13. Easton
EASTON
I'm stretched out on the bed, with a notebook lying beside me and the guitar on my lap.
I've been staring at a blank page and haven't strummed a single chord in over an hour.
All I can do is look at the phone. I sigh.
Setting the guitar on the bed, I stand and walk across the room with the phone in my hand and stare out the window.
Once again, I dial Cat's number. It rings several times then goes to voicemail.
"I don't like this." I hang up. Something isn't right.
My girl is a creature of habit. You can set your clock by her routine, and she is never late getting home from work.
My phone rings and I think finally, but it's not Cat calling, only my sister. "Hey, Em." I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"I've had this nagging feeling to call you for the past couple of hours. Is everything okay?" Emerson asks.
I look up at the ceiling. "Cat's late."
"As in pregnant?" my sisters ask.
"No, Em. She hasn't made it in from running errands, and all of us here at the ranch are getting worried."
"Is this out of the norm for her? Maybe she simply stopped at the store or is visiting with friends." Emerson gives valid explanations, but none of them fit the mold.
"Maybe," I reply, but I don't believe that is the case.
"Do you feel differently?
"I have a knot in my stomach that is convincing me otherwise," I admit.
"Then listen to your gut, East. With all this stalker business, you shouldn't risk ignoring anything."
"You're right." I tell her and can hear the smirk on her face when she replies.
"I know. Anyway, keep me updated, and if you need anything—" Emerson pauses for a second, then says, "Love you."
"Same here." And I end the call. Needing fresh air, I step outside and take a deep breath. Relax. Maybe Emerson is right. It's only been two hours. I try my best to push the worry aside, but it's not working. Twenty minutes later, I find myself pacing the front porch.
"Any luck?" Arthur asks. I turn my head to find him taking a seat in his rocking chair. A few feet from him, David and Steve stand, both leaning against pillars, staring into the darkness.
"Straight to her voicemail," I say, then step off the porch.
"She could have broken down. The damn truck has given her fits here lately," Arthur states.
I step off the porch. "I'm going looking for her." I start heading toward my vehicle.
"Hold up," Arthur says, standing. I stop and look back. He walks into the house, only to emerge a minute later, holding a shotgun in his right hand. "I'm coming with you." He looks back at Steve and David. "Keep an eye on things. Let us know if my granddaughter calls."
"You got it." Steve nods.
The two of us climb into my truck. "You think there could be trouble?" I put the key into the ignition.
"Got to be prepared for any situation," Arthur says.
It's pitch black on the twenty mile stretch of two-way road between town and Callaghan Ranch.
I feel the silence all around me as the humidity in the warm air sticks to my skin.
Suddenly, my headlights reflect off the chrome bumper of a vehicle on the opposite side of the road.
It's Cat's truck. My gut clenches, and frantic, disjointed thoughts race through my mind.
Why wouldn't she have called? Did she get out and start walking home? What if she's hurt? What if…?
No. I stop that last thought before it develops. Don't go there.
I make a quick U-turn in the road, pulling up behind it the entire time, my heart racing.
My eyes search for Cat. "I don't see her.
" My hands get clammy, and the pounding of my heart increases.
I rush from my vehicle and fling open the driver's door of Cat's truck.
Her purse is on the seat, and the keys are hanging in the ignition.
I should have gone looking for her sooner.
The passenger door flings open, and Arthur shines his flashlight inside the cab. There, on the floorboard, under the gas pedal, lays an envelope.
"What's that?" Arthur asks as I open the flap and pull out the piece of paper.
I FOUND YOU.
She has brainwashed you into believing you love her. It's not true.
YOU LOVE ME.
They are conspiring against us.
SHE WILL PAY.
I will prove my love.
YOU WILL LOVE ME.
The air is sucked from my lungs, and I can't breathe. This can't be happening.
"Easton." Arthur's voice waivers as I go to pass him the letter.
"Look." He motions the beam from the flashlight moving across and up the leather seat.
There on the headrest is a small amount of blood.
The blood in my veins runs cold. Please, fuck no.
I swallow the lump in my throat and hand him the letter.
I can't even look at him while he reads.
I can't bear it. This is all my fault. I should have never come here, bringing my trouble with me.
Bright beams of light shine from behind us, and I shield my eyes to make out who it could be.
The truck pulls up alongside Cat's truck, and the window lowers, revealing Lev's face.
The look he gives me causes the muscles in my body to lock up.
I know whatever he has to say is nothing I want to hear.
My feet feel as though they're welded to the asphalt beneath my feet.
Arthur is quickly at my side. "Please tell me you know where Cat is.
" By the way, Lev's face falls; he has no clue.
"I was just on my way out to the ranch. I have no idea where Cat is," he says.
"A low-life piece of trash has my granddaughter." Arthur shoves the letter at Lev.
Lev's eyes scan the short letter. "Shit." He pauses for a second too long.
"Son, you'd better spit out whatever you came out here to say," Arthur demands, his voice strong with worry.
"We have reason to believe the person behind the letter, and the break-in at your apartment was Mallory Vargas," Lev states.
"My publicist Mallory?" I'm in disbelief.
Yet, the more I give it thought the more it starts to make sense.
Why couldn't I see it before? Her persistence for us to get together, trying to push a narrative that I'm more important than my bandmates, the way she acted in the elevator that day towards Cat.
"Easton," Lev says, and I look at him. "I put a call into a tech guy we work with from time to time and were able to obtain her cell phone information and track down her location." Lev looks between me and Arthur. "Mallory is here."
It feels like my heart is ripped from my chest. "Where?"
"Somewhere near Miller Road."
"The old Fulton home," Arthur says. "It's hard to find unless you know what you're looking for. I'll show you the way."
"Get in," Lev tells us both, and Cat's grandfather climbs into Lev's truck, but I decide on taking my own.
"I'm right behind you."