He squints, hands on his hips.“Before I went to prison.Maybe a month before.I came across it while riding.Thought it’d be a good place to camp out or get some thinking done without people breathing down my neck.Dad caught wind of it somehow and told me to stay away.”
“Why?”
“Said the old buildings on the property weren’t safe.Could collapse any time.”
I glance at the barn.Yeah, it’s sagging, but it’s not near collapse.“That didn’t seem to bother him about any of the others.”
Falcon shrugs.“Guess not.”
“Didheever come out here?”
“Not that I saw.But…” He gestures around us.“You see those?”
At first, I don’t.Then the breeze shifts, and I catch the pale shapes around the foundation—delicate flowers blooming.
I crouch to look closer.“Moonflowers,” I murmur.
Falcon arches an eyebrow.“You know plants now?”
“App.”I hold up my phone and take a photo.The identification screen glows bright against the dirt.“They only bloom at night.Used to grow all over the southern fence line, back when Grandma was alive.She said they reminded her of home.”
They remind me of Daniela.Beautiful and soft, but dangerous if you pick too many.
Well, only the Devil’s Trumpet moonflower is dangerous.These are morning glories that only look like dangerous moonflowers.
Still…
I swallow hard.I should’ve called Daniela last night.I should’ve gone back.
Falcon kicks at a patch of gravel.“Are you going to stand there all day getting poetic, or do you want to see what’s inside?”
I gesture inside.“After you.”
He rolls his eyes.“I’m not your canary.”
But he goes first anyway.I knew he would.He’s always been the quintessential big brother.The protector to my fixer.
The door groans when we push it open.Inside, the air is thick with dust and the scent of rot.Shafts of light cut through gaps in the roof, catching on cobwebs.
“Watch your step,” Falcon mutters.“Floorboards look soft.”
He’s right.The boards bow under our weight, but they hold.
I sweep my flashlight over the space.Nothing jumps out.No drug paraphernalia.No bloodstains.Just emptiness.
“What’s this?”I ask, nodding toward the corner.
Falcon joins me.“Old fencing.Probably from when they expanded the north paddock.”
“Then why drag it all the way out here?”
He scratches the side of his head.“Because Dad was weird about storage?”
I grunt, unconvinced.
We circle the perimeter, my eyes peeled for anything that justifies Reyes’s interest.There’s an old table, a broken chair, a coil of rope hardened with age.Nothing that screamsburn this to the ground.
Falcon leans against the doorframe, watching me.“You want to tell me what this is really about?”
