54. Garrett
GARRETT
It’s shortly after ten thirty in the evening by the time I walk into Eugene airport baggage claim. Lucas and Troy are waiting to one side of the carousel. The usual life in their eyes has been sapped; their mouths are a deflated line.
Something paralyzing shoots through my body, stalling my breath, my heart, my will to keep moving. I wasn’t expecting my brothers to be here.
Shrieks of joy and well-wishes and laughter surround us from other passengers and their loved ones. A reminder that while my brothers and I are stuck in a well of grief, life goes on.
“Any word yet?” The question stumbles out of my suddenly dry mouth.
They shake their heads, and a tiny bit more air eases into my lungs. At least they’re not handing me bad news. But even knowing that, hope fails to flare to life inside me. The emotion is little more than an ember, not ready to burn out just yet. It needs a lot more tinder before it can flourish.
Before I can fully breathe again.
I one-arm hug my brothers, the action saying more than words can right now. We’re there for each other, pillars of strength against the growing storm .
Even so, their wan faces warn they’re clearly emotionally exhausted.
I’m exhausted. Drained-beyond-belief exhausted.
But I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. Or tomorrow night.
Sleep won’t be possible until Peony and Zara are safe and home again. Until they’re in my arms once more.
“What are you two doing here?” They knew I drove to the airport. My Explorer is in the airport parking lot.
“We figured it would be better if you didn’t drive.” Lucas adopts his big-brother tone. His take-charge tone. “Noah is at your house and will update you on everything once we get there.”
“Does he have any idea where they are?” That’s the only update I need. That, and to find out who killed one of my closest friends and has the two most important people in my life.
Whoever did it…I want to see them destroyed. Burned to the ground.
“No. Not yet.”
Troy and Lucas aren’t the only ones waiting for me in baggage claim. Airport security has corralled a gaggle of reporters to one side. Questions are shouted, the raised voices little more than annoying static.
We walk past, my focus tunnel-visioned on the terminal exit. I’ve gotta get out of here before I lose it. Before reporters witness, firsthand, just how well I’m surviving.
“Any idea why Emily was at my house?” I ask Lucas once he and I are on the highway to Maple Ridge. Fields pass in a dark blur as I stare out the passenger window.
“Kellan sent her to pick up the grant application form.”
Fuck . If I hadn’t forgotten to drop the form off at Kellan’s house, Emily would still be alive. Christ, I can’t even begin to…
I close my eyes for a beat, pressure building in my chest. Why did I have to forget to drop it off? “How’s Kellan doing?” The question squeezes past the lump in my throat, my voice rough and splintered.
“Did you know he and Em were dating?”
I barely keep from getting whiplash at how fast I turn my head. “Since when?”
It’s been obvious for a while Emily was in love with Kellan. Obvious to everyone but Kellan, that is. But I got the impression he was happy to keep things as they were between them. As friends.
“Few weeks, maybe. They were keeping things quiet for now, since they weren’t ready for everyone to get in their business. But I suspect his feelings for Em run deeper than any of us realized.”
I don’t know what to say. I can imagine the guilt Kellan’s dealing with, having been well acquainted with the emotion myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if he blames himself for sending Emily to pick up the contract from my house, instead of getting it himself.
But it isn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known. There was no reason to suspect someone armed would show up at my house. No reason to suspect someone would shoot her.
“What about you?” Lucas asks.
“What about me?”
“Something tells me Kellan and Emily weren’t the only ones who were involved behind everyone’s backs.” The busted tone of his voice rings clearly in the SUV.
I inwardly groan. Not because he’s figured it out, but because I fucked everything up. I thought I didn’t deserve Zara. And then when I finally pulled my head out of my ass, cast my demons aside, realized Zara’s it for me, she disappeared. Has possibly been kidnapped.
She put her brave heart on the line, and now she’s out there somewhere and has no idea how much I love her.
Has no idea she’s the oxygen to my flame.
The air I need to breathe. The blood in my veins.
The woman I want to wake up to every morning, to fall asleep with in my arms every night.
Instead of being reassured I love her, that’s she’s my heart and soul, she’s probably scared and in great pain.
Lucas pulls into my driveway an hour later. Police cruisers are parked on the street, a warning to reporters I’m not interested in talking to them.
It doesn’t mean I won’t be. Noah told me there will be a press conference, a time when I will plead for my daughter’s and Zara’s safe return. But until then, I need space to process everything .
I walk toward the front door. The dense wall of trees and bushes in my yard shelters me from prying eyes beyond the driveway.
My brain commands my legs to sprint to the door and see if Noah has any new information since the last time my brothers talked to him. But my body doesn’t have the energy to push past the weight of my grief.
Blood, visible in the light spilling from the stoop, stains the driveway. And something sharp reaches inside me, yanks my heart into my throat.
The contents of my stomach heave and churn, but even if I do hurl, I haven’t eaten in over twelve hours. There’s nothing much to splash on the driveway. To mark the spot where the nightmare became more real.
White tape outlines where Emily took her last breath. Where all her hopes and dreams and ambitions died. Bile rises in my throat, and my hands shake.
