She fought the urge to push her foot to the floor on the pretend gas pedal that would get them to their destination faster. But as they approached the single-story motel with its rust-stained stucco and threadbare shingles, she leaned toward the windshield, as though that would help her see better. In the parking lot, she noticed a single police car and two officers speaking to a very animated young woman.
JJ wanted to know what the woman was saying.
“Pull in here,” she snapped. “By the Coke machine.”
Baz swung into a spot and hit the brakes, forcing JJ to put her hand on the dash to avoid a head-on collision. She glared at him as she unbuckled her seat belt and grabbed her wallet. She hopped out and strolled to the machine, listening as best she could to see if she could pick up anything.
“She came right in the office and stole my keys,” the woman was complaining. “That’s her beat-up piece of crap behind the building.”
“Was she staying here?” one of the officers asked.
“Room one-oh-four.”
JJ looked over at the door beside her. One-oh-four.
She peered back at Baz, then to the officers. It took a second, but she bought a Coke, then took it to the driver’s side of Baz’s truck. He was frowning at her as he lowered the window.
“Juliet Prince was stayin’ in that room,” she muttered, nodding in the direction of the door.
“She’s not in there,” he said quickly.
“Well, duh.” JJ hadn’t figured she was. “But what if she left her stuff behind?”
“Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she just ran over a woman and was runnin’ from the police. She did steal that woman’s car.”
Baz leaned toward her. “JJ, we don’t know that this was Juliet Prince.”
Again, she glared at him. “Don’t be an idiot, Baz. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this shit out. But I’m startin’ to worry about your detective skills. I think they’re a little rusty.”
That was enough to get a rise out of him.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice grumbly with his irritation.
“Distract the cops.”
His eyebrows shot skyward. “Distract them? And how do you propose I do that?”
“Well, you were a cop once. Figure it out.”
He opened the door, stepped out. “And while I do that, what’re you gonna do?”
She nodded toward the room. “I’m gonna see if she left anything behind.”
Baz shook his head. “No, ma’am, you’re gonna get—”
JJ got closer, went up on her toes so they were almost eye to eye. “Distract them,” she hissed under her breath.
She didn’t wait for him to scold her. JJ pivoted around and headed for room 104. Lucky for her, she’d learned a few things from her mischievous brother when she was a kid. One of those things happened to be how to pick a lock. It had become a game with them, always besting the other, trying to see who could get into a lock faster. They’d mastered a wide variety of locks that way. And it just so happened she had her little set with her. Then again, she almost always had it with her because Jeremy had bought it for her.
Glancing back, she saw Baz approaching the officers. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she didn’t need to. They divided their attention between Baz and the woman whose car was stolen.
Without wasting time, JJ pulled out her tools, stepped in close, and bent down, hoping Baz’s truck would hide what she was doing. It took about thirty seconds, which felt like four days, but she managed to get the door unlocked.
She stepped inside, closed it, and flipped on the light.
Sure enough, this was someone’s room. There was a towel flung over the wooden desk chair and an empty bag of Fritos on the nightstand. One of the twin beds was unmade and there was an open suitcase on the other.
Knowing she had little time to waste, she hurried to look through the suitcase. She found nothing that would help them figure out what Juliet’s next move might be, only a handful of clothes. On to the small bathroom, she glanced at the hygiene products—shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash. Aside from some DNA the police could use to identify Juliet, there was nothing of use to JJ.
She hurried back to the door, peeked out the window beside it. Baz was still talking to the officers, but now the woman was no longer out there.
Crap.
JJ turned back around, looked at the entire space, hoping to find something that would help. That was when she saw the computer charger plugged into the wall. There was no computer attached though.
“Fuck.”
If Juliet had the sense to take the computer, JJ knew there wouldn’t be anything useful left behind. She turned back, peeked through the curtains to confirm she wouldn’t be seen, then slipped out of the room and headed right for Baz’s truck.
When he returned a few minutes later, JJ tried not to sulk. She’d thought for sure there would be something in that room that would lead them to Juliet. Maybe Brantley was right. Maybe JJ did watch too many crime shows on TV.
“Anything?” she asked when he climbed in and pulled the door shut.
He shook his head. “The woman’s the day manager. Evidently, she leaves her car keys hangin’ in the front office. She said a woman matching Juliet’s description came in, took them off the hook. She didn’t realize what had happened until she saw her car leaving the parkin’ lot.”
“What about the Mustang?”
“They’re gonna have it processed, but based on what they said, it’s definitely been in an accident recently.”
“And it’s a ’65?”
“It is, yes.”
JJ sighed. “So it’s true. We had Juliet in our sights earlier?”
Baz didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need him to. They’d seen the blue Mustang, even waited for it to pull into a parking space. If they’d only…
JJ knew she could insert a ton of if onlys in that sentence, any one of which might’ve prevented Kylie Walker from being run down in the street.
Yet not a single one would change the outcome at this point.
Chapter Six
Gage was aware of sights, sounds, movement, but he was unable to move, barely able to breathe as he sat in the back of the ambulance, Kylie’s hand in his. The EMT was working, doing God only knew what as the other drove with obvious intent.
