Prologue
Tripp
“What?” I snap into the phone, then roll over and flick on my bedside lamp. This better be good.
“Duuuuuuude,” Billy shouts over the loud music playing in the background. “Why aren’t you here? There’s so much pussy, man.”
Rubbing my eyes, I clear my dry throat. “Are you seriously callin’ me at three in the mornin’ drunk off your ass?”
I have to be up in three hours, and I only picked up my phone because I forgot to turn it on silent mode.
“I’ll come get ya!” he yells louder.
I stretch my arm to avoid my eardrum getting blown out. “Billy, no. You can’t drive. And I gotta work.” Ranch chores start before sunrise.
“It’s the last party before graduation! Live a little and come out to Miller’s! There’s like three kegs and a dozen bottles of liquor.” The slurring of his words gets worse as I sit up and blink until my eyes adjust to the bright light. “You gotta get over that stupid crush of yours anyway.”
“Not interested,” I say harshly. Not about the crush part, but the drinking and partying part. But I don’t say that. “Stay there, Billy. Crash on the couch or find a bed.”
“I gotta find me a lady first…” He cracks up at his own words. “There are so many options, bro. I’ll save ya one. You want a blonde or a brunette? I already called the redhead. She looks feisty. Rawr.”
Jesus Christ. I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a breath, trying not to lose my shit on his drunken, stupid ass.
Billy Hendersen’s been my best friend since kindergarten and has always been a decent guy, but after his parents split up last year, he’s been wild and reckless.
After showing up late to football practice multiple times, he eventually got benched.
Then he pulled three no-shows at his part-time job and got fired.
Now he’s hanging on by a thread to graduate.
“No, thanks. Imma go back to bed.” Groaning, I fall back on the mattress.
“You suuuuck.” He shouts something at the party, and they all holler in return. “That’s it. I’m comin’ to get ya. I’m sick of your mopey sad, woe-is-me attitude. I’ll drag your ass out of bed if I haveta.”
When I hear keys rattling, I sit up in a panic. Goddamn him.
“No! Fine, I’ll come. Just don’t drive.” I grab clothes out of my closet and toss them on the bed. “And I ain’t actin’ that way, so shut the hell up.”
“Nah…you’re just sayin’ that. You ain’t gonna come unless I carry you out here. Which I’ll do because I’m twice your size.” He cackles to himself, and then I hear the sound of an engine roaring.
“Billy! Goddamn, I’m comin’!” I nearly shout. Everyone in the house is asleep and the last thing I need is to wake up my parents as I sneak out of the house. “Get out of your truck. Now.”
“Betta hurry up then…” His taunting voice is unsettling, urging me to get dressed and slide on my boots in a hurry.
“I’m on my way. Seriously. Stay there.” Once I grab my wallet and keys, I go downstairs and rush to my truck. I need to keep him on the phone so I know he doesn’t do anything stupid.
He revs up the gas as if this is a game. “Wanna race? If I get to your house before you get here, you owe me a hundred bucks.”
Fucking hell. “Dude, I’ll give you two hundred to stay put.”
“What fun is that?” I hear him shift into gear and my heart races at the thought of him driving not only intoxicated but in the pitch black.
There are no lights on these country roads, and Miller lives on a small dairy ranch with dim lighting.
I’ve gone to his parties several times, but everyone always crashes in the loft of the old barn.
No one’s allowed to leave if they’ve been drinking.
“Where’s Miller?” I ask.
“With Sabrina.”
“Go find him for me,” I demand, hoping it’ll stall him a little longer as I speed over.
“I ain’t walkin’ in on them fuckin’. Noooo, thank you.”
“Billy, stay there. Please. I’m already on my way,” I grit out between my teeth.
“You fucker! That’s cheatin’!”
Then I hear wheels squealing as if he’s driving on pavement and my heart drops to the bottom of my stomach.
“Try and beat me!” He antagonizes with a loud yee-haw.
I know there’s nothing I can say to get him to turn around at this point, and the only thing I can do is try to get to him before he crashes.
“Billy, no speedin’. I’m already on my way. Just turn around. Please, man.” I’m not above begging at this point.
“Don’t think so, bro. Prepare to lose your mon-aye!” He drawls out the last word with a laugh.
Before I can continue to reason with him, he hangs up the phone.
Goddammit.
I slam my foot down on the gas, hoping I can find him before he gets too far. It’s a ten-minute drive to Miller’s, but I need to somehow make it there in five.
As I keep an eye out for his truck, I call his phone, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I do it again, and the same thing happens.
All the blood rushes to my ears. I tell myself his phone just died, that he’s probably been on it all night. Too anxious to wait, I call Miller and am relieved when he answers.
