Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Anson
When I don’t find Bristol in the haunted house as I expect, I don’t panic.
She’s been so busy setting everything up for Halloween night that it doesn’t surprise me I could have missed her speeding off to some other part of the ranch.
But when I search the inn, the house, the bunkhouse, all the vendors’ booths, the hayride station, and talk to half the people working here, and no one’s seen her in a couple of hours, I feel a knot in my stomach start to form.
The last time I saw her was when she was finishing up decorations in the haunted house.
The house is a maze of small rooms in true late Victorian style, so it’s possible I was chasing her through them without even knowing it and just missed her when she circled back to the kitchen or the parlor.
I decide to make one last round to check for her.
That’s when I find the blood. Just inside the front door, nearly hidden in the pattern of tree rings in the wood. Three little dots.
I look around, seeing if I can find more, and I do. Another two dots. Then another. Then a splattering of four and a smear of another just beyond it. The knot in my stomach tightens. I have to tell myself it’s not hers. It can’t be.
I follow the trail that leads me to the stairs and up them. It stops in the hallway, and I have to make my way through several rooms to find where it picks up again.
Then it stops abruptly right in the center of a light blue rug.
My heart is hammering away in my chest like a ten-pound hammer.
I can feel it in the air. Crackling with the uneasy feeling that something has gone wrong.
I glance around, wondering if she could have gone out a window or disappeared downstairs.
The trail ended once. Maybe it could end again.
But as I turn to leave the room, I catch the attic door in the ceiling out of the corner of my eye.
There’s the slightest hint of a rusty red stain on the cord that’s dangling down.
When I go to reach for it, I hear the distinct squeak of a floorboard above my head.
Someone on a beam that hasn’t held human weight in years.
“Bristol?” I call out her name, desperate to have her tell me she’s okay and explain to me what the fuck is going on. There’s no answer.
I stare up at the ceiling, holding my breath to see if I can hear anything else. A moment later, there’s another creak of wood above my head. It could just be an animal. But how would it open the attic door?
No. It had to be a person. A fear confirmed when I look over at the window and see the faint outline of a bloody handprint on the frame. Like someone touched it briefly as they looked out the window. The print is broad, the fingers long. Definitely not Bristol’s. A man’s.
So whose blood is it? Theirs? Bristol’s?
I feel sick. Panicked. I briefly think about snapping the cord down and storming into the attic.
But Bristol wouldn’t climb up into the attic bleeding of her own volition. There’s no way she’d go up there at all voluntarily after the bat fiasco. Which means if it’s her blood and she’s up there, someone’s taken her up there. And I don’t have so much as a knife on me right now.
So first things first. I need a weapon. Second things second, I need backup. I have to tell Hazel or Ramsey. I’ll need their help to take the next step and have someone get eyes on this house so they don’t manage to sneak away.
I take my time walking out of the room. I don’t want anyone to get the impression I’m in a hurry or notice my panic. If my theory’s right, Bristol won’t be safe if they know we’re coming.
But who are they, and why the fuck would they do this?
“Anson!” Hazel calls. “Oh my god! I’ve been looking for you. Do you know where Bristol is?”
“Why?” I ask, my heart racing into overtime.
“Look at this!” Hazel holds up her phone to show me the breaking news of the day.
A prison bus overturned during a prisoner transfer a few miles from here, and several of the prisoners escaped. Their photos are plastered on the page, and one of them is very familiar. Too fucking familiar, and my heart practically lurches out of my chest.
Chris.
“Fuck,” I curse, the pieces all colliding together.
“Right?” Hazel shakes her head. “It’s absolutely wild.”
“He has her.”
“What do you mean ‘he has her’?” Hazel’s brows knit together, and she frowns while looking over me as if I’ve lost touch with reality.
“Chris is here. He has her. There’s blood in the haunted house. Up to the attic.” I brief my sister on my discoveries while I’m already moving on to the next part of my plan.
“What? Oh my god!” Hazel starts to charge toward the house, and I catch her arm.
“Don’t panic,” I demand in a harsh whisper. “I don’t know if they can see us from the window up there.” I nod to the small circular window that stands like a watchful eye just under the peak of the roof. “I don’t want them to know we’re on to him and have him make a rash decision.”
“But we have to get her. Who knows what the hell he’ll do.” Hazel’s eyes fill with tears as they dart up to the window.
“I need a gun. A knife. Something. I need Ramsey’s help. Is he here? Do you have cameras on the building?” I’m overwhelming her with questions but I have to move quickly. There’s no telling what he’ll do to her when he finds her uncooperative with whatever fucking plan he’s mustered up.
“He’s up at the house still. I can go get him.”
“No, stay here near the vendor row.” I nod to the series of booths lined up along the main corridor for the festival.
“Keep a loose eye on the house. Do not move from this spot. Do not try to approach him. Just stay here and call me if you see anything. Got it?” The last thing I need is my sister in his crosshairs too.
“Okay.” Hazel takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as her eyes narrow. “I’ve got this. Go get Ramsey.”
“Don’t let anyone go in the house either if you can stop it, but don’t make a scene out of preventing them. Like I said, I don’t know if they’re watching us, and we don’t want them to know we know.”
“Yes. Okay.” There’s still a hint of fear in her eyes, but my sister doesn’t blink in the face of danger. Especially not when it’s someone she loves.
“I’m getting Ramsey. My phone is on me if you need me.”
One last nod and her face stays trained on mine, but her eyes track up to the house.
“We’ll get her out of this.” It’s a declaration on Hazel’s part. She’s as determined as I am.
“We will,” I promise my sister and myself.
I can’t risk losing Bristol. Not now that we’ve finally found each other and are so close to being what we could have been for years. I need her more than I need my next breath and if he hurts her, I can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do.