Rough & Ready

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Rough & Ready Page 16

by Pratt, Lulu


  Meghan rolled over so that her back was on the truck’s lip, her arms hanging behind her, head staring back at me. An inverted Jesus on the cross, I thought grimly. Satanic.

  “And of course, the moment you got out—”

  “I came here. Yup. Just to see you and my beloved little boy.”

  “Do you even remember his name?” I said through a choked laugh.

  “Henry, obviously.”

  “And his middle one?”

  Her eyes, gazing at me from upside down, looked askance. “Middle names aren’t important.”

  Yeah, that figured. Though it didn’t surprise me, I still found the truth painful to swallow. Henry’s own mother didn’t remember his middle name, and not because she had memory loss — truly just because she didn’t care.

  “How’d you find me?”

  This was probably the only important question, because it’d help me figure out how to never be found again. Because, now that I knew she was here, the likelihood that I would need to run was becoming ever higher.

  In a quick movement, she flipped back over and hopped out of the cab of the truck so that she was standing before me. Meghan was just over five feet tall, a tiny figure who was deceptively strong. I knew because I’d experienced the velocity of glasses she’d thrown at my head. She was wearing a ripped tank top and yoga pants, which didn’t strike me as a particularly terrifying outfit. It was weird, after all this time, to know how fucking evil she was, and to still see the same meager looking woman before me. It was as though the world around me refused to align with my brain.

  “I’m getting bored of fifty questions,” she sighed, strutting up to me. I took two steps back. “But I’ll answer if you stand still.”

  Shit. I didn’t want to let Meghan get any closer to me, but I also couldn’t afford to repeat my mistakes.

  “Fine,” I agreed, standing my ground.

  Meghan, as anticipated, moved closer to me, getting as much in my face as she could from so far below.

  “Carter,” she breathed, her words scented like fresh, biting peppermint. “It’s been so long.”

  “Answer the question.” I wondered if she could even understand the order through my gritted teeth.

  “Buzzkill.” She rolled her eyes and puffed her cheeks up into large balloons before expelling air. “Simple. You registered Henry for some online program, like to get school workbooks or something. I guess you didn’t realize that it made your town public, at least to anyone on the same site. You always were so bad with the internet. I’d made a couple of friends on the inside who knew some people on the outside who didn’t like hearing that a mother was separated from her little boy. Anyway, it said you were in Rough and Ready, I figured out which one, and when I came into town, locals gave me directions. It didn’t take me much more than thirty minutes of hard work to find you.”

  How had I been so stupid? Meghan was right, of course — I was a mess when it came to working the web. I tried to be as thorough as possible, but there was a limit. And, in my defense, I hadn’t realized that the online schooling site I’d downloaded the pages from had some kind of social media component that would make things available to others. But the reality didn’t stop me from kicking myself. I’d been trying to help my son’s education, and instead, I’d put him in grave danger. Some father I was.

  “Listen, Carter,” she said, staring me directly in the eye with a cold, dead stare. “I’ll keep it short. I’m out, so we’re a family again. I want you back, I want my son back, I want our whole cute little bitchy life back. M’kay?”

  “No.”

  She shivered with excitement. “Ooooh, I thought you might say that. Yay! So much more fun.”

  Meghan arched her head further up at me. In any other scenario, it’d look ridiculous, but coming from her, it was frightening.

  “If you don’t take me back, lovey, I’m gonna ‘accidentally’ set your house on fire again. You know I know how to get in there,” she added with a wink.

  “So that was you with the match.”

  Her mouth dropped. “Fuck, was it too subtle? Or are you just slow? Either way, yes, it was me. Oh, oops, additionally, I saw you with that little girl last night, looking all romantic and shit. I’ll burn her too, just for kicks. I don’t really care if you fuck anyone else, but I wouldn’t mind hurting you, not after everything you’ve put me through.”

  “You mean what you put yourself through,” I spat. “I didn’t set the house on fire.”

