Chapter 19
Nineteen
The next day, Laila parked her car down the end of Main Street, the sheriff having called an informal meeting for anyone who’d received the red notes.
Venturing out of her car hit her with a hard dose of reality, or more precisely, the charred remains of Frank and Maureen’s general store. The blackened debris seemed to stand as an unmissable omen of what was to come. As did her few short strides on her way to Blaine Callaghan’s store, Oak Tree Furniture.
A few passersby avoided her gaze and veered their paths away from her. These were people she’d always been friendly with, but gone were the once expected smiles from their faces, any upbeat greetings replaced with frowns and silence.
She felt like a germ under a microscope and gladly partook in not looking at anyone right back, her experience now an indicator of what leaving her house would entail for the foreseeable future.
As always, her thoughts shifted to Whitney and what she would endure if the animosity didn’t settle down. She started school next year. What if the syndicate wasn’t gone by then? Would she be ostracized from all community events long before that, anyway?
Almost certainly.
Her hands felt shaky by the time she pushed Oak Tree’s door open, her only relief being her first sight of Adrian as she entered, his eyes scanning the crowd behind her, having no doubt witnessed people dodging her on the way in.
Neither spoke, as they strode toward the small gathering amidst the living room display area. The sheriff added another calming presence, as did Dean and Sarah, Emilia and Blaine, Ally and Chip—all seated across a set of eggshell blue fabric couches, with a pale wood coffee table in the center. Laila’s dad was there too, but her mom had decided she preferred to avoid the stress of this conversation in favor of looking after Whitney. Meanwhile, Aggie, Gordon and Rochelle, and the Coopers had been allowed to join since they wanted to help.
“I know you’re all scared.” The sheriff kept his voice low and steady, his gaze skimming over everyone, the wrinkles over his brow and the bags under his eyes especially pronounced today. “I don’t blame you, but we’re here today to settle on some solutions. The syndicate wants to scare us, that part is clear. They want us to feel helpless, which is certainly already the case for some in this town.”
“Seems being ‘scared’ also works to set the closet vigilantes free…” Blaine shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest giving him a very unimpressed air. “Who also happen to be the same people who’ve spent years itching for their chance to play pretend heroes.”
“Shoulda done something more productive with their lives than take up space at my bar then, huh?” Sarah scoffed and joined Blaine with her head shaking.
The sheriff leaned back in his seat, his posture suddenly taller, the move seeming to vie for renewed attention. “That may be true,but they’re unknowingly playing into the syndicate’s hands.”
“You mean, by ensuring none of us feel safe?” Ally’s eyes pulled wide with her question, her fingers curling tighter around Chip’s hand, as though at any second now, she expected to relive her traumatic experience with the syndicate. Not that Laila blamed her for her hyper-vigilance.
But unlike Ally, who was the family dreamer, Laila was the realist, and she wanted to know the facts so she could plan accordingly.
“None of us are safe though”—Laila directed her words to the sheriff—“are we?”
The sheriff blinked at her for a few beats, the skin around his eyes wrinkling in a way that seemed to ponder her pointed approach. “We can’t have people taking matters into their own hands, that’s why we’re here today. We need a plan and to investigate who’s behind these notes.”
“Just notes?” Sarah made a tsking sound and went back to shaking her head. “Oh no, this morning Dean and I found fresh roadkill on our front step. If I had to guess, it looked to be a squirrel. Wasn’t a pretty sight.”
Laila grimaced, only for her dad’s uncertain voice to cut in.
“I didn’t want to say anything, especially since I haven’t even told Vel”—his attention bounced between Laila and Ally, his cheeks somewhat sunken in and pale—“but last night, at about 3am, there was some tapping on the glass of our front door. I went down to investigate, but by then, all I saw was an old pickup screeching down the road. It was too dark to see much detail beyond that.”
Knowing her dad, he hadn’t wanted to cause any concern, but the sheriff’s deepening scowl spoke volumes on how Harlow’s problems only intensified. He looked around the room now, his gaze landing on Adrian. “Do you have anything to add here, Ramos?”
