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“The windows, our kitchen window faces theirs and theirs is always open when I’m standing there doing the washing up. Come on,” Fallon says, tugging my arm.
We rush around the side of the patio and sure enough, the kitchen window is open. It’s not going to be an easy fit, but only one of us needs to get through and we can unlock the door from the inside. I stare at Fallon. “Girl, what are you looking at me for? There is no way my ass is getting through that tiny gap. Suck it in and start climbing.”
I purse my lips and look back at the window. It’s probably wide enough for me to fit through, but the window itself isn’t fully open. Dammit. I kick off my shoes and walk over to it, using a chair from the patio to hoist myself up. I manage to squeeze my head through without any problems, it’s my damned booty that gets stuck. So there I am, scrambling around with my legs hanging out, trying to grip the kitchen counter to pull myself through. Fallon is laughing so hard I can’t hear myself think.
“Push me,” I cry.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, and I really wish right now I had a phone so I could film you trying to get in.”
“Fallon!” I yell.
“Okay, okay, I’m pushing.”
She uses both her hands and shoves me as hard as she can, pushing me farther in. I finally grip the counter and pull. I shoot through with such force I dart off the bench and go crashing onto the ground. I lie there for a minute, dazed and a little head spinny. Probably from the alcohol, but still. My word.
“Are you okay?” Fallon calls, but I can hear the laughter in her voice.
I huff and push to my feet. “Yes, go around the front.”
I hobble to the front door, unlocking it. Fallon bursts through, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s do this!”
I turn on the kitchen light just to make sure nothing is broken from my fall. I straighten up a few fallen cups and then I turn the light back off, just so nobody sees that we’re in here. We use a flashlight to look around, knowing where they are from our own cabin. We start in the living area, but it’s so tidy it literally looks like nobody is staying here.
“Do these two just sit in here and stare at the wall?” Fallon mutters as we walk toward the bedrooms.
“God, they must be bored,” I murmur.
We enter the first bedroom, and it’s truly hard to tell which one is which. It takes a minute, and it’s only from the boots that I know it’s Waylen’s room. He wears a particular type of boots, and there are two pairs sitting on the floor.
“God, the man has three pairs of boots.”
“Maybe he likes shoes,” I say, shrugging, but my lips are twitching with a smile.
“Weirdo. Come on, let’s go to the other room. Waylen isn’t who we’re looking at.”
We walk out of Waylen’s room and into Aaron’s. His room is messier than Waylen’s, with clothes strewn about. I flash my light around quickly, taking a good look at the floor, there is nothing but clothes here. I move the light to his bedside table, and there, sitting next to the lamp, is a cell phone.
I look to Fallon, and then I rush over and pick it up.
It’s unlocked, and clearly just a phone to communication in and out. Probably not even his personal phone. I scroll through the numbers, there are a few calls in and out. But I wouldn’t know the numbers. I go into the messages, mostly communications with Waylen and another prison guard, but there is one message there, one that catches my eye.
It was from just before we got here, and simply reads.
Don’t come here. I’ll sort it out. I don’t need you making things worse. I’ve got this.
I show the message to Fallon and her brows go up.
“Who is that from?”
“I don’t know.”
“Call it.”
“I can’t call it,” I say, shaking my head. “It could be anyone.”
She snatches the phone and dials the number. It goes straight to voicemail.
“It’s Vic. Leave a message.”
We both look at each other, and she quickly deletes the call, so it doesn’t trace back.
“That was Vic’s number. What did he and Aaron have to do with one another?” I whisper.
“Obviously something decent, because Aaron killed him.”
My brows go up. “You think Aaron pushed Vic?”
“I’m certain of it. He and Waylen walked off, nobody else had any reason to do it. Whatever business he had with Vic, he came here just to sort it out.”
“Do you think it’s about drugs?” I ask, putting the phone back exactly how I found it.
“I would guess it is, yes. Maybe Aaron isn’t as good as he’s letting on. Maybe Vic was selling for him and working here at the ranch, and something went wrong and so Aaron organized for us to come here so he could deal with it.”
