Chapter Thirty – Let Your Tears Fall
Chapter Thirty
Maisey
LET YOUR TEARS FALL
Performed by Kelly Clarkson
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
HER: I don’t know how to thank your dad for helping me sort through all the bills.
HIM: He was happy to help. But he was also frustrated your dad hadn’t taken care of it himself.
HER: Sometimes, I’m not sure it even occurs to Dad there are bills to pay.
HIM: It’s not like he married your mom right out of high school. He was an adult with bills to pay long before he met her.
HER: But he’s so…lost right now, Beckett.
HIM: And you’re not? You’re fucking fifteen. And why isn’t Chelsea helping? She’s going to be moving out next year when she goes to school. She should be more prepared than you to handle this shit.
HER: You’re more upset than I am.
HIM: Someone needs to be upset on your behalf.
HER: It won’t change anything. It’ll only give you heartburn. Believe me. I know.
PRESENT DAY
I shivered in the relentless rain. The downpour wasn’t pelting me like daggers any longer, but it was still a steady stream.
What had happened to summer? The heavy humidity that had been in the air for over a week had finally and truly broken, leaving behind a raging thunderstorm.
It didn’t have the iciness of our winter storms, but it was still cool—biting, even—as it whipped through my drenched clothing.
Lightning cracked, landing just above me on the mountaintop and causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.
This was stupid.
I had no weapon. No protection.
Beckett would be furious.
But the text had been very clear—come alone to the old fire tower, retrieve your father, and then leave town for good.
Another tremor ran up my spine, not only because of the wet and cold but because someone hated me this much. Wanted me gone so badly they’d risk my father’s life. Risk mine.
I moved slowly through the trees, using the trunks as cover as I strained to see through the clouds drifting low over the path that led up to the abandoned lookout.
Was the person who’d done this there? Waiting for me?
The tower hadn’t been used since before I’d been born.
Aerial cameras and drones had long since replaced the human watch.
For as long as I could remember, it had seemed like nothing more than an abandoned lighthouse sitting amongst the forest.
As kids, Fallon and I had ventured up to it once or twice, but like the caves where bandits had lived in the eighteen hundreds, the danger of it had kept us from risking it often. We’d gone just enough to satisfy childhood curiosities.
My phone vibrated once again. The slew of texts that had come in from Beckett and Fallon made my chest ache.
They’d be angry I’d come on my own. But I couldn’t risk Dad’s life by not following the orders given to me.
And hopefully, Fallon would remember she could find me on the Find Family app.
Hopefully, they’d bring help while I still did what this unknown enemy wanted and came by myself.
The new text that buzzed wasn’t from either of the people who loved me.
It was from the same person my phone had labeled “Spam Risk.” Something tickled at the back of my mind about the number.
It was familiar somehow, but I couldn’t quite put it together.
Certainly not while worried about my dad, and how he’d gotten up here, and wondering how I was going to face this person without winding up dead.
UNKNOWN CALLER: There’s a chance he can be saved. If you take too long, it’ll be on you, not me.
My stomach rolled, terror and grief blending. I didn’t want to lose my dad, and I certainly wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I were the reason he died.
I searched the ground for a weapon. A sharp rock. A heavy branch. Anything.
I finally found a limb that had recently cracked and fallen to the forest floor.
Heavy with the scent of sap and pine, its flesh was still bright and white, but the edge was sharp.
Not nearly sharp enough to penetrate skin, but it might hurt, and it was at least something I could swing.
Something that would keep me at an arm’s length from an attacker.
The path was even narrower than I remembered.
Water ran in a tiny stream along it. I accidentally kicked a loose pebble, and it shot over the ledge, bouncing down the abyss to the canyon below.
I swallowed hard and pressed myself against the boulders on the other side.
If I remembered, the path emerged right at the base of the watchtower, and I’d be exposed to whoever was waiting there.
My stomach rolled once more. This really was stupid. Stupid to come alone.
Then I thought of Fallon. Three years ago, she’d been kidnapped and hidden in the caves on the ranch, but she’d found a way to fight back, and it gave Parker and his team time to find her.
I could do the same thing. I could fight for my dad and myself while giving the people searching for us time to catch up.
