Chapter 19 #2
I kept my voice easy. Kept my face easy.
Kept laughing at the right moments while Elizabeth finished her story, while Harper pulled her keys out, while we walked back toward the car at a pace that was natural enough not to signal anything.
Behind us, I heard the sedan’s engine turn over softly. I didn’t look back.
The drive back to Sweetbriar was quiet in a good way, the road dark and easy between the two towns.
I watched the trees blur past my window and held the plate number in the back of my mind like a stone I wasn’t ready to put down yet.
Not yet. Not while Harper was here, warm and carefree from the evening, Bella waiting for her at home, the good night still sitting intact around all three of us.
There would be time for the rest of it. I just needed a few more minutes of this first.
Elizabeth pulled into the Stop & Go lot and cut the engine. The store sat quiet behind us, her Aunt Donna’s silhouette moving behind the lit window, unhurried and ordinary. My phone buzzed in my back pocket.
Unknown number. One message.
Unknown: Heard things have been stressful out at Riverside Pines lately. Hope you’re keeping your head down.
No emoji. No punctuation. No context. I stared at it for a moment while Harper gathered her bag from the footwell, still glowing from the evening, laughing at something Elizabeth had said.
I felt a brief, fierce protectiveness toward that.
Toward her not having to know yet. Toward letting her drive home with Bella waiting and the good night still intact.
“Okay,” I said, climbing out, keeping my voice exactly the way it had been all evening. “Text me when you’re home.”
“Always do.” Harper hugged me over the roof of the car, warm and quick. “Talk to him tonight,” she said quietly, into my hair. “Don’t talk yourself out of it.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” She pulled back, smiled at Elizabeth, blew us both a kiss, and got into her car. I watched her taillights disappear out of the lot and held myself very still until they were gone.
Elizabeth had not moved. She was leaning against the hood of her hatchback with her arms folded, watching me with the careful attention of someone who had noticed exactly how efficiently I’d just wrapped up Harper’s evening.
“So,” she said.
“I need to text my brother real quick,” I said.
Her eyes didn’t leave my face. “Okay.”
I pulled up Matt’s contact.
Me: Silver sedan. Saw it in our lot before we left tonight. Saw it again outside the Twilight Tavern when we came out. Got a text from an unknown number. I have the plate. Oregon. It feels off. I’m at Stop & Go.
His reply came almost instantly.
Matt: Stay where you are. I’m coming.
Elizabeth waited, arms still folded, watching me with that quiet, steady attention until I looked up.
“Matt’s coming,” I said.
She nodded once, pushed off the hood, and said, “I’ll put the coffee on. Come inside to wait.” She went in without another word. After a moment, I followed, the night quiet around me, the good warmth of the evening sitting somewhere just out of reach, and waited by the door.
Matt’s truck pulled in within minutes, parking hard but controlled. He scanned the perimeter before he was fully out of the vehicle, then crossed toward me. “You get the plate?” he asked immediately.
I showed him my phone. He studied it, then nodded once. “Good.” He stepped back outside and went to his truck, phone already in hand. I watched him lean against the hood while he made a call, posture calm, voice too low to carry. When he came back, his expression had tightened just slightly.
“There’s been some interest in that stretch of river,” he said, lowering his voice.
“Developers. Survey crews. We knew that. But it’s intensifying.
There are reports of people, not quite being threatened, but their approach has bordered on intimidation lately.
And the more attention they get…” He let out a slow breath.
Attention.
My podcast.
I folded my arms, more to steady myself than anything. “So what does that mean?”
“It means you don’t respond to that number.” He handed my phone back. “And you don’t go live. Not without me. And not without a solid plan.” He paused. “One more thing. Who has access to your laptop? Passwords, login credentials. Anyone besides you?”
“No,” I said immediately. The word came out automatically.
The way it always did when Matt asked questions I hadn’t thought about yet.
And then I did think about it. Travis used to use my laptop.
To stream things, mostly. Games. Shows. He’d ask, and I’d tell him the password without thinking, because we were together, and that’s what you did.
I never thought to change it when I left.
There was so much to untangle, and the laptop password had not been on the list.
“Becca,” Matt said.
“Travis knew it,” I said as it dawned on me. My voice came out flat. The way it got when I was processing something I didn’t want to be true. “I never changed it.”
Matt’s expression didn’t change. That was somehow worse than if it had. “Okay,” he said. Just okay. Nothing else.
