23. Let This End Tonight – Zoe
Chapter 23
Let This End Tonight
PLAYLIST: “BURY A FRIEND” BY BILLIE EILISH
ZOE
I stepped out of the station into the cool evening air, the tension still coiled tight in my chest. The sky was streaked with fading light, but all I could focus on was the group waiting for me by my car.
Roman stood apart from the others, his arms crossed, his body tense like a spring ready to snap. My father, Kat, and Miss Smith were clustered near the car, their gazes snapping to me as soon as I emerged.
Roman was the first to move, closing the distance between us with long, deliberate strides. His face was tight with frustration, his eyes stormy as they locked onto mine.
“What the hell were you thinking, Zoe?” he snapped, his voice low but sharp. “You put your ass on the line for me. Do you even realize how dangerous that was?”
I stopped short, the force of his anger almost making me flinch, but I stood my ground. “Of course I do. But you’re my husband, Roman. I love you. There’ll never be a time when I won’t do everything in my power to protect you.”
His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he just stared at me, his hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to reach for me but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.
“You can’t just—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Damn it, Zoe. What if they had found something? What if they’d decided you were the one to pin this on?”
“They didn’t,” I said firmly. “And they won’t. I told Landon the truth, and now he has to investigate it. He doesn’t have enough to hold either of us, Roman. That’s what matters right now.”
Roman dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You shouldn’t have had to do that for me. I should have been the one protecting you.”
“You have been,” I whispered, stepping closer. “You always have. But this isn’t about who protects who, Roman. It’s about us standing together. And that’s what I’m doing.”
For a moment, his anger wavered, replaced by something softer, something raw. He reached for me then, his hand settling on my arm, his touch grounding me.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear.
“Yes, you do,” I said firmly, covering his hand with mine. “And we’re going to get through this. Together.”
“Together,” he echoed, his voice stronger this time.
A throat cleared behind us, and we both turned to see my father watching, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. “I hate to interrupt, but maybe we should get out of here before Barton decides he’s got more questions.”
Kat smirked, leaning casually against the car. “Smart idea. Barton’s probably already stewing about having to let you both go. No sense sticking around to tempt fate.”
Roman let out a quiet laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “We don’t know each other well yet, Kat, but I agree with you.”
We climbed into the car, the silence heavy but not suffocating. My father sat in the passenger seat, his jaw tight, while Roman and I took the back. Kat slid into the driver’s seat, casting a quick glance at me in the rearview mirror.
“You’ve got a hell of a team behind you, boss,” she said, her voice lighter than I expected. “You’re going to figure this out. I know you will. And we’ll help you.”
I managed a faint smile, though the weight of everything still pressed down on me. “Thanks, Kat.”
As the car pulled away from the station, I leaned into Roman’s side, his warmth steadying me. For the first time in what felt like hours, I let myself breathe.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But for now, we were free. And we’d fight the next battle together.
The road back to the ranch stretched ahead of us, the rhythmic hum of the tires on asphalt filling the tense silence in the car. My mind was already spinning, racing through everything Landon had said, everything we knew—or didn’t know—about Missy’s death.
I turned to the others, my voice breaking the quiet. “Barton’s going to come for us harder than ever after this. He’s convinced we’re guilty, and if he can’t find the evidence to prove it, he’ll settle for burying us under circumstantial bullshit.”
Roman tensed beside me, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. “And what the hell are we supposed to do about that? If the cops haven’t cracked this case in ten years, what makes you think we can?”
I met his gaze, steady and unflinching. “Because we don’t have a choice. If we don’t figure this out, Barton’s going to twist everything against us until we can’t breathe. It’s up to us to solve this mystery ourselves.”
Roman’s scowl deepened, his voice low and sharp. “Just how the fuck are we gonna do that if the cops, with all their resources, can’t?”
“We’re going to have to work smarter than them,” I said simply, my voice firm. “And we’re going to have to split up.”
His head snapped toward me, his glare cutting through the dim light of the car. “I hate the sound of that.”
“I know, baby,” I admitted, placing a hand on his arm. “But it’s the only way we can move fast enough to stay ahead of them. If we stick together, we’ll waste time chasing the same leads instead of covering more ground.”
Roman muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further.
I pressed on, turning my attention to Kat. “Kat, I want you to start with Missy’s social media. Look through her posts, her messages with me, her comments—anything you can manage to access that might give us a lead. You can log in as me if you need to. You already have all my passwords.”
Kat quirked a brow, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “I knew saving those would come in handy someday. You’re lucky I’m so trustworthy.”
I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. “You can set up in the guest room or Dad’s office, whichever works better for you. Just dig deep. I don’t care how far back you have to go.”
Kat gave a quick nod, already pulling her phone from her pocket. “Consider it done, boss.”
I shifted my gaze to Roman, who was still glaring out the window. “Rome, I need you to check the trucks. Specifically the ones with the ranch logo on the side.”
He turned back to me, his brows furrowed. “Why?”
“Because whoever firebombed the evidence repository used one of those trucks,” I said, my voice steady but cold. “They wanted it to be seen on the security footage. It was deliberate. You know the fleet better than anyone. If there’s anything off, you’ll find it.”
Roman’s jaw clenched, but he nodded slowly. “Fine. But what about you?”
“I’m going to search through my old mementos,” I said, my tone softening. “Anything from when Missy was alive—letters, photos, notes. If there’s a clue we’ve missed, it might be buried in the past.”
