Chapter Fifteen
The home theater in the therapy lodge wasn’t fancy, but the sofas and recliners were comfy. There was a big-screen and enough side tables to hold all the guys’ snacks.
Crew had bowls of popcorn and pretzels spread across the low table. Two sodas were sweating onto coasters and the TV was paused on the opening screen of the series he and Fern had arranged to spend their Saturday afternoon watching, and his sister was on standby, waiting for their video call.
He stared at the screen, not seeing the frozen image but thinking about reasons why Fern could be running late.
Gripping the remote, he was about to reach for his phone, when Pope stuck his head through the doorway. “Oh, damn. We watching our show?”
Crew picked up his phone and opened Fern’s contact. “We’ll start when Fern gets here.”
Truman wandered in behind Pope, scanning the snacks in a way the well-behaved service dog at Truman’s side didn’t. “You went all out. You must like this woman.”
“I’ve seen Crew with her—he’s got it bad for her.” Pope wagged his brows. “So…your sister. Callie. You tell her that I exist?”
Crew glanced over. Ordinarily, he’d exchange banter with Pope, but he was too keyed up over Fern being late.
“My sister’s not a conquest,” he said flatly.
Pope held his hands up. “Never said that. I just know a beautiful woman when I see one.”
Truman dropped into a recliner with Ranger at his side, ready for the show.
Crew checked his phone again. The time glared back at him.
Pope reached for the popcorn. “Could she be stuck in traffic?”
Crew eyed him. “In Willowbrook?”
“Think her car broke down again?” Pope’s suggestion did the opposite of putting Crew at ease. Especially when they were all wondering if her car had been tampered with.
He called Fern, but the line rang and rang and finally went to voicemail. Dropping the device from his ear, he let out the noise in his throat.
Even though he knew she was a bit nervous about the watch party and meeting his sister this way, she wouldn’t ignore his calls.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and checked the clock again.
He snatched up his phone and texted.
ETA?
He stared at the screen until the message showed delivered. But he got no response.
He waited thirty seconds. Then another thirty. Unable to hold still, he strode to the window and looked out at the parking area. The sky was darker than usual at this time of year, and thick clouds pressed around the peak of the mountain.
Something shifted in his chest—not panic. Not yet. But it could be if he let it take over.
He typed another message.
Everything okay?
No answer.
That was it. Crew strode to the door. If Fern had gotten cold feet about meeting Callie this way, she would’ve said so. Fern was no coward. She would communicate her feelings to him.
He was halfway to the front of the lodge when Willow stepped into his path, a small, padded envelope in her hand.
“Crew.” Her brows connected in concern as she read his posture. “This just came for you.”
He took the package automatically, eyes still on the door like Fern might walk through it any second. “From who?”
“No return address.”
Crew tore the envelope open with his thumb. Inside was a single photograph, slightly bent at one corner. A woman stood in the center, maybe in her early thirties. Two boys flanked her, and the woman had a hand on each of their small shoulders.
The photo looked decades old.
He stared at it, confusion cutting through the edge of Fern’s absence building in his gut.
“What is this?” he asked.
Willow leaned over him to stare at the photo. She shook her head. “Is there a note?”
He reached into the envelope and withdrew a folded paper.
Mom is dying from a broken heart. Conner can’t even be here to say goodbye. Some sons don’t get the time they should have, and others don’t deserve the time they get.
His breath turned shallow.
It was from Reed.
“Oh god. Crew, this guy sounds dangerous. I’m calling Gray.” Willow already had her phone in her hand.
Crew didn’t wait. He ran out of the lodge and crossed the distance to the security office in seconds. When he burst inside, Theo looked up.
He tossed the photo and note on the table.
“Run a check on Reed. Now.” Crew’s command set Theo in motion. Behind him, Willow rushed into the room and flung herself into the chair, fingers on the computer keys.
“Last name?”
“Dickenson.”
Her fingers flew. Theo was working on another system, and he looked up first.
“The mother is dead.”
Crew’s stomach plummeted.
“The day after the funeral, Reed vanished. There’s a missing persons report filed by his uncle.”
The silence stretched, denser than any fog on the mountain.
The room tilted, and he closed his eyes. He didn’t need anyone to say it. He fucking knew what was going on.
“It’s him,” he gruffed out. “Reed’s got Fern. Reed’s the one who’s been stalking her.”
Gray burst into the room. “What’s going on?”
While Willow and Theo filled him in, Crew turned toward the window. Rain streaked across the glass, the drizzle he’d noticed earlier turning into a sideways slant.
