Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Santiago
“Why?” I whine. “Why would they go there of all places?”
There are prisoners in my house. My parents are probably rolling over in their graves right now. I don’t blame them—I’m pacing in the family room of the cabin, unable to stomach the thought of what Anchor has or will do to those innocent people in my house.
Blair’s dad is totally someone I would’ve tried to kill before Rhett came around and narrowed down our Hunt victims to pedophiles.
He’s fucking evil. I swear that man has no soul.
When I look into his eyes, there’s just nothing but darkness in them. Even when he’s staring at his daughter, I’m almost positive he has to remind himself that she’s his blood and not the enemy.
Ledger pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a frustrated sigh.
“We’ve already gone over this a hundred times,” he growls.
“Anchor would’ve learned as much about you as possible before approaching you at The Shop.
Your house is vacant more often than not—when Anchor found that out, he was probably delighted to use it as his opportunity to hold this over your head in some capacity. ”
It’s the same answer he gave me an hour ago.
And an hour before that.
Frustration wells up and I blurt out, “Urgh, your friend fucking sucks!”
Ledger grunts but doesn’t disagree.
“Why hasn’t she texted or called us?” I demand, my pace increasing as I think about it. “Blair could at least do that.”
Ledger frowns. “Why would she?”
“I don’t know, to tell us goodnight? That she loves us? Like a normal person.” The expression he makes pisses me off. “What? What does that look mean?”
“She wouldn’t risk letting Anchor know she has a phone on her. He’s too paranoid to let her keep a phone he hasn’t checked for bugs or what not.”
Wes walks into the room just as I open my mouth to start complaining about Anchor for the hundredth time.
“Does anyone know where Rhett is?” he asks. “I thought he went to bed but his room is empty.”
I jerk my thumb toward the windows. “Out on the north end of the porch working really hard to give himself lung cancer.”
Wes runs a hand down his face, clearly just as frustrated as the rest of us. “Maybe half of us should get some sleep. Blair’s probably already in bed doing just that. We won’t hear from her until tomorrow but if she does call one or two of us can be up and ready.”
“Fine, you go to bed.”
He gives me a pointed look. “Santi…”
“No, don’t ‘Santi’ me. I’m not resting until I lay eyes on Blair again and I’ve taken inventory of my house. If he steals a single thing—”
Ledger cuts me off with a gruff laugh. “Anchor won’t steal anything. He’s not sentimental like that.”
“Well, if he does, I’ll know,” I snip back.
“How about you go try out the new hot tub, Santi?” Wes suggests. “It might help calm you—”
My phone rings in my pocket, cutting off Wes’s stupid suggestion.
Me? Calm? Not without Blair here by my side again.
I might not be as anxiety riddled as Rhett is, who completely shut the fuck down the minute Blair disappeared into the woods with her dad, but there’s no way I’m even remotely interested in trying to relax.
I shove my hand into my pocket, eager to hear Blair’s voice.
Except, when I check the screen it’s the Caddawalk Police Department. Frowning, I answer the call, “Hello?”
“Good evening, I’m sorry to be calling so late but this is Deputy Les Wilson with the Caddawalk Police Department, and I’m looking for Mr. Santiago Navarro. Am I speaking with him?”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. My expression must reflect the dread suddenly spreading through my veins because Ledger instantly rises from the recliner and Wes tenses.
“It is. Can I help you?”
“There’s been a…” There’s a pause before the deputy continues. “An incident at your residence. We’re calling to: one make sure you were safe, and two: to see if you can come speak to us. We’re looking to get some answers as to what took place here.”
An incident at your residence.
Where my carino is.
Almost too afraid to ask, it takes me a second to form the question, “What happened?”
“If you don’t mind, we’d like to talk to you in person. Can you meet us at your house?”
I nod, but stop when I realize he can’t see the reaction. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
I hang up before bothering to say goodbye. The world tilts beneath my feet and I stumble forward. Someone catches my arm to steady me.
Bile climbs up my throat as a thousand different “what if’s” bubble up.
What if she’s hurt? What if she’s in police custody?
She’s not even supposed to exist—how would we get her out of that situation?
What could’ve happened within the past two hours that would’ve warranted a call like this?
It has to be something involving Dixie. What else could it be?
But if it is Dixie—how did he find Blair and her dad?
I don’t realize someone’s talking to me until I attempt to bolt from the family room only to be stopped by the same arm that braced me. Someone’s shouting but I can’t hear it over the roaring of blood in my ears. I blink rapidly trying to dispel the panic so that I can focus.
“Breathe, Santi! You have to focus!” Wes demands, jerking me around to face him.
Staring up into his pale blue eyes, I can see he’s scared too. The thing is, he knows even less than I do.
“Santi,” Wes shakes my arm, hoping to regain my full attention. “Santi? Who was that? What happened?”
Swallowing hard, I manage to choke out, “Something’s happened to Blair.”
Body after body after body is rolled out of my house.
It’s almost like watching circus clowns getting out of an impossibly small car.