“As you can imagine, most around here are somewhat suspicious of me.” As usual, Adrian’s demeanor didn’t give much away, but Laila was certain his shoulders appeared more rounded than normal. “Intel hasn’t been easy to get, but the obvious culprits would be Lenny Brooks and Gerry Gibbons. That said, I don’t believe they’re working alone. This is where it would be helpful to have a local on our side. Someone other than me or the sheriff. Someone, preferably male so as to appeal to the likes of Brooks and Gibbons. Our undercover local could perhaps gain access to any online groups being used to plan attacks.”
The sheriff stared at the ground, nodding and seeming to think over the proposal. “I’ll talk to some of my juniors, they might have some friends we can trust.” He lifted his head and addressed Sarah. “Failing that, do you think you might have some regulars at the bar who can keep a secret?”
Sarah pursed her lips and paused a moment, before replying, “Could. Despite their shitty actions, Lenny and Gerry still came in these last two nights. Come to think of it, they had a couple of extra people around them, too.”
“So, not all that good at being covert?” Adrian rubbed a hand over his jaw, a hint of a smile breaking through. “I’ll take that as an advantage we don’t want to lose. It would be good to know their next move before they make it, at which point, we can make it clear that we don’t tolerate bullies.”
Laila resisted the urge to gnaw on her lower lip, her mind whirring with the knowledge that any further vigilantism could lead to an almighty showdown between two opposing sides. This town’s existing chaos stood to explode into something else entirely, and through it all, she would have to protect Whitney.
Which means not sitting back and doing nothing…
“Any news on the syndicate?” Ally’s voice cut through weak and shaky. “On Mark Farro and Rudolph Manzinni?”
Adrian held her gaze for a while, his jaw and brow strained in a clue he heard the ghosts of her past in her question and didn’t want to add to her worry. “Yes, we have some intel and perhaps one small advantage. I still have ears to the ground and within the syndicate itself.”
“With the help of outside agencies, we’re making some headway.” The sheriff eyed Ramos, hinting he wanted to add more.” We can’t reveal much as of yet, but I do have bad news, and this will heighten tensions in town further once word gets out. So, I need everyone here to be prepared.”
“Hit us with the truth, Sheriff.” Aggie patted Ally’s knee in a show of camaraderie and support. “We’ll handle whatever you have to say just fine.”
“Don’t be so sure, Mrs. McKey.” The sheriff held a flat tone and took his attention away. “Just this morning, another business was sold to the syndicate. The gas station.”
“Freakin’ hell!” Sarah shot to a straighter position on the couch’s edge and her gaze fixed on the sheriff. “You meant our only gas station? Why would Harry Jeffries do that?”
“The syndicate overpaid for the station and Harry saw an easy way out of town.” The sheriff shook his head, one corner of his lip ticking upward. “After seeing what the syndicate did to the Coopers after refusing to sell, I don’t like what Harry’s done, but I understand it all the same.”
“This isn’t good.” Dean’s tone cut through with a dull edge of resignation. “It sets a precedent for the other business owners, which will hurt any residents unable to just sell and move.”
“Oh, no, no, no. As if turning part of Maynard’s into a makeshift grocery store wasn’t bad enough.” Sarah scrubbed her hands over her face and growled. “People will go downright bankrupt, while stuck in a town with no basic resources.”
Laila locked gazes with Ramos, his stillness only making her heart sink deeper.
Imagine what will come of us when everyone turns to retaliation…
She snapped her focus to the sheriff and tried to keep a handle on one problem at a time. “With the roadblocks, fueling up out of town will be a nightmare.”
“Town council is already secretly working on shipping in an alternate supply, but”—the sheriff rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced—“I wasn’t lying when I said this was bad. If I’m being honest, we might not be able to hold off an angry horde for long.”
“Well, angry horde or not, I still feel safer here.” Rochelle reached out beside her and took Gordon’s hand, an inexplicable smile on her face. “I plan to stick around.”
