What’s Yours Is Mine

Sample Chapter

I have a secret. I’ve kept it for so long, it’s a part of me, like my hair, my eyes, my lips, my skin. My heart.

This secret beats to its own rhythm, a constant reminder of the things of my past, things I cannot escape.

I’d tell you my secret, but then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.

And I would die.

CHAPTER ONE

“Leah Gibson is dead.”

Those words hit me like a sledgehammer to my chest. My heart beat fast, and the pounding pulse in my ears muted the deputy’s voice for a moment.

“Mr. Langford,” he said, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed. “Ryan?”

“Yes,” I stammered.

“Mrs. Gibson was your ex?”

“Well …” That was only partly true. I blinked hard. Had Leah told someone about us?

Was. That one word was so final.

I wish I could go back, just thirty seconds, and not open the front door when I’d heard the knock. My mind raced. How did he know my connection to Leah? She’d been talking, but to whom?

“What happened?” I looked past him, at his empty squad car. “Where’s Avery?”

“Mrs. Gibson’s daughter? She appears to be missing.”

“No!” I couldn’t wrap my thoughts around what he was saying. “What happened?” I repeated.

The deputy–his nameplate read “Lopez”–stared at me with dark, wary eyes. “Leah was shot in her home last night. Both her husband and daughter are gone.”

“Gone where?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Did Joel take her?”

“It’s possible Mr. Gibson–Joel–did. We don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I put a hand against the doorjamb so I wouldn’t fall down. “What happened to them? Did someone hurt Avery?”

“There is no sign of Avery or Joel.” He gazed at me firmly. “I need to ask you some questions.”

I nodded. The dry August heat enveloped me, and I labored to breathe.

“When was the last time you saw Leah?” Lopez had a smooth voice, almost too perfect to be discussing her in the past tense.

“I … uh … it was …” I had to think. “About a month ago. I don’t … didn’t … see Leah that often.”

That’s the last time I spoke to Leah, I didn’t say. I’d seen Leah and Avery since that time, but I wasn’t going to tell Lopez that.

He nodded and wrote down what I’d said in a small black notebook. “How long since you and Leah dated?”

“Eleven years.”

He glanced out to the fields that surrounded my small house. “And you moved here around the same time as Leah and her family.”

Here was Rocky Ford, Colorado, a small farming community almost sixty miles east of Pueblo. Rocky Ford wasn’t much, a tiny town on the eastern plains known for its cantaloupe and watermelon. My tiny rented house is northeast of town, and thirteen miles west of La Junta, near where Leah lives.

“That’s right,” I said.

“A few months ago.”

I nodded.

“Why come here?” he asked.

“I like the solitude,” I said.

The pen stopped moving. “Did you follow the Gibsons here?”

“Rocky Ford’s nice.”

“Ha ha.” His smile held no mirth. “Yeah, people love this place.” He poked the pen at me. “Did the Gibsons follow you here?”

“I don’t know. I came here because I want to be left alone.”

He ignored the last part. “Sounds like maybe you weren’t ready to let Mrs. Gibson go.”

I shrugged. He was right, and wrong. “It wasn’t like that. I needed a change of scenery.”

“To Rocky Ford.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

“Yes.”

The pounding in my ears remained, and each breath I took was a struggle. I told myself to focus. I wanted to yell at Lopez to leave, then I’d drive like the devil was after me to Leah’s house. I had to find out what happened to her, and to Avery. And Joel. I gritted my teeth.

“How much did you see the Gibsons?” Lopez asked.

“I sometimes saw Leah at the Walmart in La Junta.”

“Just saw her?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t talk to her?”

“Not that I recall.”

He made a show of mulling that over before he went on. “You and the Gibsons both moved here from North Platte, Nebraska.”

“Yes.”

Lopez had done some homework before he’d come to my house. How much did he know?

“You don’t interact with the Gibsons,” he said.

I didn’t say anything.

“Did you hang out with Joel?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know him.”

“I thought I saw you and him at the Red Dog a while back.”

The Red Dog Saloon is a local bar on Third Street in La Junta. I had run into Joel there about a month back, a chance encounter where he’d been drunk and had gotten mad at me for bumping into him too hard. In a small town, even little things get noticed.

“I saw him,” I said. “I barely talked to him.”

“About what?”

“I said ‘Excuse me,’ and he tried to make a thing of it. I told you, I don’t know him.”

I locked eyes with him, hoping he wouldn’t notice I’d just lied again.

“You looked like you were angry with him,” Lopez said.

“How well do you know Joel?” I asked.

He scratched his chin with the pen. “I’ve seen him around. He works at the Mountain Prairie in Las Animas, right?”

Mountain Prairie Farms is a pig farm in Las Animas, about twenty miles east of La Junta.

“That’s what I heard,” I said.

Lopez nodded thoughtfully. “His shoulders.”