Except nothing about this is funny.
In the driveway sits an unfamiliar car that’s been set ablaze and is now just charred remains. Whose car is that and why is it here?
Judging by the bloody trail throughout the house someone was dragged out of here and they were seriously injured.
We found a backpack full of survival gear in the kitchen that sat untouched. No identification inside so we’re not sure who it belongs to.
There were broken zip ties and head coverings in the basement. Someone was using your house to hold people.
Neighbors say they heard a woman and child running down the street calling out for help.
By the time we got here, everything was quiet but the car was on fire.
The deputy who had called had filled us in on what they knew—which wasn’t a lot. But it was enough for me to want to curl up into a ball and just scream. They’d told us to wait a few more minutes before they got the bodies out but that was thirty minutes ago.
But how the hell are we supposed to just stand here and do nothing?
As it is, Rhett is breathing heavily beside me as he trembles with pent-up frustration and anxiousness. Ledger keeps running his fingers through his hair and Wes can’t seem to decide if he wants his arms crossed over his chest or down at his sides.
How are we still watching bodies being removed.
Did an army storm my house?
“Okay, that was the last one,” Deputy Wilson says as he approaches. The middle-aged man pulls up his utility belt that’s sagged and spits his gum out onto my yard.
Ledger steps forward, his body tense. “How many fucking people were in there?”
“Eighteen men in total,” Deputy Wilson shakes his head. “Craziest thing I’ve ever seen. They were all dressed in tactical gear like this was some military operation.”
“Men?” Wes mutters behind me. “They were all men?”
I can hear his soft sigh of relief. It’s echoed by Rhett.
Blair wasn’t one of the causalities.
“Given that this is an active crime scene, I can only permit you, Mr. Navarro, to enter the house. I’ll walk through with you to make note of anything you notice that’s missing, but I’ll warn you now, it’s not a pretty sight in there.”
I’ve already given them my statement: that I was with the others back at Gnarly Pines and, no, I had no idea what went down here. All of it was the truth and yet… it feels like I’ve lied. Now that I’ve witnessed the carnage, I know exactly what happened here.
Blair happened.
Anchor happened.
And Dixie happened here.
I glance at the others who look ready to barrel down Deputy Wilson to get into the house. I know why it’s supposed to be just me but more than anything I want them all there with me.
“Mr. Navarro?” Deputy Wilson says with concern. “Are you ready?”
“Santi?” Rhett asks, his voice strained with stress.
No, I’m not ready.
Looking back at the cop, I nod. “Y-yeah.”
I follow Deputy Wilson into my family’s home. Behind me, I can feel the other’s eyes on my back. We don’t get far. I stop just inside the threshold—stunned at the sight before us.
I gasp in horror.
There are bullet holes in every wall. Most of my mother’s knickknacks are in pieces, strewn about the room as if this was a rage room not a house full of love.
The grandfather clock on the far side of the room—that once belonged to my great-grandfather—lays broken and in pieces on the floor.
Furniture is flipped over and glass is littered everywhere.
And the blood… There's just so much blood.
I don’t even recognize the room with all the destruction.
Deputy Wilson clears his throat before he offers, “We’ll have a clean-up crew come in and—”
“I don’t care about any of it,” I blurt out, my words coming out sharper than I intend for them to be.
The knickknacks, the furniture—hell the entire house—were once my most prized possessions.
All of this was a piece of my past still frozen in time.
When I walked through the front door, it was like I could pretend both my parents were still here, just out running errands.
I held onto this place because I was holding onto them.
But they’re dead and gone.
Blair, however, is still alive—hopefully—and she means more to me than any of this possibly could now.
Is she with her dad? Are they okay? How much of this blood is theirs versus those who came after them?
I drift through the house on autopilot as I take everything in and search for signs of Blair. When I get to the stairs, I see more blood. I follow it to my parent’s bedroom where it looks like a massacre took place.
“Santi!” Ledger calls out from downstairs and outside the house.
His voice yanks me out of my horror-filled trance.
I hurry back down to the first floor and to the front door to find all three guys waiting anxiously for me on the front stoop.
“What?” I ask breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”
“We should go back to the cabin,” Ledger declares stiffly.
Before I can ask why, Wes adds in a low voice, “Since Blair isn’t here, we need to assume that she could be hurrying home. We need to be there in case trouble is on her heels.”
“Has anyone checked the location of Ledger’s phone?” I ask, forgetting about that. “Maybe she—”
“Police have it—I saw them pull it out of the go-bag,” Rhett mutters.
My eyes widen as I glance at Ledger. “Will that be tracked back to you?”
He shakes his head. “It's a burner and I cleared out the call log before giving it to Blair.”
“Fuck!” I reach up and grab my hair. “What the hell are we going to do if she doesn’t show up at the cabin?”
Ledger looks me in the eyes and says, “Then you better get ready for a long fucking day, Santi, because we’re going to need to you hack into every fucking camera in Caddawalk to see if she’s still in the area.”