“Did he say that?”
“He didn’t have to. I did it for him. But I’m sure he’s thinking it now anyway. We’re both professionals.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Leah asked, picking at one half of her scone. She hadn’t eaten much either, come to think of it. Not surprising since the whole place felt shrouded in a dark pall. Even Myrtle had seemed off, standing quietly behind the counter, regarding the few customers with a far-off stare.
“He sort of asked me to help with this case.”
“The serial killer?”
Olivia cringed, looked around, thinking of JB’s superstition. Then she nodded.
“I still don’t see what the problem is. Unless you think he’s the Seaside Strangler.”
“I just don’t want to mix business with pleasure, okay?”
“Pleasure, huh? You are totally into him.”
Olivia had concluded the same, the moment Deck had dropped that book to the floor and made her forget everything but his lips on hers. Until she’d freaked out and messed it up, first by pushing him away, then by asking too much of him. She’d do well to remember the lesson Erik had taught her. Only one person would never let her down. Which explained why she hadn’t answered any of Deck’s calls. She had to do this alone.
“So, do you think Emily’s okay?” Olivia asked.
“She’s hanging in there. Em’s a tough cookie, like her sister. But not nearly as skilled at changing the subject.”
“It’s an art that takes years to master. I’d call myself a sensei.”
Leah laughed but it didn’t reach her worried eyes. “I’d agree. But yeah, she seemed okay last night. It will do her good to go in to work today.”
“You think?” She and Emily had argued that morning, after Em had told her she planned on showing up for her usual Saturday shift. But Olivia had relented, guilt-ridden, and driven her sister to Crescent Bay, fighting off a chill when Warden Blevins had raised his hand in a motionless wave to her from the entrance.
Since when did he start working on the weekends? Emily had asked.
I’m not surprised. He’s got a lot going on right now. Olivia had gulped down the rest of it—like running his own criminal enterprise—and felt the bitterness coat her throat. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t touched her food.
“It’ll help her to get back in a routine,” Leah said.
“You’re probably right.” Olivia half-smiled and forced herself to put the fork to her mouth. Nope, she couldn’t do it. “So, have you and Jake reached a consensus on a name? Is it boy band time?”
“Liam or Lily, depending.” She rested her hands on her belly and finally took a bite of her scone. “And you are a sensei.”
At 6 p.m., Olivia cut her lights and parked her mom’s old Buick on a dirt side road with a partial view of Warden Blevins’ gate. Beyond it, the driveway led up the hill to the two-story rock home that abutted the Earl River. Olivia had been invited there the past two summers for the annual Crescent Bay barbecue. She’d stood in Warden Blevins’ picture window, admiring the river as it curled lazily through the redwoods. In the wet winters, it turned into a different beast, unsheathing its claws, scraping up the hillside, and carving out the land. Olivia imagined it now, raging, as the rain drummed against her windshield.
She tugged the hood of her raincoat over her head and hunkered down lower in her seat, waiting. Her mind flitted from one horror to the next, her whole body buzzing. From the prison chapel to the drainpipe to Highway 187 and back again. The nastiness of it all crawled under her skin until she couldn’t stand it. She wanted to scream. To shake herself. To let Deck and his lips make her forget again. Not likely, since she’d ignored all his calls and then had the nerve to text him and ask him to lie for her.
Please don’t tell Emily where I am. She thinks you’re picking me up to discuss the murders.
Thankfully the rain blocked out the sounds of the forest. But after sitting in the pitch black awhile, that unnerved her, too. She’d never hear approaching footsteps. Boots would sink into the soft ground. The rain would drown her screams. At least she’d been smart enough to bring her mother’s gun, the old snub-nosed revolver that had spent most of its life collecting dust beneath the bed.
The sudden beep of her phone started Olivia’s heart racing. She glanced at the reminder on her screen, cursing under her breath.
