Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
Margot
After breakfast, Caine drives me back to the university to pick up my car.
I’m trying to get out of my dark mood. Think about the sex, not the brick.
In the parking spot beside mine, Caine waits in his truck, windows rolled down, radio playing.
Gremlin’s in her carrier in the back seat.
I don’t bother switching her over to my car; we’re both going straight back to the house.
As I slide behind the wheel and begin rummaging through the center console for my sunglasses, I glimpse movement on the passenger seat.
My body realizes I’m in danger before my brain does.
I throw myself out of the vehicle with zero care for landing.
Falling hard on the asphalt, I scuttle backward.
Palms scraped, elbow bleeding, I kick at the car door.
Caine’s at my side in an instant. “Are you—”
“Snake,” I gasp. “Shut the door. Shut the door.”
He rips me off the ground, slamming the door with his boot. I’m shaking so hard my teeth chatter, face pressed against his chest.
“I got you,” he murmurs into my hair. Rotating so he’s closer to the vehicle than I am, he leans to peer through the window.
“Motherfucker.” His curse is venomous. Then I’m being held at arm’s length, his eyes raking over my body. “Did it get you?”
The idea that he thinks I wouldn’t be shrieking my head off if I were bitten by a rattlesnake makes me laugh, the sound grim. “No.”
Continuing his evaluation, he studies me like we’re in a zombie movie and he’s trying to figure out if I’m hiding a bite. I’m not scared of snakes, but I do not want to be bitten by one. Difficulties of finding a hospital with antivenom aside, I can’t even imagine what the treatment would cost.
Burying my face back in Caine’s chest feels pitiful, but I do it anyway.
Thankfully, he’s a saint. Murmuring soothing things into my ear, he rubs my back.
Iron band tight, his muscles give away how furious he is, despite his even voice and gentle hands.
After a few deep breaths, I disentangle myself.
Tugging my phone from my pocket, I start to dial 911 on reflex, ready to add another incident to my list. Caine’s hand covers mine. “Hold up a second.”
“Why?” Looking around the university parking lot, I wonder what I missed.
Dragging his thumb over my knuckles, he clears his throat. “I think we could take care of him ourselves, and if we do that, the less the police are involved, the better.”
Whipping around to look at him, I wait for the joke, the laugh, the Haha, I had you going, didn’t I? moment. It doesn’t come. My mouth’s dry.
Raising an eyebrow, I give him the innocent look of someone who’s definitely never attempted homicide. “Do you mean a citizen’s arrest?”
“Something more permanent.” Caine’s eyes search my face. “Do you want to deal with him for the rest of your life?”
“Of course not.” I gulp. “I don’t know if I can actually do it, though. In the moment is one thing, but premeditated? No way.”
Liar.
“No, I’ll do it.” He offers like he’s volunteering to take out the recycling.
Oh, shit.
I’ve been going to therapy, but clearly need more. Caine offering to murder my ex-husband should not be so arousing, and yet…
There is something so, so wrong with me.
“You can’t just kill him.” My voice is barely above an exhale. “Unless it is obviously self-defense, you will go to prison. Not to mention, it’s wrong.” I fight to keep from adding, And we can’t both live with the guilt.
“I can,” he says, his voice low as mine. “All you have to do is let me.”
I don’t know how to respond. Swallowing hard, I delete what I’ve typed, pulling up Brady’s number instead.
Pressing call, I step beside Caine, looking through the window.
I’ve never been able to tell Famine and Death apart, but I’m assuming this is Famine based on order of delivery.
Coiled tightly on the seat, the snake doesn’t move.
It’s hard not to fall into the what-ifs.
What if I’d set Gremlin’s carrier on the seat without looking?
What if I didn’t see the snake until I was driving?
Once Brady is on the way, Caine and I sit in the back of his truck with Gremlin. Both lost in thought, we don’t talk. Just bat a small stuffed penguin from one side of the bench seat to the other for Gremlin to play with. When Brady texts to say he’s a few minutes out, I apologize to Caine.
“I’m sorry you’re involved in this.”
He scoffs, making the penguin dance across the seat as Gremlin stalks it.
“I’m not. I’m glad I’m here; you shouldn’t have to deal with this by yourself.” The easy way he says it makes me swallow a lump in my throat.
“I know we talked about it, but if you did change your mind and want me to move out, I’d completely underst—”
“Don’t you dare,” he interrupts. “Don’t even think it. You know the horror movie rules. Refusing to let people help never ends well.”
