“Home.”
I rub the knot in my sternum, but it doesn’t soften the growing ache in my chest. I need to see her. If she’s home, why hasn’t she texted me?
“Someone broke into my truck,” I say with a glance at Greta, who is pretending not to listen while scrolling her phone
“What?” Everett asks. “How bad is it?”
“There’s nothing missing. The door’s still locked.” I open the driver’s door and sweep the broken bits of glass to the floor. “Any chance it was Russel?” I keep my voice low so Greta doesn’t overhear.
“Negative. He’s not in Finn River. We’ve been…monitoring.”
I brace against the doorframe with my free hand and release a slow breath. Everett isn’t trying to piss me off by being cryptic. He would tell me more if he could. But if Russet was flying in Alaska for the past four days, and he hasn’t come to Finn River, then he didn’t smash my window. And he’s not a threat to Meg.
“Need me to send someone up there?” Everett asks.
“No, it’s just a broken window.” Even if one of his deputies pulls fingerprints that by some miracle lead to catching the person who broke my window, waiting around for that process isn’t worth it.
Not when it’s obvious I need to get to Meg as soon as possible.
“Okay.” It comes out hesitant, like he’s torn. “We’ve had more break-ins at trailheads this summer than in the past two combined. Be sure to report it to Rowdy Whittaker.”
“Will do.” I walk to the back and close the tailgate, then motion for Greta to get in. She gives me a surprised glance but is quick to join me.
“Are you heading to Meg's next?” Everett asks like he’s read my mind.
“After I drop Greta at Kelly’s, yeah.” I turn on the engine and wait for Greta to buckle up.
“Keep close,” Everett says before ending the call.
“Dad,” Greta says, her still-damp hair framing her earnest face. “The cheer tryout results got posted.”
“And?” I reel in my rampant thoughts.
She can’t hide the excitement lighting up her face. “I made it.”
I offer her a high five and she smacks it. “Nicework, kiddo.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She starts typing furiously with her thumbs.
During the drive, while she’s busy texting her friends, the quiet eats at me. What does Finn River Sheriff’s Department want with Russet? Could he be evading law enforcement?
And why hasn’t Meg texted me back? My summit selfie picture went through hours ago.
When I turn into my old neighborhood, Greta gathers her things, chattering about practice schedules and uniform measurements and memorizing football terms.
As I idle at the curb, we share a quick hug. “Love you, Dad.”
I kiss her temple. “Love you too. Thanks for smoking me on your birthday climb.”
She laughs. “Best birthday ever,” she whispers in my ear, then she slips from the cab and hurries inside.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Idling at the curb,I check my phone, but there’s still nothing from Meg. Not to my single-word moronic text, not to the summit selfie.
Everett’severyone is okaygnaws at me.
If Meg is home, safe, why isn’t she talking to me? I decide to try something neutral.
