8. Addison
ADDISON
The hardest part wasn’t the fear. It was accepting that every piece of evidence kept pointing toward Evie.
I snuggled into Braxton’s side and stared at the ceiling while memories ran through my head.
Evie fixing my sash before my first regional pageant.
Teaching me how to keep my crown straight in the wind.
Showing me how to smile when a sponsor stood too close and how to deflect questions without ever looking rude.
At sixteen, I’d thought she was teaching me strength. Now I wasn’t sure.
Braxton shifted beside me. “Now you’re thinking too loud.”
“I want you to be wrong.”
His hand settled over mine. He didn’t tell me I was being naive. Didn’t remind me about the tracker, the missing album, or the message that had come to a number almost nobody had. He didn’t have to.
The canary trap was harder to explain away. Evie had been the only person I’d told about going to the stock office to look for a duplicate album. Minutes later, someone had warned me not to go.
“I keep thinking there has to be another explanation.”
“There might be.”
I turned my head. “You don’t believe that.”
Braxton’s gaze stayed steady on mine. “I believe we need proof.”
I pushed myself upright and pulled the sheet around me. “I want to confront her.”
His shoulders tightened, but he didn’t immediately argue. That alone told me how much had changed between us.
“We could take what we have to Torin,” he said. “Let him handle it.”
“No.” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “She’s been part of my life for years. If I’m wrong, I need to know before we destroy that.”
“And if you’re right?”
I looked down at my hands. “Then I need to hear her say it.”
Braxton sat up next to me. His knee brushed mine.
“I hate this plan already.”
“We haven’t made one yet.”
“Exactly.” Despite everything, a smile pulled at my mouth. I leaned into him. “Help me with it?”
His fingers threaded through mine. “That I can do.”
We came up with our plan at the kitchen table. Braxton didn’t take charge. He let me make suggestions as well. I wrote down the list of items we needed: a fake album, a copy of the cattle photograph, a wire so he could hear me from outside.
He also wanted Torin nearby and deputies covering the exits.
“How do you feel about a panic button?”
My stomach tightened. “Do you really think I’ll need one?”
“It would make me more comfortable,” he said. Then he waited, letting me make the choice.
I nodded and added it to the list. “Tomorrow night after final rehearsal, she’ll expect me to be exhausted.”
“You will be.”
“So will she.”
I leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “She taught me how to perform.”
His arm slid around my waist. “Then give her a show.”
The next day, final rehearsal gave me plenty to work with.
One junior contestant cried over a missing hair ribbon. Another forgot which hand she was supposed to wave with. A horse nearly climbed the rail when a photographer tested his flash too close, and the sound system died halfway through the anthem.
Those were all normal problems. I could handle normal.
I found the ribbon, moved the photographer, tracked down someone who understood the soundboard, and promised a nine-year-old that no one had ever been disqualified for waving with the wrong hand. For a few minutes at a time, I almost forgot someone had been stalking me.
Braxton stayed close without interfering. I always knew where he was. Near the announcer’s booth. At the arena gate. Talking quietly with Torin while his gaze scanned the crowd.
Evie appeared at my side halfway through rehearsal with a coffee in each hand. “You look exhausted, honey.”
I took the cup. “You always know what a woman wants to hear.”
“I save the good stuff for people I love.”
Once, that would have warmed me. It hit me differently now.
Her gaze slid toward Braxton. “Is he still hovering?”
“He’s helping.”
Evie leaned against the rail. “Men like him are good in a crisis. They know exactly where to stand and how to make a woman feel safe.”
I waited.
She took a sip from her own cup. “Until the crisis is over.”
There it was. A small, careful cut placed exactly where she knew I was vulnerable. A week ago, it would have worked. Maybe part of it still did. But now I could see her aiming.
“Good thing I’m not looking for someone to stay.”
Her smile sharpened for half a second. “Of course not. You’ve always been far too independent for that.”
She squeezed my arm and disappeared into the crowd.
Braxton joined me a minute later. “What did she want?”
“To remind me that you’ll eventually get bored and leave.”
His gaze followed Evie. “Subtle.”
“She usually is.”
My phone buzzed. I expected it to be a text from Torin about finalizing plans. Instead, a photograph filled the screen.
It was a child’s hand with a pink and silver rhinestone bracelet around the wrist. I recognized it immediately.
Martina Hernandez. She was eight years old and nervous about her first parade appearance. She’d shown me that bracelet earlier because her grandmother had given it to her for luck.
The message underneath made my stomach drop.
Come alone, or she learns what happens when you stop listening.
