Chapter Forty-Two
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Nina
NICK AND I SIT in the same chairs I have spent many days in over the past year. Poring over the different reports, photos, and maps of Mount Achor and its surrounding areas, Beau and I searched for answers and clues about where my husband could have been. Little did we know, he was right under our noses the whole time. The bigger question remains why did his presence go undetected for so long? The police in Bezer would have (or should have) reported his appearance in town to the State authorities, or at least the sheriff, and that would’ve closed the case almost immediately. So, why didn’t that happen?
Nick’s knee bounces with anticipation. He’s ready to get this over with. And after what I witnessed last night I can’t say I feel much different.
I woke up in the middle of the night feeling the weight next to me continuously shifting—not shifting, thrashing. Nick’s body practically vibrated as he lay in bed, his head moving from side to side, arms flailing as beads of sweat lined his face. He’d mumble, so low I couldn’t understand him, but then he screamed. A terrified scream that rattled me to my core, and if I wasn’t awake yet, I was after that.
Nick refused to wake up when I tried rousing him. He began repeating a mix of no and my name before he jolted awake. He bolted straight up, and his fingers held my wrist in a vice grip. His eyes were blown wide with fear and confusion as his chest rose and fell violently.
“Hey, it’s me. You’re home. You’re safe,” I said, touching his face, but he ripped away from me, still looking around the room. His breaths became panicked, his chest rising and falling violently. “Nick, look at me.” I gripped his chin and forced his eyes on me. “It’s me,” I said, annunciating each syllable.
He blinked a few times, glancing on either side of my face before locking eyes with me again. Finally, the recognition set in. “Dee?”
“Yeah, baby. It’s me. You’re home.” My fingers glided through the short hairs, nails grazing his scalp, before he leaned forward and buried his face into my neck. “You’re okay, Fossette . I got you,” I whispered and kissed his temple, tightening my hold on him.
The whole ordeal scared the shit out of me. We sat there for at least fifteen minutes. It took another twenty for him to fall back to sleep, and me another twenty. When we woke up this morning, he pulled me into another hug, breathing out a quick “thank you” before we got ready to leave for the station. Maybe I should’ve pressed the topic further—asked him more about it—but I got the feeling he didn’t want to discuss it…
The door of Beau’s office swings open, Beau leads Sergeant James Warren from the State inside before sitting at his desk. Warren introduces himself to Nick, offering me a nod, and finds his place leaning against the filing cabinet to the right of the desk. A moment later, Sheriff Rhett Wilson from Puck County walks in the door.
Nick’s grip on my hand tightens and his leg movements halt. His eyes remain fixed on the newcomer, narrowed slightly, following his every move.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, but he doesn’t move or respond.
“Nick, this is Rhett Wilson, sheriff out there in Puck County,” Beau says. Looking up from the paper in his hands, he notices Nick’s death grip on my hand. I watch Beau’s eyes trail from Nick’s hand to his face and finally to mine.
“Nick,” Sheriff Wilson chuckles. “Glad you finally decided to join us.”
My husband doesn’t respond, instead looking back at me. Something isn’t right. When I look at Beau, he continues to look between Nick and Wilson, putting the pieces together. The tension in the room finally catches the Sergeant’s attention. He gives Beau a knowing glance, subtly lifting his brow, and nods.
Do they know something?
The other sheriff seems oblivious to it all, staring out the window of Beau’s office. “Ms. Villa,” Wilson says, turning back to us. “I’m sure Beau told you, but we looked all ’round that trail, and didn’t see any signs of your mystery man.”
“Men,” I correct him. “There were two of them.”
His face twitches near the corner of his left eye, but you probably wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking.
“Hey, Rhett, can you grab Max from outside?” Beau asks, and the older man raises his white brow. “I want him to be here for this since he’s been part of the investigation. He can take notes for me.”
Sheriff Wilson rolls his eyes, grumbling, but does as he’s asked.
When the door closes behind him, Beau looks directly at Nick. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”
Nick doesn’t seem to notice. His attention is now directed to a spot on the floor and his fingers absentmindedly pick at the fabric of his jeans.
“Nick.” I gently touch his cheek, causing him to jump in place. When his eyes meet mine, I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “You gotta tell us what’s going on. Do you know him, the sheriff?”
Nick looks around the room at each of us, ending on Beau. “He knows the guys that attacked me.” The sentence hangs in the air for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…Did Nick just confirm what Beau and I had been suspecting this whole time? “I saw him…in Bezer, with them. I—I didn’t know he was the sheriff. No one ever said…He goes by Red there.”
“I’m sorry.” Beau pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut, working through this new information. “Did you just say Sheriff Wilson is working with the men who attacked you? And they may be the men your wife saw at Mount Achor a few days ago?”
“They’re definitely friendly.”
Beau scrubs a hand down his face, cursing under his breath.
“Do you have any proof?” Sergeant Warren asks.
“I didn’t exactly have a phone to be able to capture a fucking picture,” Nick snaps, and I squeeze his hand, a gentle reminder these aren’t the two we’re supposed to be fighting. “But I’m telling you I saw him with my own two eyes. He’s part of whatever is going on out there.”
“And you’re sure it was him?”
“Pretty damn sure.”
“That’s not solid enough,” the sergeant says a millisecond before the door reopens. He pulls his phone out from his front pocket and begins typing. He looks up at Rhett, then returns to his message moments later.
Something is going on here, I know it, but what? I can’t tell if Warren believes Nick, but when I meet Beau’s stare, he nods discreetly. Despite whatever Sergeant Warren may think, Beau believes him. His confidence is enough for me—as long as one of them does.
“Great, now that we’re all here, can we get started?” Sheriff Wilson asks, looking around the room. His baritone voice displays a deep annoyance at the situation, and if I wasn’t suspicious of him already, I would be by his eagerness to get this over and done.
Beau pulls a voice recorder from the top drawer and sets it near the front of the desk, pressing record…