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Authors: Brandilyn Collins
Tags: Christian - Suspense
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have made it through the rest of that evenin. Trent and I talked about all the murders, goin over everything we knew, which wasn't much. All the while my mind chanted, Stevie could have killed her. Stevie could have killed her.
If Trent noticed I was on edge, he didn't let on.
With supper done and dishes in the sink, I was talked out. We moved into the livin room. I took the rockin chair, leavin the couch for Trent. No use sittin close to him and gettin his hopes up.
"I need to tell you something." He stretched his left arm across the back of the couch.
"Shoot."
"I'm moving to New York."
I gaped at him. "New York ?"
A smile crept across his face.
"Why? How?"
"The New York Times wants me to come write for them."
The New York Times ? "Trent, that's amazing! That's the big time."
His gaze dropped to the floor. Slowly he nodded. "Yup."
What was he holdin back? "Why aren't you more excited?"
"I am excited. Guess I'm just trying to soak it all in."
"Is it because of your feature on Amaryllis?"
"Gone to Ground" was wonderfully written, capturing the heartache, the questions, and the sense of fate in Amaryllis after the murders started. It painted the picture of a small town turned upside downâand still lookin to turn itself aright. Trent started work on the article after the murder of Carla Brewster. After the piece ran in The Jackson Bugle, Zeke submitted it for a Pulitzer Prize in the feature writing category. And lo and behold, it won.
Trent rubbed his long fingers against the couch. "That's what they said. I was blown away when I got the call. But now I'm just wondering what a Southern boy like me's gonna do in New York."
"Show em what you've got, that's what."
Trent took a deep breath and licked his lips. Sat up straighter. Clearly he was about to say whatever was eatin at him. My heart did a two-step. Was it Stevie?
The air around us changed.
"What is it, Trent?"
He hesitated. "You want to come with me?"
Relief hit me, followed by shock. I stared at him. " Me ?"
He nodded, color tingeing his cheeks. He picked at his shirt, one foot in a nervous pump.
I let out a tinny laugh. "What would a Southern girl like me do in New York?"
Trent raised a shoulder. "Explore the city. Think of it, Deena." He leaned forward. "All the sights of New York. The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty. Central Park. The neighborhoods and stores and crazy places you can't even dream of in Amaryllis. We could get married. You'd get away from the killing here. Be safe."
Married. Married . "Like New York is safe?"
"A lot more than here. I could stop worrying about you."
My pulse went fuzzy. What to say? "This is . . . amazing. I still can't believe what's happened to you. Remember that time in the school cafeteria during seventh grade? You told me when you grew up you wanted to own a successful business. And I remember thinkin, wow, wish I had a dream like thatâ"
"Deena."
"Instead of just wishin people would quit teasin Stevieâ"
"Deena."
"When I couldn't seem to stop itâ"
Trent half stood and caught my wrist. "Be quiet." My mouth hung open. He was close enough for me to see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. "Just . . . listen to me."
"Okay."
He let my arm go slowly, as if makin sure I wouldn't flit away. He eased back to the edge of the couch.
Outside my neighbor's dog barked. A car drove by. Trent and I looked at each other.
"Thing is . . ." Trent swallowed. "That day in seventh grade? I only told you half my dreamâand of course it never came true. But the other half was that you were in it. You were with me."
Not a single word would come to my tongue.
"I've loved you since fifth grade, Deena. All the way through high school, when you had a crush on Ted Arnoldson. And later when you married John Cotter. When it leaked out about all his girlfriends, I wanted to strangle him 'cause he'd hurt you. I was happy when you divorced him. I knew I'd finally get a chance . . ."
How had I
If Trent noticed I was on edge, he didn't let on.
With supper done and dishes in the sink, I was talked out. We moved into the livin room. I took the rockin chair, leavin the couch for Trent. No use sittin close to him and gettin his hopes up.
"I need to tell you something." He stretched his left arm across the back of the couch.
"Shoot."
"I'm moving to New York."
I gaped at him. "New York ?"
A smile crept across his face.
"Why? How?"
"The New York Times wants me to come write for them."
The New York Times ? "Trent, that's amazing! That's the big time."
His gaze dropped to the floor. Slowly he nodded. "Yup."
What was he holdin back? "Why aren't you more excited?"
"I am excited. Guess I'm just trying to soak it all in."
"Is it because of your feature on Amaryllis?"
"Gone to Ground" was wonderfully written, capturing the heartache, the questions, and the sense of fate in Amaryllis after the murders started. It painted the picture of a small town turned upside downâand still lookin to turn itself aright. Trent started work on the article after the murder of Carla Brewster. After the piece ran in The Jackson Bugle, Zeke submitted it for a Pulitzer Prize in the feature writing category. And lo and behold, it won.
Trent rubbed his long fingers against the couch. "That's what they said. I was blown away when I got the call. But now I'm just wondering what a Southern boy like me's gonna do in New York."
"Show em what you've got, that's what."
Trent took a deep breath and licked his lips. Sat up straighter. Clearly he was about to say whatever was eatin at him. My heart did a two-step. Was it Stevie?
The air around us changed.
"What is it, Trent?"
He hesitated. "You want to come with me?"
Relief hit me, followed by shock. I stared at him. " Me ?"
He nodded, color tingeing his cheeks. He picked at his shirt, one foot in a nervous pump.
I let out a tinny laugh. "What would a Southern girl like me do in New York?"
Trent raised a shoulder. "Explore the city. Think of it, Deena." He leaned forward. "All the sights of New York. The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty. Central Park. The neighborhoods and stores and crazy places you can't even dream of in Amaryllis. We could get married. You'd get away from the killing here. Be safe."
Married. Married . "Like New York is safe?"
"A lot more than here. I could stop worrying about you."
My pulse went fuzzy. What to say? "This is . . . amazing. I still can't believe what's happened to you. Remember that time in the school cafeteria during seventh grade? You told me when you grew up you wanted to own a successful business. And I remember thinkin, wow, wish I had a dream like thatâ"
"Deena."
"Instead of just wishin people would quit teasin Stevieâ"
"Deena."
"When I couldn't seem to stop itâ"
Trent half stood and caught my wrist. "Be quiet." My mouth hung open. He was close enough for me to see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. "Just . . . listen to me."
"Okay."
He let my arm go slowly, as if makin sure I wouldn't flit away. He eased back to the edge of the couch.
Outside my neighbor's dog barked. A car drove by. Trent and I looked at each other.
"Thing is . . ." Trent swallowed. "That day in seventh grade? I only told you half my dreamâand of course it never came true. But the other half was that you were in it. You were with me."
Not a single word would come to my tongue.
"I've loved you since fifth grade, Deena. All the way through high school, when you had a crush on Ted Arnoldson. And later when you married John Cotter. When it leaked out about all his girlfriends, I wanted to strangle him 'cause he'd hurt you. I was happy when you divorced him. I knew I'd finally get a chance . . ."
How had I
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