Chapter 7 Noah
Noah
This is insane,” Emma said. “Right? Like, we’re crazy for doing this?”
I peered through the tree line toward her backyard. “Yes.”
Her neighborhood was small, just four houses, each on its own five-acre lot that abutted the town’s conservation area.
We’d ridden into the forest on my dirt bike as far as the trails would take us, then turned off them to drive half a mile farther, before the scrub and rocks became untraversable.
We’d hoofed it another quarter mile to the ridgeline behind our backs, where we’d waited as the sun set and darkness descended.
Emma had done surprisingly well, considering everything she’d been through and the fact that we’d been awake most of last night, making each other come so much that we’d woken up dehydrated.
It made me think she was right, and that Beau must have been doing something to make her sick.
The word poison slipped through my mind, almost too ugly to consider, but if he’d done everything else we suspected, then why not that as well?
Because my mind couldn’t bear it, that’s why.
Couldn’t understand how someone who was supposed to love and protect Emma had so badly abused and neglected her instead.
I hoped we found something on him tonight.
If not proof of insurance fraud, then something else, some sort of evidence we could use against him to show everyone that a monster lurked behind his Waspish facade.
Emma grabbed my arm and pulled me down behind an evergreen tree. “He’s leaving for work. That son of a bitch is actually going to work the night after burying me.”
I glanced through the pine needles to watch Beau’s Mercedes finish backing out of the driveway before he turned and headed up the road.
“I’m so sorry, Emma,” I said. She made a low, angry sound like a wildcat and started to stalk forward, but I grabbed her arm to stop her. “We should wait to make sure no one else is inside.”
She glanced at me and nodded, settling back down.
Only a single light was left on in the house, but we stayed where we were, watching for movement, waiting with bated breath as the night grew darker and the wind whistled through the branches overhead.
“It looks clear,” I said.
Emma released a shaky breath. “We’re really doing this.”
I turned to grip her shoulders. “We don’t have to. We can always call the state police instead, tell them everything, and hope the Broadturns’ influence doesn’t reach that far.”
She drew a deep breath and shook her head. “No. I don’t trust anyone but you at this point.”
An odd mix of feelings rushed through me to hear the words, pride that she trusted me already, sadness that no one else made the cut.
“Then let’s do this,” I told her. “Remember the plan?”
She nodded.
We were going to sneak to the back door, use the spare key inside the stone frog, disable the alarm, and then head straight to Beau’s office, touching as little as possible along the way.
I wore a hat and gloves to try to mitigate the risk of leaving evidence behind, and I was hoping our dark outfits would help us blend into the night.
Emma was dressed in clothes my dad had picked up for her in town, a size too big, but it was better than wearing mine.
Dad dropped them off earlier and told me he’d fixed her grave so it looked exactly as it had after her burial.
If he was worried about why I’d asked for all-black clothes, he didn’t say, but the knowing look in his eyes as he made me promise to be careful told me he had his suspicions.
“You ready?” I asked Emma.
“I’m ready.”
Together, we moved as close as we could to the back door while staying within the tree line, where we paused again, scanning the surrounding area.
It was even warmer tonight than last, the sky above us low and angry, like a storm was brewing.
Sweat formed on my back. My heart beat a staccato rhythm against my rib cage.
We saw no one, heard nothing, so I dashed toward the back door, Emma right behind me.
The frog wasn’t where she remembered. We experienced a brief moment of panic before I found it tucked beneath a nearby shrub and handed it over.
Emma managed to get the door open, rushing straight inside to the alarm panel and quickly disabling it.
I shut the door behind us and turned to meet her eyes.
Despite the fact that she looked slightly terrified, she was grinning.
“I’ve never broken into a house before,” she whispered.
“The novelty wears off after your fourth or fifth.”
She shook her head at me, starting to catch on to my deadpan brand of humor, and I swept down and quickly kissed her, unable to help myself. She melted into me immediately, her hands roaming over my back, but I broke the kiss before we got carried away.
My gaze swept past her toward our surroundings.
The basement was finished. To a high standard, judging by the hardwood flooring, plush couches, and full bar along the far wall.
Everything was done in soft neutrals, creams and tans, with warm touches of raw wood and brass.
No wonder they were in debt; this renovation alone must have set them back a pretty penny.
“Beau’s office is on the third floor,” Emma whispered.
I motioned for her to lead the way, and we fell quiet as she showed me toward the stairs.
The more I saw of the house, the more I wondered just how extravagant their spending had been.
Everything inside was high end. Luxury. Like something out of a magazine.
It made me look at my humble cabin with new eyes and wonder what Emma must have thought about it after living in this palace.
From the first floor, we took the stairs up to the second.
I didn’t see much of it because it was dark and we kept climbing, just a large landing with wide hallways branching off either side.
The top floor seemed like the smallest from outside, narrow, tucked into the rafters.
Beau’s office was at the far end, looking out over the woods.
Emma walked straight to the lone window inside it and pulled the blinds before tugging the curtains closed.
