’m looking for, Lance, but it’s not like that.” Harmony set her cigarette in the ashtray and pulled her shirt over her head. “I came here to get high and lay low. I need a place to stay for a night or two while I figure some things out. I can’t go home and Adam’s is the first place anyone would look.”

  “So, you two are still together?” He didn’t hide his emotions nearly as well as she did.

  “Oh, yeah. Of course. I mean, I didn’t tell him about us, but he knows I didn’t tattoo myself. I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty?” Harmony finished dressing and grabbed her purse. “And I’ve got a headache. You have any aspirin?”

  “I think so, in the bathroom. I’ll check. Are you sure—”

  “I don’t want to keep talking about this, Lance. We’re friends, and as my friend, I hope you’ll let me hang out for the night. I’ll be out of your hair by morning. Is that all right?”

  “I guess so, sure.”

  “Then you mind if I get a drink?”

  “No. Go ahead.”

  Harmony wasn’t looking for a savior and Lance wasn’t necessarily looking to be one.

  She wandered into the kitchen and quietly retrieved two of the sleeping pills she’d used to drug Adam the night she took his truck.

  “Soda, okay?” She listened to Lance rummaging through the medicine cabinet and opened the two liter without him answering. “Soda it is.” She dropped the pills in his glass and poured, the carbonation helping to dissolve them.

  “Acetaminophen work?” He came out of the bathroom holding a bottle of generic pills.

  “That’s great, thanks.” She took two to keep up with the distraction and handed him the tainted drink.

  Cotton mouth was a beast and he knocked back the whole glass in two gulps. He set the plastic cup on the counter and leaned back with his arms crossed over his tattooed chest, staring at her in way that had her puzzled.

  “What?” she said.

  “You’re a tough one to rea
d.”

  “How so?” She hurriedly rinsed their cups, careful not to be seen scrutinizing for residue.

  “I don’t know.” He yawned and stretched. “Here I am thinking maybe we kind of sort of had a connection—”

  “As friends.” She used his words against him.

  “Yeah.” His face twisted into a smug grin. “One minute you’re throwing yourself at me and the next it’s like, ‘Hey, thanks for the screw.’ Most girls—”

  She held a finger to his lips. “I’m not ‘most girls’.”

  “Tell me about it.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Can we go to bed now, please?”

  “Definitely.” He yawned. “You really tired me out.”

  She checked that his keys were still on the table and went back into the bedroom to wait for him to fall asleep.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Twenty-four hours was the longest Brea had gone without talking to Harmony in years, but when the call finally came at three in the morning, she second guessed herself answering it. Nothing good happened at that hour.

  “Hello?” Her voice and eyelids were heavy with sleep.

  “Brea, it’s me.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She cupped her hand around the mouthpiece to contain the noise. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to talk. Can you get out?”

  “Now? Are you serious?” She could, but didn’t necessarily want to. Things were turning around for her, fast, and knife-wielding Harmony wasn’t a girl she was sure she wanted to be alone with, especially not once she admitted that she and Jaxon had been to the house on Maple Avenue twice. “It’s really late. My mom’s going to be up for work in a couple of hours—”

  “Please? I’ll get you back in time, I promise. I don’t know how much longer I have left before they send me away. I skipped out on my appointment with Bennett and they’re looking for me.”

  “All right. One hour, but that’s it.” Brea regretted it as soon as she said it.