by Angel Smits
“The trailer. It’s out on Bircham’s Road somewhere. I don’t know where out there. It’s abandoned. I don’t know if it even has an address.”
“Bircham’s Road?” He’d heard of it, but couldn’t remember where the hell it was. Wyatt looked over at DJ, who was nodding. “You know where that is?”
“No, I don’t.” Dianne answered, obviously thinking he was talking to her.
“Sorry, Dianne. My brother knows where it is. How long ago did she leave?”
“Just a few minutes.” Dianne’s voice broke. Wyatt wished he could help her.
“Have you called the police?”
“No. I called you first since you’re closer. I don’t know what to tell them.”
DJ waved, indicating Wyatt hand him the phone. Wyatt gave it up.
“Dianne, this is DJ Hawkins.”
DJ’s voice was so calm, Wyatt felt himself relax. Then shook his head as he realized the little brother he’d just been arguing with was gone—this was the soldier in DJ taking over now.
“We’re going to head over there. Dial 9-1-1 and you’ll get the county sheriff. Tell them just what you told us. They’ll know what to do. Do you understand?”
“Yes. The sheriff.”
Wyatt could hear her voice clearly as it was only slightly softer than the shrill yelling she’d been doing before.
“Tell them the name of the road. They’ll be able to find it. If they don’t know where it’s at, tell them it’s west of Pal Haymaker’s property about a mile. They’ll understand.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Dianne sobbed into the phone, then hung up.
“You know where this place is?” Wyatt turned to face DJ, who nodded again. The look in DJ’s eyes was something Wyatt had never seen before. It reflected the anger and pain that Wyatt was feeling right now, and something else. Resolve? “I’ll drive.” Wyatt grabbed his truck keys.
“We’ll be faster going across land.”
Wyatt froze, frowning at DJ.
“Bircham’s Road is a dead end that doesn’t go far, but getting there will take at least half an hour going around Haymaker’s spread. Across it’ll take fifteen, tops.”
Wyatt headed to the barn at a dead run. “Later you can tell me how you know that.”
They reached the barn just as Chet was closing Dancer’s stall door. “What the hell’s with you two?” the old man asked.
Any concerns that Wyatt might have had about DJ forgetting his horse skills were quickly put to rest as DJ pulled out tack and saddles. Prism was obviously ready to run, as he stamped his feet when DJ started saddling Lightning first.
Wyatt grabbed his own gear. As they saddled the horses, Wyatt filled in the old man, all the while his anxiety ratcheting up. Emily. Tyler. Emily.
“Right behind you.” Chet headed for his own equipment. Dancer wasn’t ready for a ride yet, but there were plenty of other horses to choose from.
The commotion brought the rest of the men in from the bunkhouse. Once saddled up, the whole crew tore through the night with Wyatt in the lead, barely a nose ahead of DJ.
* * *
THE TRAILER WAS empty. Quiet. Abandoned just like the last time Emily had been here. She climbed out of her car, waiting, looking, listening. There was no indication anyone was here or had been here. Was she wrong? Where else could they be?
Stay calm, she told herself. Go look. “Tyler?” she called out, the wind carrying her voice away. “Drew?” No one answered. Despite the day’s heat, she shivered.
Part of her knew Drew had the potential to hurt people. But he was more of an abuser than psychotic. Comforting thoughts there, she admitted.
The screen door whacked against the metal frame with the wind, and Emily headed toward the trailer. She felt herself changing, shifting with each step. The sheer panic that had driven her to race out here froze inside her. All the emotions she’d begun to experience over the past few years, since moving away from here, evaporated. She withdrew into the shell she’d built growing up. She felt nothing.
The desert southwest had never been so cold.
Emily trudged into the house, leaving the door open behind her. The heat inside smelled old and sick.
She didn’t get far. The mess stopped her. If Drew wasn’t here now, he had been. And he’d left nothing unturned in his wake. The evidence of his anger showed in the cabinet doors torn off their hinges and the curtain rods ripped from the walls.
Emily stilled. Where was Tyler? Was he okay? Her emotions threatened to break through. No, she refused to give in.
The hallway, while shadowed, was broken by the light coming through the open bedroom doors. Both doors. Emily rushed to her mom’s room, the mess as bad as in the living room. The hole where she’d found the box was now a huge gaping void. Sheet rock and clothing lay in clumps on the closet floor.
She backed away. She saw no hint of Tyler in here. She was wasting precious time. The logical part of her brain struggled to control the emotional overload.
This time she couldn’t avoid seeing inside her old room. The door stood wide-open, barely on its hinges in a macabre invitation.
This room had once been her haven, until Earl had violated it with his abuse. Now Drew had delivered the final blow by tearing it apart. Huge holes in the walls told Emily he’d looked for more hiding places.
She had to get out of here. Turning, she nearly tripped over a pile of torn bedding and landed on her knees. Struggling to get up, she saw the carnage behind the door.
The collection of horse figurines she’d left, that Earl had never managed to touch, lay shattered on the floor. Broken porcelain sparkled in the dim light.
Emily reached out and found two figures left intact. Tiny ones, probably too small to be noticed. She slipped them into her pocket as the shell inside her cracked.
