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He hesitated, as if deciding whether or not to believe me. I heard a voice in the background of his receiver say ‘Clients incoming.’
“I gotta go,” Dad said. “But be careful. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
He hung up and I was once again alone in the trailer. Or, rather, I’d been alone the whole conversation, but his voice had felt like company enough.
I threw the phone down beside the bed and snuggled under the covers. After a few moments, I picked it up and shoved it my back pocket. Just in case. My murder mystery had been too scary, even though Agatha Christie is rarely frightening so much as intriguing. I guess even the possibility of intrigue at that very moment was off-putting.
Instead, I thought, I’d take a nap. That would be calming — it’d slow my nervous system and help me catch up on some of the sleep I’d missed last night while I was getting down with a certain gentleman who now apparently hated my guts. It was all very exhausting business, and thus warranted a daytime nap.
Besides, the sooner the day was over, the sooner it’d be tomorrow, and I could leave Rough and Ready — and Carter — well in the dust. All I had to do was pass the time and try not to think about Carter’s crazy theory regarding his ex-wife.
The pillows were soft beneath my head, and smelled like Jo-Beth’s shampoo. I lay there for ten, fifteen minutes, too consumed with worries to ease into rest. At last, though, my leg stopped twitching and my eyes stopped darting and I found a modicum of peace, just enough to fall asleep.
If I’d had any dreams, I didn’t remember them, except for the vague impression that there had been visions of Carter, undressed, cooking me breakfast and laughing at the stars.
I am certain of very little regarding what happened next.
CHAPTER 25
Carter
“THANKS FOR watching him, Staten,” I said hurriedly to the vet as I took Henry’s hand in the doorway.
“You sort out your business?”
I paused, considering what kind of lie to tell him, but he added smoothly, “None of my business, of course. You do what you gotta do.”
“Thanks for your discretion,” I replied in earnest.
He shrugged. “In the army, you learn how to keep a secret.”
Henry gave Staten one last hug, and then we walked to the car. I wanted to speed us up, but I also didn’t want to frighten Henry. Luckily, his mother had left before he was old enough to remember her. He was also the only homeschooled kid in Rough and Ready, so I think he didn’t find it all that unusual that he only had a father — he didn’t know any differently. Even the TV and movies he watched — very rarely, for what it’s worth — didn’t nudge him to ask about his absent parent. All this to say, he had no idea who Meghan was, and I fully intended to keep it that way.
We got in the truck and I immediately began to drive in the direction of the sheriff’s office. It was out of Rough and Ready by about five miles, so it wouldn’t take me too long to get there. I figured that it was time to ask for professional protection. Staten was helpful, but I needed somebody who had the law on their side, should it come to that.
I stared ahead, pushing the pedal down ever further, fiddling with the radio knob as I tried to find music that would keep my heart rate in check, maybe distract me even for a brief moment.
The sky was blue, but clouds curled on the horizon. Odd — it wasn’t the right kind of weather for those clouds, and the air in my nose suggested that rain wasn’t coming any time soon. So why then—
I squinted, and then my eyes widened as I realized they weren’t clouds.
It was smoke.
And it was coming from the direction of my house.
In a single flicker of breath, I threw my arm over Henry’s chest and began to drive like a bat out of hell.
“Daddy, why are we going so fast?” Henry asked, not upset but merely curious.
“No reason,” I replied. My voice was shaking, and it betrayed me.
“You’re scared.”
My foot pressed the pedal to the floor. “It’s just an emergency.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s—” I didn’t have the concentration to explain. I was too busy watching the smoke. “It just means we need to move fast.”
And that we did. I forced the old truck to go faster than it had likely ever gone, and it whined in response. This might be the last journey the truck ever made, and if that was the case, so be it. I had to get back to my house.
Phoebe.
Oh my God.
I realized with an abrupt, earth-shattering horror that there was every chance Phoebe was in the house, or at least in the Airstream. She hadn’t seemed like she was going to leave that morning as I’d begged her to. Where else would she be, if not there?
