Chapter 25
Garrett stared at the phone lighting up his console, just as he’d put his truck in park. He picked it up and answered, bracing for what he knew was to come. “Hey Dad.”
“What the hell are you thinking? First, Blaze Harris gets ahold of the gun I gave you for emergencies, and now, you go calling him ‘cause you found a dead girl’s cell phone?”
He swallowed, running his hand along his jaw. “I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing, I guess.”
“Really?” Sheriff Myers scoffed. “And take the whole family down with you? You do realize I kept your name off the report to try and protect you, and now you’re bound and determined to get us all in trouble. Think you mighta been easier to handle when you were drinking more.”
“I never asked you to keep my name off the report. I never asked you to protect me, either.” Garrett fought to hold back his anger, his voice strained. “Maybe if you just let me face the consequences of my actions?—”
“Don’t even start,” his dad snapped, cutting him off. “I watched the DA ruin your life after that accident, and it took years for you to have a shot at normalcy. That’s what I got for letting you pay the consequences. I should’ve pulled more strings when I had the chance.”
Garrett pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Maybe had I worked a little harder and kept my head on straighter, I wouldn’t have had such a hard time finding some kind of normalcy. I was just a kid—a stupid one.”
“You were given one crappy hand,” Sheriff Myers sighed, the hardness in his voice fading. “And now we’re all going to be in some hot water. Blaze submitted that gun to the state lab, and he didn’t say it was in your possession anywhere. I know they ain’t gonna jump on testing it, since we’re still waiting on the official ME’s report, but…”
“But what? I didn’t shoot her.”
“Son…”
“What?” he demanded.
“There were multiple calls from your phone to Sarah’s the night she went missing. They stopped somewhere around the time she left the bar—probably a little before. There’re a few other numbers we’re still trying to figure out… But yours… Why? Why were you calling her?”
Garrett’s stomach knotted up. “It’s… It’s because she was going out for drinks with Beth. She had told me earlier in the day to stay sober and come with her. You know, stage a run-in and all that. But I guess I couldn’t handle the pressure. I showed up to the bar drunk, and Dylan immediately kicked me out. I walked to the liquor store, got a lot more, and then tried to call Sarah—to see Beth. I don’t really remember what happened after I saw Beth.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Garrett pulled it away from his face, just to make sure that it was still connected.
“Sarah left the bar before Beth,” Sheriff Myers finally said, sounding perplexed. “Beth said she went out the back door.”
“She probably did,” Garrett said, his stomach churning at his inability to remember. “But I swear, I didn’t see her. If I had, she would’ve laid into me about how drunk I’d been.” He chuckled at the thought of what she’d already said when she first saw him—before Beth had gotten there.
‘Are you kidding me right now? I’m trying to help you, Garrett. I know how you feel about her, but you look like trash right now. You’re such a freaking dumpster fire sometimes.’
“I can’t help you if this goes south,” his dad’s words drew him back. “I can’t. I’m already at risk of losing my position here over the gun. All I can hope is that I can hold Blaze’s past as leverage.”
“What past? He’s just some rodeo cowboy, right?”
“Yeah, kind of,” Sheriff Myers grunted. “He skips town a lot. Can’t seem to stay in one place for more than a couple years—this is his first law enforcement job. I hired him ‘cause we’re so shorthanded all the time, but there’s something off with him. I’ve already started putting out some feelers.”
“Hmm,” was all Garrett could say to that. It wasn’t like he could pass judgment on Blaze. He reached for the keys in his ignition then, shutting off the diesel truck. As he did, he glanced up to the porch…
And froze.
“What the…” His voice trailed off as he noted the open front door, the storm door slapping in the wind. “I think someone broke in.”
“Ah, hell, I’ll send Dylan out there. It’s probably some of Wilson bunch. Lucas is a hothead, and he’ll tell anyone who’ll listen that he thinks you did it. Sit tight.” With that, his father hung up, disconnecting the call.
Garrett sat the phone down on the console once more, and stared at the door, slapping the wood siding of his cabin. He knew it was better to wait for his brother, but after everything, he wasn’t sure he cared if he stumbled onto someone inside. Pulling the door handle, he slid out into the night.
Defenseless.
Boots crunching on the gravel, he made his way to the front porch, tuning his ear into anything that might key him in that he wasn’t alone. However, the only sound was the soft thud of his boots on the steps and the slamming of the door against the wood. As soon as he could, he grabbed the metal framed door and silenced it.
He adjusted the bar at the top, allowing the door to close, and stepped through the threshold into his entryway. There was an unsettling chill in the air, and he pulled the storm door the rest of the way shut, as his eyes raked over the front door. At the bottom were black marks, from where someone kicked it, maybe? Garrett checked the knob and door frame, but nothing was splintered.
