by Nathan Roden
Cyrus felt his ears stop up, just like had happened several times on the flight over the Atlantic. He worked his jaw open and closed.
The car came to a stop. Cyrus heard a door open. He heard it close. The car began to move again.
The last thing that Cyrus Findlay heard was Scottie Rose’s scream.
Sebastian Wellmore stood with his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat. He watched the car crash through the guardrail and down the mountainside. He turned and jogged to where his car was parked near some rental cabins.
Holly had a towel wrapped around her head and wore one of Quentin Lynchburg’s bathrobes. She had just taken a long, hot shower. Quentin led her into the den, where Tooie sat in front of the fireplace. Tooie had a blanket pulled up under her chin. Her feet were tucked beneath her in a large overstuffed chair.
Quentin pointed.
“There’s another blanket, and hot chocolate on the table beside the other chair,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Lynchburg,” Holly said. “You’ve been very kind.”
“I’ll just be a few more minutes in the other room,” Quentin said. “With Nate and—” he cut his eyes toward Tooie. “With Nate and the others.”
Holly nodded as she picked up the blanket. She glanced at Tooie, who rocked herself while she stared into the fire. She had one hand outside of the blanket, balled into a fist on her lap.
“I can never thank you enough for what you did, Aimee,” Holly whispered. “I was as good as gone when you showed up.”
“I was glad to be able to do something,” Tooie said. “And that was only because I have a most sensible boyfriend. Who gives a girl pepper spray for a Christmas gift?”
“I’ll have to thank Nate as well then,” Holly said. ”How did you—?”
“There was someone else,” Tooie said. She uncurled her hand. She held a piece of paper. She handed it to Holly.
On the paper—in a frightened scribble,
Please help
“Charlotte…” Holly whispered.
“I was looking for Nate,” Tooie said. “His car was not at his house, it wasn’t at his work, or at Wylie’s house, so I drove to the castle. I was ready to leave, and then I thought I heard someone screaming for ‘help’ in the distance. Then I saw this note…floating,” Tooie’s voice cracked when she said the word. “This note was floating in mid-air. At the same time, the front doors opened—all by themselves.”
“That would be Charlotte,” Holly said.
“Which one is Charlotte?” Tooie asked.
“The youngest,” Holly said.
“How old was she?” Tooie asked, and then she rolled her eyes at herself. “How old is she?”
“Eight,” Holly said.
“Is she here?” Tooie asked, looking around.
“The whole family is here,” Holly said. “Along with some others. They’re in the other room.”
Tooie put her blanket aside, took a deep breath, and let it out.
“I would like to thank her, myself,” Tooie said.
She held her hand out to Holly.
Thirty-Eight
Wylie Westerhouse
St. Louis, Missouri
A ringing and a buzzing sound brought me almost to consciousness. The sounds came and went on a loop.
Ring. Buzz. Snore.
The snore came from Toby. I think.
I peeled one eye open and saw my phone lighting up and vibrating its way across the bedside table. I was out of it—exhausted. I don’t remember even reaching for the phone, but I must have because I managed to knock it off of the table. It landed face-down on a pillow that I had already knocked onto the floor. That was the last thing I remembered for a while.
My bladder forced me awake some time later. I swung my feet to the floor, and I heard the muted ringing again.
“Hello?” I yawned.
“Wylie!” It was Nate.
“What’s up?” I said. “What time is—?”
“Wylie!” Nate screamed. “Two guys just tried to kidnap Holly!”
“What?” I said, my mind trying to pull away the cobwebs.
“I told you, man!” Nate said. “Two guys—” Nate voice became distant.
“Yeah! I got him, Tooie! He finally picked up.”
“Tooie’s there?” I said. “Hey, that’s great—”
“Did you hear what I said, Wylie?” Nate screamed in my ear. “Two guys tried to kidnap Holly!”
“They what?” I said, “Is she okay? Where—?”
“They didn’t get her, Wyles,” Nate said. “She’s safe. We’re at Quentin Lynchburg’s apartment. Tooie helped her get away. She used that pepper spray that I gave her for Christmas.”
“Did they—? Is she—?” I said. I didn’t know what to ask first. My brain was sputtering.
“She’s gonna be okay,” Nate said. He continued in a whisper.
“They didn’t call the cops.”
“I’m coming,” I said, “As soon as I can get there.”
“Wyles, there’s nothing you can—” Nate said.
“I’m coming,” I said. I ended the call. I sat on the edge of the bed, nearly hyperventilating. I jumped when the phone rang again. It was Nate.
But I had no desire to be a bystander. Or an outsider. Someone who only gets updates by phone, while he lives out his little fairy-tale story. I ignored the call, and then I called Skyler.
“Hey. It’s me,” I said.
“Hey, Me,” Skyler giggled. “I can’t sleep either. Today was magical!”
“Skyler,” I said. “I need to talk to you. Can you meet me—outside the guest house?”
“And just what do you have in mind, Big Guy?” she said.
Oh, crap. This whole situation was running downhill at break-neck speed.
