by Jo Raven
I mean, a wedding proposal is the thing you’d expect after finding the love of your life. A celebration of love.
“Tyler,” Erin says, “likes things in order. His OCD is much better now, but it’ll never go completely away. And that’s okay. When I arrange his socks by color and make sure all book spines face one way, it’s worth it, seeing him relaxed. So he had apparently organized everything when he decided to propose. He’d reserved a table at my favorite restaurant, had arranged for a band to play the Star Wars theme as background and bought me a silver engagement ring with the Millennium Falcon.”
I blink. “The what?”
“Seriously? Star Wars theme?” Audrey gapes.
“He knows I love my sci-fi movies.” Erin grins. “He had it all organized, from the food and drinks to the clothes he would wear, the works. My guy doesn’t like surprises. I had no idea about all this. And then… I showed him the positive pregnancy test. You should have seen his face.”
“Oh no,” Megan snickers.
“He just stared at it for the longest moment, then he knelt down and proposed. Just like that. He said, ‘Marry me?’ And of course I said yes.”
“What happened to the ring?” Audrey asks.
“He gave it to me. I wear it sometimes.”
“It’s funny,” Megan says. “Never thought I’d care about it, but there’s something about seeing the man you love on his knees, asking you to be his.”
Yeah. I kick at a pebble. That’s so… romantic. And I hate how I sound in my head. So… wistful.
Why am I wistful? It’s not like Dylan doesn’t do romantic stuff with me. When his brothers stay with our friends, he takes me out to nice restaurants and the movies. He buys me flowers for my birthday, or for our anniversaries.
He remembers them all, unlike me. When we first met. When we first kissed. When we got back together. When I moved in with him.
When I told him I loved him.
“I could swear Dylan wants to propose to you,” Audrey says, a twinkle in her eye. “And make lots of squirmy babies with you.”
“Nah, we don’t want that. Not ready yet.”
“Nothing wrong with wanting a career first,” Megan says. “Babies take lots of time. And besides, there are Dylan’s brothers. Must feel like a family already.”
It does.
We’re fine as we are. It’s true. So why obsess, why stress Dylan with that? We’re young. There’s plenty of time to think about this later on.
I’m not going to think about this any longer.
I’m not. Seriously.
Ugh.
And did you know, denial is not just a river in Egypt.
***
“Hey, Tess!” Miles is running toward me. It’s growing late, time for lunch, and we’re getting ready to leave. “What do you call a group of kids?”
“No clue. What do you call it?”
“A migraine.”
I laugh. “Did you think that one up?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. I think I read it somewhere.”
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” He shades his eyes, gazing at where Erin and Audrey are gathering the kids while I watch over the babies in their strollers. “Do you want to marry Dylan and have babies with him?”
I freeze. Am I so easy to read? “Can I plead the Fifth?”
He shrugs. “You can. But I heard you talking with your friends. You told them you don’t want it. Is it true?”
“I didn’t say that. I said we don’t want it, not yet.”
“And are you sure? That he doesn’t?”
I open my mouth and forget to close it. Huh.
No, I am positive.
Okay, pretty sure.
I mean, I’ve argued with myself plenty of times that it’s for Dylan’s own good.
So I’m certain. -ish.
Oh God, I don’t know.
“Tess?” He’s peering at me from a face that looks so much like Dylan’s it’s crazy. “Do you want it or not?”
“I do,” I blurt out. “I love your brother so much. And you guys, too.”
“Good to know,” he mutters and saunters away to join Jax and Teo.
What was that all about?
Chapter Twenty
Dylan
Finding the old oak tree in Wausau wasn’t hard. Rafe had saved the coordinates in his GPS, and now we’re cruising down the street, looking for the house Zane described.
Tension is thrumming inside the car. The silence is so thick I can taste it on the back of my tongue. Sharp. Bitter. Cold.