7:30 p.m. Meet Murdocks for set-up
Olivia had totally forgotten. No way she’d be back in time. Nothing she could do now but text Emily and hope the twins would forgive her.
Can you help Melody and Maryann set up for a staff get-together at their house? I totally spaced. You can take my car. Tell them I’m sorry.
Emily responded right away.
Sure. But you owe me. Their mom is super-weird.
P.S. Don’t blow it with the detective.
Olivia’s smile sparked then doused when Warden Blevins’ gate whirred to life, his white sedan gliding out like a swan in the darkness. She counted to ten and followed.
The warden didn’t head back toward town as she hoped, but rather past the Fog Harbor city limit sign, which had been riddled with bullet holes by drunk teenagers looking for a little fun. Tonight, though, those smooth wounds in the metal felt personal. Somehow meant to foretell her future.
Olivia locked onto the taillights—two red eyes cutting through the rain—and gave the warden plenty of room. The road had grown too narrow, too dark to drive without her bright lights, and she didn’t want to spook him. A few cars approached on their way to Fog Harbor, but in her rearview, only the rain tracked them mile for mile.
Ten minutes later, the warden turned down a gravel drive into the middle of nowhere. Blindsided by the past, it took all the courage Olivia could summon not to turn back. She’d been here before. A very long time ago. Before she’d realized what it meant.
The rain slowed to a drizzle as she pulled into the ditch. If she trailed him any farther in the car, he’d spot her, so she’d have to go the rest of the way on foot. A handmade sign told her his destination and exactly how long it would take to get there. ROCKY’S SALVAGE YARD ½ MILE. One half mile and one wrong turn straight to hell.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The sign looked exactly as it had back then. A little more weathered, perhaps. Olivia marveled at her mind’s tricks. Buried for years, she’d unearthed the memory intact. Perfectly preserved like a fly in amber.
As she trudged up the gravel road in the drizzle, she could almost feel the heat of her mother’s fingertips, grabbing her by the chin. Telling her to stay in the car. A few days after they’d moved to Fog Harbor, her mother had driven them to Rocky’s, leaving Olivia hunkered in the Buick while she’d disappeared inside the junkyard. She’d returned with a bag of money and the Smith and Wesson revolver, courtesy of the Oaktown Boys.
The past fragmented. Memories scattered like crows as a hand clamped over her mouth. Another pinned her arms.
“Don’t make a sound,” up against her ear.
She tried to scream—couldn’t.
The hands pulled her into the ditch, and she fell against the muddy hillside. Moments later, a pack of motorcycles blurred by her, mud spitting from their tires.
She grabbed the biggest stick within arm’s reach and scrambled to her feet, swinging it wildly at the man in the raincoat.
When the hood fell from his head, she gasped.
“You! What are you doing here?”
“What the hell does it look like? I’m obviously saving your ass.”
She tossed the stick in Deck’s direction, hoping it might graze him just a little. But the wind grabbed it, sending it into the road instead. “I’m doing perfectly fine without you.”
“I see that.” He gestured to the stick, as he struggled to his feet. “Is that how you were planning to defend yourself?”
Olivia didn’t have time to argue. She hurried up the road.
“I’m sorry.” It irked her he’d caugh
t up so fast. “You were right. Something’s going on with Blevins. I should’ve agreed to come with you. Especially since you can’t spot a tail to save your life.”
She stopped, turned to him. Raised her jacket, so he saw the gun tucked at her waist. Her father had taught her how to shoot. Sure, they’d been makeshift targets out behind the Double Rock, and he’d emptied those beer bottles himself first, slurring by the time he’d told her to keep it steady. “I’m not helpless.”
Deck didn’t answer, just followed her down the road until they’d reached the fenced perimeter of the rust bucket graveyard. Its innards were spotlighted by the motorcycles’ headlamps, casting shadows that slunk between the cars and dissolved into blackness.
“What now?” Olivia whispered.
Still, Deck said nothing.
