Chapter 7
Dylan
Throwing hay bales is a poor way to blow off steam when your mind is a firestorm.
Even though it’s barely eight in the morning, sweat is already slicking my skin. I toss another bale onto the stack, then head back to the trailer to repeat the process. Hopefully enough times to wear myself out so much that I won’t be able to think straight.
Maybe then I can get her out of my head so I can sleep longer than the thirty minutes I got last night. Never in my life have I wished meds worked for me like I do now. I’ve tried them all though.
Everything from prescriptions to herbal blends, and nothing has eased the monsters in my mind. The creatures that stand ready to devour me the second I let my guard down.
The scent of alfalfa surrounds me as I toss another bale into place, rip the hay hooks free, and turn back toward the trailer once again. But as I do, I catch sight of Gibson Lawson in his sheriff’s uniform, walking toward me with Bradyn and Tucker at his side.
All three men have strained expressions, their shoulders squared as though they’re prepping for a fight. Fantastic. I toss the hay hooks as far from me as I can, not wanting them anywhere nearby because there are times I don’t trust my own mind.
And it doesn’t look like whatever news they have to deliver is going to be easy.
“What is it?” I demand as soon as they’re close enough.
“Hey, Dylan,” Gibson starts. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
“What about?”
“Just answer them so we can move on,” Tucker snaps.
Gibson tosses him an apologetic glance. We’ve known Gibson his entire life. He and Lani were best friends growing up, so he spent a lot of time here with us. Which only makes his tense expression even more worrisome.
“What’s this about?” I demand.
“Where were you last night?” he asks.
“Home.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“This is ridiculous,” Tucker snaps.
“I agree, but I have to ask. Their fight was public, Tucker. Dozens of people saw it.”
His word choice sends me spiraling. My heart begins to race, and spots dance at the edges of my vision. “Where were you last night?” He would only be asking that if something happened, right? Determining whether or not I had an alibi. What if— I charge forward. “What happened? Where is Emma?”
Gibson glares at Tucker.
“We don’t know,” Bradyn answers.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I demand, hands clenching into fists.
“Breathe, Dylan.”
“I’m breathing fine!” I yell at Tucker. “What I want to know is what happened to Emma?”
“Talia Matthews called me late last night. Emma never showed up for her birthday dinner at the diner, so she and Connor went to check on her. They found her door unlocked, a full mug of tea on her coffee table alongside a box of mementos surrounding your relationship, and broken glass in the kitchen, but she was gone.”
“Gone.” The air is sucked from my lungs.
“Yes. And because of your very public fight yesterday, I need to ask the right questions. I know you wouldn’t hurt her, but—”
“It’s your job,” I reply, my tone going flat. Keep your head. It’s a mission like any other. Find her.
I have to find her.
Find her. And make whoever took her pay.
“As I said, I was here. Had dinner with my parents, then went home.”
“What time was that?”
“Ten,” I reply.
“So you were with your parents until ten.”
“Yes.”
“Talia and Conner discovered she was missing about seven thirty.” Gibson slips his notebook back into his pocket. “Which means you couldn’t have done it.”
“Of course he couldn’t have done it,” Bradyn growls. “We told you that.”
“Yes, but now that I have confirmation, I can officially ask for your help in tracking her down. I don’t have the manpower for an all-out search.”
“Is it possible she left for a walk?”
“No,” I tell Tucker. “Emma doesn’t like to be out at night. She wouldn’t have gone for a walk. Why did no one come here last night? Why wait until this morning? That’s a massive head start you gave to whoever took her.”
“We checked the woods behind her house, the library, everywhere she could have gone. I checked with neighbors, and we were searching her house until nearly two in the morning. Then, we spent the rest of the time scouring all security cameras in town to see if we could see anything.”
I withdraw my cell and toss it to Tucker. “The last picture I took is of the man who wanted to talk to her in the diner. It’s distant, but you should be able to run him.”
“On it.”
“Let me know when you have a name,” Gibson says. “And send me that picture.”
“Will do.” Tucker jogs off in the direction of his house, which is less than a mile from mine.
“That man was in the diner with her. Did he give Talia a name?” I ask.
“She didn’t get a name,” Gibson says. “There’s more to it too. Another reason why I don’t think I can call her a true missing person yet.” Gibson removes his hat and runs his hand through his hair.
