“Aren’t you supposed to be in a mirror somewhere?” I headed back to the garage. Silas followed.
“Yes, but it is rather boring in there. Are we telling Maggie we are returning? I do bet the gal has missed me.”
“God, don’t you have anything better to do than linger?”
“What’s better than helping my new nephew plan for his return to the family?”
I stopped mid-stride. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, you know she’ll take you back, dear boy. She must.”
“No” I hefted another box into the truck. “I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
Silas chuffed. “Well, then it’s a good thing she’s not you.”
“Get in the damn mirror. We’ve got a long drive, and I don’t have time for this.” I pulled it out of my pocket and opened it toward him.
“Fine. But do let me out before we hit the Mississippi. I want to experience it properly this time, instead of crammed between two seat cushions.”
He flew into the mirror with such force I felt the heat in my palm. I snapped it shut and tucked it back in my pocket.
After I had the truck loaded, I hooked it to the trailer and got both the Shelby and the Harley secured. As hard as it was going to be to say goodbye, I wasn’t spending one more night than I had to in Colorado.
As I backed down the driveway the next morning, Holly stood in front of the garage door, arms folded, watching me like she’d know if I hesitated. I didn’t give her any more than a simple nod and pulled away.
I wasn’t looking forward to this. I could either stay in Colorado and relive my worst nightmare day after day, or attempt a life in Port Grey with the only woman who’d made me feel anything at all.
The low drone of the truck had become the calm that kept me here… in the present. The mountains gave way to open space. It was the kind of space that didn’t do well with my mind. It let it wander, trace the paths back to that night. But now there was another layer of guilt added to it.
Maggie.
Her kidnapping and Bec and Wren’s had meshed together in my mindwithout my permission. They overlapped. The same emotions, flooding in, dragging up things that had no business seeing daylight.
A semi blew past, shaking the truck. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and checked the trailer in the rearview mirror. Images kept hitting me—Maggie’s laugh, her bare shoulders, the way she looked in the videos, the sounds she made, but then the image of Derek and her on the porch swing snapped me back into reality and almost off the goddamn road.
I shuddered.
Night fell; I kept driving. I could be there in a day or two if I drove straight through.
The headlights cut through the dark. I’d let Silas out of the mirror when we got out of town. As much as I hated to admit it, I was glad I wasn’t alone—even if the crusty old bugger wouldn’t stop telling his tales from his glory days.
Gas stations blurred, neon lights faded into one another. My eyes grew heavy as we crossed the Mississippi, so I pulled into a station before I drove myself into a ditch.
The TV over the coffee counter played a local news segment. I took a sip carefully while listening. The sound was low, but I caught enough—another body found at a pier, left by none other than what East Coast authorities were calling The Pretty Girl Killer. Coffee nearly shot from my mouth. The picture on the screen was blurred, but there was no mistaking that beautiful blonde hair.
I pulled out my phone and frantically dialed Derek.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” he said, voice filled with sleep. “It’s like 4 o’clock in the morning.”
I spoke low and quiet into the phone. “Maggie’s okay… right?”
“Yeah? I mean I haven’t talked to her today because she’s a normal person and is… sleeping… Why?”
“Apparently, there’s someone called The Pretty Girl Killer? I just saw a news report. I just need to know she’s okay.”
“Dude, you’ve got her number. Call her.”
He was right. He always was. There was no time for high school drama.