  “Proverbially, you did!” she shrieked. “If you’d loved me more, I wouldn’t have had to.”

  She was still out of her goddamn mind. Or rather, still clear-headed and manipulative. Classic. It was, in some small way, reassuring to know that she hadn’t changed. At least I knew this version of Meghan, could predict some of her patterns. It’s easier to face a known evil.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I said, “Get out of town or I call the police.”

  “And then what? Say I left a match? You have no proof.”

  She was right, and I knew it. Get Henry, my heart told me. And get the fuck out of town.

  We needed to run. Again. Better to get a head start on it. I looked around, and saw that Meghan clearly didn’t have a car – she must’ve hitched a ride. If I moved fast, I could outpace her.

  I bolted to my truck.

  “Where are you going?” she called out, her voice singsong even at that volume.

  I didn’t answer.

  “See you later, lover boy.”

  Instead, I got into my truck and drove like hell.

  CHAPTER 24

  Phoebe

  WE HADN’T even been in bed an hour when Jo-Beth set her book down and said, “Phoebe, I’m hungry and I need to go for a walk. I’m heading over to Miss Keller’s for a bite to eat and do some work on my computer.”

  “But…” My voice was whiny, but only because I didn’t know how else to capture the urgency of this.

  “I know, but I’ve got shit to do. And I believe you that you think there’s some kind of weird, dangerous situation going on, but I’m feeling guilty about how behind on my work I am, especially with school so close around the corner. Come with me, we’ll have fun.”

  Fuck. She’d promised! I didn’t blame her for wanting to leave — being trapped in a tiny trailer all day is miserable – cramped, hot, and boring. Plus, she’d been diligently prepping for this school year all trip. It’s not like I didn’t know she was taking it seriously.

  But come on. Couldn’t she just this once go on blind faith and trust me that something very wrong was afoot?

  “You have to stay,” I begged.

  She took my face between her hands, cradling it reassuringly. “Phoebe, I believe that you believe that there’s a danger out there. And if you want to stay in here, that’s fine. I just know I can handle myself, so I’m comfortable going outside. Okay?”

  I wanted so badly to tell her the true story, but I couldn’t. Instead, I gripped her forearm for dear life and said:

  “Please. You said you wanted to spend the day with me.”

  “I’m sorry, Phoebe, but I can’t be trapped by your anxiety and paranoia. That’s your stuff to deal with. I want to support you, but if I fall behind on this work, I’ll be a useless mess.”

  “I can’t make you stay,” I whispered.

  “Atta girl. I’ll be back later.”

  She grabbed her stuff from beside the bed and then walked out, whistling as she went.

  I inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, thinking about my options.

  Well, in fairness, if Meghan was real — and I had no evidence that she was — but if she was, there’s no reason she’d go after Jo-Beth. No way. There was no reason she’d really go after me, for that matter, especially not if Carter hated me as much as he’d implied. Both Jo-Beth and I were probably safe.

  And yet, a little thought in the back of my head warned me against false confidence.

  I got up and bolted the door, then un
bolted it and rebolted it. After making sure it was locked as tightly as possible, I got back into bed, under the covers. When I was little, I was convinced that nothing bad could happen while you were in bed, that there was an electric lake around my mattress and if a monster came near, it got zapped. Apparently, not much had changed.

  As I tried to keep my leg from bouncing up and down on the top sheet, my mind went reluctantly to Carter.

  God, I was spitting fucking mad at him. I put a curse on his name. I wished the heavens would open up and smite him.

  And yet, in the same breath, I wished desperately that he were there right about now, holding me and murmuring that everything would be all right. As long as he was there, maybe it could be. Despite all that had passed between us, I knew that he would keep me safe.

  You don’t need his help, I thought to myself, angry at his rejection. You’re strong all on your own.

  That was true enough, but it’s exhausting be strong and brave for yourself constantly. Sometimes, you want another person to lighten the load.

