Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, I drag my tired feet into the kitchen in search of a lifesaving pot of coffee.
After a sleepless night of tossing and turning with my gun tucked under my pillow, it took every ounce of my willpower to force myself out of bed, which makes the sight of my brother’s dirty dishes still in the sink an unwelcome one.
Can’t be bothered to respond to any of my texts or clean up after himself. What a winner.
The coffee pot sputters and bubbles, the louder-than-normal sounds making me jump each time a new waft of steam pops the lid. I tell myself to relax, only to startle again when my phone vibrates on the counter.
Too groggy and high-strung to care who it is, I ignore the text.
I’m really hoping the caffeine helps calm my nerves. Right now, it’s taking all of my motivation to stand here and wait for the magic bean juice to finish brewing.
With Dad always working and Noah gone for two weeks at a time, it’s not like I’m a stranger to being on my own, but last night was different. The unease of knowing someone had been in my house made me hyperaware of each tiny bump in the night. Every creak of the house settling felt sinister. Even the howl of the wind through the branches outside my window sounded like whispering voices. At one point, I thought I smelled cigarettes. Logically, I know it must’ve been some lingering trace of Ryker in the house, but I managed to convince myself someone was watching me outside.
Sighing, I rest my elbows on the cool tile counter and place my head in my hands. I need to relax and stop overthinking this. The note was probably Cooper Blackthorne’s idea of a sick joke. It could just as easily be from someone pissed at my dad for a speeding ticket or an arrest. Either way, invading my home when I was alone and in the shower is a whole new level of messed up, even for Deadwood.
It’s also the second note I’ve found?—
I jump when my phone vibrates again, reminding me that I still haven’t checked the text.
After pouring myself a massive cup of coffee, I lean against the sink and click on the message.
Isabel
Did you make it through the night?
If you don’t respond in the next sixty seconds I’m going to assume you’re dead and I’ll be PISSED.
I roll my eyes. In a moment of weakness, I’d texted to see if she’d come over last night only for her to tell me she was working.
Willa
I’m alive, no thanks to you. How was Rib Cage?
Isabel
Fine. That Houston asshole decided to stick around. He and Cooper got into a bar fight with some out-of-towners .
Great, another resident Blackthorne to deal with. I swear more of them show up every year. Pretty soon, they’ll be an army.
Isabel
Still want to hang out later?
Willa
Yeah, do you mind picking me up?
Isabel
No problem. I’ll come get you around three.
I slide my phone across the counter and take a tiny sip of my piping hot coffee before heading to the fridge. Opening the door, I reach for the creamer on the top shelf, instead finding an oversized Tupperware container blocking my way. I shift it aside, but not before I catch a glimpse of its contents.
“No freaking way…” Grabbing the container, I wrench open the lid, my eyes fluttering closed as chocolaty, hazelnutty, French-toasty goodness fills the air.
My jaw gapes.
Ryker had to have been eager to get out of Deadwood, but he still followed through on cooking breakfast. He even remembered the Nutella…
I squeal and do a little happy dance on my way to the microwave. Throwing the whole container inside, I watch it spin around and around while my cheeks burn with a massive grin.
After binge eating a ginormous breakfast and forcing myself to clean up the dirt on the living room floor, I started obsessing over the note taped to the egg carton.
Ask him where he goes. Ask him what he hides.
I’d tried distracting myself in the garden, but the list of questions bouncing around inside my skull made that impossible. Why would someone break into my house to deliver barely sprouted seedlings and a cryptic message? Was the note about my dad or my brother?
Considering Noah’s abrupt departure yesterday, it could be either.
When Isabel’s VW Bug pulls into the driveway at exactly three, I’m already waiting for her on the sunbaked gravel. I don’t even let her put the car in park before I rip open the door and throw myself inside.
“Well, hello to you, too,” she says, brows pinching together as she points to the tear in my jacket sleeve. “I saw that the other night and forgot to ask what happened. Do you need my mom to sew it?”
Shit. True to her word, Isabel never asked any questions about my secret errand, which means I never actually told her that Beau hit me…
“ Nope , I’m fine. I must’ve snagged it on something while cleaning,” I offer a bit too casually.
She points to the dirt under my fingernails. “And what happened there?”
“I spent a few hours gardening this morning.”