“What’s up, Hollis?”
“Billy’s behind the wheel, and I’m on the way to your house now. I want you to keep an eye out for him in case he drives back. He needs his keys taken away.”
“Ugh, what the fuck? He’s wasted.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Hence my panic.”
“I’ll go outside now and look out for him.” I hear ruffling in the background as if he’s getting his shoes on.
“Great. I’ll let ya know if I find him.”
Once we hang up, I continue driving, confused as hell when I don’t come across any vehicles by the time I get to Miller’s. He’s standing on his porch with a few others when I approach.
“Did he show up?” I take the steps two at a time.
“No. You didn’t see him on your way here?”
I lift my cap and brush a hand through my hair, worried about where the hell he is. “Either he got lost or went the wrong way. I’m gonna keep lookin’ for him.” I backtrack down the steps.
“I’ll come with you,” he says, and we both hop in my truck. Considering how drunk Billy is, it’s possible he didn’t even go in the right direction.
We stay silent as I drive, turning in the opposite direction of my house. Miller tries calling him a few more times with no response.
“Maybe he pulled over and is sleepin’ it off…” Miller suggests, but it does nothing to settle the uneasiness taking over.
Flashes of Billy and me over the years surface. Memories of us causing trouble and messing around on the ranch have my chest tightening in fear. The thought of something happening to Billy has my palms sweating against the steering wheel.
“Over there…” Miller points ahead to headlights beaming on the other side of the road, and I lower my window.
“Shit. Is he in the ditch?” I squint through the pitch black, but there’s a faint scent of smoke in the air.
“Holy fuck, his truck’s flipped over!” Miller’s gruff voice is filled with panic.
As soon as I shift into park, we jump out and run over.
“Billy!” I shout, lowering myself to the driver’s side window. It’s shattered, but I can’t see inside.
“Turn on your flashlight,” I tell Miller.
“Is he in there?” he asks, pointing his phone toward me.
“Billy?” I poke my head in as far as I can. “He ain’t here.”
“What the fuck? Maybe he got thrown or climbed out?”
I pull my own phone out and turn on the flashlight so I can look at the passenger’s side.
“That window is shattered, too. He coulda crawled out of either one. Fuck!”
“Is that blood?” Miller’s shaky tone grabs my attention, the light pinned to the spot he’s referring to. A pool of red liquid.
“Shit. He probably smacked his head or cut himself. We need to find him. I’m callin’ the sheriff.”
“Wait, why?”
I wave out my hand as if it isn’t obvious.
“Dude, we’re underage. He’ll ticket everyone at my house.”
“I wasn’t drinkin’, and you weren’t drivin’. He ain’t gonna be worryin’ about that when there’s a missin’ teenager.”
He sighs but doesn’t argue. As soon as I get the dispatcher and tell her what’s going on, Wendy informs me she’ll send someone out. That could take ten minutes or two hours. Sugarland Creek’s a small enough town that there’s only a handful of deputies on staff.
I grab a couple of larger flashlights from my back seat, then toss one to Miller.
“Let’s start walkin’ around and see if he passed out somewhere. He couldn’t have gone far with injuries. Hell, he could be bleedin’ out. We need to find him and fast.” The harder my heart pounds, the harder it is to get my words out.
“Billy! Billy! Where are you?” I shout into the distance.
I try his phone again to see if I can hear it ringing, but it sends me straight to voicemail again.
“Look on the other side of the road in case he crossed it,” I tell Miller. “He couldn’t have gone far.”
We shout his name, flashing my light between trees and up and down the ditch.
“Maybe someone picked him up?”
“Or maybe we’re going the wrong way,” I bite out, angry at the thought. If he was going back to Miller’s, then we’re headed in the right direction, but if he’s heading to mine, then he’d be in the opposite direction.
“Let’s head back to my truck and wait for the sheriff. Maybe he’ll—”
I stop dead in my tracks when I spot something up ahead in the middle of the road. It’s too big to be a small animal, but it could be a deer. My gut tells me it’s not.
“Billy!” I yell, pointing when Miller looks at me. “That him?”
Sprinting with my breath caught in my lungs, I exhale when I confirm it is.
“Christ, Billy. Wake up.” I kneel beside him and Miller comes to his other side. Billy’s on his stomach as if he face-planted on the cement.
“Hold your flashlight up,” I demand so I can turn him over, then place two fingers on his neck. Blood covers his forehead and cheeks. “I don’t feel a pulse.” Then I lean down until my ear’s above his mouth. “He ain’t breathin’.”
“Oh my God.” Miller’s whispered voice is filled with desperation.
“I’m gonna do CPR. Back up and keep the light on him.” Once my hands are in position, I start chest compressions.