Chapter 15
Becca
“I’m not live. I’m on my stupid voice note app. I just needed to talk it through. Sometimes hearing your own voice reminds you that everything’s still under control.”
Matt had shown up the next morning before I’d finished my first cup of coffee. Apparently, he’d already decided something was wrong and was working backward from that conclusion.
He stood at my tiny kitchen counter, one hand braced against it, staring at my laptop screen as if he could will the missing file back into existence.
The light through the window hit the side of his face, catching the crease between his brows.
He looked less like my brother and more like a cop trying to build a case out of air.
“You’re sure you didn’t move it?” he asked.
I let out a slow breath. “Matt.”
“I have to ask.”
“I didn’t move it. I didn’t rename it. I didn’t accidentally drag it into some mystery folder labeled ‘taxes 2018.’ It was there.” My throat tightened. “And now it isn’t. I don’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry. This is just frustrating and it’s freaking me out.”
He nodded once, absorbing that. His jaw worked slightly, the way it did when he was choosing what to say next. “You took it down from the podcast yourself,” he said carefully.
“Yes. I deleted it from the platform.” I wrapped both hands around my cup, more for something to hold than for the heat. “But I saved the original recording on my laptop. I always do. That’s just normal for me, to keep a backup.”
“And that’s the one that’s gone,” he reconfirmed.
“Yes.” The word felt heavier the second time.
Matt reached for the mouse and clicked through the folders again, even though we both knew he’d already looked. The episode before it was there. The one after it was there. Everything else sat exactly where it belonged. Surgical. That was the word that kept circling in my head.
He straightened slowly. “There was no sign of forced entry on the trailer,” he said, mostly to himself.
“That doesn’t mean someone wasn’t inside,” I replied quietly. “Maybe it was Travis. Could it be him? I—”
“Maybe.” His eyes flicked to mine. He didn’t argue. “But I doubt it. He’s a worthless piece of crap, but I don’t think he’s the type to break into your place.”
He was probably right. Travis wasn’t subtle or careful.
Travis left marks. But someone who worked for the mayor understood the importance of a paper trail and had learned to smile at city council meetings and call it “community outreach”.
That person might know exactly how to erase a file without leaving fingerprints. I didn’t say this out loud.
“About all of this. I don’t understand the point,” I said. “If someone wanted to hurt me, why delete it? Why not just leave it? Or confront me? Or—I don’t know—do something dramatic.” I let out a brittle laugh. “Deleting a file and leaving stupid little comments doesn’t exactly scream mastermind.”
“It screams clean-up,” Matt said evenly. “It screams, gutless turd. So, maybe it was Travis,” he muttered to himself. “I won’t rule him out. You’re right to think of him.”
The word settled between us. Clean-up. As in, something happened that night. As in, someone didn’t want a record of it.
I swallowed. “But doing this draws attention. It would bring more suspicion. If there’s something shady happening out there, why would anyone risk that?”
“People don’t always think long-term,” he said. “Sometimes they panic.”
“Over what? I didn’t even say anything specific.”
“You recorded something you weren’t supposed to see. That they obviously didn’t want anyone to know about.” His tone was steady, but there was steel underneath it. “That might be enough.”
I looked down at the laptop screen, at the empty space where the file should have been, and felt that hollowness in my gut again. This wasn’t a glitch. It wasn’t me misplacing something. It wasn’t my imagination running wild in the dark. It was deliberate.
Matt stepped closer and rested his hands on the counter. “You can stay with me. And yes, I will probably say it every time I see or talk to you. Deal with it.”
I didn’t answer right away. “I’m okay,” I said finally. “Especially with Levi right there.”
“Okay. I’m just worried. And I want you to know I mean it—my door is always open for you.
But, yeah, you will be okay, and he’ll make sure you’re safe.
I’m going back to the station. I’ll figure this out, I promise.
” He grabbed his keys from the counter and squeezed my shoulder on his way to the door.
“Lock up behind me. Call me if anything feels off. Anything at all. I mean it. I’ll come back here and pick you up. Say the word. Promise me.”
“I will call you. I promise.”
He paused at the door and looked back at me, his expression softening into something purely big brother again. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Bec.”
I held his gaze. “I know. I mean, I know that now. Between you and Aggie, I know. I promise.”
He nodded once and stepped out into the cool morning, the sound of his boots on gravel fading as his truck door shut. The engine started.
I glanced toward the window between mine and Levi’s, the curtain next door shifting faintly in the breeze.
And for the first time since the file disappeared, I wasn’t just reacting. I was thinking about what I would do next.
I got ready for work on autopilot—finish coffee, clean clothes, hair up, boots on.
Go to work. The Stop & Go kept me moving all day, kept my hands busy, kept the worst of my thoughts at a manageable distance.
Elizabeth talked. Customers came and went.
By the time my shift ended, I was tired and ready to crash.
The drive back to Riverside Pines felt longer than usual. But when I turned off the main road, Levi’s truck was in the lot, and my entire body relaxed without effort.
He was home.
I swapped my jeans for soft cotton pajamas, brushed my teeth, and checked the windows and door one more time before climbing into bed, going through each small ritual as if it were proof I was still in control. It was still early, but, just like yesterday, I was exhausted.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to every shift of metal and wind, wondering if independence was just another word for stubborn. I picked up my book and flipped it open. The trailer creaked. My heart jumped.
Then—a cabinet door closed next door. Water ran. A faint thud. It was Levi. I focused on the sound of him moving around. The rhythm of it. He was right there, and I would be okay.
Eventually, I rolled onto my side, facing the window.
I told myself to sleep. For a while, I just lay there listening to the night breathe.
The hum of a distant truck on the highway.
The faint metallic tick of cooling siding.
The low murmur of Levi’s music through the thin space between our trailers.
He was still awake. I focused on that sound. On something ordinary and steady.
My thoughts stopped running in straight lines. They blurred at the edges. The ceiling above me softened into shadow. My body grew heavy in that familiar, sinking way. I didn’t notice the exact moment I slipped under.
I was just… suddenly there.
At the river.
The air felt colder than it had that night. The trees stood too close together. Too tall.
The red light blinked between the branches.
Once.
Twice.
Someone said my name.
Low. Close.
I tried to turn toward it, but my body wouldn’t move. My feet felt anchored to the floor.
The light flashed again—
And I jerked awake.
My arm flew out instinctively, slamming hard against the thin metal siding of the trailer. The impact rang out—a sharp, hollow thud that echoed in the small space.
Air wouldn’t go into my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was tight, and my heart slammed against my ribs as if trying to escape. My fingers tingled. My vision narrowed. I wasn’t dying. Somewhere deep inside, I knew that. But my body didn’t.
I tried to take a deep breath.
It caught halfway.
The room felt smaller.
A shadow moved outside my window.
Then a soft knock against the glass.
“Becca?” Levi’s voice. Another knock, more urgent. “Hey. Unlock it. I heard the bang—I heard you gasping. Open the window.”
My hands shook as I slid the curtains aside and reached for the latch.
It took two tries to slide it open. He leaned across the narrow gap, bracing one hand on my frame, and crawled through his window like he’d practiced the move.
He didn’t even hesitate. He ended up in my bed.
Next to me. Right there, taking up my space until he was all I could see.