He answered questions when he was asked—What medications was Kylie taking? Any previous surgeries? Medical conditions?—not sure how he even knew the answers. His mind was fogged, his heart breaking as he leaned close to his wife, silently pleading for her to hang on. She hadn’t opened her eyes, hadn’t moved at all. He wasn’t even sure she was breathing on her own, but surely she was, right? They would’ve said something if she wasn’t.
The next thing Gage was aware of was pulling into the hospital, then people filing out, taking over, pushing the gurney while barking orders as the EMTs followed close behind.
Gage managed to keep up, never releasing Kylie’s hand. She looked so pale, so fragile, it pained him to think they were going to take her away even for a minute. He needed to be with her, to assure her she wasn’t alone.
“Sir, you’ll need to stay here,” one of the masked people told him. “We’ll let you know as soon as we have news.”
Gage shook his head, tried to go with her, but the hands pulling at him were strong. Too strong.
“They’ve got her. She’s in good hands.”
He knew he needed to hold it together, needed to comprehend what they were saying so he could relay the details to everyone else when they arrived. If he had to guess, Travis was right behind them. He prayed he was because Gage couldn’t do this alone. He needed Travis, needed his husband’s strength to keep him standing.
“Come on. This way.”
It wasn’t until Gage was halfway down the hall that he realized Reese was the one guiding him, Brantle
y right beside him, their dog leading the way.
“I didn’t believe you,” he whispered.
“What?” Reese guided him into a chair in a brightly lit room with people scattered throughout. “What did you say?”
Gage’s legs gave out, the seat coming up to meet his ass. “I didn’t believe you.”
When he looked up, both Brantley and Reese were frowning.
“I didn’t think she was still a threat,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I thought Travis was losin’ his mind. Overreactin’.”
Their expressions went blank immediately.
“It was her. Juliet Prince. She was the one who hit Kylie?”
Brantley’s face was full of sympathy. “We believe so, yes.”
“Where is she?” His eyes bounced back and forth between them. “Please tell me they caught her.”
It was on their faces. Juliet Prince was not in custody. She was not being processed for attempted murder.
“She fled the scene,” Reese answered, his tone smooth and low. “But we’ve got a license plate number, and there’s a BOLO out for the car. We’ll—”
“Where is she? Where is my wife?”
The voice boomed through the space, drawing the attention of everyone.
Gage was on his feet, moving toward Travis.
The instant Travis saw him, he was marching over, then his arms were around him, holding Gage together. He held on to Travis, inhaling his familiar scent, trying to absorb some of his strength, knowing he would need it.
Travis’s hand cradled the back of his head, holding firmly as they leaned on one another. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough to assure Gage that Travis was there with him, that he was not in this alone.
When Travis released him, stepping back, Gage gripped Travis’s arm, feeling back in control of himself for the first time since leaving the park. “Come on. Let’s sit.”
“Where is she?” Travis demanded, stopping Gage when he tried to lead them away from the nurses’ station.
“They’ve taken her into surgery,” he explained, recalling only briefly what he’d been told.
“Surgery?” Travis frowned. “Why? For what?”
Honestly, Gage had no idea, and he didn’t want to lead Travis to believe otherwise.
“Let’s take a seat,” Curtis suggested, his voice low and commanding as he motioned them to the far side of the room.
“I don’t wanna sit,” Travis snapped. “I wanna see my wife.”
“You will,” Brantley said firmly. “Give them time to take care of her.”
Gage’s first instinct was to placate Travis, to tell him everything was going to be all right, that Kylie would be fine. He didn’t say any of those things. Probably because he had so many doubts himself. Fear, even now, threatened to choke him. It was likely exacerbated by the sheer terror he could see on Travis’s face. The man who was always strong and stoic looked anything but, and that scared the shit out of Gage.
Someone directed them to an empty corner of the room, offered coffee. They both refused but took their seats. Gage settled for sitting silently, his arm brushing Travis’s as they both remained perfectly still, staring at the doors that led to their wife.
Time moved slowly. Too slowly.
“How long has she been back there?” someone eventually asked.
“Not long,” someone else answered.
There were a few hushed whispers, maybe even a group praying softly. Gage barely heard them over the steady, painful thump of his heart as he sent up his own silent prayer, begging God to spare the most beautiful, the most vibrant woman he’d ever known.
Suddenly the doors opened and a man stepped out. Older man, pleasant face, serious eyes. Blue scrubs. He pulled off the face mask and the hair covering as he approached. It was in his movements, a sense of regret that had Gage’s heart squeezing.
“Walker family?”
No. Please no.
Gage got to his feet, shaking his head. It hadn’t been long enough. They hadn’t had her back there long enough to fix her broken, battered body.
“Is Kylie gonna be all right?” someone asked.
No.
Gage didn’t look away from the doctor. He saw the sorrow and remorse before he heard the words.
No, no, no.
And then the doctor said the words that would irrevocably change the world as they knew it.
