Remnants of Riley

Chapter 30

Idon’t hear from Riley all day, which is no surprise given the way she likes to run from her problems. I’ve tried to give her some space and time to cool off, but I’m at the point that I’m going to start climbing the fucking walls of my penthouse if she keeps ignoring me.

When I checked the tracking app earlier, it had no data to display. I’m guessing she finally found it and removed it from her phone.

When evening rolls around and I still have no response to my calls or texts, I bite the bullet and call the other woman who is currently pissed at me.

“What do you want, Emmett?” Tracy answers, her voice less than friendly.

“I need to talk to Riley. Put her on the phone or I’m coming over there.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. And I don’t blame her. I mean really, Emmett, tracking her phone and putting cameras in her house? What the fuck is wrong with you?” The venom in her voice actually makes me flinch.

I jab my fingers into my eyes, rubbing them. I swear to fucking god I am rapidly depleting my lifetime supply of patience.

“Everything I’ve done has been—”

“Stop with the bullshit!” Tracy interrupts. “You didn’t even know Riley when you did those things. So stop with the ‘it’s what”s best for her’ excuse.” The condescension in her tone grates on my ears.

Sighing, I give up trying to explain myself. “Put her on the phone, Tracy.”

“She’s not here.”

I snap up straight on my couch. “What? Where the hell is she?”

“She went back to her place this afternoon to bury her chickens. Said she’d be back this evening.”

“And you just let her leave? Jesus, Tracy. Someone’s fucking stalking her.” I get up from the couch to grab my jacket, then remember I have no way of tracking where Riley actually is right now. Pulling up the camera feed from her house, I find no evidence of her, the entire house dark and empty. She must be on her way back already.

“Yeah, and unlike you, I trust Riley to make her own decisions! I’m not going to tell her what she can and can’t do. Lord knows she’s had enough of that with Trevor. She doesn’t need it from you and me, too,” Tracy says, exasperation clear in her voice.

I can’t even argue with her because she’s right. Knowing what I know now about Riley’s past, I understand why she’s so angry at me. Trevor controlled her. Trevor took over her entire life, and here I am doing the same thing.

Only difference is I fucking love that woman and would never, ever hurt her. Not like he did.

“Christ,” I mutter, more to myself than anything. To Tracy I say, “Have her call me when she gets back. Or one of you text me, at least.”

I expect an argument, but Tracy concedes. “Okay. I’ll text you when she gets here.”

“Thank you, Tracy.”

“You’re not welcome, Emmett. Now fuck off.” She hangs up, and I throw my phone down on the kitchen counter.

“Fuck!” I shout, gripping the edge of the countertops until my fingers feel like they’ll snap.

This feeling is becoming all too familiar. Riley avoiding me. Me going out of my fucking mind. Only now it’s made infinitely worse by the fact that there’s someone out there after her, and yet she insists on going out by herself. To her house in the middle of fucking nowhere, no less.

When this is all said and done, we’re having a serious conversation about selling that place and finding her a nice little piece of land right outside the city. Someplace that isn’t thirty minutes from a goddamn police response and over an hour from me.

Hell, I’ll buy her all the acres and chickens she wants if she’ll just agree to be closer.

I stalk over to the bar in my living room to pour myself a drink, then think better of it. If by some miracle Riley does call me tonight, I don’t want to be drunk out of my mind. And given my mood right now, that’s exactly what would happen if I picked up a drink.

I manage to waste the next few hours pacing my living room, wearing a path in the floor. When it nears nine o’clock, I start getting nervous.

She should be back by now. Tracy should have texted me.

Unlocking my phone, I check my texts for the dozenth time in the last hour only to find nothing from either of them.

I’m about to drive over to Tracy’s to wait when finally her name flashes across my screen. My lips tip up in the corner that she’s calling me. Maybe she’s less pissed at me than I thought.

When I pick up, my ears are assaulted by chaos in the background.

Sirens wail, blaring through the speaker. There”s shouting and commotion, and Tracy’s frantic breaths echo on top of all of it.

“Emmett,” she cries. “It’s Riley. She… she…”

“What’s going on?” I demand, slipping on my shoes and heading out the door to the elevator.

“There’s a fire and…” Her sobs come through the line, followed by a loud sniffle. “They can’t go in–the fire is too out of control. And Riley’s car is here, but we can’t find her, and she’s not answering her phone.” She pauses to take a few short, quick breaths through her crying. “Her whole house is gone.”

For a moment, everything around me freezes, like life has ceased to exist, my very heart stopping in my chest. But one fact rings loud and clear in my mind: he came for her. Whoever the fuck it is, he came back for her.

Why did I let her go last night?

Adrenaline floods my system, my frozen heart kicking into overdrive. I fight to keep the sick feeling in my stomach at bay as regret, anger, and an absolutely devastating sense of loss overcome me.

This is my fault. This is all my fault. I broke her trust and drove her away.

My hands shake as I grip the phone. When the elevator door opens, I run to my car, fumbling with the handle as I try to open it in my panic.

Fear like I’ve never felt before in my life takes over, threatening to cripple me. My heart beats wildly in my chest and it’s a struggle just to keep breathing right now.