Maybe I forgot to lock it. He wouldn’t have put it past himself to forget with the rush he had been in to get to Beth. Maybe the wind just caught the storm door, and I didn’t even shut the door all the way, he thought, but the moment he stepped into the living room, Garrett knew he was dead wrong.
“Jeez…” He took in the ransacked living room, the shattered ceramic dishes all over the floor of the kitchen, but even more disturbing…was the writing on the wall.
BABY KILLER was scrawled in red spray paint across the white walls of his living room, just above the shattered TV lying face down on the floor. He stared at the words, zoning out on the block letters as the sound of a vehicle pulled into his driveway. Numbness crept through his body, replacing anything else he could’ve felt in the moment.
“What the…” His brother’s voice came from behind him. “This is…”
“Bad,” Garrett finished, his eyes still on the name he’d been called. “This is really bad.” A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to see Dylan, concern written all over his face.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Garrett shook his head. “Looks like someone thinks they already did.” He stepped away from him, keeping his eyes off the disturbing words for a moment. “I haven’t checked the rest of the house.”
Dylan nodded. “Doubt they’re still here, but I’ll double check.” His brother pulled his weapon, and then checked the two bedrooms and one bathroom. Meanwhile, Garrett felt frozen in place. Someone had found out a truth that he had been keeping close to his chest, and that fact was nearly as chilling as walking into his ransacked home.
Who did you tell, Sarah? He swallowed hard, sweat beading up across his forehead. Carefully, he stepped across the broken coffee table, the glass top shattered. Stepping closer to the writing, he took in the way the paint ran down the wall from the bottom of each letter. It was eerie.
“Where were you tonight when this happened?” Dylan was back in the living room, holstering his Glock. “Someone went nuts in this house. All the back bedrooms have been trashed, too.”
He nodded, glancing down to the shards of glass around his boots. “I, uh, I was with Beth, but my guess is that you already know that, since y’all have the phone now.”
“Was it planned?”
Garrett’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Was seeing Beth planned? Like had you talked about it to anyone? ”
He shook his head. “Really last minute.”
“Which means someone is watching you,” Dylan ran a finger along his jaw, his eyes scanning the room again. “And they would’ve been taking a big risk to show up while you were gone. For all they knew, you could’ve shown right back up here.”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “But maybe they didn’t care. I mean, Ty Miller showed up and tried to take a bat to Beth’s car. Maybe he did this.”
“Maybe,” Dylan hummed. “Sure as hell feels really personal, doesn’t it? I just don’t know who you pissed off bad enough for this. ”
“A lot of people are talking,” Garrett was careful with his words. “It’s not that big of surprise to me, I guess. I don’t have a memory after I saw Beth, either. For all I know, they’re pointing the finger at the right guy.” His chest tightened at that admission, but wasn’t it the truth? Couldn’t he have done it? He couldn’t think of one good reason for him to ever hurt anyone at all, but at the same time, he never thought he’d do half the things he did when he was drinking.
“You know you can’t stay here, right?” Dylan said, reaching down and picking up a broken picture frame. He flipped it over, the picture of Dylan, Garrett, and their dad underneath a fractured piece of glass.
“I know.”
“Someone is really pissed off at you, Garrett,” Dylan muttered, tossing the frame back to the floor. “And we have so much goin’ on right now, I don’t know how we can handle it all. We’ve only got eight employees total down there, the homicide is hard enough, and now this. ”
“You don’t have to worry about this,” Garrett said plainly. “It’s not your problem, and for the record, I’m not making a report.”
“Why the hell would you not report this?” Dylan snapped at him, glaring. “You’re an idiot not to. This shows that someone is out to get you, and who knows what they’ll do next.”
“Let them.”
Dylan fell into silence, and then gestured back down the hallway. “Your shotgun is still under your bed. I’m not gonna confiscate it, but when I file a report on this, I need you to move it. It can’t be here. We already have that pistol we’re dealing with. Hopefully, it can just get swept under the rug.”
“Doubt it.”
“You’re just glowing with optimism,” Dylan snorted, shaking his head. “We’re gonna figure this out. Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re capable of, uh,” his eyes drifted to the wall, “Whatever it is they’re accusing you of.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Garrett rubbed the back of his neck, his stomach churning with nausea.
“You can crash at my place,” Dylan added. “It’s a wreck and you’ll have to sleep on the couch, but that’s better than nothing, right?”
He nodded, just as his phone started to buzz in his pocket. He glanced down to see Beth’s name lighting up the screen. He stared at it for a few minutes, thinking back to the evening and their kiss. Every ounce of him wanted to pick it up and answer it, tell her everything that had happened—and all the secrets he kept under lock and key…
But instead, he silenced the call and put the phone back in his pocket. It’s just better this way. When he looked back up, he noticed Dylan staring at the words on the wall.
“What’s with the words on the wall? Do you know what that means?”
Garrett sucked in a deep breath. “Sarah was pregnant, and I knew it.”