Follow Me Down

by Melissa Toppen

  Cursing under my breath, I hit redial and call again, glancing at the clock on my truck radio.

  “Shit,” I grumble, realizing that it’s after one in the morning.

  The phone rings over and over again before the automated answering machine picks up. Slamming my thumb against the screen, I call again.

  This time it rings three times before Link’s voice comes on the line.

  “Hello,” he grumbles, his voice filled with sleep.

  “Link, it’s me. Is Fallon there?”

  “Fallon?” He seems confused. “I thought she was with you.”

  “She was and now she isn’t. Is she there? Has she been there at all tonight?”

  “Uh, I don’t think so. I was sleeping. Hang on, let me check.” I hear him set the receiver down and as I wait for him to return, I fire the truck engine to life, and quickly pop it into gear, pulling out of the police station parking lot.

  “Nah, man, she isn’t here.” He finally comes back on the line. “What the fuck is going on? Where are you?” he questions, confused and I’m fairly certain not fully awake.

  “I’m on my way home now. I’ll explain when I get there. In the meantime, if Fallon shows up don’t let her leave.”

  “Leave? Why the hell would she leave?”

  “Just don’t let her leave. I’ll be home soon.” With that, I end the call and press the accelerator all the way to the floor. As I speed down the dark country road, a thousand scenarios swirl in my head and what feels like a boulder sits in the pit of my stomach.

  ——

  “Any sign of her?” I plow through the front door of the cabin twenty minutes later, my shoulders tight with tension.

  Link shoots up on the couch, having clearly dozed off again.

  “What?” He looks up at me with confusion.

  “Fallon? Any sign of her?”

  “Oh.” He shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. “No. Nothing.” He scoots to the end of the couch and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  “Give me a minute.” I take off toward the bedroom, immediately spotting Fallon’s suitcase on the floor when I enter. Her cell phone is thrown on top of the clothes visible from the open case. “Fuck,” I mutter, heading back down the hall toward the living room. “All of her stuff is still here. She wouldn’t have just left all her stuff here, right?” I ask, already knowing that’s exactly what happened.

  If Fallon had any interest in getting her stuff before she left, she would have. The fact that she left it here can mean only one thing. Her need to get away from me was stronger than her need for her possessions.

  “Slow down.” Link holds his hands up, his eyes following me as I pace the living room, pulling on the ends of my hair. “Tell me what happened.”

  “What happened?” I stop in my tracks. “What happened?” I repeat, my voice going up an octave. “What happened was we got pulled over on our way home and three officers swarmed my truck. They had us get out, they searched it like they were looking for something, and then all of a sudden one of them pulled a black duffle bag out from behind the seat.”

  “O-k-a-y.” Link shakes his head like he’s not quite following.

  “The fucking duffle bag was stuffed full of cocaine!” I scream, my voice echoing off the walls around me.

  “Wait, what?” He sits up straighter.

  “It wasn’t mine,” I needlessly tell him. “Obviously someone planted it there. I’m just not sure who... Or why.”

  “Wait. So you’re telling me that you were pulled over, your truck was searched without cause, and they just happened to find a bag full of drugs behind the seat?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And now Fallon is gone?”

  “The fucking lady at the police station said she left a message for me.”

  “And what the fuck did it say?”

  “Some shit about her going home and not to contact her.”

  “Home? As in home to her father?”

  “Well clearly she didn’t mean here!” I throw my hands up in the air. “I have to go. I have to find her. Explain.”

  “Wait.” He stands. “Let’s just think this through.”

  “What is there to think through?” I yell at him.

  “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t go after her guns blazing. If she went back home, you and I both know her father won’t let you anywhere near her. It’s not like you can just go storming into the Governor’s mansion.”

  I stop mid stride, my hands shaking in anger.

  “Then what the fuck do you suggest I do?”

  “Give it some time. Give her some time. I’m sure she’ll come around eventually.”

  “Eventually?” I bite. “And what do you suggest I do in the meantime? Just sit here and wait?”

  “Dude, she just watched you get arrested for possession. She’s probably freaked the hell out. You’re not going to be helping your case by showing up at her house like some crazed fucking lunatic.”

  “You know what, fuck her.” My anger spikes.

  “Titus.” Link hesitantly steps toward me.

  “No. If she can believe that of me. If she can believe it so much that she would go back to her father’s after all that talk of never wanting to see him again, then she can fucking rot there for all I care.”

  “Wait,” Link pauses like he’s just had a revelation. “You don’t think maybe her father had something to do with this, do you?” he suggests. I hadn’t considered that before.

  “Do you really think he has that much power, or the forethought to see it through?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugs. “You heard the guy when he showed up here. Did that seem like someone who was going to walk away and accept defeat? He warned you. Maybe this was him following through. Maybe this was his way of ensuring Fallon came home.”