“And over there, in the yard by the porch?”
“Hot damn, woman. What’s with the third degree?” I follow her gaze to the tipped-over egg carton in the grass. “Oh. That.” I hesitate, biting my lower lip. “That’s sort of why I wanted you to come over last night.”
I explain what happened—the footsteps I heard from the shower, what I discovered in the living room—and then pull out the yellowing sheet of paper from my pocket.
“This is actually the second note I’ve found,” I admit, holding it up between us. “I didn’t keep the first one, but I’m almost positive it was on this same type of paper.”
She lifts a single brow, like she can’t decide how serious to take this. “Why the hell didn’t you keep it? Do you at least remember what is said?”
My ears burn from the slight chastisement in her tone, and I shrug. “Something about fire and a cleansing? It was creepy, but I thought it was trash. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“ Hmm. Well, that’s not very helpful, is it… Let me see this one.” She snatches the paper from my hand and proceeds to type the contents into her phone.
That’s smart…why the hell didn’t I think of that?
Isabel’s eyes slide back and forth across the screen, her frown deepening with each passing second while sweat continues to pool on my lower back.
“I think the note might be a weird paraphrasing of a Bible verse,” she finally announces, brow set into a perplexed squiggle. “Listen to this.”
Tilting her phone so I can see, she clears her throat and reads aloud.
Her voice trails off, and a shiver crawls up my spine.
“It’s talking about the end of the world,” she whispers with a new spark in her eye. “But that first part kind of sounded like the eclipse, didn’t it? I overheard some people at Rib Cage saying the eclipse was the beginning of Judgment Day, or whatever the proper term is.”
I blink, the scars on my back growing tight and itchy. “I wouldn’t know,” I say flatly. “My mom was always the religious one.”
Awkwardness floods into the space between us, hot and sticky as the gleam in her expression dims. “Sorry.” She clears her throat. “Do you mind if I keep this? I can ask around the bar to see if anyone’s found something similar or knows where it came from?”
“It’s fine, and go for it.” I stare at the crumpled paper in her outstretched hand before chewing on my bottom lip.
Ask him where he goes. Ask him what he hides .
“The verse you read only covers the first section of the note. What do you think that last part means?” I tap my lip thoughtfully. “It says him , so it has to be talking about my dad or Noah, right?”
She hesitates, avoiding my gaze as she clutches the phone to her chest.
“What is it?” My voice cracks, but instead of responding, she glances at her screen again. “ Isabel ,” I say, a little louder than necessary. “Spit it out.”
In slow motion, she turns her head and locks eyes with me. “The passage I read was from the New International Version of the Bible…specifically from the book of Joel.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lean back in my seat.
She places a comforting hand on my shoulder, the pungent odor of her fresh nail polish stinging the inside of my nose. “Maybe you should show your dad when he gets back from Austin and file a police report?”
“Right,” I say with an exaggerated eye roll, “because Joel Dunn has never overreacted when it comes to my safety.”
Which, coincidentally, is exactly why I didn’t call him last night.
Isabel grimaces. “Good point. If the note really is about your dad, I guess he wouldn’t be a good person to ask anyway. Maybe see what Noah thinks?”
“Yeah, I guess.” My brother still hasn’t called or texted me back, but I keep that thought to myself and opt for changing the subject instead. “What should we do today?”
She scrunches her mouth to the side, giving me some serious side-eye.
“Come on. I was up all night thinking about that stupid note,” I groan and throw my head back. “ Please , can we talk about literally anything else?”
“Fine,” Isabel sighs. “Marco took a last-minute trip to Corpus Christi with some friends. We could hang out at his new place, eat all his food? Steal all his liquor?”
Still overly full from the French toast I ate a second serving of at lunch, I place a hand on my stomach. “I’m not really hungry and if I put a single ounce of liquid into my body, I think I might explode.”
“Fair enough. I have to work tonight, so I shouldn’t be drinking anyway.” She hums. “We could drive by the old Cartwright estate and see what that freak Kane is up to? Exploring the mansion is on your list, right?”
“He’s not a freak.” I think back to what Ryker said about their stepdad using them as ashtrays. “Kane is just…”
“Creepy as fuck?” Isabel supplies flatly, a light waft of jasmine flooding my senses as she flips her hair.
