Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DANA
I strode toward Charles, clenching and unclenching my fists. Stay calm. Emily didn’t need me to lose my cool. But goddamnit, I hated Austin.
Charles stood tall in a green sweater and jeans talking to another crew member. I stepped up to them, clearing my throat.
“I need to talk to you, Charles.”
It took all my effort to keep my voice calm and steady.
Charles turned with his beer halfway to his mouth. “Dana?” He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, Anthony.”
We stepped into a quieter area by a row of old iron hooks that would have been used to hang tools back in the day.
“How are you doing, Dana? Have you been thinking about throwing in your trowel” —Charles chuckled at his joke—“and pursuing a career in acting? Your performance of Grumpy Waitress really was quite impressive, you know.”
I stared. Was he joking? His lips twitched. He was definitely joking.
“No thanks. I’m quite happy with my trowel. I actually wanted to talk to you about Austin.”
“Austin?” Charles’ smile faded.
“Yes, Austin. And I should start by saying I’m doing this of my own volition. No one asked me to do this.”
“Okay… That doesn’t sound good.” Charles balanced his beer on a horizontal wooden beam attached to the barn wall.
I took a deep breath. “Over the past few weeks I’ve observed him behaving inappropriately toward women.
Touching them without consent, asking them out multiple times when they’ve already said no, requesting sexual favors in return for work.
You commented on it yourself when his hands were all over Emily’s butt during the kissing scene at the Christmas market.
And I’ve witnessed him do it multiple times now, taking advantage of the fact that Emily is in front of the cameras and can’t say anything without ruining the scene.
” I kept going, listing all of the times I could recall seeing him behave inappropriately to Emily.
“Just tonight I witnessed him cornering not only Emily but also one of the young production assistants.”
Charles’ expression had grown increasingly tight as I talked.
Now, he shifted his position and rubbed his forehead.
“I thought Austin was just getting carried away in the moment at the market. I know he has a reputation for being a ladies man, but I didn’t realize…
” He pressed his lips together. “Thanks for letting me know, Dana. Leave it with me.”
“Are you going to actually do something about it, or just brush it all under the rug?” Stay calm.
“I can’t make any promises about what will happen, but I do take this sort of thing seriously. Believe me.”
Charles spoke with such conviction that I almost did believe him.
Almost. If he didn’t end up acting on my information, I’d consider what else I could do.
Write a letter to HolLove? Demand to speak to Charles’ boss?
Talk to the media? Start a picket line outside HolLove’s offices? But for now, it was in his hands.
“Thanks, Charles. I appreciate it.”
Charles collected his beer from the wooden beam.
“Well, while this wasn’t quite the note I was hoping to finish on, I wish you all the best with your troweling.
If you have any more concerns or want to follow up with me, call me any time.
” Charles handed me a business card, which I shoved in my pocket. Maybe he was taking this seriously.
As Charles made his way toward the bar, I looked around for Emily. Where was she?
Shit. Maybe I should have stayed with her, instead of marching over to Charles at the first opportunity. She was probably still feeling rattled.
I kept scanning the crowd. She couldn’t have already left, could she? Surely she wouldn’t without saying goodbye.
I pulled out my phone. Perhaps she’d sent me a message?
She had. My eyes widened as I read it.
With a sinking sensation in my stomach, I walked toward the exit and pushed the old barn door open.
An icy blast of wind hit me. I shivered, tugging my jacket around me.
A few flakes of snow twirled through the air.
The forecast had said the snowfall would start later tonight.
Once again, the forecast was clearly wrong.
I dialed Emily’s number. If she picked up, I could tell her to stay where she was, to wait for me to come get her.
“Hi, this is Emily. Please leave a message and I’ll—”
Damn. I hung up. She must be outside cell reception.
I jogged over to my truck as the snow began to fall in flurries, tiny icicles biting my face and bare hands. The sky was getting darker by the second.
I shoved my key in the ignition and pushed down hard on the accelerator, twisting the wheel to the right.
I flicked on the windshield wipers to clear the snow settling on the windshield.
As I sped down the dirt road, bumping over potholes, I searched for any sign of Emily.
Nothing. She must have already reached the firs.
It would be darker in there, but at least the trees would give her some protection from the snow.
The snow fell heavier. I turned up the windshield wipers to their highest setting, forcing myself to slow down as visibility decreased.
It wouldn’t help either of us if I veered off the road and crashed. I gripped the steering wheel.
I reached the dirt road to my cabin and turned right, slamming on the brakes a few moments later.
If I was right, the trap was about thirty feet north from here.
Please let her wait for me there. I jumped out of the car, raising my arm to protect my face as an arctic blast of snow pelted me, and began to sprint.
Jumping over branches and rocks, my heart pounding, my mind flashed to that day, two weeks ago, when I’d heard Emily calling for help.
But it had been daytime then, and there hadn’t been a snowstorm.
“Emily!” I yelled, out of breath. “Emily!”
I needed to find her as soon as possible. I’d been raised on tales of people stuck in snowstorms, getting hypothermia or worse. The darker it got, the more snow that fell, the harder it would be to locate her. She could easily get lost in here.
I looked around, almost tripping over a rock.
Was I going in the right direction? I forced myself to slow, to take stock of my surroundings.
With the reduced visibility and the sun out of sight, my internal compass was struggling.
A black-and-white chickadee settled on a snowy branch in front of me, tweeting, and then fluffed its feathers.
I took a deep breath. I’d been heading north the entire time, following the row of trees.
But had I miscalculated where the trap was?
I should have reached it by now. Perhaps I needed to head right, across a row or two.
It didn’t help that the silver frame would be hard to spot in this light—unless of course Emily was standing next to it. I hope she’s there.
The chickadee flew off to my right, and I took that as a sign, turning to follow. I entered the next row of trees, my heart beating. Was that the trap up ahead? I picked up my pace, my chest constricting. It was the trap, empty and dusted with snow.
But there was no sign of Emily.
Shit.
I pulled out my phone. No reception.
“Emily!” I yelled again.
Ice filled my chest as realization sank in. I’d moved the trap yesterday, closer to a tree that had been newly damaged. But Emily didn’t know that. She would have thought it was where we’d left it on Sunday.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The sky was almost dark now. I gritted my teeth. Why didn’t I bring my flashlight from the car? I turned on the light in my phone, which provided a very faint illumination.
“Emily!” I called again.
And then I started sprinting toward where the trap had been.