Chapter 36 Wren
WREN
“Done with Mika’s stuff?” River asks when I lean up from my laptop on the kitchen counter in the ranch house. “Jackal and Shade are in the family room waiting for all the equipment they need to destroy.”
I look at the equipment, wishing I could keep it all for emotional security reasons, but I nod.
“I’ve mirrored everything and created some gateways in case I need to get back into Chase’s accounts again.
The package of evidence is built. It states clearly where all this incriminating information is on Chase’s own drives. ”
He brushes his knuckle along my cheek. “You look exhausted.”
“I feel like I might actually sleep tonight.”
River wraps me in his arms and smushes my face against his chest. “It’s because it’s nearly over.”
I reach out for the wooden chopping board and hit it twice. “Knocking wood for good luck, seeing as that feels a lot like a jinx.”
River chuckles. “You know, saying words doesn’t actually bring things into being. Otherwise, everyone who ever played the lottery would be millionaires by now. You can’t really speak bad luck into existence.”
“And today is the day you want to test that theory?”
He cups my cheeks and kisses my forehead. “Fair. I’ll go tell Jackal and Shade they can come grab all this stuff.”
I’m just closing my laptop when they come in with some large packing boxes.
“You got everything you need?” Shade asks.
I nod. “There’s more than enough to bury him. The only thing better would have been if he’d had some kind of location finder we could track him by.”
“Where would the fun in that be?” Jackal says, shoving the drives into the cardboard box he carries.
“I have this digital folder. I feel like more than just me should have it. I’m going to send it to Vex and Calista, but can I send it through to the three of you?”
“What are we supposed to do with it?” Jackal asks.
Maybe it’s because I know, but I see the loving way Shade looks at him when he speaks. “Insurance.”
Furrows line Jackal’s nose. “What?”
“We don’t know when or how we’re going to have to send the information out into the public,” I say.
“Too soon, before we even know where Chase is, and he will know that we’ve been in his files.
He could speak out against it. Make it look like someone trying to blackmail him, meanwhile, rubbing all his files from existence.
Too late, and we miss the chance to send it before he’s dead.
A coroner might think it too coincidental. ”
“I think you might be overestimating just how capable we are at making sure our personal setups are unhackable. I buy my internet connection the same way the majority of the population does,” Jackal says.
“Doubt it would be hard for someone to hack it. You give me the files or ask me to send them, chances are I’ll leave a giant neon sign in the ether that points to me saying I did it. ”
“He’s not lying,” River says. “You know you joked about how Lucy’s dad uses final and final v2 and most final as file names. I do that.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Jesus. Maybe I should come in and give each of you a tech cleanup, install some better software.”
Shade nods. “Probably wise.”
“Fine. I’ll set up a new profile on the dark web and make sure all one of you will have to do is hit send. This way, if you all have access to this account and the file, someone will be in a good position to push the button when we need to. I’ll send you the details.”
“Done,” Shade says with his usual brevity.
River shows them out and then comes back to me. “I need to go check on Mom and Willa before the world gets even crazier than it is right now. Just to make sure they’ve got their own protection. You wanna come for some air?”
“God, yes. Gimme two minutes to throw on some warmer clothes.”
“I can wait. I’ll just go get the truck running to warm it up.”
It’s seven in the evening, but it’s already fully dark by the time I join him in the truck and we leave the ranch.
I stole one of his hoodies and smile to myself that he didn’t notice, yet.
Out of habit, I have my laptop and phone.
The truck heater is blasting warmth as sleet spits against the windshield.
The wipers work overtime.
Willa’s home glows soft yellow through the windows, the light blurred by the drizzle. A kid’s slide and basketball sit abandoned in the snow.
“Give me two minutes to drop this off,” he says, reaching for a bag he slipped onto the back seat.
“No. I’m coming. I want to make sure she’s safe too.”
River looks like he’s about to argue, then changes his mind. “Fine.”
We move quick, and Willa answers the door in a robe, hair up. “Hey, you two. Come in. Sorry. Got home from work and just couldn’t face sitting around in my bra and work pants all evening.”
“We aren’t staying,” River says as we step inside. “I just came by to give you this and let you know there will be a patrol around the house tonight. Prospects. They have been instructed to not knock on the door or come inside. Anyone tries to pull that bullshit, you call me.”
Willa opens the bag, then winces. “You know I don’t like having guns in the house with the kids.”
River places his hand on his sister’s arm. “And in an ideal world, you wouldn’t need to. But a very clever man, an FBI agent, is looking for Wren because he’s been stalking them. I have no idea if he knows where you live, but I want you ready in case he comes.”
“I can’t kill a federal agent,” she says. “The kids need me.”
“I know, Willa. But we have files and files of evidence that he’s not only stalking Wren but wants to do unspeakable things to them.
He’s mentally unhinged. He comes looking for you, you shoot first. He won’t be recording his visit; it won’t be legal.
But he might use his name, Dorian Chase, to try to get in.
You’ll be covered by castle doctrine or stand your ground.
But if you’re unsure, we can pack the kids up and you guys can stay at the clubhouse until this is over. ”
“Fine. I’ll take the bag. What else is in there?”
“A walkie-talkie. I have its pair. Just in case communications get cut, I—”
“Dear God, River. How bad do you think it’s going to be?”
I grip Willa’s shoulder. “It’s a very slim chance. River just wants to be overprepared.”
