Millie paused outside the stockroom door, hand hovering over the handle.
That morning Fallon had been dead; now he was waiting for her in the stockroom?
Was it naive of her to think that was true or was she back to being hopefully desperate and walking into a trap?
While she was sure the note on the whiteboard at her house was new within the last few days, that meant that Fallon would have meant her to find it after he’d written it. Was she too late now?
Standing here won’t get you answers, her inner voice said. The only way through it is through.
Millie looked around the open area between the back half of the store. A part of her felt overwhelmingly glad that Larissa was off and that she hadn’t told Foster where she was going. Also that the manager’s office was at the front of the store so the chance of Robert walking back and finding her would be slim. Same for whoever the two cashiers on shift were.
Millie didn’t rightly know who they were other than they weren’t Larissa. She had, admittedly, not had her mind on work for the last week or so. Her thoughts had, instead, run between Fallon and Foster.
Two men she felt she needed but for much different reasons.
Millie flexed her fingers. The weight of her cell phone in her back pocket was like an alarm that never went off.
It was like when she’d gone out to the Kintucket Woods. There was nothing but hope on this side of the door, and the last time she followed hope into the woods, she’d been pulled into a series of threats, danger and the unknown.
Was it the totally wrong move to risk it all for even the chance of finding Fallon there? Fallon in perfect health and William Reiner nowhere near them?
It was.
Millie knew that.
She also knew that if there was any chance at all that Fallon was waiting for her, she’d always choose to go.
So Millie opened the door and went inside.
The fluorescents buzzed to life and illuminated the long room. No one and nothing jumped out at her as out of the ordinary. Shadows scattered across the floor-to-ceiling metal shelves and the various packages and goods on each. Toward the back half of the room sat a stack of four pallets with empty, open boxes. It was a recycling pile. Employees took it out only when it nearly touched the ceiling.
Millie approached the cluster of boxes, heart hammering away.
She already knew what was supposed to be on the other side of them—two lawn chairs and a pillow where their youngest employee sometimes sat and played on his phone when he was supposed to be stocking—but she hoped there was something else.
Someone else.
She held her breath and made her way around the pallet.
Fallon wasn’t there.
No one was.
Millie let out that breath in defeat.
Maybe she’d just missed him or maybe he hadn’t come yet.
Or maybe you’re reaching.
Millie shook the thought out of her head and started to search the area. The toolbox beneath one of the chairs that housed the store’s box cutters, a hammer, and occasionally a candy bar, was partially opened.
Millie dragged it out and pushed the lid up. A folded piece of paper with her name written on the top was the first thing she saw.
It was written in cursive.
Foster’s cursive, much like the note on the whiteboard.
The message inside was short. “I’m okay. I promise.”
And there it was.
Millie might not have known all the answers to what was going on, but that was enough hope to lift the weight that had been crushing her since Wyatt had spoken to them. A glimmer of light in the dark.
She could work with that.
Millie slipped the note into her pocket and felt new resolve flood through her. Now it was time to rectify her mistake. Foster needed to know what she’d found, she decided, pulling out her cell phone.
They were partners, after all.
Better intentions or not, Millie didn’t get far.
“Where is it?”
Millie spun around at the new, deep voice behind her, instantly terrified.
It wasn’t Fallon.
It wasn’t Foster.
It wasn’t even Aaron, the teen who did their stocking.
Much like in the woods, all at once Millie realized just how badly she’d messed up. Her desperation had led her into danger.
No one knew where she was.
No one but the last man she’d expected to see.
* * *
FALLON DEAN STOOD in front of Foster like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be there. Like him, William Reiner and Foster were just three men socializing in a home office on a nice, warm afternoon.
Not at all like a man who had been missing for six months. Definitely not like a man who had been supposedly killed by a Reiner.
A Reiner who spoke up quickly.
“We can explain,” he said.
Foster, who hadn’t even entertained the thought that Fallon would be who he found in Detective Gordon’s house, rebutted with the first thing that came to his mind.
“You better have a good damn reason why this one here has made his sister worry for the last six months.”
Fallon winced, but that might have had more to do with the bruises across his cheek or his busted lip. He gave the older Reiner a look caught somewhere between guilt and anger.
It heralded in a new tone for William. One that oddly sounded fond.
Two seconds into the conversation and Foster was already reevaluating everything they had thought they’d known.
“He does,” William said. “But I can only tell you so much before we start having to make decisions.”
Foster took a step back so he could look at both men. He didn’t like that he was outnumbered. He also didn’t like that he was the only one who didn’t seem to know what was happening. Still, he kept his gun down and aim away from both men. A part of him knew that he wouldn’t have been able to point his weapon anywhere near the grown man Millie had basically raised.