“I have only good intentions,” I said.
Skyler arrived minutes later, her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat.
“What’s on your mind, Rock Star?” she said, with a twinkle in her eye.
“It’s my friend,” I said.
Skyler’s look turned ice-cold.
“Some people tried to kidnap her tonight—right from her apartment,” I said.
Skyler put her hand to her mouth.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “Why? Is she rich or something?”
“No,” I said. “She’s not rich.”
“Everyone has been so afraid that someone would try and kidnap me,” Skyler said. She stared off into space. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve overheard people whispering about it.”
Instantly, she was back in the present.
“But she’s safe now?” Skyler asked? “Have the police caught them—she’s no longer in danger, right?”
I nodded. That’s not like lying, right?
“I have to go,” I said.
“What?” Skyler said. “Why? There’s nothing you can do, Wylie—and we have a major press conference tomorrow!”
“I won’t be long, Skyler,” I said. “But I can’t just make a phone call and say ‘oh, that’s too bad’! This is my friend. My good friend.”
“Your girlfriend,” Skyler spat.
“A friend is a friend,” I said. “Especially when there’s trouble.”
“When will you be back?” Skyler asked. “Everyone will want to know—especially Mother. In case you haven’t noticed, she doesn’t think you’re the Devil anymore. Of course, that will probably change now.”
“Just as soon as I can,” I said. “I’m not turning my back on what you’ve done for me. I just can’t ignore this, Skyler. I couldn’t live with myself.”
Skyler bit her lip and nodded. I started to turn.
“Uh, I need to ask a favor,” I said.
Skyler raised an eyebrow.
“Can I leave Toby here?” I asked.
Skyler rolled her eyes.
“Of course,” she said. “Why not?”
“He’s…” I pointed toward the guest house door. “He’s in the bed. In there.�
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Skyler covered her mouth with her hand.
“Well, of course, he is,” she said. She waved me off with the back of her hand.
“Go,” she said.
My phone buzzed. It was Nate again. I sighed and turned the phone off. If I deserved to be a part of what was going on in Branson, then it would be when I was there in person. In the flesh.
I made pretty good time on the drive, other that the few minutes I spent with a state trooper. I was speeding a little. Okay, a lot.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel while the trooper ran my license. When he came back to my car, he bent over and shined his flashlight at me.
“Say, it is you, ain’t it?” the trooper asked. “The kid from that “America’s Voice’ show? You got a pretty unusual name.”
“Yes Sir,” I said. “That’s me.”
“I’m gonna need your autograph on this,” he said, pushing a pad through the window.
Great. My trail of irresponsible criminal behavior has already begun.
It was a pad of plain paper.
“Uh…” I said. “I’m sorry. What is this for?”
“Sign it, please,” he said. “If I told my wife and my daughter that I pulled you over and didn’t get an autograph, I would never hear the end of it.”
Well. How about that.
“What are their names?” I said as I snatched the pad from his hand before he could change his mind.
“Becky,” he said, “And Rachel.”
I hurriedly and with a flourish addressed two different pages. Then I flipped the page over again and signed,
To my newest good friend, Officer Headley—Guardian of Highway 44, All the best, Wylie Westerhouse
I handed the pad back to him.
“Hang on to these,” I said. “They may go up in value sometime real soon.”
“Oh, you got something big in the works?” the trooper said.
“Yes, Sir,” I said.
Trooper Headley held the pad in one hand and tapped it against his other.
“That’s good,” he said. He pointed down the road. “Keep your speed down, Wylie. There’s more of me ahead, and we don’t care much for scraping our citizens off of the road. You got it?”
“Yes, Sir!” I said.
I dialed the accelerator back. A little bit.
I screeched to a stop in front of Quentin’s townhouse. Nate’s car and Tooie’s car were parked nearby. I jumped out, ran to the front door and tried the handle. Locked. I rang the doorbell and bounced on my toes.
Nate jerked the door open.
“Wylie? What are you—?”
“Where is she?” I said. I brushed past him and nearly crashed into Tooie when she rounded a corner. She flinched and threw out her hands. I slammed my shoulder into the wall, slipped on the tile and slid to the floor
“Slow down, dude,” Nate said. “He pulled me back to my feet. “They’re not here.”
“Where are they?” I said. “At the police station?”
“No,” Nate said. “That’s what I tried to tell you—among other things. Did you lose your phone? I’ve been trying to call you, like every fifteen minutes.”
“I turned it off,” I said. “I didn’t want to talk anymore. I just wanted to get here.”
I looked up in time to see Tooie, with her arms crossed—rolling her eyes.
“They didn’t call the police, Wylie,” Tooie said.
“What?” I said. “The FBI? Did they call in the FBI?”
“Let’s go sit down, Wyles,” Nate tugged on my sleeve. I pulled away from him.
“No, I didn’t drive here like a bat-out-of-hell to sit down,” I said, trying to stay calm. “Where are they?”
Nate glanced toward Tooie.