I thought about the night by the river. The figure with his arms crossed, weight shifted back, the posture I’d seen a thousand times.
The thought I’d pushed away before I could finish it.
I thought about Travis at Holloway’s. How are things by the river?
Said twice. Casually. Like small talk. I hadn’t told him I’d seen anything by the river.
I hadn’t told anyone except the podcast. The podcast that had been live for four minutes before I deleted it.
The podcast that was gone from my laptop the next morning.
“Matt,” I said.
“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m working on it. Don’t say anything to him. Avoid him.”
“You think this is all connected? Am I being paranoid?”
“No. Always trust your gut. Always err on the side of caution. Never hesitate to tell me anything.”
“Thanks, Matt.”
He nodded once, then looked past me toward the store. Elizabeth moved behind the counter, coffee already made, two cups set out. She glanced between us, reading the room the way she always did, quickly and accurately. She didn’t say anything yet.
“Aunt Donna’s on a bathroom break,” she said, sliding takeout coffee cups across the counter. “So you’ve got a few minutes.” She looked at Matt, then at me, then back at Matt. “I’m guessing you’ll want this.”
Matt accepted the coffee without comment.
Something in his expression acknowledged the efficiency of it without making a thing of it.
“Thanks,” he said. She nodded once and moved to the far end of the counter, busying herself with the coffee machine in a way that made clear she was giving us space while remaining exactly where she could see everything.
“Elizabeth,” Matt said. “Do you have exterior security cameras on this lot?”
She set down the coffee pot. “One. Mounted above the entrance, covers most of the parking area.” She glanced between us. “You need the footage?”
“If you can get it, yes.”
“I don’t have direct access. It runs through the security company.” She was already moving toward the counter, pulling her phone out. “But I can email them right now and have them send it over. Shouldn’t take long if I tell them it’s a police matter.”
Matt’s expression didn’t change, but something in it settled. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Consider it done.” She looked at me briefly, with sympathetic understanding, then stepped away, toward the back room, and put the phone to her ear.
Matt watched her go, then turned back to me, lowering his voice. “I’m talking to Levi tonight,” I said before he could speak. “I’m going to tell him everything.”
His expression softened just a fraction. “Good. I’ll feel better if he’s aware.” He glanced once more toward the road, jaw working slightly. “You’re not driving yourself home,” he said. It wasn’t controlling. It was practical.
“My car’s fine,” I said.
“I know.” His gaze flicked toward the road and back. “Still, humor me.”
I hesitated, then nodded.
Elizabeth came back, phone call done, and leaned her hip against the counter with her arms folded. She looked at me for a long moment. “So,” she said. “I’m not asking questions.”
“Elizabeth—”
“I’m not,” she said again, pleasantly. “But I do expect a full, extremely informative explanation at some point in the very near future.” She pointed a finger at me.
“And if this turns into some kind of dramatic small-town scandal, or epic woman-in-jeopardy scenario, I want first-round drinks at Holloway’s where we can go over it in explicit detail. ”
“There is no scandal,” I said.
“Yet?” she replied calmly.
Matt’s lips twitched as he fought a smile.
Elizabeth softened just a fraction and stepped closer, squeezing my arm. “Leave the car tonight. It’s in view of the cameras, and I’ll be here until late. If anything looks weird, I’ll call. Or I’ll hit it with a broom. Either works.”
“That’s very reassuring,” Matt muttered.
She waved him off. “I’ve handled worse. One ends up seeing a lot of weird things running an establishment such as this.” She looked at me steadily. “Text me when you’re home. Be safe. And don’t make me beg you for details.”
“I won’t,” I said. “Thank you. For tonight. All of it.”
She waved me off in the way she did when she was being sweet, but didn’t want to make a thing of it. “Go,” she said. “Get some rest.”
The drive back to the campground was short but quieter than usual. Trees blurred past the window, the late light filtering through in long, thin strips. “You can come home with me. You don’t have to go to the trailer.” Matt said.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Levi is there.”
He nodded once. We turned into the gravel drive. My trailer came into view, small and familiar. He parked and cut the engine, walked me to the steps without hovering while I unlocked the door. “You call if anything feels off,” he said.
“I will.”
“And don’t respond to that number.”
“I won’t.”
He held my gaze a second longer than usual, then stepped back.
I went inside. The trailer was quiet. I settled in to wait for Levi, the good warmth of the evening still somewhere underneath everything else, faint but present.