Guns shut people up, her dad had told her once. All you gotta do is show ’em.
Olivia didn’t like his voice in her head. But about this, he hadn’t been as wrong as she’d hoped.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Will didn’t like that Olivia had a gun. She didn’t have the stomach for it, she’d made that clear when she’d picked up a stick to defend herself, the gun tucked useless in her waistband. If you strapped a gun to your body, you had to be certain you could use it. Not the mechanics, per se. Not the point-aim-fire. But the bit nobody ever talked about. The living with yourself once you’d pulled the trigger. Will fingered the knife scar on his hand and gently pushed the memory away again. It always drifted in and out, like a dead body floating in the water.
“What now?” Olivia asked again, her voice so quiet he wondered if it had come from inside his own head. But she looked at him expectantly.
“Let’s get a little closer. I can hear them talking.”
Will stayed in the shadows, skirting to the side of the dilapidated metal carport at the main entrance. He crouched down in the wet grass, the weathered shell of an old pickup blocking him from view. A dozen others just like it marked the yard like gravestones. When a gust of wind sent the rusted-out WELCOME sign swaying on its chains, he shivered, the eerie creaking like a scrape to his soul.
Will motioned Olivia over, and they peered through the chain-link fence.
Five men stalked around inside the carport, circling Warden Blevins, their guns drawn. They backed him into a stack of crushed cars, pushed him around a little. Will felt sick as they patted him down. He pulled his own gun from its holster, preparing for the worst.
“Oaktown,” Olivia breathed, pointing to her own forearm where the man to the right of the warden bore the tattoo on his sinewy bicep. Will studied his face, what parts he could see beneath his wiry red beard, trying to work out if he’d seen it before.
“I’m clean, gentlemen. No weapons of any kind. I thought you invited me here to talk.”
“So talk then, Warden.” The bearded man had a way of making the job title sound like a dirty word. Like an accusation. He pointed his gun at Blevins’ chest.
Another man, small and stocky as a bowling ball, stepped up. Will noticed a tattoo on his neck and a nasty bruise on the bridge of his nose. He wondered if it was the same guy he’d run down at Laura’s house. “C’mon, Termite. Go easy on the warden. He ain’t built for this shit.”
Beside him, Olivia tensed.
“Ain’t stopped him so far. I wanna know what he’s doin’ to solve our problems. Our big fucking problems.”
“Rest assured, Termite, your problems are my problems. As of tonight, all our problems have been taken care of.”
“That’s what you said last time. You know the General don’t like liars.”
Termite bared his teeth and ran his gun up the warden’s chest, dead-ending at the middle of his forehead.
Bolder than Will figured him for, the warden pushed the barrel of the gun down, so that it pointed back at the ground. “I do believe the General likes gifts, though.” From inside his jacket, Warden Blevins withdrew a package, wrapped in brown paper.
“It’s the least you can do.” Termite snatched it from his hand, just as another rush of wind whipped through the junkyard, clanging the sign and whistling through the shell of the truck, straining the last shards of its broken passenger window. Will dropped to the damp ground, pulling Olivia down with him, just as the glass fell from its shaky hold and shattered against the ground.
“What the fuck was that?”
“The wind?” the warden suggested.
“Only one way to find out.”
Will didn’t need to see the face to understand that voice. Hard as nails. Nails hammered into his own coffin, if he didn’t get them the hell out of there and fast.
A bullet sliced the air above their heads.
Will stumbled to his feet, staying low in the tall grass, with a wide-eyed Olivia right behind him. As soon as they reached the gravel road, they ran. Though he suspected no one had followed, Will couldn’t shake the feeling of being hunted.
The wind, like breath on his neck.
Every stone crunched beneath his boots, a bullet.
The spitting rain like a spray of blood, wet on his fingertips.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
When they reached her car, Olivia collapsed against Deck, her lungs burning. He held her upright, his frantic breathing matching her own. Then, she’d broken away from him. Two fists against his chest. “Now do you believe me?”
