what Dylan had just said. Almost robotically she walked into her office and closed the door behind
her. “What happened?”
“He committed suicide this morning.”
“Suicide?” The word gripped Belle’s heart like a fist of ice. “Nate? I can’t believe that.”
“I was at the scene myself this morning.” Dylan spoke gently. “He hung himself.”
Belle leaned her back against the door and her legs didn’t want to hold her up any more. She
slid down the door until her butt hit the floor, her knees bent. She’d been emotionally off balance
when she’d heard Dylan’s voice, but now she felt numb to everything.
“Christie is making funeral arrangements and we’l have a memorial,” Dylan said. Belle knew
Christie always did better when she had a task to keep her busy. “She offered to call you, but Nate
would have wanted me to.”
A tear rolled down Belle’s cheek as Nate’s death started to hit her as real. “I’l drive to Bisbee
tomorrow. I need to pul a few things together and then I’l hit the road.”
“It’s a long drive from Houston,” Dylan said. “I can pick you up from the airport in Tucson if you’d
rather fly.”
16
***
him the information.
“Finances are tight and I’l need a car to get around anyway.” Belle would also need money for
a hotel, which meant she would have to take cash out of her savings for that and gas. It was times
like this she was grateful to have a hybrid car that got nearly fifty miles to the gallon. She did a quick
mental calculation to figure out how many gallons it would take to make a drive that was a thousand
miles one-way.
“It’l take me about fourteen or fifteen hours to get to Bisbee,” Belle continued, “so I’l probably
spend tomorrow night in Las Cruces, rather than driving straight through.”
“That’s good,” Dylan said. “Safer to get a good night’s sleep during a trip like that.”
She swallowed past the giant lump in her throat that had formed when she’d heard of Nate’s
death. “Thank you for calling me, Dylan.” She was surprised she managed to say his name without
falling apart even more than she was already.
“It’s good to hear your voice, Belle.” The sincerity in his tone only made her ache more. “I wish
it was under better circumstances.”
“Me, too.” She struggled to hold back sobs that she knew she couldn’t restrain for much longer.
“I’l see you at the funeral.”
“See you.” And then he was gone, the call disconnected.
Sobs broke free as Belle continued to sit with her back against the door while tears flowed down
her cheeks and memories flooded her mind.
Nate had been such a great guy. What had happened to him that would make him want to take
his own life?
The CoS had drifted apart over the years. In truth, Belle knew she had broken it irreparably when
she’d run away from home. The group had stayed friends, but Christie had told Belle that it had never
been the same. Christie had said that Dylan had changed, withdrawing from everyone in the CoS
but Nate. According to Christie, Dylan’s easy smile had vanished and he’d become more reserved.
What a shock it had been to hear Dylan’s voice after all this time.
Belle hadn’t forgiven herself for what she’d done to the CoS and Dylan, but she’d
had
to run. At
that point in her life, she knew she had no choice. She couldn’t take one more day of the abuse she’d
faced at the hands of Harvey Driscoll, her stepfather. She was positive that if Dylan had found out,
he would have ended up in prison for killing the bastard.
When she’d discovered that her stepfather had been instrumental in the murder of Dylan’s father,
it had pushed her over the edge. She’d known Dylan would never be able to look at her the same
way, and it would have given him another reason to kill Harvey.
So she’d run. And she’d never gone back.
Over the years, as Internet child pornography had grown, she’d worried sometimes that the
17
***
knowledge of it.
With her husband’s connections, Christie had tracked Belle down fifteen years ago. It had been
a shock to hear from Christie, but she’d been insistent on rebuilding a friendship, and they had
become close friends again. Every year Christie came out to Houston to visit Belle, most of the time
with Salvatore. Christie’s husband doted on his wife and liked to travel with her when business
allowed.
An insistent knock came at the office door, startling Belle. She glanced at the time on her cell
phone and saw that she’d been in her office a good half hour and it was the restaurant’s busiest time
of day.
“Just a minute,” she called out as she pushed herself to her feet while wiping tears from her
cheeks with the back of her hands.
“What the hel is going on, Belle?” Gerald shouted through the door.
Damn. The owner was not an easy man to be around and she did her best to avoid pissing him
off.
She pocketed the phone, turned and opened the door, and faced the scowling man who, at five-
six, was half an inch shorter than her. He was almost as big around as he was tall.
He glared at her. “Your makeup is a mess and your eyes are red.”
She wiped below her eyes with her fingertips in an attempt to wipe away smudges. “I just learned
a close friend of mine died.”
“Pull yourself together and cry on your own time.” He narrowed his gaze. “I have a restaurant to
run. Get back to work. Now.”
Her skin prickled. She had only worked for him for two months, but she’d grown to find he was
a cold man. This, however, was beyond anything she’d expected. She regretted leaving the
restaurant she had managed before this one. It had seemed like such a good opportunity at the time.
She straightened. “Give me five minutes to fix my makeup.”
“Make it three.” He started to turn away when she stopped him.
“I need to take off the rest of this week.” She straightened as he slowly looked back at her. “I
have to drive to Arizona for the services and the funeral. I’l be gone five days.”
“You are needed here.” His tone was icy.
“I’m needed there, too.” Belle tried to keep her hands from clenching into fists. “I’m leaving
tomorrow morning.”
He gestured toward her desk. “If you plan on leaving, then you’d better pack up your things
now.”
She stared at him, unable to believe his ultimatum. “My friend just died.”