  The trip had been a bad idea, I decided. This had been completely foolish. If I’d never gone on this trip, I wouldn’t be locked in a trailer, fearing the wrath of a deranged convict. There’s no sense in thinking like that, I told myself. What was I supposed to do, put my life on hold until the world was a safer place? Because that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

  Anxiety skipped through my body like an infection, igniting and overloading my senses. I pulled out my phone for the first time in Rough and Ready. I rarely used the thing for calls, and since there was no internet in town, there hadn’t been much point in playing with it. But now I needed outside reassurance that I was not, in fact, losing my marbles. And I knew just the man for the job.

  The phone rang twice, and he picked up on the third ring.

  “Dad?”

  “Sunshine, what’s up?”

  The old nickname was reassuring. I felt my heartbeat slow.

  “Just thought I’d call.”

  “Oh! Well, nice to hear from you. How’s the trip going?”

  My anxiety was surmounted by the need to keep my dad from thinking I was in trouble. If he got even a whiff of danger, he’d be on the first plane out.

  “It’s nice. Jo-Beth’s doing well. We’re in a small town in California.” I glossed over the fact that our car had broken down, amongst other things — like I said, no need to worry him.

  “Sounds fun! Glad you’re having a good time. If there’s nothing urgent, dear, I do have to get back to work. We’ve got a big project coming up, and I don’t want to fall behind.”

  I nodded as though he could see me, then, realizing my error, said into the phone, “Right, yeah, of course.”

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, sounding worried. “You haven’t called much this trip. At all, really.”

  “Daaaad.”

  “What, I’m not trying to guilt you, I’m just a nervous old man who wants his little girl to get home safe.”

  That made me choke up, but I swallowed the truth. After all, I couldn’t leave here any faster. The soonest he or my mom could get to Rough and Ready would probably be tomorrow, with flights and renting a car and such. Though I suddenly and desperately wanted my parents to come take me far away, I knew that it was out of the question. I had to grow up, and deal with this myself.

  “I’m fine, Dad. I’ll be back in home before you know it. First San Diego, then you and Mom, and then school. It’ll be great.”

  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?

  Shitshitshitshit. I’d dragged her into this, me and me alone, and now Meghan was on the prowl. I knew she’d light a house on fire, and I knew she had threatened Phoebe, but somehow, my stupid, slow brain hadn’t put the two together.

  I growled through my clamped jaw and drove faster, the speedometer clicking past one-twenty.

  “Whee!” Henry cried, my arm still glued to his chest, pressing down for dear life.

  We rounded the final street corner, and it was with absolute horror that I realized I had been wrong. It wasn’t the house that was on fire.

  It was the Airstream.

  Meghan had come for Phoebe.

  I screeched the truck to the stop a hundred feet from the house, my arm the only thing that prevented Henry from flying through the window.

  “Stay in here!” I shouted to Henry as I threw open the door and jumped out. “Do not move, son!”

  With that, I took off running to the Airstream, my feet hitting the pavement faster than I knew was possible.

  Phoebe was in danger. It was my fault. I had ruined everything. The only person I’d cared about since Henry came into my life was going to die. If I died running into that fire, it would be what a worthless man like me deserved.

  In less than twenty seconds, I was at the door of the Airstream. The trailer was engulfed in flames, red licking the silver off its sides. It looked like hell had dropped a present right on my doorstep. Or rather, Satan herself. Everything was about to burn.

  I tried the door handle. It was screaming hot the touch, and scarred my flesh.

  I’ll have to break it down, I realized.

  I laid my shoulder against the door, took a deep breath, which was shot through with smoke, then rammed it in.

  It didn’t move.

  I tried again. Nothing.

  I hesitated, despairing as the fire roared around me, determined to destroy everything in its path. It was now or never. If I couldn’t break down the door, every ounce of Phoebe’s blood would be on my hands. I didn’t hear her screaming, but I knew that if the trailer was on fire, Meghan hadn’t done it on accident. She was thorough — Phoebe was inside, and she needed me.

 

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