Willa’s shoulders drop away from her ears. “Okay.”
River tugs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face. “Sorry, yeah. Don’t mean to scare you, but I just…it’s the first time I haven’t been out there to…”
“You’ve got to start your own life sometime. And we haven’t seen my ex in six months. I’m sure we’re okay.”
River kisses Willa’s cheek. “Stay safe. And don’t forget there will be prospects around. They’ll be wearing club colors, so you’ll know them.”
We make the same stop at his mom’s, and when we get back into the truck to head for home, Catfish looks at me with mischief in his eyes. “You hungry?” he asks.
“Starved,” I reply.
He reaches for his phone. “Margie,” he says when the person answers. “It’s Catfish. Is it too late to get two orders of meatloaf and apple pie to go?”
There’s a pause as he grins at whatever the person on the other end is saying.
“Not tonight, Margie. Got shit to do.” He looks at me. “Yeah, you can meet ‘em another day. And put a container of ice cream for the pie in the bag. See you in ten.”
“Should I ask who Margie is?”
River glances over his shoulder as he begins to reverse out of Willa’s drive. “Wraith’s former mother-in-law.”
“Oh, God. Yeah. I learned about what happened to Wraith’s first wife and daughter at book club. So awful.”
River taps along on the steering wheel to the country music playing on the radio. “Yeah. We kinda lost Wraith for a while there. Can’t tell you half the things he did to find the person who did it.”
I place my hand on River’s thigh, and he puts his hand over the top of it. “I’m assuming that person won’t be hurting anyone else.”
“No. He won’t. Margie wants to meet you.”
I sigh. “As much as I’d like to meet her, I agree that today isn’t the day. I’m a little peopled out.”
The diner is at the end of town I never really saw. It’s cute. There’s a hardware store opposite and some small boutiques.
Condensation rolls down the diner windows, but even through the drips of water I can see it’s bustling inside.
River kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right back. I’ll leave the truck running so you’re warm.”
I watch the way he walks inside. Shoulders back. Confident. A beanie pulled low on his head, but it can’t contain the curls at the bottom. He goes straight to the counter, where he’s met by the stereotype of any woman who runs a diner in middle America.
Too much personality. Heavy on top. Hair color out of a dye bottle.
She hugs River across the counter, before they both look out the window to the truck, and Margie waves.
I feel a tiny ripple of guilt as I wave in response but am grateful I’m out here and not in there. The stifling heat, the condensation, the noises, and the people.
The truck idles with a low and steady hum, warm air pooling around my knees. And I’m too busy counting my lucky stars that I’m out here, that I don’t notice the diner guest leaving, while River’s back is turned, before it’s too late.
Until there’s a gun pointing at me, and River’s door is yanked open, and Dorian Chase slides into the driver’s seat. I glance down at my phone in my hand, but there isn’t time to do anything with it.
“Evening, sweetheart,” he says, not raising his voice as I run through a million different scenarios, none of which leave me anything other than dead.
Chase is close enough for me to smell the stifling scent of the diner on his coat, close enough for me to see the small scar at the side of his mouth that didn’t show up in his official photograph.
His gun is level; his breathing is steady.
He’s not afraid.
“Wren,” he says softly. “I will kill him if he walks through that door, so don’t give me any reason to. It’s better if it’s just the two of us.”
Everything inside me fractures into a thousand sharp pieces. I try to make myself small and uninteresting. There’s so much I want to say that I say nothing at all. This is learned performance, old models, feigned compliance. I’m falling back on defaults and can’t seem to shake it.
My brain tries to take an inventory but comes up with nothing.
I should run; I could scream. But it’s the fastest way to have River run out of the diner and get shot, or worse, killed.
“Get out of the truck,” I say, weakly. My brain gallops into the future, into a dozen different outcomes, each one worse than the other.
He releases the handbrake of the truck and puts it in drive. “I’ve been patient and good. You’ve made me be very good for so long, Wren. Let me do what I’m supposed to do.”
With a glance over his shoulder, gun still pointing at me, he pulls away from the curb.
“What’s that?”
“Keep you safe.”
“You have a gun pointed at me.”
“You know how the world is.”
I look back at the diner, at the man I love. He still has his back to the window as he chats with Margie. “I can’t go with you.”
“You already did,” he says with a snap. “Years ago. You became mine the day you answered.”
I shake my head, blood suddenly flowing through my body again as the immediate panic is replaced with a strong desire to live. “I didn’t.”
“All those nights you wrote back. You told me my code was ugly and that you wanted to help me make it beautiful. You told me you wanted me to find you.”
There’s a slight quiver to his voice, but it’s not fear. It’s excitement. I glance down and see that his cock is hard. This is my nightmare, but he thinks he’s telling a love story. Something fated.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask as the truck starts to pick up speed.
“Somewhere we’ll feel safe. Somewhere we can start over. Just you and me.”
I’ll die there; I know it. His rage will increase with his obsession.
If I’m going to die, why not here?
So, I reach for the gun with one hand, the steering wheel with the other.
And as the truck begins to spin on the snow, the gun goes off, an explosion against my ear.
It’s painfully loud and disorienting. I touch my hand to my shoulder, and there’s blood.
A lot of it.
But the agony of it can’t fight through the fear that has me stuck in this chair.
Somehow, Chase manages to regain control of the truck. “Look what you made me do,” he roars.