  “So what? He plants drugs in my truck and then hopes his daughter believes their mine and goes home.”

  “The cops let you go though, right? Why else would they let you leave after finding a bag full of cocaine in your truck.”

  He’s right. Of course he’s right. I don’t know why I hadn’t pieced this together before.

  “Maybe he forced Fallon to leave. Maybe her leaving was why they let you go.”

  “You think so?” I reach around and squeeze the back of my neck.

  “Makes about as much sense as anything else that’s happened tonight.” He shrugs.

  “So then what do I do?”

  “You calm the fuck down for one.” He crosses toward me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “We need to think this through rationally. Besides, her father being involved is just a theory. Maybe Fallon did leave on her own accord, but we can’t rule out other possibilities either. For now, I think you should try to get some sleep. You might get a little more clarity in the morning after you’ve rested.”

  “You think I can sleep right now?” I shake off his hand.

  “I get that you’re pissed, T. Trust me, I do. But you’re not going to be able to do anything about it tonight. Get some sleep, man.”

  “What a fucking nightmare,” I grumble. With that, I take off down the hall and into my room, slamming the door shut so hard that the wall shakes from the force.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Fallon

  I blink up at the ceiling. It’s late morning. I dozed off a few times but I feel like I didn’t get any real sleep. I kept tossing and turning, my mind racing with everything that happened last night. With what my father did.

  Last night was supposed to be a night of celebration. The first night of my new life. And yet here I lie, in my old bedroom at my father’s house, wondering if it was all some crazy dream. That the last month never even happened.

  Only I know it happened. I squeeze my eyes shut, able to see Titus’ face so clearly it’s as if he’s standing right in front of me. His messy hair. His stormy gray eyes. The pops of color that line his n
eck before disappearing beneath his shirt.

  I can smell him too. I breathe in deeply, so desperate to hold onto every facet of his memory that my head physically aches.

  And yet it doesn’t change a single thing. My father won. I’m here and he won. Just like always.

  I roll to the side, my stomach lurching.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  How could I have let my guard down?

  How could I have ever believed that he would let me be?

  “Fallon,” my father calls through the closed bedroom door. My entire body tenses with his presence. His knuckles wrap against the wood seconds before the door swings open. “Are you going to get out of bed today?”

  “No,” I snip, pulling the covers over my head so that I don’t have to look at him.

  It took everything I had not to slap him across his smug face last night. I’m not sure I could resist a second time.

  “It’s getting late. There’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Well you can’t stay in bed all day, young lady.”

  “Actually, I can,” I growl.

  “No, you can’t. We have a charity gala tonight and you are to be in attendance.”

  “No I won’t.” I toss back the covers and shoot up in bed. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” If looks could kill, my father would be a heap of a man on the floor right now.

  “Yes you are. You are going to get out of this bed. You are going to make yourself presentable, and when I get home this evening, you are going to be ready and waiting for me. Do I make myself clear?”

  “I’m not a child. You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”

  “Actually, I can. Or did you think Mr. Driscoll’s freedom was without conditions?”

  “I thought me being here was the condition?” My voice trembles.

  “One of many.” He narrows his gaze at me.

  “You can’t get away with this. You know who Titus’ father is, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I also know that he was cut off from his family years ago. There’s no one coming to save him, Fallon. Now if I were you, I’d do what I say.” With that, he exits my room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  How can he do this? How can he set someone up, then use that situation to control me even more than he has in the past?

  I used to think I couldn’t dislike my father any more than I already did, but he went and threw that right out the window. I can’t stand the sight of him anymore. And the thought of parading around a charity event pretending like everything is okay feels impossible.

  But what choice do I have? I can’t risk Titus’ freedom. I can’t have him rot behind bars because my father is a psychopath.

  There has to be a way out of this mess. There has to be... I just need to figure out a different angle. Something that will guarantee that my father will never bother me or Titus again.

  I think back to last night, to before the chaos, to the moment at the fair when he said the most incredible words I’d ever heard. I fucking love you, Fallon. And then the way we made love in the truck after. I refuse to believe that this will end any other way than with the two of us together.

  ——

  “So why is thick neck back there following us again?” Christy hitches her thumb behind us, a latte clenched in her other hand, as we make our way through the mall.

  It’s been four days since I arrived back home. Four agonizing days.

  Despite my best efforts, my father has taken every precaution to prevent me from contacting Titus. He’s taken away my car. Given me a security detail, under the false pretense that he has been receiving threats, and he’s monitoring every call that comes in and out the house. Not that I even know Titus’ number if I had the means to call him. I never needed it before now.

  The lengths my father has gone to have surprised even me.

  “His name is Gavin.” I sigh. “And my father thought it would be a good idea for him to keep an eye on me for a while.” I don’t elaborate.

  “Because of the threat BS he’s feeding everyone or because he’s afraid you’ll run off again?” She gives me a knowing look.