An SUV with an animal control sticker pulls up on the far side of my car.
“Heeeeeere’s Bradyyyyyyyyy,” Caine drawls, hopping from the truck, looking back at me, his face kind. “You want to stay in here? I’ll talk to him.”
Shaking my head, I follow him out anyway.
Brady’s delighted by the prospect of another snake.
He informs us that War is being treated like a queen at the herpetology center.
The keepers are apparently delighted to have such a large rattlesnake.
It’s a tiny ray of sunshine in this whole debacle.
One by one, the snakes are escaping Nicholas too. They won’t be tools anymore.
I bite my tongue to keep from telling Brady that I suspect I’ll be calling him for Death sooner rather than later.
While Caine talks to Brady as he packs Famine into his truck, I see an envelope on the passenger seat that wasn’t there yesterday.
Written on the front in red marker is one word: Manna.
My head spins, heart pounds. Rage and dread and shame all fight for prime real estate inside me.
How many emotions can one body hold before it bursts? I don’t want to find out here. The SUV’s engine starts up behind me, but I’m stuck staring at the little white envelope on the seat.
Caine’s voice pulls me out of my trance. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I slam the passenger door shut. He passes me his keys, and I stare at them blankly before turning to him.
“You’re going to drive the truck, and I’m going to drive your car.”
“Why?” I don’t understand. I’m planning on giving it a go-through first, but I still think the snakes will arrive one by one.
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Let’s check it for snakes.” Once he sees there’s nothing else lurking, I’m sure he’ll let me drive it back to the house.
Caine starts with the trunk, giving me the opportunity to swipe the envelope and shove it in my purse.
Even after searching the car top to bottom and deeming it snake-free, Caine still won’t let me drive it.
“Germ is already tucked in the back seat of my truck,” he says. “I would never separate a mother and her child.”
“You can drive her back. Or I can move her?”
He shakes his head. The look on his face makes it obvious I won’t get my way on this one.
I hate to admit it, but I’m intimidated by his truck.
I’ve never driven one before, and not only is Caine’s huge, but it’s also very nice, far more expensive than my car.
When I tell him my concern, he hops into the passenger seat and has me drive him around the parking lot to prove I can.
After a few minutes, I begrudgingly admit that it’s not bad—though I have zero desire to attempt to back it into a parking spot.
As I’m carefully driving the truck back to the house, Caine following, I wonder how Nicholas found me at Claire and Shane’s in the first place, and beyond that, at the Abattoir and the university?
A tracker on my car would make sense; he could have placed it when he brought the snake.
But Caine and I took his truck to the haunt.
More than that, why now? My breakup with Jeremy might’ve been part of it, but how would he know?
At the Green Bean, Jeremy agreed to leave the engagement announcement and website up, so it’s still one of the first hits when someone Googles my name.
Like a word I can’t remember, something waits in the dark corners of my mind, but it won’t step into the light.
I’m missing some crucial part of the puzzle.
We’re crunching our way down the gravel drive when it hits me. Pulling up in front of the house, I throw the truck in park and tumble out. Rushing over to my car, I’m talking the second Caine opens the door, waving my phone at him like I’m trying to hail a cab.
“The Friends Near Me app.” The pitch of my voice makes Gremlin yip. “I was trying to figure out how he knows where I am. Could he be tracking me with that?
Caine’s brow furrows. “You would have to have added him as a friend, the same way you did me.”
I deflate. “Oh. Shit. You’re right.” Checking the app anyway, I see Caine is the only friend I have on it.
Technically, I have Claire too, but they took a satellite phone for the trip, so her dot is on a hiatus.
“Still, I’m going to check my privacy settings, see which apps are using my location.
Maybe he found Gremlin’s social media profile and there’s something visible through that. ”
Thoughtful, Caine rubs the scruff on his jaw. “I like where your head’s at.”
I check my privacy settings. The Friends Near Me and Maps apps are there, of course, but I’m surprised to see that the fitness tracker Lauren told me about also has location tracking on.
“What’s that?” Caine’s looking over my shoulder.
I swipe out of settings and into the app. “It’s a fitness tracker. I use it for running and spin class. Lauren told me about it. I’m sure it has some GPS to log mileage for the runs, but that doesn’t explain him coming to the house.”
“Can I see?” He holds out his hand, and I pass the phone over.