“I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”
Oh, Jesus. Fuck.
Travis tried to take a breath, but someone had replaced the oxygen with shards of glass that rattled around in his lungs, scraping him raw. The pain was unbearable. He could hear the godawful sounds coming out of his throat, but he was helpless to stop them.
God, no. This couldn’t be happening.
Travis stepped toward the doctor.
“We got her prepped for surgery,” the doctor was explaining, “and that was when we realized one of her ribs had pierced her aorta. There was nothing we could do.”
Before he realized what he was doing, Travis fisted the front of the doctor’s scrubs. “Go back in there,” he growled low in his throat. “Go back and fix her.”
A firm but gentle hand was on his. It was the doctor’s and he wasn’t attempting to push Travis off of him.
“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said softly.
Dead.
She couldn’t be dead.
No. Fuck, no.
Someone pried his hands off the doctor’s shirt, urged him back.
Not Kylie.
Travis stumbled, trying to breathe but it hurt.
It should’ve been him, not her. Travis would’ve given his life for hers in a second.
His body was racked with shudders as the sorrow tore through him. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
He stumbled back until he hit the wall, then slid to the floor, his legs unable to hold him up anymore. Tears flooded his eyes, made it impossible to see. He was aware of the people around him, moving, whispering, someone still talking to the doctor, others trying to console one another.
Didn’t they know it wouldn’t work?
Didn’t they realize that the light had vanished, that the heat from the sun no longer existed because Kylie was dead? Without her in it, the world would be a cold, dark place.
Travis was vaguely aware of guttural cries. It was enough to draw his attention to where Ethan and Beau were attempting to hold Gage up. Travis could feel his husband’s pain, but try as he might, he couldn’t muster the energy to console him. Not right now.
“Travis?”
He turned his attention to the man squatting down beside him.
“Reese and I will find her,” Brantley declared, his voice low and hard, his eyes glittering with rage. “We won’t stop until we do.”
Travis wanted to tell him he’d heard that before, that Brantley’s promises meant nothing. If they’d found her before now, Kylie wouldn’t be dead. If they’d found that bitch and put her in the ground, Travis’s world wouldn’t be flipped off its axis right now. His kids wouldn’t have to live out the rest of their days without their mother.
He didn’t say those things, though. He couldn’t. Right now, the coldness had frozen his vocal cords, made it impossible to speak, to feel, to move.
It was all he could do just to breathe.
Trey Walker stood on the periphery of the room, watching, listening.
He could feel the sadness, the heartbreak as it penetrated every person around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d witnessed something so tragic. They were lucky in that they didn’t experience loss often. The Walkers were strong, if not in body then in spirit. There were exceptions to the rule, of course, but most of the deaths he’d dealt with had been after the person had lived a long, fruitful life.
This was not one of those instances.
Kylie Walker hadn’t lived nearly long enough. She was far too young, just a few months older than Trey if he recalled correctly. Thirty-six years ol
d. To have been taken like this … stolen from the world without warning, without a chance for anyone to say goodbye … it was heart-wrenching.
As he stood, Trey watched as family members hugged one another. Kaleb was holding his wife, Zoey, against his chest as she cried. Ethan and Beau were holding on to Gage, giving him as much support as they could. Kennedy was sitting in a chair, her head in her hands, a tissue clutched by her face. Sawyer was standing behind her, looking as though he didn’t quite believe what was happening. Brendon was on the phone, most likely calling his wife, Cheyenne, since she was currently on tour.
On the other side of the room, Braydon had his arms wrapped around Jessie, Kylie’s baby sister. She was hysterical, her sobs echoing as loudly as Gage’s. From here, Trey could see that Braydon was sobbing as much as his wife. Not far from them, Curtis was watching over everyone, his eyes sharp and clear, but his breaths were coming far too rapidly. He was on the verge of falling apart, but likely holding it together for everyone else.
And then there was Travis, sitting on the floor, alone, body jerking as he sobbed uncontrollably, head resting on his knees.
To think, there were so many more who hadn’t heard the news yet. The pain and sorrow were only beginning.
Trey couldn’t help but think this was their fault. If they’d only found Juliet Prince, they wouldn’t be here right now. The Walkers wouldn’t be suffering such a tragic, unfathomable loss.
Chapter Seven
Thursday, January 14, 2021
Days passed in a blur.
Sunday.
Monday.
Tuesday.
Wednesday.
They were all the same, time having ceased to mean anything to Travis.
He relied on muscle memory to get him through the daily functions, accomplishing the bare minimum. He was relying on his parents, his brothers. They were all there, consoling one another, pitching in to take care of what needed to be taken care of.
Travis couldn’t eat; he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to go into the bedroom they’d shared with Kylie, didn’t want to shower in the shower he’d joined her in numerous times, didn’t want to eat off dishes she’d eaten off of. It was too painful. He wanted to be blessedly numb, his mind blank. It was his only objective, yet no matter how hard he fought back the memories, they swamped him at the most inopportune time: every second of the hour, every hour of the day.
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