It tastes of fear. Zane’s, or ours, impossible to pull apart. To pull us apart. We’re one, and we stare out of the car, our hearts thumping in unison, racing as a white house comes in sight and Zane thumps his fist on the window.
“This,” he rasps. “This one.”
Rafe steps on the brake and parks the car. We all stare.
White house, check—though it’s brown in spots. Humidity? A maple tree in the yard, check. Double garage in the front, tiled roof, and…
“You sure it’s this one?” Tyler is sitting in the front today and he’s staring around Rafe’s head at the house. “You said the door was blue.”
“You took notes, fucker?”
“What if I did?”
Zane gives a quiet snicker. Maybe it’s a snicker. I’m not sure.
Then a violent shudder goes through him, and I put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here with you, Z-man.”
He nods, not looking at me.
The door is brown, and the lawn is trimmed, gray shades hanging behind the windows. There’s a rolled-up newspaper or commercial leaflet thrown on the porch.
Someone lives here.
We climb out of the car and approach. Even from here I can see the brass knocker—a lion’s head, just like Zane described it.
He’s standing stiffly on the sidewalk, looking as if he won’t take another step. But he does, squaring his shoulders, lifting his chin.
It’s a battle, obvious in his every movement.
And then Rafe and Tyler flank him, Asher and myself falling in step behind them. It’s a battle, and we’re with him.
One team. One Brotherhood. Whatever comes next.
It’s Zane who climbs up the steps and knocks the brass lion’s head. The sound booms in the quiet. It’s the hush of all of us holding our breaths, waiting.
After a moment, the lock turns and the door opens.
Boards creak under an old man’s slippers. He gazes back at us through thick glasses. His beard is white, his hair a faded gray, and his clothes are shabby. On a scale from one to ten where one is harmless and ten is a serial killer, this guy is a minus two.
He squints at Zane. “What d’ya want?”
Zane grunts.
“Is this Kenneth Shaw?” Rafe asks.
“That’s not him,” Zane grinds out.
“Damn right it’s not me.” The old guy lifts a trembling hand, pointing at Rafe. “D’you know him?”
“I do,” Zane says, his voice hoarse.
The old man turns toward him. “He doesn’t live here anymore. Moved away a few years ago.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“Some place or other. Madison I think it was.”
“Oh fuck,” Zane breathes, and Rafe makes a grab for his arm, steadying him.
Holy shit. I move around Tyler, catch a glimpse of a white-faced Zane, and get a good look at the old man. He seems mildly annoyed, and curious.
“This your house?” I ask.
“I’m a tenant, like he was. Matter of fact, there was another tenant came after him, Lindy Brooks, and then myself. But the owner, Ms. Evans, told me about him. Ms. Evans, she likes to talk.”
“What did she tell you?”
“Told me about the state the house was in when that guy left. The floors were rotten. The kitchen crusted with trash. Heaps of trash everywhere. And the attic…”
“What about the attic?” Tyler asks, sounding
deceptively calm.
“Blood. Blood stains everywhere, and old mattresses. God knows what he’d used them for. Filth. Stench like he kept animals up there. Had to bring in a cleaning team to scrub the floors. Burned the mattresses. Sometimes I think the stench lingers.”
Zane groans. He pushes off Rafe and stumbles down the steps, heading toward the car.
Halfway there, he falls to his knees and pukes.
Son of a bitch. My fists are curling into fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. Dimly I watch Asher hurry down the steps and lift Zane up.
If ever there was evidence of anything wrong happening in that attic, it’s now long gone.
“Could we talk to Ms. Evans?” Tyler pulls out his phone. “This is an important matter. We need to locate this Kenneth Shaw.”
The old man gives us a suspicious look. “I shouldn’t just hand out her phone number to strangers.”
“That blood in the attic? It might have been human,” Tyler says, his voice cold. “We think he’s a dangerous man, walking the streets free and maybe hurting more people as we speak. Wanna have that on your conscience?”
The man mumbles something under his breath, then sighs. “Let me get you her number.”