“Damn him.” She stomped through the mess to the front door.
Tyler wasn’t here. There was nothing here.
Except a closed front door.
She fought back the panic and let her anger take control. When the faint scent of smoke wafted past her nose, she struggled to remain clearheaded.
“Drew!” she screamed, yanking on the front door that was wedged tightly shut.
Fine. She stalked into the kitchen. Drew underestimated who she and her mother were. Please, please let it still be there. She knelt down, reaching into the narrow space between the refrigerator and wall. Cobwebs brushed her hand, sticky and soft. She cringed, but didn’t stop until her fingers curled around the neck of her dad’s old Louisville Slugger.
She remembered the night Mom had put the bat there, the night she’d brought Emily home from foster care. They’d both sworn Earl wouldn’t hurt either of them again.
Smoke grew thick around her. She didn’t see flames, but she felt the heat beneath her feet. It didn’t stop her. She went to the front window, and in a stance her father would have been proud of, she swung. And bashed out the entire front window.
Hot, scorching air washed over her. The flames must be under the skirting of this end of the trailer. Not outside the window yet, though. She climbed out, glass scraping against her arms and legs. She didn’t care.
There was no way she was dying in this hellhole. She landed with a thud on the hard-packed ground of what had been her mother’s garden. She was out.
She saw smoke on the back side of the trailer, and in the flame’s light she spotted the silhouette of an old pickup truck parked a few yards away.
Luckily, half the skirting on that end had blown away over the years, so she could see there wasn’t anyone underneath. Relief was short-lived as she didn’t have a clue where Drew and Tyler were.
She backed away, her fingers curled tight around the baseball bat. Drew had better run. But not until she’d found Tyler.
There were few places they could be. The old stable had fallen over a couple years ago. There weren’t even any trees to break up the flat landscape. The only real hiding place was the storm cellar.
Emily ran toward it. She’d better find Tyler there, safe and sound, or Drew would be permanently wearing the baseball bat upside his head.
She yanked open the weather-worn doors. The hinges squealed loudly in protest. Emily stared at the cobwebs and weeds that covered the stone steps. The daylight barely reached halfway down, but the growing flames’ light helped.
She started down. This was supposed to be a safe haven, protection from Mother Nature’s wrath.
It wasn’t. Never had been.
Tornadoes weren’t unheard of in this part of the world, though she’d only lived through one. She remembered it with frightening clarity. She’d been fifteen....
“Get yerself down there,” Earl had barked from behind her, practically throwing Emily down the steps. She’d banged both of her knees when she fell, and blood dripped down her leg as she stood.
“Don’t push her, Earl,” Mom had cried.
“She’s movin’ too slow. She’ll get us all killed by that twister.” He’d slammed the heavy wooden doors closed, tightening the lock and sealing them all in the heavy darkness. She’d heard him fumbling around in the dark corner.
She could picture the cellar clearly; she’d been down there plenty. Mom had kept all the canned goods back in the cool part behind the bench and had sent Emily after jars for supper sometimes.
Light flared from the back corner. The flames of the lantern danced eerily off the planes and crevices of Earl’s face and sparkled off the jars lined up neatly behind him. Instinctively, Emily had backed up, almost preferring the rage of the storm to the rage of this horrid man her mother had somehow married.
“Just sit down,” he’d commanded.
“I need to check on Sugar....” Emily tried to rise, once again driven by the need to make sure her beloved horse was safe. Not that he could be truly safe in the barn, but unless she could convince Earl and Mom to let her bring him down here, the horse had to stay there.
“Stupid girl. He’s an animal. Animals know how to take care of themselves.”
“Come over here, hon.” Mom patted the bench next to her. Suddenly, the roar of what sounded like a freight train drowned out anything they might have said to each other. She didn’t even think as her mother slipped her arms around her and she snuggled in like a little girl.
She’d forever miss her mother’s calmness.
Dank, musty air filled Emily’s sinuses and lungs. She fought the urge to cough, afraid that if she did she’d have to breathe in again. She had to find Tyler and get out of here.
It only took a minute, but it felt like hours for her to make sure the cellar was empty. She turned to leave, her shoulder brushing the old shelves just enough to cause the brittle brackets to give. Like dominoes, they fell. Glass jars rained down on her, tumbling and shattering on the hard packed dirt. Something hard and furry bounced off her hand. She screamed and ran away.
She tried to breathe, but the dust only caked her lungs and floated around her. Great. Just great.
Resentment at Earl and Drew—and at herself for being so careless to come here alone—shivered through her.
She stomped to the steps, still holding the bat. She climbed out into the approaching night, the flames growing bigger and brighter by the minute.
The foul odor of the long shut-up cellar followed her. She coughed, trying to clear her lungs.
“Hey, is anybody up there?” Tyler’s voice came out of the prairie. It seemed so far away, yet so close.
“Tyler!” she yelled. “Keep talking. I’ll find you. Where are you?”
“Over here, Ms. Ivers. In the well.”