“There,” she said. “Hopefully no one will be able to see us moving around up here. The only neighbors with a partial view are the McIntires, and they’re in their eighties and probably already in bed. ”
I flicked a light switch on, and a soft glow filled the room from the chandelier.
Plaid wallpaper, bookshelves, tweed upholstery.
It looked like something out of a modern-day Scottish laird’s castle.
The walls were lined with certificates, showing off Beau’s medical degrees and awards.
Pictures of him hung between them, on a golf course, standing beside the governor, shaking hands with celebrity clients.
I didn’t see a single one of him and Emma.
God, he was such a self-obsessed, pretentious fuck.
If she were mine, I’d have photos of her plastered everywhere.
She went to his desk and sat in the chair, jiggling the computer mouse to wake up his desktop. I took that as my signal to start inspecting the drawers.
“Shit, he changed the password,” she said.
I pulled the top drawer open to find it empty.
She glanced up at me. “You don’t happen to be a secret hacker by chance?”
“Sorry, darlin’.” I pulled open another drawer, but the only thing it contained was a lone paper clip. “Uh, did these used to have things in them?”
She looked down and swore, swiveling in the chair to start yanking open more drawers and finding them all empty. “He must have moved everything.”
“Not suspicious at all,” I said, my tone deeply sarcastic. “Is there a safe in the house?”
“Yes,” Emma said, standing.
We heard a noise from downstairs and froze. What the fuck was that? The wind? The house settling? I cocked my head to the side, straining my ears, but all I heard at first was the sound of my own heartbeat hammering in my ears. Then, far below, the alarm beeped, like the front door was open.
Shit, someone was here.
More beeping as the alarm was disabled. Was Beau back? Did he not really go to work? Forget something and have to turn around? Or was it someone else? I glanced at Emma, and our eyes caught, her expression full of fear.
Her focus shifted past me, and then she was moving.
“Don’t!” I whispered, worried the sound would carry.
But she was lost to her panic and raced straight toward the light switch, flicking it down and dropping us into darkness.
My entire body tensed up. Please let this monstrous house be big enough that whoever was downstairs didn’t hear her footsteps or see the light cut off.
“Hello?” Beau called. “Is someone up there?”
Fuck! It was him. And he’d noticed. We had to get out of here before he caught us.
No good could come from him and Emma seeing each other face-to-face.
But how did we leave? Not out the window—we were three stories up.
And we couldn’t hide in here, either, because he’d probably head straight this way.
Maybe we could hunker down somewhere else and sneak out once he was past us.
I grabbed Emma’s hand, pressing a finger to my lips, and led her into the hallway.
Beau hadn’t turned any more lights on down below, and it was dark as sin in the house.
We moved slowly, Emma following my lead as I crept toward the staircase.
I glanced over the edge and didn’t see anyone on it, but the chances of us making it to the second floor without getting caught felt slim.
Beau was a hunter, which meant he probably had easy access to weapons, might be grabbing one right now.
I felt like the best chance we had at getting out of the house was to hide up here so I could ambush him from behind, find some way to bash him over the head and knock him out before he saw either of us.
This floor had a vaulted ceiling above the top of the stairwell, and an open rectangular hallway with railings bordering the top of the stairs.
Four doors stood off it. Beau’s office was at our backs, so I decided the one straight across from us would provide the best vantage point.
I pointed toward it. Emma nodded, staying right on my heels as I made my way over.
We slipped inside, and I had just enough time to recognize what looked like a spare bedroom before I pushed Emma toward the closet and motioned for her to hide.
“Promise you’ll stay here until I say it’s safe,” I whispered.
“I promise,” she whispered back.
I gave her one last kiss and turned to shut the bedroom door to a narrow crack, peering out of it to watch the top of the stairs, my ears strained for the slightest sound.
Emma’s low, fast breaths were barely audible from inside the closet, and I wished I could comfort her, knowing she must feel like she was back in the coffin, but all my focus had to remain on the hallway outside.
A minute of silence passed.
Another.
The seconds seemed to drag by, my shoulders rising with tension, every muscle in my body tight as a bowstring, ready to snap.
Where the fuck was Beau? What was he doing?
In my mind, I saw images of him loading a gun, calling 911, silently setting off the alarm, all sorts of nightmare scenarios that would end with us getting caught.
Suddenly a creak split the air. It sounded like someone had trod on a loose step.
The hair on the back of my neck rose.
Was Beau on his way up?
I stared out into the hallway, holding my breath.
Another creak. Closer this time. And then movement.
A spot of darkness, deeper than the rest, rising into view on the staircase like something out of a horror movie. Beau. And from the longer, thinner shadow extended out in front of him, he was carrying a shotgun.
My heart stuttered to a stop as he crept upward, pausing for seconds at a time, waiting, obviously listening for more sounds of us nearby.
Adrenaline poured into my veins, causing my hands to tremble.
This man had tried to kill his wife—multiple times, if Emma was right—and now here he was holding a fucking gun.
I had to protect her. Whatever the cost.