Chapter 17 #2
“Well, if you want to blow off some steam beforehand,” I offer, “maybe we can get the guys together. Play some poker. Drink some beer. Watch some football and curse at the TV about it.”
Sawyer smiles. “And take time away from Angel? And her little girl? I don’t know about that.”
True, I don’t really want to spend a night away from her. But I also know I can’t be with Angel and Haley every night.
Not yet, at least.
Clapping his shoulder, I say, “Don’t worry about that. I always have time for you guys. I’ll send out a group text. See what everyone’s plans are.” Tapping my phone again to wake it, I open the messages app so I can text everyone.
But before I have one word typed, my phone rings.
It’s Alec.
My heart leaps into my throat. What if something’s wrong with Haley? What if she got hurt, and they’re on the way to get Angel from work, and—
I jab at the screen to answer. “Alec. Is it Haley?”
He doesn’t answer for a second. Nausea rises.
Then he says, “Sorry. No. I just wasn’t expecting you to think… But I get it. Haley’s fine. She’s in the other room with Hazel.”
“Shit.” Relief makes it come out louder than I intended, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice Mrs. Ellison shooting me a dirty look. “What is it, then?” I ask more quietly.
“I just heard from my contact at the state forensics lab.”
“What do you mean?” I leave the display and head towards the back of the store, where it’s quieter. “I thought we already had all their results.”
“Most, yes.” Alec pauses. “But there was one thing. Remember the ladder? You mentioned it right after the break-in.”
“Shit.” I do remember mentioning the broken ladder when we met the day after the break-in. I’d been racking my mind, trying to figure out if there was some clue I missed; if there’d been any sign before then that Angel was in danger.
But I didn’t really think the ladder was suspect.
It was old, like Angel said, and it had been stored outside for years.
I’d even checked the locking mechanism myself not long after she fell, and I didn’t notice anything suspicious—just some rusted metal that had broken after years of wear and tear.
But if I was wrong…
Feeling sick, I ask, “What did they find out about the ladder?”
“My guy said it looked like a normal break at first glance,” Alec replies. “Old metal, spots of rust, stripped screws… It was only after he got the metal under the microscope that he noticed something suspicious.”
“What?” But I have a feeling I already know.
“Striations that indicate the metal was tampered with. Sawed. Not enough to cut through the metal outright, but enough that it could break if weight was put on it.”
Like Angel trying to put lights on her house. Or climbing up to clean a gutter. Or fixing a loose shingle on the roof.
Angel, who took care of everything at her house. Who didn’t hire people to do the work because she couldn’t afford it. Who wouldn’t dream of allowing her nine-year-old daughter up on an extension ladder.
“Why would Phil do that?” I start.
Why would he, indeed? When the fight at Blissful Brews hadn’t happened yet? When he had no reason to want Angel hurt?
Unless… did he make a pass one time, and she turned him down? Or had he been quietly obsessed with her for months, or even years? And when he finally got fed up with her perceived rejection, he decided to get even?
“Maybe he wanted her,” I add. “He hit on her at work, she turned him down, and instead of taking the rejection like a man, he wanted to punish her.”
“It’s possible,” Alec replies. “But we have to consider it could be someone else, too.”
My gut clenches. What if he’s right? What if someone else wanted to hurt Angel? What if they’d been watching Angel, noticed all the work she’d been doing on her own, saw the ladder out back…
“Shit.” Pain flares through my clenched jaw. “If it wasn’t Phil, there could still be someone else out there, gunning for Angel. Or—” An even worse thought strikes me. “What if it wasn’t just him? What if he had an accomplice? Bryan. Geoff.”
Beside me, Sawyer looks on with a worried expression.
“We need to talk to Angel again,” Alec says. “See if she remembers anything else about Phil. Or his friends.”
“And Justin,” I add. “Maybe he’s not innocent after all.” At the thought, my gut lurches with fear. What if Justin’s been the one all along? What if he set Phil up? Or, shit, what if he knows Phil? What if they’ve been in this together?