When I’ve started my car and the bluetooth picks up, I ask Tracy, “When did you get there? How long has the fire been going?”

She can’t be in there. She can’t be in there. She can’t.

I swallow down the lump lodged in my throat, trying to focus on the road in front of me.

“A neighbor called the fire in about two hours ago. The sheriff called me shortly after, since I’m the owner of record, and I came right out here.” Her voice shakes. “They haven’t been able to get the blaze under control since. I overheard someone say it was likely arson.” She lets out a small sob before continuing. “They said… They said some kind of accelerant was used, given how the entire house went up so quickly, and how hard of a time they’re having putting it out.”

He did this–her stalker. He was waiting for Riley. And I let him waltz right in and take her. I let him kill her.

No.

No. I shake the thought from my head as soon as it enters, refusing to believe she’s anything but alive.

She has to be. She fucking has to be.

My chest burns, pain searing my body as though it’s being split in two.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon,” I tell Tracy, unable to hide the panic from my voice any longer.

My thumb mashes the end call button on the steering wheel. I can’t listen to that noise in the background. The yelling. The sirens. Tracy’s sobs. I can’t fucking do it. Not when I don’t know where Riley is.

Focusing on the road, I drive like a bat out of hell, passing traffic and laying on the horn when someone doesn’t get out of the way fast enough.

My hands shake the entire time.

I find my fingers tapping on the steering wheel in the same rhythm Riley’s do when she’s trying to center herself. And it makes the ache in my chest worse.

Every moment I’ve spent with her floods through my mind. Every beautiful moment. Her smile, the smell of her hair after a shower, that little scar on the inside of her left thigh, the way she looks lying under me, the sounds she makes when she’s coming, her laughter when we were dancing yesterday, the blush on her face when I make her nervous, the look of adoration and love in her eyes when she got her chickens, the way she bites the inside of her lip when she’s working on something that has her full attention.

I should have never let her go last night. I should have made her come home with me. We should have talked everything out. She should have never gone back to her place alone.

A crushing weight settles over me.

I failed her.

It was my job to protect her from something like this.

Someone was after her, and I let her slide right through my fucking fingers.

The edges of my vision go black. I blast the cold air in the car, forcing myself to stay focused on the road.

It feels like days and seconds all at once, but I get to Riley’s place in record time.

Turning down the long drive, I immediately spot Tracy when I reach the house, sitting in the back of a sheriff’s car wrapped in a blanket. Throwing the car in park, I get out and run to her, pulling her up into my arms.

She sobs against me, her entire frame shaking as she cries.

I hold her tight. “Has there been any update?”

Pulling back, she uses the blanket to wipe at her face. “No, they finally have the fire under control, but there’s too much damage to risk sending anyone in right now. They’re going to wait until morning to start looking for…” she trails off.

To start looking for Riley’s remains. That’s what she can’t say.

Tracy pulls out of my arms when another vehicle pulls up and Blake steps out. He gives me a quick nod in acknowledgement before Tracy runs to him. He gathers her up in his arms, murmuring into her ear words I can’t hear, but that I know are meant to be comforting.

When he meets my gaze again, there’s anguish all over his face. For Tracy. For Riley. Maybe even for me.

I can’t bear to look at it. Turning away, I spot Sheriff Miller talking to a firefighter closer to the house. When he notices me, he waves me over.

The scene in front of me unfolds like a nightmare I can’t escape from. Blue and red lights reflect off the trees from all the emergency vehicles. Firefighters and first responders litter the area. Hoses trail across the ground to and from firetrucks and the house. Or what remains of it.

The entire house is practically gone, with just a few parts of the frame and fireplace still standing. Flames still lick up from various spots, but everything is destroyed.

Nothing would survive that.

My chest gets so tight I can barely breathe when I reach Sheriff Miller. He rests a hand on my shoulder, his face full of sympathy, and I fucking lose it.

I don’t give him the chance to say anything, instead turning from him to find the nearest solid surface–another sheriff’s car. Bones crunch and metal dings as I drive my fist into it over and over and over again.

Blood pours from my knuckles, and still, I beat at that car, like I can somehow alter the course of fate if I knock loud enough on death’s door.

A roar escapes my chest before I finally step back from the car.

Sheriff Miller stands behind me, watching as I lose all sense of my carefully crafted control.

I’ve cried twice in my life that I can remember. Once, when I was ten, because my mom said I couldn’t have a Playstation. I was a little shit who didn’t understand our situation, and not having the same video games as my classmates seemed like the end of the world.

The second time, I was twelve, and had found my mother passed out on the kitchen floor, having overdosed on whatever drugs she was on at the time. I called an ambulance, sobbing into the receiver, thinking she was dead. She wasn’t, and the next time I found her passed out, it didn’t even phase me. I just calmly drove her to the hospital for her to turn around and make promises she’d never keep of not touching substances again.

But this time… this time, I can’t stop the barrage of emotion that pours out of me as I drop to my knees and feel my heart shattering, my entire world falling apart around me.

Sheriff Miller puts a hand on my shoulder again as I kneel there. And for the third time in my life, I cry.