A collective pause drew out and everyone peered amongst themselves with tight, perplexed stares. What a weird moment for Rochelle to choose to assert her dedication to Gordon.
Sarah’s brows dipped in the center, and she craned her neck to stare at Rochelle. “Don’t you have a stack of money and about a billion other places you could be? Why are you sticking around?”
Rochelle’s mouth fell into a limp gape, her erratic stare bouncing about before she snapped her lips shut and mumbled some weak-sounding explanation. “I guess with all my travels, as well as being from a big city, I’m a little more used to danger. What I mean is, I like small town life and the people I've met there, and Harlow seems like a town worth fighting for.”
Another pause dragged out between the group, and to be honest, the knot forming in Laila’s tummy kept her from saying much. That’s when the sheriff cleared his throat, vying for attention to return to him. “This new development furthers our need for a solid plan. And perhaps as Rochelle says, Harlow is worth fighting for, and we’re not helpless when it comes to that, either. We have each other, and maybe enough locals on our side to keep the bulk of everyone safe.”
In the sheriff’s words rested an unspoken caveat. For now.
“Sounds like you already have a plan.” Blaine leaned forward in his seat, brows raised in seeming interest. “Care to let us in on it?”
“Less a plan, more an idea. A real temporary one at that. Something along the lines of keeping hold of the situation with regards to the local unrest.” The sheriff sighed, a deepened sense of wariness darkening his eyes. “If things should worsen, we would move you all to safe houses that the more malignant members in this town won’t know about.”
“Safe houses?” She sat taller, mind racing with thoughts of how she could rely on anyone else to protect her and her daughter. “Where on earth do we get so many safe houses? Much less places people in this town wouldn’t know about.”
“It’s less about finding unknown locations and more about summoning all the allies we can.” Ramos turned to her and raised his brow in a plea for her to drop her need to control every situation. To understand this situation. But control had been the only thing to get her this far in life, and fulfilling his wishes wouldn’t be so easy. “Aggie has a guest house on her property. As do the Coopers. And Gordon has a spare room he's willing to share. However, we need more help, and those who’ll open their homes to—”
“Wow!” Her jaw slid open, and she held back an incredulous laugh. “You have been busy.”
Her laugh wasn’t all she held back. There were her other thoughts, too.
You have this whole other life that I’m locked out from.
Which only nudged her doubts about how secure this relationship would ultimately be. The sensation of not knowing stirred deep-set memories of Michael and all the secrets he’d surely kept before leaving her.
Ramos held her gaze for a frozen moment. Her heartbeat slowed and seemed to pound against her ribcage. Though she’d always known about his work, that she couldn’t be privy to every detail, she would have thought they were close enough that she wouldn’t be hearing about something as intimate as her future living arrangements right now with the rest of the group. Why hadn’t he come over last night to tell her? Heck, he could have at least called and given her the heads-up. All she felt was blindsided and unnerved.
“Laila, this is what I do.” His hushed tone once again pleaded with her. “I know it’s a lot to grapple with, but it saves lives.”
He’d given her plenty of leeway and understanding, hadn’t he?
Who was she to withhold the same. So, as much as the group held its weighty silence, she gave him a steady nod and hushed the voices warning her to guard her heart.
His gaze shifted about her face some more as if he still rightly saw her uncertainty when it came to him, then he turned back to the group, gifting her space all the same. “Make no mistakes, we’re all in for a rough ride. If the safe houses go ahead, you’ll all have to be extra vigilant that no one follows you to your new place of hiding. There’ll be a set of precautions to take, such as concealing your vehicles within garages and avoiding any street-facing activity when in residence.”
She clenched her teeth together and held back an urge to ask how exactly she would achieve that with a child who loved to run around outside. But even with that near-impossibility, what struck her most, was the crushing sense of just how much she and her fellow targets stood against.
Then there were the other overhanging questions. How much would their lives change and who would be left standing when all this ended…