Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
LAW
I’ve been waiting for a text from Carlie all day. My text with the information on when I was leaving and the details of the road trip was preceded by more than a few requests to see her so we can talk. As frustrated as I am, I don’t want to end it all because of this. I want this to be the turning point.
All of my texts have been met with the same variations of excuses from before. She’s with the girls. She’s with Caleb. At least her response to my road trip information was different. Have fun .
I don’t want to go to Nashville. Telling her all that was my last-ditch effort to shake her up and make her realize I was leaving. Now I’m actually packing a bag and getting ready to take a trip tomorrow morning that I don’t want to take. I want to storm over to her house and make her talk to me, but I can’t force her to trust me. This will take both of us. I’m falling hard for her, but I can’t ignore the issues.
My phone dings—I turned it off vibrate a couple days ago so I didn’t miss a text or a call—and I dive for where it sits on my nightstand next to my bed. I accidentally kick my suitcase, which slides off the bed with a crash.
All worth it. The text is from Carlie, the first since our fight that she’s initiated.
“Everything okay?” Malcolm calls, and then he appears in the doorway.
“Fine,” I say, swiping to get to the text. I glance up to see him eyeing my suitcase. I wave him away and try to make sense of Carlie’s text.
Carlie
Chad has a gun. Come not.
Chad has a gun is pretty straightforward, but is she serious? Come not is harder to translate, but my guess, given the first phrase, is come now . If she was typing in a hurry, that makes sense.
So I don’t hesitate. In fact, I look up to realize that I’m already sprinting out my front door, Malcolm calling behind me, asking what’s going on. I don’t stop to explain, and I only glance down at my phone as it dings again while I run across my yard and hurdle Chad’s four-and-a-half-foot front fence. The texts are from Malcolm, not Carlie, so I ignore them.
Chad’s front door is unlocked, which is strange, but I’ll think about that later. Chad stands in the entryway, a shotgun hanging at his side. Carlie stands just inside the entryway, as though she came from the back door and through the family room, her hands clasped together in front of her, pure terror on her expression.
“What’s going on?” I ask, making Chad whirl on me, the shotgun rising an inch or two before he drops it again.
“Law? What are you doing here?” His expression is one of complete confusion.
I turn to Carlie. “Carlie?”
She points. “I thought—he has a gun—” She shakes her head. “Where are the girls?” She sounds out of breath, so my guess is that she ran from her house.
“Upstairs, asleep … for now.” Chad’s voice is irritated.
Carlie bolts past Chad and runs up the stairs, toward the girls’ rooms.
Chad looks at me, frowning and taking a few steps. “What is she doing? What’s going on?” He turns to me for answers, but I don’t know what to say. How did Carlie know he had a gun? Was she here when he pulled it? Then why didn’t she know where the girls were, and why is she out of breath?
Carlie looks to me when she comes to the top of the stairs. “They’re fine. They’re safe.”
Chad swears. “What’s going on?” He does still keep his voice down. Dad first, I guess. The instincts must be powerful.
Carlie comes halfway down, but she’s still looking at me. “You had a gun, and I thought?—”
Maybe it’s just me willing her to stop talking, but she doesn’t finish that she thought he was going to do something to the girls or maybe to himself.
“You thought what? ” Chad snaps. “How did you know I had the gun?”
Carlie draws in a long breath. “The security cameras. Uh … I … I’ve been watching them.”
I stave off my own sharp intake of breath that’s almost in unison with Chad’s. Probably for different reasons, though. What had her so worried that she’d do something so drastic like spying on him? I mean, Chad is standing in the entryway with a shotgun, so I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt here, to be honest. Something happened in the last four days; otherwise she would have told me. It makes guilt spiral through me. If she was right about Chad and I dismissed it because I assumed she was just thinking the worst of us both, I’ll never forgive myself. And I won’t blame her for not forgiving me either.
“You’ve been spying on me. In my own house.” Chad’s voice has turned calm and official, maybe the way he talks to patients or families. “I’m calling the police.”
“No, no, no.” Carlie waves her hands at him. “I was worried about the girls. I was just making sure they were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t they be okay when they’re with me?” Chad holds up the shotgun, like this is proof that he’d protect them, obviously. He’s not seeing what Carlie is, which maybe makes me believe that he really didn’t have anything to do with Shelby’s disappearance. He’s clueless right now, or he’s an Oscar-worthy good actor.
Not that I ever really thought he did something, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to doubts. Especially right now.
“Listen.” Carlie holds out her hands, like she’s the one dealing with someone not quite there. It’s a bit funny—in a that’s-not-actually-funny kind of way—that they’re both so sure the other one is a criminal. She starts spitting things out in a rush. “There’s a suspicious mound in the trees between the houses, and your carpet is different in your master bedroom and you’re pretending like she doesn’t even exist—no pictures or talking about her.”
I see the moment Chad realizes what she’s getting at. His eyes widen, and then just as quickly they narrow. “You think I killed Shelby?”
Carlie’s voice pitches high. “You’re so sure she’s not coming back. You told me. How else would you know unless—” Even now, in the midst of accusing him, she won’t say it.
Chad whirls on me. “And you?” His eyes snap with betrayal.
Again, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t really believe it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how Carlie might be right about everything, especially as I went over our fight, questioning all my actions, wondering if I’d acted defensively and just out of frustration. I draw in a breath to point out that she’s right. It looks suspicious as all get out.
“No. He didn’t think that,” Carlie says before I can open my mouth. “He told me multiple times that I had it all wrong.”
The way that she defends me makes warmth rush through me. But I can’t let her stand here and take all this by herself. “I was worried about you,” I say genuinely.
He clenches his jaw and works it for a minute. “Well, let me ease both of your minds. I have this gun—” He lifts it again slightly but keeps it pointing toward the floor. “—because I heard someone trying to get into the front door. And when I got to it, my wife was standing there, trying to use her old keys on the new locks. See for yourself.” He nods to the top of the stairs, where Shelby stands with a giant, shiny silver suitcase, gripping the rail and looking like she’s about to tumble right down the stairs. “And her drug-dealing boyfriend is waiting outside. Rest easy, Carlie. I’m protecting my girls just fine.”
Shelby smiles lazily at me, mascara smeared along the bottom of her eyes, and her blond hair is messy and wild in a bun on top of her head. “Hey, Law,” she says, and she plops her butt down on the top step, grinning at all of us.