“I love you, Cassie.” Austin’s lovesick tone is back. “I’ve always loved you. Even before the two of you fell in love and decided to marry.”
The call goes to voicemail.
I check who called the other two times. Also Noah. From his work number.
Maybe he’s calling about Annie Wilkes 3.0. Whatever his reason for calling, it must be important given how many times he’s rung in the last few minutes.
I take a step toward the doorway. “I should go.” My words are for no one in the kitchen in particular.
“No, don’t go.” Cassie’s voice is somewhere between resolute and exasperated. “What did you mean when you said Austin’s been harassing you?”
My phone rings for the fourth time. Again, it’s Noah.
“I’ve gotta get this,” I tell her, inching toward the door. “It shouldn’t take long though. And then we can talk.” I accept the call and lift the phone to my ear. “Hey, Noah. What’s up?”
A long beat of silence answers my question. For a second, I wonder if I accidentally sent him to voicemail.
“Garrett.” His voice sounds oddly broken, and it’s enough to freeze me to the spot. “Are you driving?”
My gut tightens at his question, and unease warns me this call isn’t just to tell me the police know who’s been sending the newest round of “love” letters. A cloud outside moves over the sun, casting the kitchen in shadow. “No. I’m not. What’s going on? Is Peony okay?” The words spill out in an unstoppable rush.
“I’m sorry to call to tell you…” His breath comes through the line shaky, and ice-cold dread pumps through my body, paralyzing me.
“What’s going on?” I’m vaguely aware of the room turning pin-drop silent as all eyes turn to me, the concern and anguish in my tone making it clear this isn’t a social call. “Is something wrong with Peony? My family? Zara?” The volume of my heartbeat intensifies, echoes off the walls, at just saying the names.
“We don’t know where Peony and Zara are. One of your neighbors reported hearing a gunshot.” Noah’s tone has shifted to work mode, like he’s relaying the facts in court. “When I arrived on the scene…Emily had been shot.”
My stomach free-falls to the kitchen floor, taking my heart with it. “Shot? Is she all right?” She has to be all right. This is Em we’re talking about. If anyone can bounce back from being shot, it would be her.
A long, heavy sigh comes through the phone line. I know what he’s going to say before he utters the words, but I still hope I’m wrong.Christ, please be wrong.
Why was Em even at my house?
“I’m sorry, Garrett. Emily didn’t make it. She died at the scene.”
At those final words, it’s as if the weight of the universe crashes onto my shoulders, knocking the air from my lungs. My legs buckle, and I have to grab hold of the chipped kitchen counter just to keep upright.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
“My mother.” I can barely get the words out, the sound of my voice splintered and strained. “Peony is with my mother.” She’s not with Zara. My daughter’s okay. Mom probably took her to visit Dad, or they went to the lake or one of the other places they like to explore.
And maybe Zara is with them. I clutch tightly to that thin thread of hope with slippery hands.
“Your mother had a medical appointment. Zara was looking after Peony. The two of them were last seen at Lucas and Simone’s house. Simone said that Zara took Peony home for a nap. No one saw them at your house, but a witness heard a woman and child screaming after the gunshot. And then Zara’s car, as well as a black SUV, were seen racing from the scene. We’re currently searching for both vehicles. Do you have any idea who the owner of the SUV could be?”
“Fuck. Black SUVs aren’t exactly uncommon. Kellan and I both have one.” Mine’s at the airport parking lot in Eugene, so my Explorer isn’t the vehicle witnesses saw.
Flames of fear lick inside me, stoking an anger deep in my gut. I scrub my hand over my face, hardly able to draw air into my lungs. I won’t be able to pull in full lungfuls again until Peony and Zara are safe in my arms.
Noah asks me more questions, but none of my answers bring us any closer to figuring out who killed one of my closest friends, and where Zara and my daughter went. “I’ll be on the next available flight,” I tell himas I walk to the front door. “I’ll text you once I have the flight info.” I end the call.
“Wait, Garrett.” Cassie’s voice lassos me to the spot. I might not have told her what’s going on, but she would have heard enough from my end of the conversation to get a pretty good idea. “You’re in no state to drive to the airport. Let me drive you. Austin can bring me home after I drop you and the rental car off.”
My eyes dart to the man who’s been sending me harassing letters. I’m too exhausted to deal with his drama, to fight out whatever issue he has with me. It’s nothing more than a pebble in the hell that is my life right now.
Wincing, he raises his hands. “Cassie and I obviously need to talk things through, but I won’t cause you any more problems. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t elaborate on why he’s sorry, but I doubt it’s an apology for the letters.
It’s just as well. I’m too emotionally and physically drained from Noah’s news to deal with Austin; otherwise, I might just knock the crap out of him. If not for the letters, I wouldn’t have flown here to deal with the issue. I would have been at home. Emily would be alive.