“Yes, you proved your point. But we’ve gotta get out of here. I’ll meet you back at your house. You can tell me how wrong I was when we get there.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Too many voices in her head telling her what an idiot she’d been for coming here. Because she’d nearly gotten them killed, even if she had been right about Warden Blevins. Her mother’s voice too, trembling, as they’d sped away from this place. The gun stashed beneath the seat, but the bag left on the ground behind them. We’ll fend for ourselves, her mother had said. And another voice she hadn’t heard in twenty-seven years, a name she never let herself speak aloud. Hardly let herself think either. Termite. He’d been a boy the last time she’d seen him, standing over Tina’s body, scared out of his mind.
That boy is always gettin’ into everything, her dad had said. She couldn’t remember when. Like a damn termite. The nickname had stuck.
“Olivia.” Deck shook her a little. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
She felt her head bob up and down. Felt him lead her to her door. Felt herself slip into the familiar routine. Seatbelt. Ignition. Gearshift. Go.
The time on the dash clock read 7:50 p.m. As she drove, Deck’s lights behind her, it drew her eyes in again and again until it changed. 7:51.
Emily must be at the Murdocks’ by now.
Olivia slipped her phone from her pocket and dialed her sister’s number, desperate to hear a familiar voice. Em would tease her about Deck or chide her for forgetting her promise to Maryann and Melody. They’d both laugh, even if it came with a twinge of sadness, and the world would feel right again.
But each ring zipped down her spine, unanswered, and the road in front of her seemed to stretch on for miles, leading to nowhere.
Chapter Sixty
“I’m sure she’s just busy helping.” Deck put a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. She’d changed into a sweater and jeans, and her hair had begun to dry. But she still felt chilled and wet. Like the night had crawled inside her. “She probably hasn’t looked at her phone.”
A flare of panic burned away the cold and set Olivia’s blood afire. She shrugged off his soft touch. “Are you kidding? She doesn’t go anywhere without her cell. Something’s wrong. What if she had an accident? Or the car broke down?”
“Alright.” He listened without reacting. A part of her hated how calm he seemed, even though she understood it. He’d had years of practice managing the unmanageable. “Why don’t you call Maryann? If she doesn’t answer, we’ll head over to their house.”
When Olivia searched his eyes for comfort, she shivered, her wo
rst fears confirmed. “Deck, do you think…?”
“No. I’m sure she’s fine. Now, call Maryann.”
Maryann answered on the first ring. “Olivia, what happened? We were worried about you.”
“What do you mean? Is Emily there?”
“Emily? No. We thought you’d be here by now. We’re all done setting—”
“So you haven’t seen Emily?”
“Hold on. Let me ask Mel.” Through the white noise of her horror, Olivia heard the sisters chattering. She wanted to shout at them, but she bit the inside of her mouth instead, tasting the metal of her own blood. “Nope. Mel hasn’t seen her. Did we get our signals crossed?”
Olivia laid the phone on the table, Maryann still blathering on.
Her training taught her what to expect when the unthinkable happened; the way the body would shut down, all circuits firing and overwhelmed. Still, she thought she’d react differently than she had at eight years old, standing in the doorway of Apartment E, blank-faced and stunned into silence.
She wanted to scream but her mouth wouldn’t do it.
She wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t work right.
In the blank space of her brain, a single image from that awful dream two nights ago. Down to her bones, it felt real. As real as her own heartbeat throbbing in her ears.
Emily, dead.
Chapter Sixty-One
Will had lied to Olivia. The situation called for it, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty or any less worried. Shauna had confided in Emily. Had told her what she’d seen. As much as he suspected Drake, he couldn’t deny the connection the victims shared. Oaktown, cell phones, secrets. Crescent Bay State Prison.
Watch Her Vanish: An absolutely gripping mystery thriller (Rockwell and Decker Book 1) Page 30
