37. Cash
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Cash
Twelve years ago, I made this drive in a van full of kids I had nothing in common with, only to make my mother happy. She hated that I got a tattoo before I was old enough, and thought a bit of church might be good balance.
Since that’s how I got to know Haven, she wasn’t wrong in the end.
But I didn’t pay close attention on that trip.
Didn’t know I’d need to memorize this road. When I hit gravel, which is loud as hell under the tires, I pull off onto the shoulder and kill the engine and the lights.
Looking at my phone, I estimate I’ve got maybe five hundred meters to cover on foot.
I text Jasper a pin of my location.
Cash
Had an idea. Checking out this cabin the church uses sometimes. Ask Bingham about it if he’s still with you.
And then I put my phone on silent and begin my approach under cover.
I go on foot, cutting into the treeline. The ground is uneven and it’s dark as hell, but I go slow enough to be silent, and my eyes adjust. I don’t appreciate much about my time in the military, but they taught me reconnaissance skills that come in fucking handy.
And never more than right now.
The cabin comes into sight as I climb onto the high ground.
Lights blaze from the windows.
And the New Harvest van is parked close to the front steps.
I pull my phone from my pocket. Ignoring a reply from Lane I don’t want to read, I send another update, a photo of the van.
Cash
Affirmative sighting.
Staying in the trees, always keeping something between me and the windows, I circle the building, cataloguing the rooms. None of the rooms on the second floor have lights on, or any visible movement.
On the ground floor, there’s movement in what looks like a kitchen, but the windows are dirty and it’s hard to see who is where.
There’s thirty feet of cleared ground between the tree line and the cabin. No cover, wide open space where I’ll be spotted in the moonlight if I move at the wrong time.
Moving faster, I circle back to where the van is, and line myself up so I can use his own vehicle against him, getting low enough that I’m blocked from sight.
I test the driver’s side door, and it opens with a creak.
Holding my breath, I climb in and do a quick search through the vehicle. There’s a folded piece of paper that looks familiar on the floor, shoved under the seat. I nudge it enough to confirm it’s Kaitlyn’s handwriting. A list of something.
Haven leaving a clue here, connecting her to this van.
Brave girl.
A cut zip tie is on the floor by the side door. I think about that pressing into Haven’s soft skin and I see red.
I search quickly to see if the cruel fucker left any more of those in here, and strike gold in the footwell of the passenger seat. I shove a handful in my pocket and let myself out the way I came in.
Carefully, I work my way around the vehicle, to the back bumper, and then I go flat and wait, watching the windows.
I need to get up against the building so I can do a perimeter search under the window line to find a way in, and fast, before the cavalry shows up and things get messy.
This close, I can make out Haven sitting on a couch, and Jeb pacing in the kitchen behind her.
I watch his pattern. He’s search through the cupboards, left and right, left and—
As soon as he turns right, his back to the window, I sprint across the open ground, ten feet of danger, and drop down below the window.
They can’t see me now, but I’ve also lost sight of my girl.
Fuck.
All the things I want to say to her. All the ways I need to tell her that I’m sorry for not being enough.
Later.
Soon.
Crouching, I circle the house again.
The front door is too risky, although God damn it, I want to play the hero and just kick it in. Save the girl, get the kiss.
But that’s not real life.
There’s a padlocked storm cellar door at the back. A side window that looks breachable. Maybe that’s the bathroom.
There’s a good woodpile at the back. That would get me up to the second level.
I consider the roof, but there isn’t any easy access to the attic, and I think the second floor is enough of a surprise.
I go up the wood pile, praying to God it holds. Haven must have a stronger connection to the big guy than that asshole holding her hostage, because it’s a rock-solid ladder to the second level balcony.
Skills I learned in the army got me this far.
Jail, though, gets full credit for my endless pull-up strength. I swing myself up and over the creaking railing and land silently, crouching like a cat.
Every second ticks the odds less and less in my favour. I need to be smart, but I do need to move quickly.
Get inside, then use the advantage of surprise by attacking from above.
The nearest window looks as good a port of entry as any. Old wood, dusty, but used to being opened—and not locked. I work it up in increments.
It’s halfway open when I catch the first ragged edge of Haven’s voice, shaking as she tries to engage Jeb in conversation.
“You…turn yourself in…”
His reply is loud, full of fury. “Why would I do that? Everyone will understand that I had to defend myself from your advances.”
He’s delusional. Fuck.
Haven protests that nobody will believe that. She’s right, but what good does that do us right now?
As he tirades again, I work the window up enough to get through it.
“Everyone in town saw you flirting with different men tonight. Advertising yourself as a loose woman. In a moment of weakness, I agreed to bring you here. I’ve been a good friend to you all these years, after all.
We have a history. We could have had something good, but you strayed. ”
“From who? You?”
“From your faith.”
I can’t make out her reply to that. My pulse is loud inside my head as I try to regulate my breath and step silently, moving across the dusty and unused bedroom. The door to the hallway is open, thank God, so I only have to ghost my way through it and I’m at the top of the landing.
“Nobody’s coming for you, Haven. All of those men you danced with? They all assume you went home with one of the others.”
“You’re wrong. Cash will come. And if you kill me before he gets here, he will spare you no mercy.”
She’s fucking right.