Terrible weather for looking at a landscaping job.
Unless she never made it to the job at all.
His thoughts circled the strange truck. The plant that had shown up in Fern’s car. None of it felt accidental. Her car breaking down hadn’t been coincidence either.
Crew pivoted back to the room, resolve snapping into place. “Theo, call Fern. Willow, call her boss.”
The words came out sharp, but they snapped to attention. Minutes compressed.
Fern didn’t answer.
Marla picked up on the second ring. Willow put her on speaker, and the woman’s voice came through thin and tight.
“Fern left at the end of her shift.”
Cold seeped through Crew’s veins.
Marla continued, the words tumbling out faster now. “Cathy at the post office helped set up a meeting—someone asking about a landscaping job.”
“Did Fern give you the address?” Willow asked.
There was a pause. Then, quieter, “No. Theo called to say it was okay.”
Crew’s chest locked. Fury and fear moved through him when Theo shook his head.
“I didn’t call.”
Before they could say more, Marla went on, “I didn’t realize until after she left, but her phone was still here. Sitting on the counter.”
The rain hammered harder against the window, and Crew felt a roar building in his lungs.
“Fuck!” Crew raked his fingers through his hair, tasting iron on his tongue. Hot rage warred with terror in his chest.
He stormed across the room and yanked the computer toward him. “Theo, you ran the contact she sent you. You ran the number. What did you find out?”
Theo reached for the computer. “Let me see if the report came in. The number’s been rolling around the program but had no results when I checked this morning.”
Across the room, Gray locked stares with Crew. God, he couldn’t bear to see the concern in his friend’s eyes. They both had walked with grief before, but Crew wasn’t ready to do it again, and definitely not with Fern.
He felt Theo go stiff.
“Talk to us, brother,” Gray demanded.
Theo grimaced. “The phone with that number was reported stolen.”
The words dropped into the silence.
Willow leaped to her feet, eyes wild. “I got something!”
Everyone whipped toward her.
“Cathy said the guy was in there the other day, asking if there was a greenhouse in the area. He said he just bought the old Frye place and was looking for advice on sprucing up the property.”
Crew’s mouth dried out. “So Cathy gave him Fern’s name.”
Gray and Theo reacted instantly, spines snapping straight, their gazes as haunted as Willow’s.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Crew practically roared.
“The Frye house shouldn’t even be standing,” Theo said.
Gray was already pulling up a map on the monitor. The satellite view only showed a tiny structure set on the side of the mountain surrounded by trees.
“It’s barely clinging to the cliff. Spring runoff’s been tearing that slope apart for years.”
Crew twisted toward the window again. The rain was getting heavier.
“The road up there is garbage in good weather,” Gray said. “In this? It’s a death trap.”
His body felt like he was being ripped apart. The pain… Christ, the pain…
“Are you saying she might be stuck on that road?”
“It’s possible she won’t make it far and will turn around.”
Crew was already striding to the door. “Let’s go.”
“On your six.” Gray was right behind him.
When Gray took the wheel, Crew turned to his friend. His brother. “Give it to me straight.”
“It sounds like Fern’s in trouble.”
“He has her. Reed has her. I feel it in my bones.” His lips felt numb. His fingertips were on the way too.
Gray knew the roads like he knew the Black Heart. He drove fast and sure. But when they reached the base of the mountain, a tree blocked the lower road, torn loose by a mudslide. The incline was beyond impassable, thick with mud and rockfall.
When the headlights panned farther up the road, Crew’s heart seized in his chest. He couldn’t breathe.
Gripping the dash, his fingers grew bloodless.
Tire tracks. About the width of Fern’s car.
“She made it up the mountain before the rain.” His voice sounded hollow, far away. “How far she got is another question.”
“Crew, we can’t get up there. The alternate road is just as bad. No one goes to that part of the mountain. It’s why the house is abandoned.”
He turned to Gray, fear fading to determination. He was damn well going to save the woman he loved.
“I’ll fly there,” he heard himself say, still not completely believing what he heard. “Get me to the chopper.”
Gray didn’t hesitate. He was already pulling a U-turn in the road and mashing the pedal to the floor.
As soon as they rocked to a dead stop in front of the chopper, Crew hit the ground at a dead run. The helicopter loomed against the storm-dark sky, its rotors slick with rain. The kind of sight that used to call to him like oxygen.
His hands were steady as he climbed in.
This wasn’t about what put him in therapy. It was about getting to Fern in time.