22. Cici
22
CICI
M y brother’s tears soaked through my shirt as we clung to each other. For two years, he’d carried the burden of believing our parents died looking for him. And in that time, he’d drowned his guilt in whiskey while I was too caught up in my own grief to see his pain for what it really was.
A knock at the door made us look up. Buck stood there, his usual confident stance somehow more hesitant. “Kaleb needs to talk to you and Mav downstairs.”
“Of course,” I said, letting Porter first help me stand, then get down the stairs.
We found Kaleb in the kitchen, his expression grim as he looked up from his notebook. Steel and Jagger stood near the back door, speaking in low tones about security protocols. The domesticity of the scene felt wrong against the weight of what we’d just learned.
“Let’s go in the living room, where Cici will be more comfortable,” Porter suggested. While I thought about saying I’d be fine at the dining table, my body ached worse with every passing minute.
“Tell me what happened with the ATV,” Kaleb said after I settled on the couch, next to Porter, and he, Mav, and Buck sat in chairs.
“Before I do, I need to tell you what I overheard earlier.”
Kaleb nodded. “Go ahead.”
As I reiterated the conversation between Shaw and Martinez, he took notes.
“I felt…like I couldn’t breathe,” I said, turning to Porter, who squeezed my hand. “You and Mav weren’t back yet.”
“Walk me through what happened next,” the sheriff prompted.
“I decided to take one of the ATVs out and remembered we stored them in the equipment building. But when I got in there, I only saw one.”
He made more notes, and when he raised his head, I continued.
“I noticed a door on the left was open, so I went and looked.”
“Tell me everything you noticed.”
I described the chair and the binoculars, the empty liquor bottles—everything I could remember. “Oh, and I found this.” I reached into my pocket and handed him the photo. “I don’t know who they are.”
“What happened next?” he asked.
“It freaked me out, so I left the room and went to start the ATV.” I told him how the steering felt weird, but before I could cut the engine, the thing just took off and hit the far wall. “I couldn’t stop it. It all happened too fast,” I explained.
After jotting more notes, he looked up again. “Anything else?”
I shook my head.
“Cici, do you remember ever hearing about a murder that took place on the ranch?” Kaleb asked.
My eyes opened wide. It had been years since I thought about it. “My dad’s younger sister. I don’t remember much about it, though. I mean, I was a baby when it happened, and neither of my parents liked to talk about it. I do remember him saying it was never solved.” I shuddered. “You don’t think that has anything to do with what’s happening now, do you?”
“I can’t speculate on that, but it seems unlikely.” Kaleb jotted something else in his notebook, then shut it and looked up at me. “We’ve cordoned off the building, keeping it as two separate crime scenes, and we’ll continue investigating both.”
Porter leaned closer to me. “Kaleb knows about the note left for Maverick at the funeral home,” he said quietly.
The sheriff cleared his throat. “We’ll be looking into that as well. In the meantime, is there anything else you specifically remember happening in the days and weeks leading up to your parents’ accident?”
“I was away at school. I came home some weekends, but not all.”
“I do,” said Maverick.
“What?” I asked.
“Dad was acting strange. Paranoid. He’d go on rides at night and take his gun with him.”
“Rides?” Kaleb asked, opening his notebook again.
“Along the fence lines.”
“What about your mom? Is there anything specific you recall about changes in her behavior?”
“She…” I paused, thinking back. “She insisted I learn to shoot. Said every woman should know how to handle a gun, but when I think back on it, now, I realize she seemed nervous. Maybe even scared.”
“Anything else at all you can think of right now that I should know?” the sheriff reiterated.
“I don’t think so.”
“There might be something in the other safe,” said Mav.
“What other safe?” I asked, looking over at him.
“In the office. Behind the picture of him with Bad Grandma.”
“It was his favorite bull,” I explained. “I never knew there was a safe behind it. How did you know, Mav?”
“I saw him open it once. Late at night, maybe a week before…” He swallowed hard. “Before everything happened.”
“Can we take a look?” Kaleb asked.
“Sure,” I said as Porter helped me up, his hand steady at my elbow as we moved to the office. The pain in my leg felt distant compared to the ache in my chest as I lifted the framed photo Mav had said covered the safe.
The locked box was small, embedded in the wall. “Anyone know how to crack this thing?” I asked, only half joking as I looked at the dial, having no idea what the combination might be. I tried my mom’s birthday, then mine, then Mav’s. Nothing worked.
“I might know,” Mav said. I stepped aside and watched. When he got to the third number, the mechanism clicked and the door swung open.
“What was it?” I asked.
Mav pointed to the photo. “The date that was taken.”
I looked closer, and sure enough, it was handwritten near the bottom.
“Hang on,” said Kaleb when I was about to reach inside. He put on a pair of gloves, and once again, I stepped aside and watched him pull out a small leather book I’d never seen before. I looked over his shoulder when he opened it.
“That’s Dad’s handwriting.”
“Looks like a journal,” said Kaleb, turning to the last page that contained writing. “This was dated three days before he died.”
I focused on the words my father wrote on the journal’s final page that Kaleb held out for me to read. “Can’t trust anyone outside the family now. Have to protect them. Have to—” The entry ended abruptly, like he’d been interrupted.
“There’s something else,” he said, reaching deeper into the safe. He pulled out a letter-size envelope, its seal unbroken. My name was written on the front.
“Let her open it,” Porter said.
Kaleb nodded.
Inside was a letter. My vision blurred as I read Dad’s words out loud.
Dearest Cici,
If you’re reading this, something’s happened to me. I’ve made mistakes—choices that seemed right at the time but have come back to haunt us.
