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My knees went weak, and I reached out to hold on to a beam to keep from falling to them.
I knew he had her. Knew it down to the bitter emptiness carved in the middle of me.
“Shit,” he rumbled, and I could hear rustling on the other end of the line. “I’m on my way.”
“Hurry.”
Then I called the one number I’d sworn to myself I would never call again. Terror ridged my spine, every molecule that made up my being held in desperation as it rang and rang. Her voicemail came on, the same annoying one that I’d come to love, her sassy, throaty voice playing through me in that recklessness that was this woman. “This is Paisley. If you’re getting this message, you don’t know what year it is.”
Panic sieged my senses, and I begged, “I can’t find Evelyn. Please call me back.”
I dialed again, pacing back and forth three steps, counting the rings, each sounding off like the tolling of death.
No answer again.
I texted her, pleaded with her through the words to answer.
Ten minutes and ten calls went by without any response.
I dialed Ryder. He answered on the third ring. “What the hell, man? It’s not even six in the morning.”
“Evelyn is missing, and I can’t get ahold of Paisley, either.”
“She isn’t at your place?”
“I ended things yesterday.” The words were barbs. “There was a horse found on the property. Slain. The same as my sister. That monster is here. I know it, Ryder. I should have known I couldn’t escape this. I was leaving this morning to find a safe place to take Evelyn.”
“Fuck, man. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I need Dakota’s number,” I told him, rather than answering.
He rattled it off, then said, “I’ll head over to her grandfather’s place and see if she’s there.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“You’re family, Caleb. Of course. I’ll let you know what I find out, and you do the same.”
“Okay.”
The moment the call ended, I dialed Dakota. It went to voicemail, too.
“This is Dakota. I’m probably baking something delicious. Leave me a message.”
“Dakota, this is Caleb, I need to know if you’ve seen Paisley. She’s not answering her phone. It’s…important. Life or death. Please call me back.”
Then I ran back to the house to do another search, a frenzy in each step, my blood cold by the time I’d covered every room and had come up empty again.
I could hear the shouts of the crew outside, Evelyn’s name called again and again.
I stumbled back out the front door when two SUVs came blazing down the drive, their lights flashing as they came.
At the same time, my phone rang.
“Dakota,” I wheezed when I answered, her name gushing out of me on a petition. A fucking prayer that Paisley was with her.
“Hey, Caleb…Paisley texted me that she was going to come into the café, but that was like an hour ago, and I can’t get ahold of her.” Worry laced her tone. “What’s going on?”
Dread slicked beneath the surface of my skin.
“Evelyn is missing.”
“What?” It was a breath of horror.
A horror I felt sink so deep it was the only thing I felt.
Fear. Horror. Desperation.
“I need to go. Please let me know if you hear from Paisley.”
My phone rang again. That time, it was Ryder. He didn’t give me time to say anything before he was shouting, “Her truck is there, but she’s nowhere to be found, and her cell is on the sidewalk. Fuck, Caleb, this doesn’t feel right.”
The two SUVs skidded to a stop in front of the house.
Mert rushed up behind them, taking off his cap as he approached. “Sir, I thought you should know that it looks like Nate has skipped town.”
FORTY-SEVEN
PAISLEY
Pain sheared through my head, so intense it felt like an icepick had been stabbed into my brain. I moaned as I blinked against it, fighting the torture of opening my eyes.
I didn’t have the luxury of giving into the agony trying to suck me back into oblivion.
Because I could hear them…her little cries coming from somewhere across the room.
Evelyn.
My chest squeezed in torment, desperate to climb to my feet, to claw my way to her, to make sure she was okay.
I finally managed to force my eyes open enough that I could take in my surroundings. I lay on my side on a hard, wood plank floor, the kind that was worn and uneven, aged and unkept.
It appeared to be one large room.
Dust coated everything, the rays coming in through the window clouded by the dirt caked on the glass.
But what I noticed most was the fact my wrists were bound together in front of me. That and the man who stalked back and forth in front of the door, raking an agitated hand through his hair with a huge knife clutched in the other.
