to get out. I could feel it. How many times had I coaxed the words or melodies out of someone else when they were doing this very thing? A few questions, a little conversation, sometimes a glass of whiskey or a bottle of wine, and they’d push aside whatever it was that blocked them. Their creativity would break free, and they’d find a way to work through whatever had been holding them back.
So why couldn’t I do the same for myself?
I’d tried. I’d used my own tricks on myself. Written down the questions I might have asked, had I been talking to a client. Tried to answer them. I’d meditated on it, done juice cleanses, and used crystals to realign my energy. I’d taught other people to crochet because I’d learned to do it myself, hoping busy hands would help free my mind.
Nothing worked. The words never came out right.
The fact that my creativity had felt blocked before I’d come back to Bootleg Springs made sense now. Callie had been locked up too tight. I knew there were things in my past that needed to come out. Pain I needed to face. The logical part of me—the Maya part—understood that.
But there was something back there I couldn’t reach. Something in that box in my mind. Even here, in the safe comfort of Gibson’s house, I shrank back from it. Flinching like there was a demon inside with claws and sharp teeth. If I let it out, it would rip me to shreds.
I heard the rumble of Gibson’s truck outside, so I shut the journal, shaking off the unsettling images. Cash jumped up and ran for the door, his tail wagging.
Gibs had gone to talk to his brothers about Darren Covington. So far, we’d only told Scarlett, because we’d needed a place for him to stay last night. She’d been more than willing to put him up in one of her cabins for the time being.
Leaving him there alone did mean he was a flight risk. But I didn’t think he’d go anywhere. At first, it had been Gibson’s intimidation that had swayed him into coming with us. But I’d talked to him on the long drive back to Bootleg. I hadn’t told him who I was—not yet—but I’d told him enough to make him realize he’d gotten into bed with some very bad people. And he seemed to be too worried about his own hide to question who I might be.
He was foolish—he’d taken a large bribe and blown through most of it already—but he wasn’t completely stupid. He knew the sort of people willing to bribe a lab tech to falsely identify a body were not upstanding citizens of the law. He wanted a way out.
I’d told him we couldn’t promise him anything. But if he helped us, we’d do what we could.
The door burst open and Gibson barreled his way in, like a hot wind blowing off desert sand. Without looking at me, he stalked into the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator, only to slam it again a few seconds later. Cash ran around his feet, but Gibson ignored him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Rage was coming off him like sparks, crackling in the air. I got up but kept distance between us, like I was approaching a wounded animal in the wild. Cash seemed to sense trouble. He backed up and sat.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice calm but not overly soothing. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to calm him down. “Did Darren leave?”
“No.”
“Then what—”
“It ain’t enough. We have the guy who told the goddamn world that body was you, and they’re saying it might not be enough. What the fuck do we have to do?”
“I don’t know. We keep looking. Keep digging.”
“And then what?” He spun around. “That bastard has been getting away with shit for years. Decades, even. The truth doesn’t matter, we both know that. That’s why you ran. Because even back then, you knew it was fucking pointless.”
“I ran because I was a terrified child.”
He grunted something I couldn’t make out and stalked past me, clenching his fists. His heavy footsteps pounded against the floor and a few seconds later, the back door slammed shut.
I glanced at Cash and his head tilted to the side. “Yeah, Daddy’s upset. It’s okay, buddy. Just go lie down. I’ll talk to him.”
Cash was either the smartest dog in the universe, or he just wanted to get back to his nap. He trotted over