18. Knox
Knox
Idon’t want to move from where I’m parked. Sawyer’s taillights disappeared around the bend over ten minutes ago. She insisted she had to get back to Ashford for work tomorrow and no amount of coaxing could get her to stay another night.
My engine’s running, there’s nothing to look at except a light that changes from red to green every few minutes, and I can’t pretend she’s going to change her mind and come back.
I look down at my phone in the cupholder. I’ve had it off for twenty-four hours and it’s been fucking incredible. Now the thing feels like a powder keg.
I’m not a damn pussy, I can face the music. It just sucks ass.
I turn it on and it buzzes for a few minutes straight. My stomach drops when I see how many times Ella called and texted me. At least five missed calls and something like fifteen missed texts in a row.
Ella: hey call me when you can
Ella: knox
Ella: where are you
Ella: it’s kind of important can you just call
They escalate until finally.
Ella: this is fucked up. whatever it is you’re doing, I hope it’s worth it.
“Shit,” I mutter, swiping over to my voicemails.
There’s one from my mother. I’m about to delete it, but at the last second, I hit play. She sounds off, her voice’s smaller than usual. “Knox, honey, it’s Mom. Just—can you call me when you get this? It’s nothing bad. I promise—just call me back.”
Weird.
I was expecting her to be on me about disappearing, but she’d have mentioned that.
The next is from my father. It’s from an hour ago. Might as well get it over with. “Call me.”
So nice of him to say hello or ask how I’m doing. Prick. He can kiss my ass.
I take another minute to organize my thoughts, then drive over to the market for an energy drink and some chips, before heading to one of my favorite spots to sit. I’ve come over here a lot in the past five years, always alone, and always when I needed a minute.
It’s lake access but the guardrail’s busted, and the boat launch a half mile up the road is much nicer, so this place is always empty. I roll down the windows and cut the engine, sitting with my hands gripping the wheel until I realize I can let them go.
Just hearing my father’s voice—those two words, has me on edge.
I crack open the can, and take a long sip. I need to prolong this day. I’m not ready for it to be over.
The documents are still sitting in the backseat where I left them yesterday. Forty-something pages of permits, invoices, contracts. Wonder World, phase two. No better time than now to give it another look.
I pull the pile into my lap and take my time going through each page. There’s no one around the corner to sneak up on me like at the office.
I go slowly, reading each line instead of scanning for words that ring a bell.
Page after page, there’s nothing that jumps out at me.
I finish my drink, and eat every crumb from the chip bag, still hungry for something more substantial.
I’m just about ready to call it a night when I find something.
Almost the last page in the stack, some sort of geological technical report.
I’ve seen these types of reports before, but I’ve always passed them off to engineering.
There’s tables and numbers that I couldn’t figure out the meaning to even if I stared at it for days.
What catches my eye is the handwritten note stapled to the front.
Rich—
Velocity Site Report. Rick’s notes at the bottom. Might have to postpone.
—David
My mouth hangs open and I flip back to the report. Down at the bottom, I find a section titled preliminary assessment.
Recommend supplemental piling and a redesigned footing system before any structure exceeding a specified load is erected on the site.
I read it over and over, hoping I’m seeing something different. But it’s all there, plain as day.
David Thorne wanted to postpone Velocity’s construction due to soil instability, or at least that’s what it seems. Him and whoever this Rick guy was advised it and I’d bet my life it was my father who pushed forward.
My fucking father is responsible for what happened to Owen. To all those people.
No. That can’t be.
I flip through the rest of the stack looking for something, anything, that says differently. A correction. Proof they actually postponed and my suspicions are wrong.
But there’s nothing here. No response from my father anywhere, at least not from this file. No revised plans, no second report, no invoices for extra piling or a geological recheck. Fucking nothing.
I press the heel of my forehead and sit with this shitstorm.
The lake’s gone dark enough that I can’t tell where the water ends and the tree line starts.
Not far beyond all that quiet, Velocity’s still standing, fenced off, waiting for someone to decide what to do with it.
And the whole time, I suspected the worst thing my father did was let an old friend take the fall for money he stole.
The way Moretti phrased it that night, my father wasn’t entirely the victim. This is so much bigger than that. Could Moretti know about this too?