My pulse jumps, and I say, “I need to warn her. Now.” A quick glance at the time says it’s ten-forty-four. “Her shift starts at eleven. So she’s probably on her way. I’ll call her. And head over to Blissful Brews in case she’s already there.”
“Good idea,” he replies. “Haley’s here, so she’s safe. Not that I’m saying there’s an immediate threat to Angel. It’s very possible Phil was responsible for the damage to the ladder. But just in case…”
“I know.” My heart is lodged in my throat. “Better safe than sorry.” I take a deep breath and puff it out. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something. Thanks.”
Then I end the call and turn to Sawyer. “I’ve got to go.”
He frowns. “Angel?”
“Yeah.” I start hurrying towards the exit, and Sawyer moves along with me. “There was damage to a ladder at her house. It was tampered with. Maybe it was Phil. But maybe—”
“Maybe it was someone else.”
I give him a jerky nod. “Maybe. She’s supposed to be at work soon. I need to talk—”
A shrill alarm sounds from my phone.
Once. Twice. Three times.
My heart stumbles to a stop.
I’m vaguely aware of all the heads in the store swiveling towards me. Then a fervent rush of whispers, asking, “What was that?” and “Is there a national alert?” and “Is someone trying to steal something?”
But it’s none of those things.
It’s Angel’s alert. The one she can trigger from the necklace I gave her—the one with a GPS signal and a little button on the back that she can press if she’s ever in trouble.
I didn’t really think she’d ever need it.
But I told her it was better if she had one.
Haley, too. “I would never use the GPS feature unless it’s an emergency,” I assured Angel when I gave it to her.
“And I highly doubt you’ll ever need to use it.
But I’d feel better, knowing you’re protected. If you don’t mind humoring me.”
She said she didn’t mind wearing it. That the necklace—a little round pendant with an A on it—was pretty. That she thought it was sweet that I wanted to look out for her.
But she wasn’t supposed to have to use it.
“Is that what I think it is?” Sawyer asks.
Fear makes it hard to speak. “Angel triggered her alert,” I manage. “Shit. She’s in trouble.”
“Where?”
Right. Where? A question I should be finding out the answer to already if not for the panic paralyzing my body. With a shaking finger, I jab at the phone, missing the button for the app several times before it finally opens.
As I wait for the map to load, I sprint for the door. Sawyer’s right behind me.
“What do you need?” he asks.
The map appears on the screen as I burst onto the sidewalk. “Call Enzo. He’ll already know her alert went off. We need to figure out a—”
My attention narrows to the flashing red dot on the map. Angel’s dot.
She’s still at her house. Where I left her not two hours before.
Fuck. Fuck.
She’s in danger again, and I’m not there.
Guilt and terror slam into me at once.
I can’t let her down again. I can’t.
“Where is she?” Sawyer asks. He has his phone pressed to one ear.
“Her house,” I choke out. “She’s at her house.”
On numb legs, I run for my car, parked a block over. Each step feels like moving through quicksand.
“Maybe she triggered it by accident,” he suggests. “It’s possible.”
Maybe. Though I’m loath to lose sight of Angel’s red dot for even a second, I click out of the app so I can call her.
But she doesn’t answer.
Not the first time I call. Or the second.
And with each unanswered ring, the claws of fear dig deeper.
When we reach my car, I fling myself inside and jab at the ignition. A moment later, Sawyer slides into the passenger seat and clips, “Enzo’s on the way. Knox and Gage, too. Alec’s staying with Haley.”
The engine roars to a start.
“He’s accessing her security cameras,” Sawyer adds. “If someone’s there, he’ll know.”
But what if it’s too late?
What if I’ve already failed her?
I slam my foot down on the gas as I pull out of the parking spot, and the car jerks forward. An angry beep sounds from behind me.
The fear surging through me makes it hard to breathe.
“She has to be okay.” I can’t bear the thought of the alternative. “She has to be.”