  Even though Christy isn’t my favorite person in the world, I jumped at the opportunity to go shopping with her when she asked.

  My father is hosting some important politicians at the house tonight, including Christy’s father. I knew he would let me leave, mainly because Gavin would be coming too. Not that I need a new dress for the occasion. As if I don’t already have a thousand bland dresses for events such as these.

  Even still, I’m grateful to be out of the house for a while.

  “What do you think?” I give her a knowing look.

  “Oh the joys of being a politician’s daughter.” She sighs audibly.

  “Yeah, joy.” I roll my eyes.

  When we pass the Apple store, a thought hits me that I hadn’t considered before. I left my phone at Titus’. If I can find a way to call my cell phone, maybe I can reach him.

  As quickly as the excitement takes hold, it fades. It’s been days. I highly doubt Titus has thought to keep my phone charged. Hell, for all I know he’s probably thrown all of my belongings in the trash. Not that I can blame him.

  He has no idea what happened. I never got the chance to explain. And I’m sure he’s thinking the absolute worst. I know I would be if the roles were reversed.

  Even still, I know I have to try.

  If I call my phone from the house, my father might connect the dots. He knows I don’t have my phone. And if I did, he would have confiscated it the moment I walked into the door that night.

  “Let’s go in here.” I grab Christy’s arm and pull her into the nearest clothing store.

  “Um, this isn’t really your style, is it?” She gives me a confused look as she takes in all the blacks and leathers displayed around the shop.

  “I think these would look so good on you,” I say loud enough for Gavin to hear when he enters the store. “Come on. You should try them on.” I grab a pair of pants off the rack and snag Christy’s arm, tugging her toward the dressing rooms.

  “What the hell has gotten into you?” she hisses when I all but shove her into a room and follow her inside.

  “I need to use your phone,” I tell her, holding my hand out.

  “What? Why? Use your own phone.”

  “I don’t have my phone. I need to use your phone to call my phone.”

  “I’m confused. Why do you need to call your phone?”

  I have to refrain from grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.

  “Titus, the guy I left with.” I pause as she connects the dots. “My father set him up.”

  “What do you mean he set him up?”

  “Exactly as it sounds. He framed him with drugs to get me to agree to come home. And now he’s holding this over my head, threatening to pull the trigger and have Titus arrested again.”

  “Wait, he had him arrested?” She gapes at me. “Man, and I thought my father was bad.”

  “It’s such a mess.” I shake my head. “Anyway, Titus doesn’t know he was set up. He also doesn’t know that I left to protect him. But my phone is still at his house. If by chance it’s on or has any battery, there’s a possibility that I could reach him...to explain. But I need your help.”

  “Here.” She reaches into her purse and drops her phone into my hand. “I’m going to go see if they have any leather tops in your size.” She winks, exiting the dressing room moments later.

  With shaky hands I pull up the keypad and type in my number. It doesn’t go straight to voicemail, which is a good sign, but no one answers it either.

  I hang up and immediately call again.

  Nothing.

  Pulling up the message box, I type a quick message, thinking that if by some miracle of a chance he sees it he’ll know I’m trying to reach him.

  Drugs were a set up. Had to leave to keep you safe.

&nb
sp; I don’t bother telling him who it is or where I’m texting from. I think he’ll know the message is for him as soon as he reads it... If he reads it.

  “Any luck?” Christy pushes her way back into the dressing room, a couple different tops draped over her arm.

  “No. But I did text too. Just in case he checks it. If you hear anything back...”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  “Thank you.” I force a smile, thinking maybe I’ve been judging Christy a little too harshly.

  When push comes to shove, she really has tried to help. Hell, when I left with Titus she never breathed a word of it. Well, at least not until she was back home and being grilled by her father and mine as to where I was and why I didn’t return with her. And even then she really didn’t tell them anything. Mainly because she didn’t know anything.

  “Of course.” She nods, taking her phone back before dropping it into her purse. “If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask. As I said before, we politician’s daughters have to stick together.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Now what do you say we get out of here? I think it’s safe to say neither of us is going to wear these?” She giggles when she holds up the shirts she grabbed, both of which look more like leather bras than actual tops.

  “Um, I think you’re right.”

  ——

  “Anything?” I nab Christy seconds after she walks into the front door, wearing the light pink lace dress she purchased earlier this afternoon.

  Funny, she looks more like a preacher’s daughter than the party girl I’ve come to know her as. She really is getting better with the act. Probably because she knows if she wants daddy to pay her way through college she’s going to have to be on her best behavior, at least until she’s behind closed doors.

  “Nothing.” She shakes her head, knowing exactly what I’m asking.

  I tried calling my phone several more times while we were out. Every time we stepped into a dressing room I tried, praying by some miracle someone would hear it and answer.

  Disappointment settles deep in the pit of my stomach. I knew it was a long shot, but I was really hoping for a different result.