Caine taps around. “Well, fuck. Look.”
I do, jaw dropping when I see the GPS feature hasn’t been tracking only when the app is in use; it’s been tracking me all the time.
As Caine zooms in, I grow more horrified.
While the locations aren’t exact, they’re close enough to scare me.
I take the phone back from him, and he looks over my shoulder.
“Can anyone with the app see this?” He points at the map.
“I don’t think so.” I tap the account icon, but it only shows the letter M—I didn’t put my name in, of course—and the old email address I use for app logins and coupons. “Lauren’s my only friend on there, and I have my account set to private.”
As we’re looking at my phone, a calendar notification trills, reminding me that I have ten minutes until a work call.
For convenience, I try to arrange my video calls on the same day each week.
Of course, today of all days, I would be tied to my computer.
Time to put on a happy smile for clients while I sit through meetings where 75 percent of the info doesn’t apply to me.
Heading back to Caine’s truck, I free Gremlin, who is perturbed at being excluded from the excitement. The second I set her down, she charges for the mulch along the front porch.
“Gremlin!” My warning earns a fuck you look over her shoulder. She stops, drops, and rolls with gusto, mulch flying.
“What is that about?” Caine’s confused.
I trudge toward her. “That’s my punishment for making her wait in the truck.”
He follows. “Vengeful.”
“You have no idea.”
“Do you need your phone for the meetings?”
“No, why?”
“I want to see if I can figure out how much information someone can get from this app. It’s the closest thing we have to a lead.” He pauses. “Provided you don’t mind me poking around in your phone. It’s fine if you don’t.”
While I appreciate the thought, I’d give him my social security number and mother’s maiden name if it would answer the question, How did Nicholas find me?
“Go for it, but please don’t waste too much time.” I rub my temples. “You have so much to do for the haunt.”
September is creeping up on us, and now that he’s officially an owner, he’ll need to hit the ground running.
I scoop up a mulch-covered Gremlin and turn back to him.
“Oh, am I still going to be helping with the haunt this year?” Not wanting to put him on the spot, I’m quick to add, “I completely understand if you don’t want me to because we’re hooking up now.
I’m only asking because I don’t want to commit to deadlines or extra work that will conflict. ”
He pockets my phone, heading toward me. “First, we’re dating, not hooking up.
Second, this is not how I wanted to present the idea, but I was going to ask if you could help me in a managerial role this year, if it can fit in your schedule.
” Dragging a hand through his hair, for the first time Caine looks less than the picture of confidence. “Unless you think that’s too weird.”
Warmth fills me, but I try to play it cool.
“Rattlesnakes. Blood. You’re about to go hacker mode to figure out how my ex-husband is stalking me.
Working together at the haunt may be the most normal thing about our relationship.
” As soon as I say relationship I want to snatch it back. It feels too intimate.
Caine smiles as big as I’ve ever seen. A smile shouldn’t make me feel like everything is going to be okay—despite all evidence to the contrary—but his does. “Thank god. I don’t want to do this without you.”
I don’t want to do anything without you.
The thought makes me choke on my saliva, and I cough. Checking my watch, I croak, “Oh, gosh, gotta go. Need to fix my face so I don’t look like a troll on the calls.” Then I run, taking the front porch steps two at a time.
Safe in Shane’s office, I decide it’s a lipstick sort of day. I’m opening my bag to grab my favorite shade when I see the letter again.
Shit.
I rip open the envelope, wincing at the sight of Nicholas’s pet name for me on the front.
Manna reminds us of god’s faithfulness.
There’s a plain piece of card stock inside, the script immediately recognizable. I used to transcribe Nicholas’s sermon notes; I know his handwriting better than my own.
The message is brief: Be sure your sin will find you out.
Guilt hits extra hard. Who do I think I am, getting relationship warm and fuzzies over Caine after what I did?
I still haven’t told him the full truth.
Despite what he says about wanting to kill Nicholas, I can’t bring myself to tell him that I already tried.
I attempted, failed, and now can’t shake the belief that my current situation is divine retribution.
I didn’t have a choice.
Really? There’s always a choice.
Not a good one.
“No.” My voice makes Gremlin look up from her spot beside the desk. “Not you, you’re a good girl. A grimy girl, but a good girl.” She settles back in. Applying my lipstick, I shove my guilt further down inside me, pretending it won’t ever resurface.