Chapter 23 Lara
Lara
Rachel had always said I had a long fuse attached to a big bomb; it was the foil to her very, very short fuse and tiny little explosions.
And between what had happened in Phoenix, realizing my sister was missing, having to work with Calder to find her, having to fake (but not) my very real attraction to him, learning Rachel had joined a cult, telling Calder what happened with Ian, kissing him, having to escape with Sarah, and figuring out that cult was killing people for insurance money .
. . my fuse had been whittled terminally short.
Mortally short.
And hearing Calder try to push me away . . . The bomb had let my barbed words fly.
But now wasn’t a good time to apologize. I was still too . . . everything. Too upset. Too worried. Too angry, scared, aching . . . to tempt fate and face Calder again.
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe . . . even if you hate me for it.”
Part of me wished I could hate him for it.
But there was no hating Calder Stone. Even back then, after Rachel had called me sobbing, telling me they’d broken up.
Crying and repeating over and over that he didn’t care.
That she couldn’t make him care. That it was all her fault.
The only person I’d hated in those moments was myself for the tiny, nagging question But what if it was her fault?
I’d felt horrible, but I’d also been a witness to the truth behind her tears. The lies she’d told him more and more frequently. The excuses, the cover stories she’d roped me into.
No matter how hard I’d tried, no matter how upset she’d been or the path her life had taken, I never could fit who I knew Calder to be, the guy who came at the drop of a hat to track down a cat or rescue a hummingbird, with the man who’d broken my sister’s heart.
But even if what I’d accused held a fragment of truth, Calder didn’t deserve my vitriol. Not for his well-justified intention to protect me. I’d lashed out because it was easier than having to admit I was too afraid to demand a harder conversation.
I paced Colby’s room—unable to be still—and looked over her amazing landscape photographs hanging on the walls. I knew they were hers because they had the same energy as the ones in Calder’s Airstream.
And then there were the photos of the animals. Her animals.
Donnie. Duke. Boris. Bonnie. Cy. Winston. Minx.
The duck with his broken wing. A cat with one leg.
Another with one eye. Two baby mice. A dog with a wheelchair attached to his back legs.
A malnourished horse. The wall was covered in her rescue stories.
And as I glanced at the bed, I wondered whether Sarah and I were the newest additions to her list.
No, Rachel needed rescuing, not me. I walked to the corner of the bed and began to strip the sheets.
There was nothing more for me here, and I certainly wasn’t going to impose on Calder’s family’s hospitality for another night when I had a perfectly wonderful place to stay at the B and B, a place that would keep me well beyond the arm’s length Calder had put between us.
I piled the pillowcases on the floor, but when I pulled back the duvet and top sheet, the wrinkled papers slid out from the mattress.
Rachel’s file.
I took the crushed papers and set them, folded, on the nightstand. Now—here, of all places—wasn’t the time to read them. But as I went back to stripping the bed, a name stuck out like a sore blue thumb between the water-splotched crinkles.
Allen Hendricks.
I wished I could unsee it, but I couldn’t. Just like I couldn’t stop myself from peeling the paper wider.
Allen Hendricks had been the star quarterback for the University of Wyoming officially, and unofficially was the team’s MVM: most valuable manwhore.
Swearing not to read any more than this single paragraph, I scanned over Dr. Julia’s notes.
Claims to always have had issues with self-esteem.
Notes examples from high school of exaggerated attempts to gain attention.
Feels that became a negative cycle in college when Hendricks rejected her in a moment of actual need.
Believes that is what prompted her to search out that same personality in future partners to try and elicit and achieve the response she was looking for back then.
Patient very emotional at this point. Will continue discussion during next session.
Preliminary assessment is ideal candidate for advanced treatment at the Garden.
It was only supposed to be one paragraph, but before I knew it, I’d flipped the page to read what Rachel had told her next, and my heart, currently beating in my throat, dropped into the pit of my stomach; the remaining pages were completely water-damaged from the rain last night.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, confusion tearing at the seams of my sanity. Rachel and I had told each other everything. With Mom and how she’d lived, it had always felt like it was the two of us against the world. So why hadn’t she told me about . . . whatever had happened with Allen?