My phone buzzes, dragging me from my spiral. It’s Ella again. I don’t want to answer, but I can’t prolong it anymore.
“Finally,” she says. There’s voices in the background but I can’t make them out. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I’m at the lake. I needed a quiet place to work and my phone died.”
A half truth. It should keep her from asking questions.
“You could have told me. Would have saved us all a lot of stress. My father had some of his employees searching for you after I called him worried. We were close to calling the cops.”
“Jesus,” I say, my stomach dropping at the mention of Moretti being alerted. “That’s a little overkill, Ella.”
“Well, what do you expect when you disappear for twenty-four hours?”
I grip the back of my neck, massaging the tense muscles there. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
She sighs and I know I’ve won. “Apology accepted, but only because I got good news.”
Voices grow closer and Ella must be pulling her mouth away from the phone. I catch a few words. He’s on the phone. I’m about to tell him.
Then the background noise disappears, replaced by the thunk of a door closing.
“Knox.” It’s Moretti. I’m so fucked. “You should be here with the family. Your mother-in-law makes amazing manicotti.”
He sounds casual, like we’re old friends playing catch up. I’m so fucked.
“Sorry, I’m swamped with work. Raincheck, I guess. Where’d Ella go?”
“Getting dessert.” He pauses and as I’m about to speak he continues. “You hear the news yet?”
“News?” I wrack my brain but can’t think of anything that would involve him. “What news?”
“I made a few calls. Moved things up. No sense waiting until spring when we already have a party planned at the end of summer. Same tent, same guest list, same date.”
Did I hear him wrong? I can’t be sure from my pulse roaring in my ears. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the wedding’s been moved up. One month from today—August 25th. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I can’t speak. My mind is trying to wrap around what he just said and it refuses. One month? There’s no way this is happening.
“I-I—uh—”
“Save your excuses for my daughter.” His nice guy facade is over, this is the same voice I heard that night in the city. “I warned you, Aldrich. Gave you chance after chance to leave the Thorne girl alone.”
“Thorne? Haven’t seen her. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He laughs and my balls shrivel up. “What’s her address again? Oh, that’s right, those run-down apartments on the east side. Garden Rentals, I believe.”
“No.”
“Works at the inn, takes classes at ACC? All that ring a bell?”
“Please. I’ll stop seeing her. Leave her out of this.”
There’s only breathing coming through the line. Mine or his, I’m not sure. I’ll fucking kill him if he goes near Sawyer. Him and every guy on his payroll.
“I don’t give warnings twice.”
The line goes dead before I can get another word in and I’m left holding my phone in a shaking hand, staring at the dark lake.
I call Sawyer immediately. It rings once then cuts me off. I try again with the same results. “Shit.”
I forgot that she has me blocked. I can’t track her. Can’t call her. I’m sure a text won’t go through either.
“Fuck it.” There’s no way I can just sit here and let Moretti get to her. Maybe he’s bluffing to get me in line. But even if there’s a slight chance that Sawyer’s in danger, I need to go to her, to keep her safe. This is all my fucking fault, after all.
Autopilot takes over—starting the engine, turning onto the highway, speeding toward Ashford.
The paperwork slides on the passenger seat every time I take a curve too hard, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about any of it. I need to see her car in that lot.
I need to see her standing upright and breathing and pissed off at me for showing up unannounced late at night.
I get there in half the time, clipping the curb as I turn into the lot. It looks the same as always—light’s half out, dumpster full, someone’s cat perched in a lit window. Sawyer’s car is where it should be and I release a breath.
That doesn’t mean she’s safe, though. I park on the street, away from the lights, and sprint to the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach her door.
I knock before I’ve caught my breath, harder than necessary.
I’m about to start pounding as she cracks it, the chain still locked.
When she sees me, she opens it the rest of the way.
“Knox? What—”
I don’t let her finish. I hurry inside, closing the door behind me. I’ve got her by the shoulders, checking her over like I’ll find something wrong if I look hard enough. But she’s fine. Thank fuck.
She’s wearing an old T-shirt and cotton shorts, hair still damp, looking at me like I’m nuts, but I hold onto her anyway.
“You’re freaking me out.” Whatever she sees in me has her staying still while I do what I need to.
“Lock the door. The chain too.”
“What the—”
“Please,” I say. “Just do it.”