Page 58

Huh.

“You can use the landline to call her, if you’d like.”

I keep my eyes to the floor. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

She grabs her purse and pauses. “Okay. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

The garage door opens, then shuts, and a few minutes later, I’m alone again with my thoughts and a blinking camera facing me from outside the bay windows. “Bitch,” I mutter. She put a camera up facing inside the house to make sure I can’t leave.

I keep my eyes diverted and pretend not to notice, and eventually make my way back to my bedroom, which faces the east side of our property on the ground floor.

My mom hid the knives…and I can’t say I blame her after what I did last night. But I don’t need a knife for what I’m about to do. I have my methods—as archaic and desperate as they are.

During high school, I often slipped out secretly at night past curfew, coming back unnoticed. The memory comes swirling back. Images of Nick picking me up in that blue truck down the road.

My heart whimpers at the sudden memory.

On my way to my room, I pick up scissors in the office. Once in my room, I throw on a pair of leggings, a warm sweater, and a pair of old boots, then I fuss with my hair to make sure I’m presentable. And just like I did when I was a teenager, I open my window and cut along the side of the screen and slide my slim body out of it.

I step outside, my boots crunching on the snow, and head toward my neighbors’ property before ducking into the trees. I make my way into town, praying that Sarah Crawley will still be waiting for me. I carry on, freezing mid-step as a little red dot emerges on the snow. A shiver runs down my spine. The wind changes, my vision blurs, I blink, and it’s gone.

A smile forms on my face as his eyes burn into me. He’s still here…

If he were going to kill me or my mom, he’d do it by now. He’s waiting for something. So now is the best time to find out everything I can about Nick Cross. It’s time to expose the Archer.

I’ve never been inside the Lighthouse Pub. It’s certainly not an establishment the Ashby family ever frequented. Sarah Crawley, however, is a regular, and this is the bar where she ended up hospitalizing a man and getting her badge suspended.

I push my way inside, my feet sticking to the floor. Stale beer and liquor assault my nose, and a few folks lift their heads as I walk in, only to lower them again, paying me no mind. I kind of like it. It makes me invisible in a way that matters.

To the left, older bikers are playing pool. One of them stares at me for a few extra seconds as I walk by, but any flicker of recognition quickly burns out. The bar is packed with people drowning their sorrows. A heavy atmosphere hangs in the air as I head to the bar.

I slide onto the bar stool, scraping it across the steel floor next to an older gentleman who can barely keep his head up, swaying precariously. He lifts his tankard of beer and gives me a toothless smile. I order a vodka soda and slurp that down. I order another and remember I have zero fucking money to pay for these drinks.

The seconds tick by, and an eerie quiet settles around me. I was certain she’d be here, but Sarah Crawley is nowhere to be seen. My plan has failed. Nothing seems right anymore. This bar, this town, and my sanity. Bit by bit I’m losing control. A few more eyes slice into me, and one biker walks over to me.

As I duck my head, Sarah Crawley slides next to me, intercepting him. “Hey, kid.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as she faces forward with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her shoulders are hunched up, as if she also doesn’t want to draw attention. The man approaching us takes a step back. She has a reputation here as well. She’s probably arrested half the people in this place, then got arrested herself. “I’ll have what she’s having,” she says to the bartender as he approaches us.

I exhale, my body relaxing. Her presence calms me, and at least I have one person who is on my side. The bartender slides one more highball down the wood, and Sarah takes a long sip. Misery loves company, I guess.

“If Beth knew you were in town, she would flip out. Regina would too. They don’t want me near you.”

She tilts her head back and slams her drink, flicking the straw to the floor, then waves for the bartender to bring her another. “Where else would I be? This is my home too, kid. Beth doesn’t own this town.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, she kind of does.”

Her expression tightens. “I have unfinished business here. I’m not leaving, kid. They will have to pry me out of here.”

I let out an exasperated breath. “It’s good to see you.”

The bartender sets down another drink. “It’s good to see you, but you look like shit.” Why does everyone keep saying that?

I sigh, biting my lip as the strange biker guy keeps eyeing us, chatting to his buddies. “I can’t be here long. What did you find out about Nick?”

She sips her drink, the ice clinking as she swirls it. “He’s not the one following you,” she says.

My stomach sinks, and I ball my fists, digging my nails into my palm. “You’re wrong.”