Emily almost wilted. She’d forgotten about the well. It sat clear up on the hill and her dad had filled it with cement when it had dried up. Or so she’d thought. Dear Lord, how was she going to get him out of there?
The farther she moved from the burning trailer, the less visibility she had, but the flames provided enough light for her to navigate. There.
The hole couldn’t be much bigger than Tyler. She wished she had a flashlight, but wouldn’t trade it for the bat.
“I’m coming.” Tyler’s voice echoed up the hole.
“What?”
“There’s a pipe. I’m climbin’ it. It’s just like gym class.”
As she knelt beside the hole, she heard Tyler struggling to climb but she couldn’t see him. “I’m here,” she told the void.
“I’ll be tough enough for boot camp, like my dad, won’t I?” His breath came in short puffs. Emily tried not to think about what could happen if he fell. Don’t go there.
Finally, in the dim light, Tyler’s head emerged from the shadows. He looked up and grinned at her. “I made it!”
“Almost.” Emily reached out a hand and grabbed his arm. Only then did her panic think to recede.
She pulled as he reached the top and they both fell backward with the momentum. She closed her arms around him and held on. “Oh, thank God,” she whispered. Her heart pounded from her fear. His pounded as much from exertion as the adrenaline.
She didn’t ever want to let him go.
“That was almost too easy.” Drew’s voice gloated from the darkness. “Set the trap and the mice come play.”
Emily scrambled around. Curling her fingers around the neck of the bat, she struggled to her feet. Tyler was still on the ground and she stood over him to protect him. “Drew.” She glared at him. “This is below even you.”
“Careful, sweetheart. I might not take too kindly to any more of your insults.”
“Just let us go and we’ll forget this ever happened.” Tyler was on his feet now, and Emily put her arm around him, pulling him to her side.
“Now, Emily, I know you better than that.” He laughed and stepped in front of them.
“Then you know I’ll use this.” She lifted the bat, remembering the window she’d obliterated.
“You might get in one good swing, but I’ve tangled with tougher than you and won.”
“Then I guess I’d better make it damned good.”
He laughed, but didn’t move away. He was too close for her to get in a proper swing, but she wasn’t giving up.
“All you gotta do is hand over the coins. All of them.”
“Drew, I told you. I don’t have them.”
“Maybe. But I bet you know where they are.”
“Don’t you understand? Mom sold all of them. They’re gone.”
“Then get them back!” Anger flared in his eyes, and Tyler screamed as Drew lunged for her. She reared back with the bat and aimed. He lifted his arm, expecting her to go for his head.
She aimed much lower.
If she would have been able to swing full force, she’d have killed him. As it was, Drew doubled over and fell to his knees. “I thought you learned your lesson when we were kids,” she shouted. “Run, Tyler!” she yelled, knowing Drew was down, but not necessarily out.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm? Or was it the fire’s roar? She looked back at the trailer. The propane tank out back hadn’t been filled, but it probably wasn’t empty.... Her car, their only escape, was parked right next to it.
“Wait! Emily!” Tyler tugged on her arm. “Look.”
He wasn’t moving, but instead pointed in the opposite direction, behind Drew.
A cloud of dust glowed on the hill. The thunder grew louder from that direction. And then she saw them. First one, then two, then half a dozen men on horses crested the ridge.
<
br /> Wyatt and DJ were side by side. She saw Chet and Manny and Paulo, then Josh, all riding straight at them.
Wyatt pulled up first, bringing Prism to an abrupt halt a few feet away from Drew. He looked from Drew to Emily, then at the bat in her hand.
“Holy crap!” Tyler blurted out. “My dad and Uncle Wyatt are in the cavalry.” He ran toward DJ, who swung out of the saddle and caught Tyler in a deep hug.
Wyatt was more cautious. “Emily?” he said softly as he dismounted, while Chet and Manny walked over to Drew, kneeling beside the injured man.
“You okay?” Wyatt asked.
She froze as reality set in. As all the events replayed in her mind, she started to tremble. Tyler was fine. She was fine.
The sound of the bat falling to the ground with a dull thud seemed loud. Emily felt the world tilt sideways. She looked back at the trailer, now fully engulfed in flames. Blue-and-red lights strobed across the landscape as the sheriff arrived.
Help had come. And was still coming.
Help she no longer needed. She’d won.
Emily broke into a run and launched herself into Wyatt’s arms.
And he caught her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IT TOOK GOING back to court to put the last of Emily’s ghosts to rest. The trailer was nothing more than a pile of ash. Drew awaited trial for a laundry list of charges, including kidnapping and arson. Emily had thrown just about everything she could think of at him. She had said a tearful goodbye to her mother, who now rested close to her father. The only hurdle left, Warren solved with a resounding whack of his gavel and his booming voice announcing, “And we’re dismissed.”
Emily watched DJ smile down at his son, the son he now had full custody of. Wyatt had agreed to remain a secondary guardian in case DJ needed him.
They all knew DJ planned to go find Tammie, but no one talked about that now. There was plenty of therapy and time before then, and Tyler didn’t need to know about those plans right now.
“About damned time,” Wyatt said as he pulled Emily into his arms once they were back in the truck. Finally. Alone.
