Chapter 27
Jameson
I wake up to screaming.
It only takes me a few seconds to realize the sound is coming from my mother.
Jolting up, I push myself out of bed and quickly pull the gun from my nightstand. When I step into the hall, the sound only grows louder, making my heart race and my body move faster.
There’s another low voice just below the sound of her wailing, and I realize why when I round the corner into the kitchen.
There are two cops standing in front of my mother, who’s hunched over, sobbing.
Immediately, I know.
Pushing the gun into the back of my pants, I cover it with my shirt and step into the room. I go right for my mother, and the moment I’m beside her, she crumples in my arms.
I run my hand down her back, trying to calm her, but she won’t stop crying. She’s shaking so hard that I can barely keep her upright.
The cops look from her to me. “Is this your mother?”
I nod, looking between them, bracing myself for what they’re about to tell me.
“I’m so sorry, son,” the larger man says. “Your father has been killed.”
So many emotions flood through me that it’s like I don’t feel any of them at all.
“Oh God,” my mother wails. “Levi …” She trails off as she continues to sob.
I push away the thoughts swirling around in my head, just needing to deal with what’s in front of me.
I nod toward the kitchen table. “Can you …?”
The cop pulls out a chair, and I gently set my mother into it. She slumps over the table, dropping her head into her hands.
I hold onto her shoulders to steady her and turn back to the cop. “What happened?”
His expression turns hard. “Your father was attempting to steal a car on Marshall Road. When officers arrived, he was armed. He was asked to drop his weapon but resisted, firing and injuring an officer. Shots were returned, and your father was killed on the scene.”
He says it so prescriptively, like my father’s life and death can be reduced to a few sentences.
“Was he alone?” I ask, already knowing the answer. If Johnny was able to flee, I don’t want to give him away.
I tense when the officer says, “No.”
Fuck.
They either have Johnny or he’s …
The officer looks down at the file that’s opened in his hands.
“It looks like a Jonathan Barlowe, age twenty, fled the scene …” Hope ignites inside me, but then he continues, “Officers attempted to apprehend the suspect, but he lost control of the car, crashing into a tree.” The man looks up at me. “He died on impact.”
All I can think about is Sam.
I need to get to Sam.
I try to get the cops out of the house as quickly as possible, but they’re hesitant to leave given the state of my mother.
“Do you have anyone you can call?” one of the officers asks.
“My uncle,” I mutter, glancing at the clock and realizing it’s already past one in the morning, dreading having to wake him up with this. But they insist that I call before they leave, telling me that they need to make sure someone is here with us.
“I left my cell in my room,” I explain. “I need to go grab it.”
He nods, and I try to step away from my mother, but she grabs my wrist, digging her long nails into my skin.
“I’m just gonna go grab my phone, all right?” I place my hand over hers until her grip on me loosens. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She lets go, and I rush to my bedroom, grabbing my phone and calling Sam. It rings out, and fear ignites inside me.
I try again.
And again.
But still no answer.
The fear has turned into full-blown panic as I switch to Luke, needing him here with my mother so I can leave.
The phone rings a couple of times before his raspy voice comes over the line. “You all right?” he instantly asks.
“No,” I answer without thinking. “My dad, he’s … he was killed. I need you to …”
“We’ll be right there,” he says. “Are you—”
“I’ve gotta go,” I cut him off, my words coming out quickly. “Johnny died in a car accident,” I force out and hear him suck in a breath. “I need to—”
“Go,” he says, and with that one word, I hang up.
I try Sam again, but still nothing.
My mind is racing as I start for the kitchen, trying to decide what to do. Should I leave now or wait until Luke gets here? I don’t want to leave my mother alone with these cops, with nobody here she knows. Not like this. Luke only lives about five minutes away, so it’s not like it’ll take …
I step into the kitchen, and the minute my eyes land on my mother, my decision is made. Her forehead is pressed against the table, arms wrapped around her head, and her body is shaking so badly with her sobs I can see it from here.
“Ma,” I say gently as I close the distance between us, putting an arm around her and pulling her body into mine.
“Did you call?” one of the officers asks.
“Yeah,” I answer distractedly. “My uncle will be here in a few minutes.”
“Good,” the officer states. “We’ll wait.”
The next few minutes drag by slowly. I keep glancing down at my phone as if that’ll make it ring.
I’m about to try calling Sam again when I see Luke’s truck barrel down the driveway.
He comes in without knocking, his gaze moving from me and my mother to the cops. Billy walks in behind him, his eyes going wide at the scene.
