Chapter 2 Natalya #3
“We’ve lived in Ohio most of our lives. Our parents split their time between Florida and Columbus, depending on the season.
We had a great childhood, and I’ve always been close to my brother.
But a few years ago, one of Thad’s childhood friends committed suicide.
It hit him hard. It’s been a long journey to sobriety, but he did it.
” The sheriff bobs his head, listening with an intensity I appreciate.
“I’m his sister and sponsor. He never fails to check in with me, Boomer.
If he’s not answering his phone or going back to our room at the Hanging Tree, there’s a reason.
He’s not just sleeping off a hangover or recovering from a hard night. Something happened to him.”
Tears burn my eyes as I hold them back.
Boomer reaches across the table and pats the top of my hand. It’s a caring gesture, and he quickly removes his touch to keep it professional. “I’m sorry for his loss. I get how that could drive a man to drink or find ways to forget. No judgment.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s a bit early to file a missing person report. He’s not been gone twenty-four hours yet.”
“I don’t care, Boomer. I want to file one. I’ll sit here until three a.m. tonight if that’s what it takes.” I lift my chin, determined to see this through. The sheriff needs to know that I’m serious. Thad is in danger. I can feel it.
“I’ll get the paperwork started, Miss Scott.”
“My name is Natalya, but you can call me Nat.”
“All right, Nat. Give me your number so I can contact you as soon as I have news.”
I tell him and then ask for his number.
Boomer slides me his card. “Try not to blow me up in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency. I’m a grumpy bear without my coffee and a decent night’s sleep.”
“Noted.”
Boomer shuts the laptop and rises to his full height. He’s a massive guy, taller than my brother. “You’re staying at the Hanging Tree, right?”
“Room 1307.”
“Good to know. I’ll be in touch, Nat.”
I move toward the door but pause when I reach it. There’s one question I haven’t asked yet. “Has anyone else gone missing around here recently?”
“No. It’s not a common occurrence here. Raven’s Crest is a quaint little town that happens to love Halloween and fall. Good people. Low crime.”
That’s not as reassuring as it’s meant to be since my brother is missing. “Thanks, Boomer.” I head out of the room and wave to Mary on my way out.
The sun is still bright, and I slide my sunglasses back on, deciding to walk through the shops and get something to eat. I need a distraction. Worry is gnawing away at my sanity, and I don’t want to break down in front of strangers.
To my surprise, Main Street is crowded. People are waiting in a long line outside one of the shops.
As I get closer, I see through the front windows and the display cases full of baked goods.
A huge pink-and-white sign above the store reads “Butter Bliss Bakery,” and a white banner draped over it reads “GRAND REOPENING.”
I can smell the sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, and sweet icing from outside. Judging by the line, it’s popular. I bet everything is delicious. I’m not ready for sweets, though. That’s a bad idea with my empty stomach. Instead, I stop at the local diner and grab a club sandwich and fries to go.
It’s not hard to find a place to sit down and eat. There’s a huge pavilion on the edge of Main Street, close to the Fear Farm entrance. Right now, it’s too early for the nightly fall festival. There are only a few people around as I find a seat and eat.
Afterward, I toss my trash and walk through town again. I need to familiarize myself with the shops and the locals. Anything I can learn about Raven’s Crest might help me find my brother. Thad always says I’m a nerd and detail-oriented.
He’s not wrong.
Since it’s easier to snap photos than write down the information, I opt to use my camera. My phone takes decent shots, but the camera is of much higher quality, with 20 times the zoom capability. I can see detail from a distance that I’ll never achieve with my phone.
It’s then that I notice the bikers standing close to the bakery, and within the vicinity, a long row of motorcycles.
The chrome and paint gleam in the afternoon sunshine.
But it’s the men who snag my attention. Like Boomer, they’re all beefy and tall.
Not a single guy is without tattoos. They’re wearing jeans, boots, and leather vests that separate them from the crowd.
I’m intrigued.
Not anywhere on the internet is information about Raven’s Crest having a motorcycle club. At least, I don’t remember seeing it. Maybe they’re affiliated with the Fear Farm. There’s a possibility I missed it.
I fake taking pictures of fall-themed décor and sneak closer. They have patches on their vests that I’ve seen before. Last night, to be precise. The guy on the thirteenth floor wore one of those leather vests.
It doesn’t seem like a coincidence. Why was he at the Mayfield Inn during a historic hotel tour? If he’s local, he doesn’t need a room. He already lives in Raven’s Crest.
Something isn’t adding up.
When I see Boomer walk up and bump his fist with one of the bikers, I get a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. This is a boys’ club. If something is going on, they’re all in on it.
Shit.
I’ll just have to do my own investigating. I’m taking photos of everything and documenting all I see. If clues can be found among the locals, I’ll figure them out. I won’t stop until I find Thad.
I’m not leaving his disappearance or his life in the hands of strangers who seem far too eager to keep one another’s secrets.