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“Be careful.” I walk to a desk in the corner, where a few of the drawers are open and the contents spilled out. It looks like someone was searching for something.
An old photo album is open on top, and stepping closer, I see it has newspaper clippings mixed with photographs.
“The Great Stantini?” I read the headline softly.
Curious, I take a closer look, and I see faces I barely recognize in a few of the pictures. Tapping the light on my phone, I get closer. It’s Gwen and her husband, taken years ago.
Lifting the thin newsprint, I read, “Escape Artist Roswell Accuses Bailey of Theft.” The next reads, “Roswell Vows Revenge,” and another, smaller article reads, “Psychic community abuzz in the wake of Bailey drowning.”
I’m about to call Britt inside when I slide the album off the desk and a letter falls to the floor. Picking it up, my eyes scan the longhand quickly. It’s written to Gary, and the signature tightens my throat.
It’s from Gwen.
I know you want to stay off the grid, but you don’t have a choice now…
It’s the closest I’ve ever been to catching him. Don’t let him get away with all he’s done, even to you. Let’s set the record straight…
Stay strong, Gary. We’re so close. This time we’ll expose him…
I’ve spoken to my daughter, and she won’t say anything until I tell her.
My lungs grow tighter the more I read, the anger in my chest intensifying with every word. I’ve only felt this sensation once before, sitting in the closet of my bedroom, looking at page after page of my wife’s betrayal.
When I get to the final sentence, I’m at maximum rage.
Footsteps thump on the wooden floors behind me, and Britt’s bright voice enters the room.
“Sure enough, I found them! The same ATV tire tracks are all over the place out there, and even narrower ones that might belong to a trailer. The only problem is, it’s gone. There’s not a single vehicle out there. That’s weird, right?”
She walks over to where I’m standing, holding her camera for me to see. My jaw is tight, and I can’t look at her for fear I might grab her by the shoulders and shake her. She hid this from me. What else is she hiding?
Grinding my jaw to stay silent, I lift my phone to take my own photos of the scene on the desk. I slide the letter into my pocket, then I turn for the door.
“Let’s go.” My voice is rough. “We’ve got another stop to make.”
CHAPTER22
BRITT
“Did you find something in the cabin?” My voice is small in the large truck.
Aiden doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at me. His brow is lowered, and the muscle in his jaw moves back and forth. He hasn’t said a word since we got on the road, and the knots in my stomach are making me sick.
The radio is off, but the windows are cracked and the wind roars around them intensifying my anxiety. We’re headed back to town much faster than when we left. It’s possible we might be speeding, but I don’t know why.
I hold my camera in my lap to keep my fingers from twisting. I feel so small, like I felt when I was young and afraid, and I had no one to hold my hand. I’m in that place again, and I don’t know why or how to stop it.
We were so happy this morning. I was relieved we had our guy—I didn’t need my mother anymore. Now we could put all our attention on why Gary was burglarizing the town and how he died, whether at his own hand or the hand of an accomplice. I was convinced we’d find our answers at his house.
I should’ve known it would never be that simple.
We’re driving through town, and when we pass the courthouse, I look to Aiden again. “Where are we going?”
Again, no answer, and the knot twists tighter in my gut. Angry Aiden is scary as fuck, and as we drive past town, out to the neighborhood I know so well, my fear intensifies.
He pulls into my mother’s driveway and slams the truck into park before killing the engine and getting out. The door closes, and this time, he doesn’t come around to my side. He walks right up to the front porch without waiting.
Grabbing the handle, I slide out of the seat and hurry to catch up. I’m having trouble filling my lungs with air, and by the time I reach him, he has already knocked on the door once.