Braxton took one look. “Where is she?”
“I saw her twenty minutes ago with the rest of the girls.”
We split up. I checked the staging area and contestant tent while he headed toward the arena.
Nothing. My pulse climbed with every place she wasn’t.
Then laughter drifted from the livestock pens. I rounded the corner and almost sagged against the fence. Martina stood next to her mother, feeding a carrot to one of the horses. She was safe.
I crouched down next to her. “Can I see your bracelet again?”
She held up a bare wrist. “A nice lady borrowed it.”
Braxton went still behind me.
I kept my voice light. “What lady?”
Martina frowned, trying to remember. “She said it was pretty and wanted a picture for Royalty Weekend.”
Her mother stepped closer. “She told us she’d bring it back before we finished for the night.”
“How long ago was that?” I smiled at both of them, not wanting to cause concern.
“After waving practice.”
That was almost half an hour ago. “Do you remember what she looked like?”
“She had brown hair. And one of those shirts.”
Martina pointed toward a volunteer in a Mustang Mountain Rodeo Association polo. It was the same one worn by most of the staff.
I hugged her before standing. “Thanks for letting us know. I’ll find your bracelet.”
Braxton scanned the crowd. “She used the bracelet to make you think she had the kid.”
“She knew exactly what would get me moving.”
My phone buzzed again.
Stock office. Five minutes.
I showed him.
The stock office sat beyond the contestant area. Far enough from the crowd for privacy. Close enough not to look suspicious.
Movement caught my eye. Evie was coming toward us.
Braxton saw her too. “Stay with the plan,” he murmured.
My pulse kicked harder. Evie reached us wearing the same concerned expression I’d trusted for years.
“There you are. One of the junior contestants is crying by the stock office. She asked for you.”
Braxton shifted beside me. “What girl?”
Evie blinked. “One of the younger ones. I didn’t ask her name.”
“She’s probably just nervous about tomorrow. I’ll go check on her,” I said.
“I can come with you,” Evie offered.
“No.” I forced a smile. “Stay here and keep the rehearsal from falling apart.”
Something flashed across her face. Then her familiar smile returned. “You’re so good with them.”
She touched my arm.
I covered her hand with mine. “Just doing everything you taught me.”
I walked away before my smile broke. Braxton followed. I got twenty feet, then thirty. It was going to be okay. The panic button was tucked under my belt. The microphone was hidden under my shirt. Torin and two deputies were nearby. I wasn’t alone. My hands shook anyway.
We stopped at the edge of a training pen and waited a few minutes. When I glanced back where Evie had been, she was gone.
“Are you ready for this?” Braxton nudged my shoulder with his.
“I need to know.” Glancing up into his eyes, I could see what my decision was costing him. Still, he didn’t try to stop me.
“I’ll be right outside.”
I nodded and turned toward the stock trailer at the far edge of the grounds. As I got closer, I confirmed there was no crying child. No volunteers. I climbed the steps. The door opened before I reached for it. Evie stood inside.
“You found her?” I asked.
“Come in, honey.”
Every instinct I had screamed at me to turn around. For years, Evie had taught me to ignore that feeling. Tonight I listened to it. And stepped inside anyway. Because this time, the choice was mine.
The door closed behind me. Evie turned the deadbolt. The click sounded incredibly loud.
“Where’s the girl?”
Her smile disappeared. “There isn’t one.”
I let myself feel the fear instead of burying it. “Then why am I here?”
Her gaze dropped to the bag over my shoulder. “You know why.”
“The album?”
“Give it to me.”
I took one slow step back. “How do you know I have it?”
Her jaw tightened. “Because it’s not here.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out the decoy.
Evie took it immediately. She opened the cover. Turned one page. Then another. Her face went cold. “This is fake.”
“Yes.”
Everything soft vanished from her expression. She was no longer my mentor or my friend. Just the woman who’d been hiding underneath both.
“You set me up.”
“I needed to know.”
“You should have trusted me.”
A short laugh escaped me. “You locked me in a trailer.”
Her nostrils flared, and her gaze darted toward the door.
I touched the panic button once.
“You brought him.”
I didn’t answer.
She crossed to a file cabinet and pulled a key from her pocket. The lock clicked. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as she opened the drawer and pulled out the real photo album.
I finally had my proof.
She shook her head and looked at me with an expression I’d never seen before. “You were always such a good girl.”
I didn’t smile. “I’m not a girl anymore.”
“No.” Something cold settled into her face. She reached for the album. “You’re a woman who should have known when to leave something buried.”