“Didn’t realize kids these days still went around backroading,” I say. I’m not proud of it, but I used to do it all the time with my buddies. Back when our frontal lobes were half the size of the tab on a beer can. It’s dumb and reckless, and I’ve replaced my fair share of mailboxes after an ass-chewing from my dad. But it was fun at the time.
“Damn,” she whispers.
“I’ll help you fix it,” I say and I drive past it and turn toward the house.
“Warren!”
I jump in my seat when Savannah shouts my name, not realizing what she’s yelling about. Then, I see it. The two flower beds that run the entire length of the front of the house are completely dug up.
Her mouth slowly gapes and she releases my hand to place it over her chest. I check each direction, hoping to see a car or sign of whoever did this, but there’s no one.
“No,” she cries. “It was so beautiful. Mesa loved those flowers so much. She’s going to be so upset.”
After fumbling with her seat belt in a rush, she reaches for the door, but I hook her elbow and pull her back into her seat.
“Stay in here while I check things.”
She starts to argue, but I give her a look that says I’m not fucking around. With a defeated sigh, she nods and I step out of the truck. I do a quick scan of the property but realize pretty quickly that with it being so dark out, and being generally unfamiliar with the place, it’s not going to do me much good.
Stepping through the beam of the truck headlights, I walk closer to the house. The entire front lawn is covered in dead blooms that were dug up and thrown out of the flower beds, and the stone walkway is sprinkled with soil.
Based on the mailbox, and the thorough hack job of this amount of flowers, I’d say this wasn’t a fun prank by a tipsy group of dumbasses passing by. This was intentional.
I make my way up the steps and try the front door. Still locked. Neither of the front windows are broken, but several pots and random decor has been knocked over on the porch like someone might have been looking for a hidden house key.
Without wasting any more time, I pull out my phone to dial Justin’s number and he answers after the second ring.
“What’s up, man?”
“Hey, you on duty?” I ask.
“I’m at the station, but I haven't started my shift yet. Everything good?”
“It might be nothing. But someone came and vandalized Savannah’s yard. Well, the yard at the house that she’s renting.” I let out a deep breath and nudge a knocked-over flower pot withmy boot. “It doesn’t look like they got in the house, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Is she safe?” he asks. His question has me thinking of all of the worst possible scenarios that could have happened if I hadn’t driven her home or if she had been here when whoever did this showed up.
“Yes. I’m here with her. I don’t know the exact address but I can ask her real quick.”
“Just drop me a pin. I’ll leave right now.”
My next instinct is to shoot a quick text in the group chat, and I think Gage could definitely help with some security measures. But knowing him, he’d open the gun safe the second I told him what happened and go hunt the motherfuckers down. Literally. Tripp and Heston would be along for the ride without question, so it’s probably best to just ask for their help fixing the place up tomorrow instead of riling them up tonight.
A truck door slams, and I look up from my phone to see Savannah walking toward the house. Her mouth is covered with her hand as she takes in the damage as I walk down the steps.
“I called the police. They’ll be here soon,” I say, trying to keep my voice at least somewhat soothing.
She nods but continues to walk through the ruined plants and flowers.
“I was supposed to take care of these. They were special to her,” she says as she sniffs back tears. “None of them can be saved.”
I shake my head. I don’t know much about flowers, but even I can tell that there’s no salvaging them.
“I was kind of hoping we might become friends,” she breathes out a frustrated laugh. “Not likely now, I guess.”
“If she gets mad at you for something that was out of your control, then she wouldn’t have been a good friend anyway,” I say honestly. “This wasn’t your fault, Savvy.”
“You’re right,” she sighs.