My father, who had been silent until now, turned slightly in his seat to look at me. “And what happens if Barton gets wind of this? If he figures out what you’re up to, he’ll see it as interfering with the investigation.”
“I don’t give a damn what Barton thinks,” I said sharply. “This isn’t about him. It’s about the truth. The sooner we find it, the sooner we can clear our names.”
Dad sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Just… be careful, Zoe. Barton’s not the only one who’ll be watching.”
“I will,” I promised, though I wasn’t sure how much weight the words carried.
* * *
I sat cross-legged on the worn rug of my old room, surrounded by piles of memories that told me nothing useful. Boxes of letters, photographs, and yearbooks stared back at me like ghosts of a simpler time, mocking me for thinking they might hold answers. My chest tightened with frustration, my fingers gripping a faded picture of Missy and me, smiling at the creek like nothing could ever go wrong.
I dropped it back into the box and exhaled sharply, brushing my hair back from my face.
“Damn it, Missy,” I muttered, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “Why couldn’t you have left us a clue?”
My gaze drifted to the window, the amber glow of the barn’s lights catching my eye. A chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t set foot in that barn since I got back to Montana. I’d avoided it like it might reach out and swallow me whole. Knowing Missy had died in there… it was like there was an invisible barrier keeping me out.
But then a thought struck me, sharp and unwelcome. Missy’s diary. She was always writing in it, tucked away in the loft of the barn where no one could bother her. Could it still be there?
The thought alone was enough to make bile rise in my throat. My pulse quickened, my hands trembling as I stared at the barn. I could feel the panic clawing at the inside of my ribcage, threatening to take over.
“No,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head. “Not now. Get it together, Zoe. You have to do this.”
I stood, pacing the room like a caged animal. My breathing was shallow, and the walls of my old room felt like they were closing in. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms, trying to force the panic down.
“You can do this,” I said aloud, the words a shaky mantra. “Missy’s gone. The barn is just a building. You’ve done harder things than this.”
It didn’t feel true, but I latched onto the lie, anyway. My stomach churned as I left the room, my steps heavy as I made my way downstairs and out into the cool night air. The barn loomed ahead of me, a shadowed silhouette against the star-dotted sky. Every step closer felt like walking into a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
When I reached the doors, I paused, swallowing hard against the nausea rolling through me. My fingers hovered over the latch, frozen.
“Just a building,” I whispered again, forcing my hand to move. The latch creaked as I opened the door, the familiar smell of hay and wood washing over me, tinged with something else that made my stomach lurch. Fear… my fear.
I stepped inside, my eyes drawn to the loft. I suppressed a shudder. When Missy’s death was ruled a suicide, they said she’d jumped from the loft with a rope around her neck, hanging herself from one of the barn’s rafters. My stomach roiled at the thought of having to go up there.
The ladder leading up to it seemed impossibly high, like a climb to some forbidden place. My legs felt like lead as I crossed the barn, my breaths shallow and quick. I gripped the rungs tightly, the metal cool and unforgiving under my hands, and started climbing.
Each step felt like a test, the air growing thinner the higher I went. When I reached the top, I paused, resting my forehead against the edge of the loft floor, willing my heart to slow.
“You’ve come this far,” I told myself. “Don’t turn back now.”
I pulled myself up into the loft, the familiar creak of the boards beneath me almost too much to bear. It was just as I remembered—dusty, cluttered with old boxes and tools. I dropped to my knees and began searching, my hands trembling as I pushed aside years of debris.
Minutes stretched into eternity as I scoured every inch of the space. My heart was pounding, my breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts. And then my fingers brushed against something odd—a loose board in the corner.
I pried it up with shaking hands, my pulse roaring in my ears. Beneath it, nestled in the shadows, was a small, worn book. Missy’s diary.
It was aged, the edges frayed, the cover warped slightly from moisture, but it was unmistakable. My hands trembled as I picked it up, the weight of it almost too much to bear. I flipped it open, the faint scent of old paper wafting up, and began to read.
The words blurred together at first, my mind struggling to process them. But as I read, the pieces started to fall into place, each entry peeling back a layer of the person Missy had been. My chest tightened, a lump forming in my throat as horror and anger twisted inside me, tangled with something unexpected: empathy.
Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. My hands gripped the diary tightly, my knuckles white.
“Oh, Missy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
I closed the diary, holding it against my chest as if it might steady me. The truth was in my hands now, and it was heavier than I’d ever imagined.
I climbed down the ladder carefully, each step deliberate, my legs shaking beneath me. Outside the barn, I pulled my phone from my pocket, my fingers trembling as I typed out a text to Roman.
Zoe
Forget the trucks. Go get Landon from town and then meet me at the barn when you get back with him.
I turned the ringer off and switched all the sound settings to silent, my heart pounding as I set the phone on a bale of hay where it could film everything unobstructed. The lens was pointed toward the barn’s interior, capturing the loft and the area below.
If this worked, it would finally bring everything to light. If it didn’t… I couldn’t afford to think about that.
With shaking fingers, I typed another message, this one to the person I needed most—and feared most.
Zoe
I need some help with moving a few crates around in the barn. Can you come help me, please?
I hit send, the weight of the moment pressing down on me like a freight train. Switching to my phone’s video app, I hit record, positioning myself so the camera would have a clear view of me when my visitor arrived.
I just prayed Roman and Landon would get here in time. And that they wouldn’t arrive too soon—because if they did, I wouldn’t get the confession I needed. I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I prepared to confront the killer.
“Missy,” I whispered, clutching the diary close. “Let this end tonight.”