“Your leaving isn’t going to bring your friend back.” He snarled the words. “So get your ass to
18
***
Belle turned and walked to the desk. She reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out her
purse. She hadn’t worked here long enough to accumulate anything.
She slung the purse over her shoulder and walked back to the shorter man. “You have my
address. You can mail my final check directly to me.”
His face turned a deep shade of red. “Don’t even think about coming back.”
She slipped past him and strode out the back door into the parking lot, letting the door slam shut
behind her with a final heavy
thud
.
The fury burning through Belle twisted with her need to grieve for Nate. Damn Gerald. Now she
was out of a job, and soon she’d be on her way out of town. She liked having a decent savings, but
it wasn’t going to last long with all that was hitting her at once. Not to mention she had a mortgage
and car payment to make.
And then there was Dylan. He had called her himself.
Just the sound of his voice had brought back memories so sweet they were almost too painful
to bear. All they had shared, all the plans they’d made…everything turned to dust.
She climbed into her red Prius and slammed that door, too. In moments she was headed to her
house, thirty minutes away from the restaurant.
When she finally reached the subdivision, she pulled her car up to the community mailboxes
and climbed out. Her box was lucky number thirteen. She jammed her key into the keyhole and
opened the small door before digging out junk mail and bills then locking the door again. She flipped
through the mail as she walked back to the car and stopped before she reached for the door handle.
A card with no return address was in the pile of mail. It was a postcard from Bisbee, a photo of
the Copper Queen Hotel on the front. Her brow furrowed and she climbed into her car and shut the
door behind her. She tossed the rest of the mail onto the passenger seat before focusing on the
postcard.
She flipped it over. When she saw the untidy penmanship and started to read, she felt blood
drain from her face.
Belle,
You’ve come a long way from that teenage girl who had to leave. You’ve done well, and
I’m proud of you.
I’ll never forget when your big brown dog bit me on the ass. Don’t let your past bite yours.
Please be careful.
Love,
19
***
Belle sat and stared at the note, reading it over and over. Nate had written this, but now he was
dead. It was like hearing from the beyond.
The odd thing was the incident he mentioned and the fact that he’d gotten it a little wrong. She’d
always known Nate to have perfect recall, so this was strange. Her dog had been white, not brown.
Tears filled her eyes, blurring the words. Why would he send this postcard, then kill himself?
Had it been his way of saying goodbye?
She set the postcard on the seat next to the pile of junk mail before driving the rest of the way
down the street to her house. She pulled her car into her garage, lowered the door, and then grabbed
her purse and all the mail before going into her home.
Inside, after she’d tossed aside her purse and discarded the junk mail, she stood in the middle
of the kitchen and gripped Nate’s postcard. She closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath.
Right now nothing mattered but going back to Bisbee and being with her old friends as they said
goodbye to Nate.
Her mind jumped to what she had run away from as a teenager and she shuddered and opened
her eyes. As far as she knew, Harvey, her abuser, was still in Bisbee.
A weight came crashing down on her. She’d been through years of counseling where she’d
learned to accept that the sexual abuse had not been her fault. Her stepfather had shamed her and
capitalized on her self-guilt to have her buy into her shame and take it into debasement.
Fear that the abuse would escalate had caused her to run. She swallowed past the painful
tightness in her throat. For all she knew the bastard could have ended up killing her.
During her counseling sessions since, she’d been told she needed to face her abuser for closure.
Now the perfect opportunity was waiting for her in Bisbee. Her hands shook and her heart palpitated.
She didn’t think she’d ever be able to face the man without kil ing him.
~~*~~
Belle guided the car along the highway, glad she was finally closing in on the Texas/New Mexico
border. Not much longer and she’d make it to Las Cruces. She was exhausted from driving and very
much looking forward to a hotel room with clean linens and hopefully a comfortable bed.
Truth was, she hated to drive, especially across desolate stretches of land, and there was a lot
of that through Texas and New Mexico. It wouldn’t be so bad once she entered Cochise County in
the lower southeast corner of Arizona.
Driving gave her far too much time to think, and dwel ing on things she couldn’t change wasn’t
what she’d wanted to do. Thoughts of Nate, her stepfather, and Dylan continued to bombard her.
And Dylan being the one to call her—she hadn’t been able to forget the sound of his voice and
20
***
She tried to think about good times. Their old hangout had been the Puma Den, a popular pizza
joint in San Jose, a subdivision of Bisbee. The pizza place had been named after their high school’s
mascot, the puma. She smiled to herself as she remembered the seven of them crowded around a
table eating garbage pizza, talking about school, sports, band, and anything else that might come
up. Nate had always had to have anchovies, which she’d picked off her pieces.
Then there were the plans she and Dylan had made for the future…the things they would do
and the places they would travel to. One of their favorite dreams was their honeymoon. They would
go someplace with snow and cuddle up in a cabin in front of a fire. Snow was something they got
little of in southern Arizona, and it had seemed so romantic when they were young.
Everything had been romantic until her life had fallen apart. Her throat ached. She had to stop
thinking of Dylan in that way. It had been over long ago.
Belle checked her speed and saw that it had crept up too high. She put the car on cruise control
as her thoughts remained on the Circle of Seven and Dylan.
The CoS had been an odd group, but they’d been together since their elementary days. What
they had gone through together when they were young, thanks to Mr. Norton, had created a tight
friendship that survived even the social complexities of junior high and high school. The seven of