Chapter 37
“Alright,” I call, “That’s all of them!”
Steering Pippin away from the calving barn, I wipe the sweat off my brow, the sun beating down on the ranch.
It’s been a hard fucking day, my shirt is soaked through with sweat, and it’s not even completely over yet.
For now, though, Pippin needs to rest and I can use the ATV to do the rest of the rounds so I steer her to the stables, allowing her to take her own pace on the way there until I dismount and walk her the rest of the way.
She comes easily, ready for her dinner and treats, the rest of the stalls empty at the moment since the herd is turned out or being worked.
I hand her a cookie from the stash we keep in here just as my cell buzzes from my back pocket. Pulling it out, I glance at the unfamiliar number lighting up the screen.
“Hello?” I answer, locking the stable door and walk from the barn.
“Roman, it’s Ashley.” Niamh’s best friend sounds breathless. “I don’t suppose Niamh is with you?”
My heart stops. “No. Why?”
“Shit,” Ashley mutters. “She went out to grab some bits from the back and hasn’t come back. No one can find her.”
“What the fuck do you mean no one can find her?” I’m running now, exhaustion forgotten, but I come skidding to a stop when I remember I don’t have my fucking truck.
“She isn’t here, Roman,” Ashley rushes. “And she left her cell.”
“Call the police,” I order, “I’ll be right there.”
Hanging up the phone, I keep running and dial Silas.
“What?” He grunts in greeting.
“Niamh’s missing.” I’m breathless, lungs burning, but his house comes into view, the truck’s paint shining in the sun, and I gun for it.
“Shit,” I hear my brother scramble, Remy in the background asking what the hell is going on.
“I’ll be there in a minute; get the truck ready.”
By the time I make it, Silas is behind the wheel, Remy is in the back, and I fly into the passenger seat.
“The bar.” I order. Silas slams his foot on the gas, kicking up gravel behind him as the truck roars out of the drive and onto the road. From here, it’s easy to speed toward town. There’s only this ranch and the other one out here, so it’s empty, but Silas has to slow when we hit town.
“Shit.” I hiss. “It’s the festival.”
We’re about two blocks away from the main strip where Niamh’s bar is so I don’t bother waiting to fight through the heavy traffic or the crowds using the road like a sidewalk and hop out, sprinting the rest of the way to the bar.
I knock people out of the way to get through the door, finding Ashley waiting.
“Where is she?” I demand.
Glassy eyes meet mine. “She was here.”
“Tell me what you know, Ashley,” I beg.
“We got busy, and she needed to grab some limes, so she went to the kitchen, but the guys in there haven’t seen her since.”
Pushing through the staff doors, I first go to the kitchens to check for myself, her name stuck in my throat when I don’t find her there so I go to the stairs that lead to her studio apartment but that too, is empty, dust gathering on the surfaces since she hasn’t been back here in so long.
No. No. No.
Panic rises as I barrel back down, almost slipping on the floor as I shove open every closed door in this place until I come to the last room and the only room with the door open.
A storage area for what looks like nonperishables, but it’s the box on the floor that catches my attention, the items inside spilled out. She was in here.
She was here, and now she isn’t.
“Roman?” Silas calls.
“Where is she?” I turn to my brother, the panic eating me alive, ripping the skin from my bones. Wide eyes plead with him, begging him to tell me this isn’t real, that she isn’t missing. I can’t fucking stand it. “Where is my wife?”
“The deputies are here,” Silas says, his shoulders low.
I can barely hear anything above the roaring in my ears.
He has her. He got to her.
He never fucking left.
“What the fuck do you mean you received no reports?” Remy bellows from the bar, drawing us toward him. “We reported it! You have a warrant for his fucking arrest.”
An older deputy with gray in his hair frowns. “I don’t know what you want me to say, son. We have received no reports of an assault on Niamh Calloway. Certainly no arrest warrants for your father.”
Remy turns panicked eyes to us. “It’s a lie.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They don’t know.” He rambles. “It’s a fucking lie!”
“I’m going to need everyone to calm down,” The deputy says, his tone gruff. “Just why do you think Mrs. Calloway is missing?”
“She is missing.” I grind out.
“Roman,” Remy steps away from the officer, “Wright never handed in the evidence. He never submitted the report. There was no warrant. He set us up.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, but I can’t figure out the connection. Why would he do that? What the fuck does he gain?
It’s not important right now; what is important is figuring out where the hell she is and getting my wife back. Pushing past the deputy, I head back to Silas’s truck, getting behind the wheel with them following.
There’s only one place to start.
Time ticks down, my heart thumping as the world rushes by in a blur, Knight Falls Ranch passing by and then I swerve the truck, following the narrow drive toward the crumbling ranch house that’s been fucking haunting me for the past twelve years.
A silver truck sits out front, and brown fields stretch on either side, not a single animal in sight, no livestock, no horses or even fucking chickens. It’s as desolate as my father’s soul.
My legs eat up the distance between the truck and the door, and the wood creaks and splinters as my boot meets it.
One kick. Two, the frame snaps and the door swings open, smacking against the back wall.
A shrill scream meets my ears as a woman comes running down the stairs, her hair somewhere between blonde and gray, creases at the edges of her eyes and mouth.
“Who are you!?” She cries.
“Where the fuck is she?” I growl at her.
“Who?”
“My wife!” I don’t wait for an answer as I go looking myself, forcing my way through the house as I yank open doors but find the house empty, as withered and bleak as the land beyond the windows. “Niamh!” I yell her name.
“I don’t know anyone by that name!” The woman chases after me. “Who are you?”
I spin on her. “Where’s Jenson?” I demand instead.
“I haven’t seen him for days.” Her wide eyes hold mine. “Please, what has he done? Is he in trouble?”
A picture beyond her frail frame catches my attention. There’s three people in it. My father, this woman and… Oscar Wright.
“How do you know this man?” I point to him as I snatch the frame off the table. “Tell me!” I roar when she doesn’t answer.
“That’s my son!” She finally answers on a sob.
Dread sinks in low, making me want to double over and vomit.
It was both of them. All along.
The frame slips out of my hand and hits the wooden floor, glass shattering.
I look up to see both my brothers staring; I know they heard. There’s a ringing in my ears, and I can feel my pulse thumping in my throat.
“I need you to tell us everything you know,” Silas takes control, “Any cabins you have, any places you think they could have gone.”
“Why?” The woman asks. “What’s happening?”
“Your husband has my wife,” I stutter out, “Please. Where are they?”
For a long moment, silence settles like a dead weight around us, making the air feel heavy, suffocating.
“My son,” She swallows, “He has a hunting lodge, about five miles from here.”
I meet Silas’s eyes, desperation and straight fear weighing down every bone in my body. She writes the location down on the back of an overdue bill, and hands it to me.
“Don’t hurt them,” The woman begs, “Please.”
I don’t reply because I can’t make that promise. If there is a single hair out of place on my wife’s head, there will be no place on this earth they can go where I won’t hunt them down.
Rage swirls in with the terror, fueling my steps as I leave the house and the woman behind, my brothers quick on my heels.
“I’m getting her back,” I growl, tearing away from the ranch and toward the location of the hunting lodge, not knowing if she’s going to be there or if she’s even alive.
The thought churns my stomach.
I’m not sure how I’m meant to survive in a world where Niamh no longer exists.