I bend forward, palms braced on my knees. I attempt to suck in air. If whoever took Peony and Zara killed someone like Emily, what will keep them from doing the same to my daughter and Zara?
Inhale.…Exhale. One breath at a time.
I release a shaky exhale, straighten, take one last glance at where Emily lost her life. “I’m so sorry, Em.” Grief cracks my voice. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”
Noah and Officer Hunt are in the foyer with a red-eyed Athena when Lucas and I walk through the front door. Athena is clutching Poppy to her chest, her pale cheeks wet with fresh tears. One look at me, and a loud sob escapes her.
But that’s not what I focus on. It’s the panda in her hand that has my heart squeezing painfully.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Peony doesn’t even have Poppy with her. She never goes anywhere without her panda. She can’t even sleep without it.
It’s a ridiculous thought. There are bigger problems than Peony not having Poppy with her. But ridiculous or not, I can’t let it go. Poppy means everything to her.
“Any word yet?” The question is directed at Noah. My voice sounds like sandpaper has scraped over it, the grain roughened and scratched.
“Nothing yet.” Noah doesn’t have on his cop face.
He has on his sympathetic-friend face. “I’m sorry for your loss, Garrett.
” He’s referring to Emily. That much I can tell.
His expression shifts into that of a police officer.
Professional. Focused. Attentive. “We’re doing everything we can to find them.
We have the camera footage from your front door”—he nods at Lucas, who would have given it to him—“but all we can tell is that a man entered the house shortly after Zara and Peony did.”
“Was he with them?”
“No. And we have no idea if she knew him. He put on some sort of wolf mask before stepping in front of the camera and entering the house?—”
Athena’s face flushes; her fists clench. “Because Zara didn’t reengage the security system.” Venom lances the word didn’t.
I don’t bother to respond. Irritation scorches in me that she obviously blames Zara for Peony’s disappearance. I point toward the living room. “Maybe we should sit down.”
“Sit down?” she screeches, the pitch almost high enough to rupture our eardrums. “Peony has been kidnapped and you want to sit down?”
“No, Krista?—”
She flinches at the name. “I prefer Athena.”
“No, Athena,” I snap, the shell of my control slipping. “I want to tear the town apart, looking for my daughter and my best friend. But that won’t get us anywhere if I go in the wrong direction.”
“You’re not doing anything, Garrett. You’re letting the police and the FBI handle this.” Noah’s tone is a stern warning. Message clear. He’ll arrest me if I get in the way of the investigation.
The five of us, including Officer Hunt, head to the living room, but none of us sit. I’ve sat long enough on the plane and on the drive back. I just want to pace.
I pick up Peony’s favorite book from the coffee table, to have something of hers to hold. To help me feel closer to her.
I’ve read stories of people with the ability to sense someone who is missing, to know if they’re still alive, to have an idea where they might be just by holding an object that belonged to them. I don’t have that special ability .
Holding the book brings me no comfort, but I keep holding it, unwilling to let go.
“The man…the letters I’ve been getting. They sounded like they were from a woman.” Did I get that wrong, and Annie Wilkes 3.0 is a man?
“We’re not ruling out the possibility the cases might be linked.
But we are expanding our investigation beyond the letters.
” Noah gets me up to speed on the latest updates—which contain nothing new since I last spoke with him.
Zara and Peony aren’t in any of the hospitals within the county and Zara’s car hasn’t been found.
They’ve been trying to track her phone, but so far they have nothing.
I’ve texted Zara several times after news broke about the shooting, but she hasn’t read any of them. I don’t know if she has her phone with her or if the kidnapper tossed it.
Or maybe she and Peony escaped after Emily was shot and they’re currently hiding. Unable to call for help.
Still clutching Poppy to her chest, Athena picks up a pillow from the couch. “She was supposed to be safe,” she mutters, not looking at us. She vigorously fluffs the pillow, as if it has somehow wronged her. “Kenda said we’d be safe here.”
I frown at Athena. “What do you mean you’re supposed to be safe here?” My crisp voice startles her, her round eyes turning my way. “Safe from what?” Something about the way she said that…it doesn’t sound like she’s referring to Maple Ridge’s low crime rate.
Athena’s face crumples like a spring-time avalanche. She covers her eyes with her hands, her body shaking with the new round of tears.
I turn back to Noah. “Could this be someone hoping to profit? They falsely assumed, because I’m a New York Times bestselling author, my income is the same as Stephen King’s, and they’re planning to ransom my daughter?”
I’m afraid to voice my other fear. About Zara. If they do plan to ransom my daughter, will Zara be part of the deal? Or do they view her as disposable goods, and her life is as good as forfeit?
Muttering to herself, Athena resumes attacking the pillows under the guise of fluffing them.
Noah sends her a quick, puzzled frown. “It’s a possibility. That’s why the FBI is now helping with the case. They have resources that a police department like Maple Ridge’s doesn’t have.”
Athena picks up the pillow closest to me. “He doesn’t know I’m here. He can’t know I’m here.” Her voice is so soft, I just barely make out what she’s saying.
“Who can’t know you’re here?” What the hell is she talking about?
Athena’s fear-widened eyes meet mine. “Bernard.”