We wait impatiently. I think none of us want to linger any longer than we have to at Zane’s little piece of hell on earth. No matter the details, the big picture is already clear, clear and yet dark like midnight.
***
I call Ms. Evans as we sit in the car. I’ve taken the passenger seat, leaving Asher and Tyler with Zane in the back. Their low voices as they talk to Zane, trying to get a reaction apart from “fuck off” from him, turn into background noise when the call connects.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Ms. Evans? I got your number from your tenant here in Wausau.” And dammit, I don’t even know his name.
“Is it about the house? I’m afraid Mr. Thompson has a lease, and he’s a good tenant. I can’t end it.”
“I’m more interested in a previous tenant. Kenneth Shaw.” I hear her huff and forge on. “Please don’t hang up. I need to find him. It’s important. He, uh, he owes me money, and I—”
She laughs, a dry, sarcastic bark. “Good luck with that. That man, he’s a real piece of work.”
I glance at Rafe who’s watching me intently, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “Oh? What did he do?”
“At first he seemed like a good tenant. Paid his rent on time, mowed the lawn, fixed the fences. He fostered children, too. He looked like a real nice guy, you know? But then he let everything fall in disrepair, was late in paying the rent, and kept bringing this other man over. Totally unacceptable, and the neighbors complained of noise, and…”
“And what?” I press when she doesn’t continue.
“And screams,” she says quietly. “I don’t know why I am telling you all this. What’s your name?”
“Dylan,” I say. “Dylan Hayes.”
“Mr. Hayes. I don’t want any trouble. I asked him to leave, and ended the lease the moment it became possible. I haven’t seen him since.”
“The man fostered kids. The neighbors heard screams. But you didn’t think to report that?”
“I said I didn’t want trouble,” she replies stiffly, and damn, way to go, Dylan, putting her on the defensive already. “Good day, Mr. Hayes.”
“Wait! Please.” I grip the dashboard. “Where can I find this guy? Please, Ms. Evans.”
“I don’t know where he is. Not like I keep in contact with old tenants.”
“Anything to help me find him? Did he say where he was going? Do you know…?” A flash of inspiration. “Do you know what car he has?”
“He had a white sedan, with a scratch on the side. And he said he’d moved to Madison. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Thank you, that’s—”
She’s hung up already.
But that’s okay. I’m in a fucking daze as I lower the phone from my ear and turn to the others. “Our guy is in Madison. He drives a white sedan with a scratch in the side. We gotta find him ASAP.”
Before he hurts any more kids. I don’t say it, but the horrified looks I receive from the guys tell me they’re thinking the same.
Shit just got real.
***
“He raped kids,” I whisper-shout at Rafe as we sit in Zane’s and Dakota’s living room. “He raped Zane, and beat him, cut him up, and burned him with cigarette—”
“I know, okay? I fucking know what he remembers, what his back looks like. But we still don’t have any goddamn proof of anything connecting this Kenneth to any of it.”
“The neighbors heard screams.”
“It was many years ago, man.” Rafe sounds tired. “Who knows if the neighbor who reported it is even alive anymore? If he or she would repeat that report? If it was even true. If Ms. Evans isn’t confusing things. It means fucking nothing. We’ve got nothing.”
“We need to find the guy.”
“And what? Arrest him?”
“Fuck.” I rub the top of my head. “And if Zane files a report anyway? We could tell them about this Tyrell boy who vanished, too.”
“We could.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
Something Ms. Evans said is nagging at me. “Kenneth used to bring another guy over. His lover? His accomplice? Why didn’t we know about him before?”
“I told you there was another guy,” Zane says from the doorway and I flinch. He looks like hell warmed over, and still he looks better than he did in the car on the drive back from Wausau. “He wasn’t always there.”
Asher is right beside him, and clearly trying to hide the fact he’s hovering. “Who was he?”
“I don’t remember him so well.” Zane walks into the living room and takes a seat on the sofa. “His name was Emerett.”