“Well, yeah,” I snort, momentarily forgetting that I’m trying to behave myself. “But seriously, the Bennett brothers had it rough growing up. We should give them a break.”
Even if Kane does make my skin feel a little crawly…
“ Them , huh?” She wiggles her brows. “I thought you and Ryker hated each other? Sounds like somebody might have used his magic fingers to change your mind…”
“Jesus Christ. He absolutely did not,” I sputter, neck sinking into my shoulders. “I just realized we have more in common than I thought… He’s different from wh at I remember.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s probably Noah finally calling me back, but I don’t really feel like talking to him after the way he bailed on me, so I ignore it. As soon as the vibrating stops, it starts up again. I grind my teeth. He better not be expecting me to apologize. That opportunity disappeared the second he walked out of the house yesterday.
I whip my phone out, my muscles tensing when I see the name on the screen.
Incoming Call: Trouble
Wide-eyed, I tilt the screen to show Isabel. She mouths Ryker’s name, and when I nod, she makes a go on motion with her hands.
I take a deep breath. “Hello?”
“ Fucking hell , does no one answer their goddamn phones anymore?” He lets loose an exasperated sigh that sounds both frantic and relieved, but it comes out so forcefully I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t fucking get a hold of your dad or your brother. Can you put one of them on, preferably your dad?”
I eye Isabel, who’s leaning so far over the center console she’s practically on my lap. Pushing her away, I put him on speaker. “Dad’s in Austin and Noah left last night to pick up an extra shift on the rig.”
“ Fuck !” Sharp pounding pulses through the phone, like he’s slamming his fist against something.
Alarm bells go off in my head. “What’s wrong?” I ask again.
“Charlie is in Deadwood.” Ryker’s tone is grated yet even, like he’s forcing himself to stay calm. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m about to lose the contents of my stomach.
“How is that possible?”
“I have no fucking idea,” he says with a sigh. “I guess CPS did a home inspection last week and a visitation is the next step? All I know is that she’ll be there overnight. I was hoping your dad could go over and make sure everything is okay. I’m still two goddamn hours away.”
There’s a long pause and then he says, “She’s going to be alone…with Beau . I don’t know what to fucking do.”
Pain and desperation leak through the phone, wrapping around my lungs so tightly my eyes water. I force myself to take a breath and mull over possible solutions.
“I’ll watch the house until you get here,” I announce, verbalizing the idea as it comes to me. I glance over to Isabel to make sure she’s okay with that plan, but she’s already backing out of the driveway.
“ Too hot to walk ,” she mouths.
My chest tightens further. She really is the best.
Ryker still hasn’t accepted my offer, but there are faint traffic noises coming from his end of the line, so he hasn’t hung up either.
“I could page my dad on his work phone? But I’m not sure what he can do from Austin,” I say quietly, trying to elicit some sort of response.
With every second that ticks by, my heart rate kicks up a notch—right along with my anxiety. Did I overstep? Was I too pushy?
Just when my head is about to burst from the weight of his silence, Ryker clears his throat. “Don’t page him,” he grits out, and then a little softer, “Are you sure you don’t mind waiting at the house?”
I nod before remembering he can’t see me. “This is Charlotte we’re talking about. Of course I’m sure.”
“Okay.” He breathes out a long sigh. “This could work. Don’t let Beau see you, though.”
“I won’t.”
“And if you see Charlie, tell her I sent you. If she asks you for a code…” The line goes quiet for a second. “Jesus. Just tell her it’s Dildo Baggins.”
“Dildo Baggins…” I stammer, undecided on whether I should laugh or not. “Does she actually know what that means?”
“I fucking hope not, but she has four foster brothers and says all sorts of crazy shit she doesn’t fully understand yet.” He laughs, the sound lifting some of the pressure off my chest. “Took me over an hour to talk her out of ‘pterodactyl weenus’ when I first brought this up, so I consider it a win.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “Dildo Baggins. Got it.”
Silence leaks back into the line.
“Willa?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He ends the call before I can respond, and when I glance up from the phone, Isabel is already backing her car into a copse of trees across from Beau Blackthorne’s house.
“What now?” she asks, putting the car into park and angling her body toward me.
I shrug. “I guess we wait.”