It didn’t help that there was no denying the resemblance between the Dean siblings. Fallon’s complexion was a match to Millie’s, along with his dark hair with some curl. His eyes, the same shape but a different shade of brown, searched Foster’s expression with a curiosity that Foster bet the man carried with him always. A trait that, no doubt, was thanks to his father’s influence and belief in always learning.
Still, just because he wasn’t going to aim his gun at Fallon didn’t mean he wasn’t going to lob some accusations at him.
“It was you,” Foster said, sure of it in that moment. “You were the one I fought. You took us from Rosewater and put us on the boat.”
“Yes, he is but there’s a reason—” William started.
Foster wasn’t having it. “We’re about to get really acquainted in a second here, bud,” he interrupted Reiner. “I want Fallon to answer me now.”
“Fine,” the older man replied. “But make it quick, Fallon. We’re in a hurry.”
Foster let that one go simply because he wanted to hear how Fallon could possibly make what he’d done okay.
Millie’s brother or not, he’d made some bad choices. Ones that could only lead to being arrested.
Something Foster should have been doing now.
Fallon let out a breath that was long and tired. Then he was talking a mile a minute.
“William asked you to meet him in the kitchen a few minutes after he left through the front door so no one would suspect that he was involved. That timed everything right for Millie who passed out pretty quickly from the meds. You too, but when we were loading Millie in, it was like you came back awake and ready to fight. It didn’t last long but, obviously, long enough.” Fallon motioned to the bruising. “It might not ha
ve been the best or well-executed plan, but we didn’t expect you two to team up to solve all the mysteries.”
“So you sidelined us.”
Fallon nodded. “We needed you and Millie out of the way just for a little while, especially after Jason had already tried to hurt her.”
“Kill her,” Foster corrected. “Jason Talbot tried to take her, and then when she ran he tried to kill her.”
Fallon tensed all over.
“Which is why when you two kept at it we made a less than ideal decision,” William interrupted.
“To drug an innocent woman and cop and dump them on a boat to only then get attacked by two criminals? Less than ideal is a less than apt description of that plan.”
“We didn’t know who was watching,” Fallon told him. “We—”
“We don’t have time to tell you all the details.” William cut him off. There was palpable tension in his shoulders. Time was running out.
Foster just didn’t know what for.
“Why are you two here?” Foster pivoted to his most current question.
“Why are you?” William threw back. It, like his body language, was filled with mounting anxiety.
Foster didn’t see the harm in telling the truth. Something he hoped the other two men would reciprocate with more clarity than the vague explanations they were giving him.
“I was hoping to ask Lee Gordon about the statement he took from you—” he pointed to William and then thumbed back to Fallon “—about your disappearance after Wyatt Cline said you were killed by him for revenge six months ago.” He reversed his motions. Both men seemed surprised.
“He said I was dead?” Fallon’s worry showed in his tone of voice. Foster knew where this was headed.
“Yep. He told me and your sister that a few hours ago.”
Both men cussed.
William Reiner walked around the desk, closer to them. Not at all worried about the gun still in Foster’s hand.
“If Wyatt Cline woke up and is talking, then there’s a good chance Lee Gordon is about to pull a disappearing act,” he stated. “Which means if he isn’t already gone, he’ll be coming back to pack to leave soon.”
“You’re going to have to give me a lot more than that.” Foster turned his gaze to Fallon. “Start with what you’ve been doing for the last six months and how Reiner here is involved.”
Again, Fallon didn’t get a second to even open his mouth to respond. Instead, it was William who answered.
“He’s been helping me look for my brother, the only place we knew to look. Which brought us a whole lot of nothing until we ran smack-dab into trouble last week.” A look of disapproval moved across the older man’s face. It was aimed at Fallon. “When both Fallon and his sister decided to do something impulsive.”
“Give me more,” Foster ordered.
Fallon sighed. “I took a chance and stole something from someone I shouldn’t have. Then apparently Millie went to the woods to look for me and found Jason instead.”
The pieces, as wild and unpredictable as they’d been since Foster had met Millie, started to vibrate in his gut. Like magnets sensing their partner, getting ready to connect.
“That’s why Jason went after Millie,” he said, realization dawning. “He was trying to get back what you took? Then Wyatt and Donni went after it after Jason was killed?” He looked to William, who didn’t correct or argue the questions. “Wyatt said that you’d want Millie for revenge because of your accident and that you would trade her for whatever it was that was taken.”
William nodded.
“But Wyatt was under the impression that Fallon was dead and that Cole and June Meeks were helping you,” Foster added.
He didn’t miss that at the mention of Cole’s name, William’s expression turned pained.
“June helped us because she loved my brother, but...but Cole... He’s not a part of this.”