I tried to think back, tried to remember any fragment of conversation or mention of the guy, but aside from the frat parties she’d lied to Calder about—Allen being a member of one of those frats—my memory was a giant blank space.
Maybe because after all this time, only my memories of Calder had survived.
I jumped at the knock on the door.
“Lara?”
I recognized Colby’s voice.
“Come in,” I called, folding up the damaged papers and setting them back on the nightstand.
Colby stepped into the room, and I was struck again by how perfectly the color of her eyes matched Calder’s; they must’ve gotten the green-gold shade from their mom, because Cassius’s stare was as blue as Wyoming’s big sky.
She wore an athletic tank and fitted cargo pants, though the material looked stretchy and breathable, and a pair of hiking boots. Her hair was strapped in a high ponytail, her face makeup-free.
“How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve already done more than enough. Your whole family.”
“Please.” She smiled. “We’re happy to help anyone Calder . . . is helping.”
The way she hesitated made me wary, but the last thing I wanted to talk about was her brother.
I wanted some distance to clear my head—and my feelings—and let the adrenaline high of the last several days flush from my system.
Maybe then, when I talked to him, I wouldn’t have the simultaneous urge to strangle and kiss him again at the same time.
“Well, I’ll be out of your hair—out of your room soon.
Actually, maybe I’ll just head back to my B and B until Calder has any new information.
” That was the kind of space I was talking about, even if it came with the healthy dose of fear that he’d find the location of the Garden and go looking for Rachel without me.
“Oh.” She looked disappointed.
“Is everything okay?”
“Not really.” Her shoulder leaned into the doorframe and with a frown, she confessed, “Creighton has duck-napped Donnie and is sending me on a wild goose—wild duck chase to find him with ridiculous clues.” She unfolded and held out a scrawled note in her fingers. “I was hoping you could help me.”
She wanted my help?
I blinked, stupefied.
She was from a family of trackers. There were at least four more of them who had not only the most extensive training in tracking and locating anything from humans to animals, but also certainly more experience than me.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to—” I stopped and stared, my jaw falling as quickly as my eyes snapped up. “He left you clues in Latin?”
Primum. Ostium silvae.
“Did no one tell you? Creighton is the Stone everyone should leave unturned,” she grumbled, folding her arms. “But I worry about what would happen if he never got unturned.” She bit into her bottom lip, and right then, I saw the woman who’d rescued every weak and wounded animal on that wall.
The one who had no fear for how they’d lash out because of their injuries.
The one who was determined to love them until they were healed. “Anyway, do you know what it says?”
I almost blurted out to just check Google Translate, but then I remembered that my cell phone lived in a metal box on the front porch. Even if it didn’t, I severely doubted Wi-Fi or cellular data existed in this house.
“Callum refuses to get involved, and I can’t find Calder.” I winced when she mentioned that brother. It was probably my fault she couldn’t find him. “I thought maybe, because you’re a doctor . . .”
I gulped. “Well, primum means first. Ostium . . . is an opening. The Latin word for mouth is os. So it could mean entrance or opening, and silvae, if it’s a derivative of silva, well, silva means forest.”
Her squeal barely forewarned of the arms that wrapped around my neck in the tightest of hugs.
“Thank you so much.” Her relief was effusive .
. . and contagious. “I know you were thinking of going back to your B and B, but would you mind coming with me? I know where the mouth of the forest is, but I also know there’s only going to be another clue waiting for me. ”
I paused but really had no reason to say no. I had nothing to do back at the B and B except worry about Rachel and ruminate over my last conversation with Calder, who was apparently MIA, so even attempting to apologize right now was out of the question.
“Sure,” I said with a small smile. “I’m happy to help.”
At least one Stone wanted me involved in a search and rescue mission.
Sure enough, the first clue had taken us to the edge of the forest where there was a half-moon glen. Colby had said all their hide-and-seek games as kids always started from here. In the center, pinned to a stake in the ground, was the second clue.
Secundo. Viscera lacus.
Second. The bowels of the lake.