“What is it?” I demand.
Gibson looks from Bradyn to me. “Talia said that she overheard some of their conversation. The mystery man told Emma that he knew her birth mother. Dylan, you know her better than anyone. Would she run off like that without telling someone?”
“No. And she would never stand Talia and Connor up like that.”
“That’s what I thought too.” He shakes his head. “I need to get back to the station. Let me know when you have something.”
I don’t even wait for him to walk away before I’m turning, hands clenched into fists, making my way to my UTV. I will tear him apart for hurting her. Red floods my vision at the mere thought of what I’ll do to him if even a single hair on Emma’s gorgeous head is missing.
For the first time though, I don’t fight the anger.
I let it seep into my system, driving me toward the mission they’ll have to kill me to keep me off of.
I climb behind the wheel, and Delta hops in the back.
Before I can take off, Bradyn jumps into the passenger seat and grips the stability handle.
Since he doesn’t say a word, I don’t hesitate before pulling away from the barn and heading toward my house.
I’ll gear up and head out, then let Tucker guide me if he finds anything else.
But I know better than most that sometimes you have to start right back at the beginning. Which means I need to see her house.
In silence, I park in front of my house; then Bradyn and I head up the porch steps. He waits while I unlock the door and follows me inside.
“If you’re going to try to talk me out of this, then you should know that there’s not a force in this world that will keep me from finding her.
” I grab my tactical backpack, the one I keep stocked with emergency supplies, setting it on the counter to go through it and double-check that everything I need is here.
“I’m not going to talk you out of it.” Bradyn crosses his arms. “But I need to know where your head is at. Yesterday, you lost it because she poked you in the chest. What if this is worse? I won’t lose you again, Dylan.”
After setting down a bottle of water I was preparing to shove into the bag, I turn toward my oldest brother.
His expression is all concern, and I love him for it.
“Do you remember when Elliot and Nova were getting married? In his vows, he told her that she was the only one who could calm the storm in him.”
“I remember.”
I take a step closer. “Emma is my storm, Bradyn. She is the wind that tears me apart, the rain that hammers against my skin, the lightning that shoots through my blood, making me feel completely alive and torn apart all at the same time. She is the only thing that had me clinging to life when I was in that pit. I can’t trust myself around her, Bradyn, but I know who I’ll be without her.
She’s the only thing grounding me, and if anything happens to her—” I trail off. “You might as well put me down too.”
“Then we need to make sure nothing happens to her.” Bradyn clasps a hand on my shoulder.
“I made a call, and Elliot and Nova will be back later tonight. I’ve already let Riley know we need to meet, so he’ll join us at the office.
Don’t go after her without checking in with us first, okay?
We need to treat this like any other mission. Even though it’s not.”
I nod. “I’ll check in with you all after I head to her house.”
“Sounds good.” Bradyn heads for the door. “We’ll find her, Dylan.”
“I know we will.”
He leaves the room, and, alone for the first time since hearing the news, I sink back onto the barstool and close my eyes. In the silence, I sit, letting my mind replay every moment while I waited for her to step out of the diner.
What would have happened if, instead of arguing with her, I’d told her how I felt?
What would have happened if we hadn’t gotten into that fight?
Would she still be gone?
How soon after that moment did he take her?
The weight of knowing I may never see her again settles in, and for a brief moment, it’s not me who suffered in that pit—it’s Emma.
Her blonde hair streaked with blood and dirt.
Her face bruised.
It’s her blood that falls to the ground.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Delta rubs against my legs and whimpers, then paws at me. Without thinking, I sink out of the stool and onto the ground, then wrap my arms around Delta. He leans against me.
“I can’t lose her,” I whisper to my empty home. “I can’t lose her.” And even though I’m not entirely sure He listens to me, I add, “God, please don’t let me lose her.”
Emma’s house looks nearly the same as it did when we were growing up. The same photos are on the wall, the same throw pillows on the couch. There are a few differences now—a new blanket on the back of the couch. New patterns on the dishes displayed behind glass in her mother’s china cabinet.
But it’s almost like stepping back in time. After slipping gloves onto my hands, I move farther into the house, looking for anything that might be out of place. It’s been years since I was in here last, but I know Emma. She likes everything to be in its place. Always.