“First name, surname?”
He shrugs. “No fucking clue. That’s what Ken called him. I think… I think he was there when Ken burned my back.”
Cursing, I turn my back to him, trying to get my anger under control before I start kicking at the furniture. “Motherfucker.”
“Anything else you remember about this Emerett?”
“Nada. Not even his face.” Zane is glaring at the far wall when I turn back around, his dark eyes blazing in his white face. “Can’t say I fucking miss him.”
I grab my laptop from where I left it by the door and put it in front of Zane. “Z-man, need you to look through the pictures, see if you recognize any of them.” I open the folder and show him the pics I downloaded. “These guys live in the wider Madison area and are named Kenneth Shaw.”
“All these? The fuck.” Zane’s hand shakes as he starts passing them.
“I know. One of them could be the fucking son of a bitch, so take a good long look, man.”
We sit around, brooding. Tessa calls to tell me they’re on their way back. I let out a breath after we disconnect, staring at my phone. Adrenaline is pumping through my system, and it has nowhere to go. We’re sitting here, unable to do a thing, not knowing which way to go.
“Can’t we find this Kenneth with his license plate?” Tyler mutters.
“We don’t have the whole plate,” I remind him. “Only three numbers. It’s not enough for the databases.”
“So we go back to Walmart and keep watch. Sooner or later he’ll go back, right?”
“Who the hell knows? He might.”
“Dylan.” I glance around to where Zane’s face is illuminated by the laptop screen. “He’s not in here.”
Fuck. My stomach drops. “You damn sure, man?”
“What do you think?” His mouth twists. “I just don’t recognize these faces.”
I walk over to him, take the laptop from his hands. “What about… this one?” The guy lives not far from the Walmart Supercenter, where Zane thought he saw his car. He’s sporting a dark beard and hair.
“Nope. Sorry, fucker.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” I mock-punch Zan
e’s shoulder, force a grin on my face, and slam the laptop shut, trying to think of alternatives. “The pictures aren’t correctly matched half the time anyway, but it was worth a shot.”
I’d been holding out hope, though, dammit.
“I’ll take first watch at Walmart,” Rafe says. “We’ll find this asshole.”
Damn, but I don’t have any other ideas to put on the table right now. “I’ll take the one after.”
And hope our luck turns.
***
“So that’s really the house? You found it?” Tessa’s eyes are round as I recount what happened today over a cup of strong coffee in our kitchen.
The sun has dropped beyond the buildings, and the only light comes from a lamp over the counter, bathing her pretty face in gold.
“It looks like it. I admit I wasn’t sure at first, but Zane’s memories seem pretty damn accurate so far.”
“I’d been hoping the bad things hadn’t happened,” she says softly.
I take her hand and draw her to me. “I know, Princess. I know.”
“If anything like this had happened to the kids, or to you—”
“But it hasn’t. And although all this is tough, we’re slowly getting somewhere.”
I fucking hope so, anyway.
“We should report what we know to the police. Even if they can’t do a thing about it. You never know. And that kid… that Tyrell. We need to know what happened to him.”
“You’re right. Nothing to lose by trying.” I haul her closer, kiss her. “You doing okay?”
She nods, her lips whispering on my cheek before she pulls away. “Yeah. It was nice seeing the kids today, and the babies… I think it mended me a little, you know? Took away some of the fear.”
“Does that mean you want a baby?” I bite my lip the moment I ask the question. I’d decided not to push her. Awesome job, Dylan. “Tess, I—”
“Oh, babies are so cute. But there’s no rush.” She pulls away further, and it feels as if she’s slipping through my fingers. “Really. I’m going to check on Teo, he’s been doing something in his room all afternoon, and I don’t know if I should be worried.”
She shouldn’t. But I’m grateful she does, and at the same time I want her to stay, talk this out.
Yeah, and then what? She’s already answered my question. Enough is enough.