“Wylie,” Nate said. “They talked it all out. They know who these men are, and they know who they work for. But if they went to the police or the FBI, or anyone else—everything would go into lock-down. They might even put Holly into protective custody—”
“That’s exactly where she should be!” I argued. “Kidnapping! That’s a federal crime!”
“Yeah! Holly would be safe, and her parents would most likely die!” Nate said, a little on edge.
“This is crazy!” I said. I ran a hand through my hair. “They weren’t going to leave until tomorrow afternoon. Did Quentin change the tickets?” I started toward the door.
“Yes, he changed the tickets,” Nate said. “That’s why I’ve been trying to call you all night!”
I yanked open the door.
“I’ll try to catch them at the airport,” I said.
Nate was shaking his head.
“They couldn’t get out any sooner, Wyles. Not from Branson.”
“Where—?” I asked. But I already knew the answer.
“St. Louis,” Nate whispered. “I’m sorry.”
I slumped against the door and slid back to the floor. I covered my head with my hands and stayed that way for a few seconds.
“Let’s go sit down somewhere,” Nate said. “You want a beer or something?”
“No, thanks,” I said. We walked into the massive great room, but I couldn’t make myself sit down. From the corner of my eye, I saw Tooie snuggle up to Nate’s side. She put an arm around his waist. He put his arm around her shoulder.
I remembered something else important.
“What about Duncan?” I asked. “Did they…did they all leave?”
Nate shook his head.
“They’re staying—for now,” Nate said.
“What?” I said. “All of them?”
I nodded, as I tried to process the information overload.
“Why?” I asked. “Did they say?”
“Well,” Nate said. He didn’t seem to want to explain any of this.
“They stayed…because of Holly. She’s like one of their family, Wyles. They knew she was hurting, and alone—”
I let out a sad laugh.
“I need to talk to them—”
“They all went, too, Wyles,” Nate said. “To Scotland.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I’ve never meant to be the Bad Guy at any time in my life. But, here I am, again,” I said.
Nate cleared his throat.
“You know, Wylie,” Nate said. “Maybe this thing with Skyler…maybe it’s just not the right time, huh?”
“No, Nate,” I said. “I don’t know anything. I’m just a guy who’s trying to do the right thing—not just for me, but for everybody that I care about.”
“Look, don’t take this wrong, man,” Nate said. “But do you think that fate brought you together with this girl with supernatural abilities—a girl who loves you and gave you more time with your brother—?”
“Look, Nate—,” I said.
“Do you really think that this is the time for you to start a new life that keeps you apart?”
I felt like I had been slapped. I didn’t like what my best friend was getting at. Not at all.
“I haven’t changed at all, Nate,” I said. “This is the life that both of us been working toward since we were ten years old. Or have you forgotten about that? Maybe you’re the one who has decided to become Mr. Business, settle down, and have some kids. You sure don’t have to worry about taking care of your parents.”
Nate took a step toward me.
“Don’t go there, Wylie,” Nate said. “I left any opportunity and my life that I had in Boston, to follow you. I tried to work for free until you got out of trouble. I didn’t see you fight to keep me in your pop band!”
Before I had time to think, I grabbed Nate by the shirt collar and drew back my fist. I felt all the energy go out of him. He dropped his head.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Maybe it will make you feel better. Do it.” He didn’t look up.
I shoved Nate away from me.
“Nate,” I whispered. “I’m….”
I couldn’t finish.
Nate walked away, and never looked back. He walked
through the front door and closed it behind him. I heard a car start and pull away.
I looked up and saw Tooie standing and weeping, hugging herself—her bottom lip quivering. I stepped toward her.
“Tooie, I never meant—”
She slapped me across the face.
“You are so stupid, Wylie Westerhouse!” she spat the words. She pointed toward the door. “You will never, ever, have another friend like Nate Barlow! You don’t deserve him! I’m not even sure that I deserve him!”
I couldn’t speak. Tooie could. I flinched when she reached and grabbed my chin. She jerked my face up to meet her eyes.
“Nate worships the ground you walk on,” she said. “Which you would already know, if you had a brain in that swollen head of yours. Maybe you are confused, and maybe you have a right to be, but I will tell you this. If you don’t patch this up with Nate, he will be broken for the rest of his life. He deserves better than that. And so do I. And he’s right about Holly. If you let her go, you’re a bigger moron than I thought.”
She shocked me with that last one.
I expected Tooie to storm out of the room, but she left quietly. Which was much, much more devastating.
Thirty-Nine
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri/St. Louis, Missouri
I stood alone in the hallway of Q’s condo, in the silence of the late night. I was conscious of the ticking of clocks and the gurgle from the fish tank filter behind the wall. I had no idea what to do next.
A few uncomfortable minutes later, I locked up Q’s condo, got back into my car, and drove back to St. Louis.
Maybe it was possible that I could get through one day without disappointing anyone else. At least, Toby and Skyler KwyK would be happy to see me.
I made it about fifty miles outside of Branson when it began to rain. I turned on the wipers, and they did their usual satisfactory job for all of two minutes before they died.