I slid my phone into the wet pocket of my yoga pants, gripped the stick with both hands, and moved as fast as I dared around the last bend.
The watchtower came into full view. The base, made out of axe-carved planks and rough-hewn stones, was surrounded by an eerie mist. A rickety wooden staircase jutted out of the clouds, leading up the back to the one-room cabin at the top.
The stairs were usually chained off with a warning sign, but now, it dangled loose, bouncing in the wind.
As far as I could see, no one was waiting for me. I called quietly for my father but received no answer.
My heart raced, and my palms were damp from the strange mingling of sweat and rain. My blood pounded in my ears, making it hard to hear anything as I made my way toward the stairs.
I kept my back to the building much as I’d done with the boulders, picking my way up the rotted treads.
The cabin had originally been painted a vibrant white, but the planks were now a mutilated combination of gray, black, and decay.
The glass that had once provided an unobstructed, 360-degree view of the valley below had long since been broken and boarded up, making it impossible to see inside the single room.
Impossible to see what waited for me in the dark.
The door swung open, creaking in the wind.
The creepiness of the deserted tower crawled through me, sending chills and a warning I couldn’t heed.
Not if I was going to get to Dad. I eased onto the wooden walk surrounding the cabin and pushed open the door with a shaky hand before sliding into the interior and slamming my back into the wall.
I blinked furiously, forcing my eyes to adjust to the shadowed interior.
No one came at me. Nothing moved. No sound of rustling clothes or pounding feet.
Maybe they didn’t know I’d arrived? Should I risk my phone light? Risk calling for my father?
My mouth was so dry I could barely croak out, “Dad?”
My voice echoed in the silence. Raw and scratchy. Quivering with fear.
The air outside sparked with electricity as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky right outside the watch—white and hot. Thunder followed, so loud and strong the building trembled and moaned as if the entire decomposing frame might crumble down with us inside it.
Panic joined the terror thrumming through my veins.
I had to find Dad and get us both out of here.
Reluctantly, I let go of the branch with one hand so I could pull my phone out and turn on the flashlight.
I fumbled with it before shining it into the darkened room.
I swung the single beam around, taking in a pile of broken furniture that stood in the middle like a pyre waiting to be lit, before my eyes landed on a shadowy shape on the floor.
A body. A crumpled heap of flesh and bone.
I ran, quietly shouting his name. The knot in my chest grew. My throat closed. He was there. Dirty and wet and with his eyes closed. But he was there. I dropped the stick and placed the phone closer to his face. He was so pale.
“Dad! Dad! It’s Maisey,” I said as I rolled him onto his back.
The white flicker of the flashlight app turned him into a ghost. My heart thundered as I felt for a pulse, letting out a garbled noise of pain and denial when I couldn’t feel one at first. But then I saw his chest rise, ever so slightly, and I pressed my fingers harder.
Tears threatened when I finally found a weak and thready beat.
It was dangerously slow, but he was alive.
“Took you long enough.”
The words had me leaping to my feet and whirling toward the sound, straining to see whoever had spoken from the far side of the room.
Laughter filled the air, but it was mechanical.
Hollow. Some kind of device was modifying their voice, making it robotic.
Harsh and evil. More so than if I’d been able to recognize it.
My entire body shook, and my breath came out in choppy gasps as I strained to see through the shadows. With the pile of furniture blocking my view, it was nearly impossible to catch a glimpse of them.
“Who are you? Why are you doing this to us?” I demanded as I slowly bent to pick up the stick I’d dropped and then eased around the pyre.
“Is that a stick? Really? That’s pretty pathetic.”
Anger bloomed and had me doing another stupid thing in a long list of them I’d done recently as I stepped closer to the voice instead of away.
“How do you feel, Maisey? Knowing you were too late to save him?”
I bit back my instant retort that Dad wasn’t dead. That they hadn’t succeeded in killing him. Because maybe it was smarter to let them think they’d won. Maybe they’d back off then.
I hadn’t picked up my phone from the floor, and the light grew dimmer as I moved farther into the depths. The gross laughter filled the air again. Even mechanical and false, it sounded spiteful. They were rejoicing in my fear and anguish.