The cops talk to Luke in hushed voices for a couple of minutes, while Billy and I move my mother over to the couch before they finally leave.
“I need to get to Sam,” I blurt out the second Luke walks into the room. It’s the only thing I can think about. The only thing my mind will let me hold on to. I motion to my mother. “I need you to stay with her so I can—”
“Go,” he cuts in, his voice broken, reminding me that he just lost his brother. I take a step toward him, but he shakes his head. “I’ve got it here. Go.”
I hesitate for a second before I mutter a thanks and start for the door.
Billy follows after me. “I’m going with you.”
I don’t argue. I just grab my keys.
It’s like I’m in a haze, some sort of fucked-up alternate reality where all I can think of is one thing …
Getting to her.
Billy grabs my arm when we reach the car. “Give me the keys.”
“What?” I startle, his touch pulling me from my thoughts. “No,” I tell him. “I need to—”
“You shouldn’t drive right now,” he says, his face serious. Worried.
“I’m fine,” I answer, but instead of sounding reassuring, it comes out like a warning.
“Jameson …” he presses, my tone not even fazing him. Although, it never does.
Staring back at him, I can’t imagine what I look like. I feel like a caged animal backed into a fucking corner.
“Let someone help you.” He holds out his hand. “Let me help you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need—”
“You just found out your dad’s dead.” His voice is soft, careful, his eyes boring into mine. “Give me the keys.”
I close my fist over them. “I drive faster than you.”
“We’re wasting time,” he argues. “I’m not letting you behind the wheel. Now give them to me.”
Realizing he’s not gonna let this go, I drop the keys into his hand, my mind still stuck on one thing.
Sam.
With a relieved sigh, Billy closes his fist around them and rounds the car as I slide into the passenger seat.
We drive to Sam’s house in silence. Or maybe Billy tries talking to me. I don’t know.
The world around me is blurry, distant. Like I’m just floating through the moment, trying to get to her.
To make sure she’s okay.
I continue to call over and over again, but she never answers.
Minutes feel like hours as we fly down back roads, the streets dark and empty. My mind tries to grasp for something to hold on to, some way to make this better, something I can control. But there’s nothing. I look around, and all I can see is darkness. That’s all my life is—fucking darkness.
“You all right?” Billy asks, his voice slipping through the cracks.
I pull the phone away from my ear. “She still won’t pick up. Why the fuck isn’t she …? She always picks up.”
“We’re almost there,” he says, but I don’t miss the uncertainty in his voice.
The fear.
Finally, we pull into her driveway, and I’m out of the car before Billy even cuts the engine. I jog up to the front door and start to frantically knock on it.
Seconds drag by, and it only makes me pound harder.
Finally, it swings open, and Carson is standing in front of me. “Jesus, what’re you—”
I push past him, darting my eyes around the space. The room is empty, the TV playing on a low volume, beer bottles scattered across the coffee table. “Where is she?”
He shuts the door, walking into the room and staring back at me, his gaze unfocused.
Where is she?” I repeat. “Come on.”
“In her room,” he says, his voice slow, like he’s not all here.
“The cops,” I ask. “They’ve been by already?”
He drops his eyes to the floor. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, they’ve been here.”
“So she knows.”
He nods.
Billy comes through the door, and Carson turns toward him.
I snap my fingers, bringing his attention back to me. “When?”
“What?”
“When did they come by?” I take a step forward. “How long has it been?”
“I don’t know, maybe thirty minutes.”
“Where’s your old man?”
He clears his throat, looking past me. “He left after—”
“What do you mean he left?”
Carson shrugs, feigning indifference, but he looks gutted. “Probably went to get wasted.”
I point toward the stairs. “So you’re telling me she’s been up there alone for thirty minutes?”
“Yeah, but—”
I don’t listen to whatever else he says before I barrel up the stairs, searching for her room.
My mind is fuzzy as I try to remember the night her and Johnny led me through this dark hallway.
I push open the first door I see and find an empty bedroom. The next is a bathroom, and the door after that is just a closet. That only leaves one.
I hear my heart pounding in my ears as I reach for the door and realize my hand is shaking. My hands never fucking shake.
Pushing open the door, I search the room. It’s dark inside and, at first, I don’t think she’s even in here, but then I see a shape on the floor and hear her muffled sobs.
A rush of air leaves me, and my heart fucking breaks.
I’m at her side in an instant, dropping down beside her on my knees.