Chapter 27 #2
I growl low in my throat. Nothing about this is exciting, not while Peony is in danger.
I’m lucky that whatever is leaking from that ancient pickup is distinct from the other smells of the city. We follow it to a small rural highway that leads away from Penn Rock, and the traffic signs all say we’re headed to Tennysville.
“That’s where Peony used to live,” I say, pointing at the sign as we pass.
“Would he be stupid enough to take her back to his home?” asks Kellen. “I’m sure the police have her address in their records.”
“I’ve heard of stupider criminals,” Ignacio pipes up in the back. “There’s a whole TV show about it. And this guy doesn’t seem too bright.”
I have to agree with that. Andy might be a sick bastard, but he’s also clearly an idiot. Which hopefully will make it easier to find him.
We speed past a junction that looks like nothing, but then the smell of the petrol vanishes.
“Back there,” I growl. “Turn around.”
Kellen does what I ask, wheeling the car around at the next intersection, and Ignacio grabs onto the door handle as Kellen zooms back to the tiny dirt road.
My anxiety, which is already sky-high, grows as we descend deeper into the woods. Where did he take her? What is he doing with her, even now? A growl rumbles in my chest.
“Peony is smart,” Kellen says, glancing at me out of the side of his eye. “She’ll be all right, Rupert. I know it.”
He can’t be sure of such a thing. Yes, Peony is intelligent and clever, but her ex-boyfriend? I wouldn’t trust him not to hurt her as far as I can throw his dead body.
We follow the trail a long way before we come to a stop at a tiny shack. The truck is nowhere in sight. I leap out of the car, hoping, praying that Peony is inside, and perhaps that idiot left her out here alone.
I throw open the door, calling out, “Peony!” But there’s nothing inside.
“Damn it!” I roar as I get to my feet. Her scent is everywhere, that not-lavender smell that makes my heart ache, so I know she was here—and not all that long ago. “Where is she?” I storm back out of the shed, ready to drop onto all fours and take off into the woods searching.
“The tracks!” It’s Ignacio exclaiming behind us, back near the car. He’s still holding his flowers. “Look.”
I race over, and he points down at the F-150’s tracks in the dirt.
“It goes back the way it came,” he says, pointing at the drizzle of petrol leading away from the spot. “It came and then left again.”
I hiss between my teeth. Where is she now, then? How will I tell the difference?
Slamming a foot into the ground, I roar again, my wrath raging even wilder. I need to rip and tear, to slash my way through the brush until I find my Peony. She is mine. Mine!
“Rupert!” Kellen calls out, and I realize I’m on all fours, snarling, ready to leap into the trees. “Rupert, can you hear me?”
I turn to him, ready to attack, but he holds up both hands in surrender.
“Hold it together,” he says in a firm, commanding voice. “If you fall apart right now, we won’t find her. Besides—I have an idea.”
My ears perk at this, and I slow my breathing enough to listen.
“Peony didn’t have a bank account before, so I suggested she open one. We chatted about it, and she used the credit union. I know where it is.”
Credit union? What does that have to do with anything?
“Because,” Kellen continues, opening the door to the car and gesturing for me to get in. “That must be what this guy is after, if he left here. He thought Peony would have money on her, like she did before. But it’s all in her bank account now.”
My mind tries to catch up, as lost in the fog of rage as it is. Bank account. Money. That’s what all this was for?
Money?
I snarl and climb into the car, slamming the door as I squeeze into the passenger seat. Kellen and Ignacio jump in, and Kellen starts the engine.
“We’re going to find her,” he says. “I promise.”
peony
As we approach the credit union, I sort through my options. Andy has a gun at my back, and he’s just unhinged enough he might be willing to use it should I try to ask the teller for help. That puts all of us at risk, and I don’t want to see how that ends.
I could try to send a message, maybe—mouth the words while Andy can’t see my face.
As we get out of the truck and Andy assumes his position behind me, I glance around the mostly empty parking lot, looking for what, I don’t even know. Some way to run, to escape.
No. If I want to return to Rupert, I need to survive long enough to get there. And faced with what Andy might do to me, how my life could abruptly end should he press the trigger, I need to play it safe. He can have the money. I don’t want it more than I want my life.
If Andy will let me live—and that’s a rather big if. Even if I get him all the money, what’s to guarantee he’ll release me?
The bastard puts his arm around my waist, his hand with the gun hidden under his jacket. We approach the roped-off waiting line where two other people stand ahead of us.
Andy says nothing to me, but I can feel his breath against my neck as we wait not-so-patiently behind the person in front of us.
The line moves forward as another patron approaches the teller.
I survey both people behind the counter: a nerdy-looking guy with glasses, and a tall woman with a black jacket and severe brows. I wonder which one we’ll get.
“Don’t get any silly ideas,” Andy whispers to me. “I can hear your mind turning.”
Goosebumps erupt across my arms. If I try to do anything at all besides what I’m supposed to, he’ll notice.
Up ahead, the customer with the nerdy teller finishes, and now it’s our turn. Andy and I walk up together, and I paste on my brightest smile.
“Hi there! I need to withdraw the balance of my account.”
The teller blinks. “Oh, all right.” He taps a key on his keyboard. “What for?”
I didn’t expect this question.
“We’re buying a car,” interjects Andy.
The teller frowns thoughtfully. “Have you thought about one of our loans?”
“No, no, we’re buying it outright.” I grab a pen and click it. The cold steel tip of the gun worms deeper under my shirt. “What do I need to do?”
The teller pushes up his glasses by the bridge and grabs a slip for me to fill out.
I don’t have my account number on me, unfortunately, because I kept everything important in a folder in my drawer back at the mansion, so I hand over my driver’s license.
He examines the picture, then my face, and pauses as he studies me.
My smile probably looks as stretched and fake as it feels.
The teller looks like he’s about to ask a question, but then he closes his mouth, returns my driver’s license, and starts looking me up in his system.
“You want to withdraw your entire balance, or a specific amount?” he asks for confirmation.
“The entire balance,” Andy says. The teller’s brows crease. I can tell he’s starting to get suspicious.
“Yes, everything,” I reiterate.
“Would you like to close your account?” the teller asks, and I’m frustrated at how long this is taking. The more time we spend here, the more impatient Andy becomes.
“Um, sure. Please.” I can always open a new one if I survive this.
With an uncertain nod, the man behind the counter opens his drawer and takes out the bills, whispering to himself as he sets aside $1,000, then another $1,000, continuing until he’s counted out the whole amount.
He follows it up with a few smaller bills and change, then slips it all into a rather thick paper envelope.
Before he hands it over, though, he examines me one more time, then his gaze jumps over to Andy. When I don’t speak, holding out my palm for the money, the teller reluctantly hands me the envelope.
Andy guides me with the gun at my back to turn around, and I keep the cash clutched tight as we both say goodbye to the teller. Then we’re walking back out, and I’m praying that Andy lets me go.
“Peony!”
It’s Rupert’s voice. Outside the bank, through the glass doors, an immense monster is headed toward us. Racing toward us, rather, his long legs carrying him two steps at a time.
“What the fuck?” Andy says behind me.
“Let her go!” Rupert hollers as the automatic doors of the credit union open for him. The other people in the bank shout and scream as he steps inside, all seven-plus feet of him.
“Rupert!” I shout. “He has a gun!”
But it’s too late. Andy steps out from behind me, lifts the barrel, and shoots.