I’m so sorry, little girl. I thought I was protecting you all, but maybe I only made things worse. Whatever happens, know that I love you and your brother more than anything in this world.
Dad
PS. Someday, Porter Wheaton will show up, telling you he made me a promise. Trust him, Cicily Ann. He loves you, heart and soul, just like I love your mama. He just hasn’t figured life out yet. He will, though.
I blinked away my tears and rested my head on Porter’s shoulder when he put his arm around me.
When I raised my head, I looked for my brother, but didn’t see him. “Where’s Maverick?” The words had barely left my mouth when Steel’s voice cut through the tension.
“Martinez just entered the equipment building through the back entrance,” Steel said, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen.
Before any of us could move, Buck leaned in to look at another feed. “Maverick just went in too—through the side door.”
“Call for backup,” Kaleb ordered, already moving toward the door. His hand rested on his weapon.
Porter was right behind him. “Cici, stay here,” he ordered over his shoulder.
“Like hell.” I grabbed my father’s shotgun from beside the door, checking that it was loaded. The familiar weight of it in my hands brought back memories of my mom insisting I learn to shoot and of the fear I’d sometimes catch in her eyes. Now, I understood why. “You’ll have to kill me to keep me from going.”
Our eyes met for a fraction of a second, and I saw the moment he accepted there was no arguing with me. “Stay behind me,” was all he said.
We moved quickly across the yard, spreading out as we approached the building. The sun cast long shadows, and every movement caught my eye. Something about Martinez being in there made my skin crawl, though I couldn’t say exactly why, but something felt very wrong.
Kaleb and Buck circled around to the back while Steel and Jagger approached from where Mav had gone in.
The sheriff motioned for silence as we neared the entrance. The sound of voices carried from inside—Maverick’s and another I recognized as Martinez’s.
“What are you doing in here?” Maverick’s voice was steady despite the situation.
“Finishing what I started.” Juan’s tone was different—harder, colder than I’d ever heard it. “The fire wasn’t enough. The poisoned horse, the sabotaged ATV…none of it was enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father killed mine. Buried him out on the ranch like a dog?—”
“You’re wrong. My dad never killed anybody,” Maverick shouted at him.
Martinez’s harsh laugh echoed off the concrete walls. “You think it’s hard to kill? It isn’t. Your parents, then you, and next, your sister, all of you are getting what you deserve.”
“My parents’ accident?—”
“Accident? No. I made it happen. That call about you being hurt—the one that sent them racing out into that storm?” He paused, savoring the moment. “That was me. So was that note you got at the funeral home. All me, asshole. It was only supposed to be Hank.” He shrugged. “But when your mom went along…so be it.”
“You’re lying,” Mav said in a low voice.
“Am I? You sure about that, kid? What about that party where you got so wasted you crashed your truck? Who do you think made sure your drinks were a little extra strong? You think I wasn’t there to run you off the road the same way I did them?”
Porter’s arm shot out to block my movement forward as my finger tightened on the trigger.
“Why?” Maverick’s voice shook. “Why are you doing this to us?”
“An eye for an eye.” Metal clinked in the darkness—the sound of a gun being cocked.
Kaleb’s signal came sharp and fast as he rounded the corner. “You’re surrounded, Martinez! Drop the gun!”
The room exploded into chaos. Juan spun, firing blindly. The muzzle flash lit up his face, twisted with hatred. Porter tackled me down as bullets sprayed overhead, shattering wood and glass.
Maverick didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, driving his shoulder into Martinez’s midsection like he was taking down a steer. The gun went flying as they crashed to the floor.
He recovered fast, producing a knife from nowhere. The blade slashed through the air where Mav’s throat had been seconds before. Porter launched himself into the fray, catching Martinez’s wrist mid strike.
They slammed into the wall hard enough that the knife clattered away, but Martinez fought like a rabid animal, landing a vicious headbutt that sent Porter staggering back. Blood streamed from his nose as Martinez dove for his fallen gun.
Maverick, despite his bad leg, swung a length of pipe he’d grabbed in the chaos. It connected with Martinez’s ribs with a sickening crack, but he kept coming, fingers inches from the weapon.
Time slowed as I got to my feet, watching him reaching for anything to continue his onslaught of carnage. My father’s shotgun felt alive in my hands—familiar weight, smooth wood worn by years of use. Mom’s voice echoed in my head: “Wide stance. Lean in. Shoulder locked.” I could almost feel her hands adjusting my position like she had so many times before.
My heart thundered, but my hands were steady as I squeezed the trigger. The blast sent a sharp kick against my shoulder, the stock driving back into the pocket where I’d anchored it. Hot powder stung my nose as the sound rolled through the room like thunder. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard wood splinter when the bullet hit the wall and saw Martinez scrambling back. The power of it coursed through my arms, but I held my ground, already shifting to track him if he tried for the weapon again. This was what Mom had prepared me for, though I doubted she’d ever imagined this scenario. The shotgun had always felt too big for me as a kid—now, it felt like an extension of my body, as natural as breathing.
“Freeze!” Kaleb’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears, his weapon trained on Martinez’s head. “One twitch, and it’s over.”
Steel and Buck converged from opposite sides as Kaleb moved in with handcuffs. Blood ran down Martinez’s face, but his eyes burned with something beyond hatred—pure madness.
“You think this ends here?” he spat as Kaleb secured him. “I’ve spent years planning this. You’ll never stop me.”
Porter pulled me close as they led him away, his heart hammering against my back. Maverick leaned against the wall, chest heaving. Every word Martinez had uttered hung in the air between us, too raw to process.