“What?”

He tapped the pen against his shoulder. “When I saw Joel, his shoulders were tight. The way he sat, it’s like he was waiting for something bad to happen. And his face–it was angry.”

“Joel has a temper.”

“He does?”

“Yes.”

I saw his eyes working that through, wondering if Joel was responsible for what had happened to Leah … and Avery. The husband was always a prime suspect. And the ex, too.

“I thought you didn’t know Joel that well,” Lopez observed.

“I hear things,” I said carefully.

He mulled that over. “Do you think Joel could’ve murdered Leah?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

That was the truth. Joel wasn’t always nice to Leah. Maybe abusive. She’d always denied it, and I’d never been sure. Would something have pushed him to murder her? I couldn’t imagine that Joel would go that far … but was it possible? Sure. I was a testament that anything was possible.

“What about Avery? Do you ever talk to her?” he asked.

“No,” I said, the word sticking in my throat. Again, not completely true, and something I desperately wished had been different.

”Did anyone dislike Leah?” He tipped his head. “You know, from what you’ve heard.”

I shook my head. “Leah is … was … a nice person. She had a good heart, and she got along with everyone.”

“Except you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You must not have gotten along with her, at least some of the time, since you two didn’t stay together.”

I clenched my fists. “People break up for a lot of reasons.”

He studied me as if hoping I’d say more. When I didn’t, he said, “She didn’t have enemies?”

“No.”

She didn’t have enemies, but I did.

He waved the pen around. “Has anything suspicious been happening around their house?”

“How should I know?”

“From what you’ve heard,” he said pointedly.

“I’ve never gone to their house, and I don’t know of any issues that Leah or Joel might’ve had with anyone.”

“Well, they are newer to town. And …” He left the rest unsaid. “What about you? Did you have any issues with Leah or Joel?”

I hesitated. Now the focus was squarely on me. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” He clearly didn’t believe that I hadn’t associated with Leah and Joel. “Am I a suspect?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Right now, almost everyone is.”

I remained calm. “I had nothing to do with Leah’s death.”

“I didn’t say you did. Yet.” He shifted on his feet and wiped sweat from his upper lip. “Where were you this morning?”

“I was here all morning.”

He glanced over at my beat-up truck. It was coated with dust, as most vehicles around here were. Hard not to be when most of the side roads were dirt. Across the drive was a large barn. The door was open and the barn was empty. So was the area around the house and barn.

“You don’t farm,” he said. “No job?”

“I’m a consultant,” I said. “I work online, at home.”

Against my better judgment, I’d had to start working again, in cyber-security. The money I had, from back then, was gone. My banking was untraceable, and working online left me vulnerable. How much had Lopez–or others–found out?

“I see.” He wanted more, but seemed to think it wasn’t worth the effort now. “What about last night?” The pen was poised to write.

“I was here.”

“Anyone with you?”

“No.”

“Did you talk on the phone to anyone?”

“No.”

It didn’t look good for me. I had no way to prove where I was. If Lopez checked my phone records, there wouldn’t be any calls last night or this morning. And even though I’d been on my laptop, there was nothing to prove that I hadn’t gone to the Gibson house and murdered Leah. So much for telling the truth now. I changed the subject. “When was Leah killed?” Saying that was difficult.

“It’s hard to say.”

Non committal. He wasn’t going to give me any information.

“Can I go to their house?” I asked.

“Why?”

I didn’t have a good answer for him. “I don’t know.”

He stared at me. I’m sure he thought I had been stalking Leah. “It’s a crime scene. Stay away.”

“I’d like to see Leah.”

He shook his head. “That’ll be family only. You’re her ex; you’re not related, so no way.”

I should’ve known he’d say that. And I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

I thought of Leah’s family. Her father had passed away a few years ago, and there was her mother and brother, although they hadn’t seen her in the last decade. Now, they’d never see her alive again.

“Who found her?” I asked.

“We received a 911 call.”

Still not telling me much.

“Did any neighbors see anything?” I pressed.

“Their closest neighbor is a mile away.”

It wasn’t a clear answer, but again, that was all I was going to get.

Lopez slowly put his pad and pen back in his pocket. He donned sunglasses and adjusted his campaign hat.

“I appreciate your time.” He feigned politeness. “Don’t go anywhere, you hear?”

I nodded and watched as he stepped off the porch and got into his cruiser. He made a U-turn in the open space in front of the house and drove slowly down the dirt road toward County Road 22. I watched until the dust settled, then shut the door.

 

I have enjoyed many of Renée's books. They are usually about a detective in Denver. Well . . . this book isn't even close to those books! This book is more ‘gritty' and intense scenes in my opinion, and I LOVE IT!!! What's Yours Is Mine is a story that has a history to it and the history between some of the people are not nice! I hope there are more stories like this one from Renée. ~Reader review