That didn’t sound good.
Not at all.
Foster thrummed his fingers along the butt of his gun.
If he had misread the intentions of the two men too close to him in a small room, he’d have to act fast.
“What happened to Cole?”
A look passed between William and Fallon. The former gave the other a small nod.
Fallon let out a breath of regret. “After The Flood happened, Cole suspected that there was someone still dirty in the department who didn’t get caught. Someone who had taken a lot of money through the years to doctor files and cover up certain misdeeds. But Cole didn’t know who exactly that was and decided to try to find out on his own just in case.” He gave another look to William.
“And he didn’t come to you?” Foster asked the older Reiner.
That pained look sunk in his frown.
“Not every sibling pair can be as close as the Dean children.”
Foster wasn’t about to argue that as Fallon continued.
“Cole disappeared completely soon after he quit, and that’s when William started trying to figure out what was going on. We never found Cole but a few months back heard talk that a former young deputy from the department had been killed for trying to stop a massive drug deal out in Riker County.”
“Cole,” Foster surmised.
Fallon nodded.
“So, how does Cole go from quitting to being in the middle of a massive drug deal several counties over?”
William took this question. “When Cole was new to the force, a friend of his was killed in a drug bust that, according to the file, his friend facilitated. The case always bothered Cole because he didn’t believe his friend could do that, but it wasn’t until The Flood happened that he questioned what actually went down. Cole started looking into every member of law enforcement and official involved in the case, all the way down to the coroner. Then he quit and then he disappeared. My guess is he found his way from who he suspected to the drug supplier who had supposedly sold to his friend who was killed. Then he died trying to stop them.”
“So you have been investigating Cole’s investigation,” Foster said. “And we’ve been investigating Fallon, which ran right into you.”
William nodded. “I tried for months to figure out where Cole was and who he suspected. Then one day I was drinking myself dumb when this one here showed up at my door.”
Foster had been waiting for this. The connection between the man who supposedly hated Fallon the most and Fallon himself.
“It was the anniversary of his retirement and the paper did a story on it. Like a recap,” Fallon said, taking over. “I realized, after all of the years, that I never actually apologized for my part in the accident. Or explained why I was out there at all. But when I showed up he was clearly upset about something else. And, well, he told me everything he knew and I offered to help if I could.”
“And he did.” William smiled. It was brief but genuine. “He gave me the idea to go a different route than my brother did to try and find the dirty cop. Instead of looking into law enforcement and town officials before, during, and after The Flood—”
“—you looked into the drug supplier’s side,” Foster concluded.
William nodded. “Everyone knew me so I couldn’t ask a lot of questions without raising suspicion, but Fallon had a history and a town whose law enforcement largely disliked him. It was easy for him to dig deep in that side of life.”
Foster couldn’t believe it. “You left town to go undercover into a drug operation to try and find a dirty cop,” he said.
Fallon shrugged. “When you say it out loud it doesn’t sound as great but, yeah.”
Foster put his gun into his holster and ran a hand along his jaw.
“And I’m guessing you didn’t tell your sister because she would have shut that down really quick.” He looked at William, realizing one of the errors of their plan that had led Millie and Fost
er into it. “You wrote the note, didn’t you? You did it before he told you that he always writes in cursive to Millie.”
William sighed. “Yeah. If we went back and fixed it, it would have only added more questions. So we left it alone and hoped to figure out everything as quickly as possible.”
“Okay,” Foster said after a moment. “Okay. So there are still some more detailed answers I want, but I have to ask again, why are you here?”
“Because, dumb or not, what I stole finally gave us a name,” Fallon answered. “Lee Gordon.”
Foster should have been surprised but ever since he’d seen the sports car, his thoughts on the former detective had started to change from a man who was possibly incompetent to a man who might not be as cut-and-dried as he’d once seemed.
William motioned around the room. “You tell me if you think this house should belong to a single, retired small-town detective with no family money or investments to be had.”
Foster couldn’t, but he was ready to ask more questions when his cell phone started to vibrate in his pocket. It was loud enough that it drew the attention of two set of eyes. He answered without hesitation when he saw the caller ID read Dr. Alvarez.
Foster didn’t care about Fallon or William or even Lee Gordon anymore.
All he could think about was Millie.
“What’s wrong?”
Amanda didn’t hesitate either.
“Foster. She’s gone. Millie’s gone.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The gun bit into Millie’s back, pushing her out of the stockroom like she hadn’t already wanted to leave it and the man holding the gun behind.
“Why are you doing this?” she cried out.
Lee Gordon was dressed like he should have been out on the golf course. He had on a nice button-down and slacks and brown loafers. None of which went with the gun or the severe anger marring his expression.
Anger clearly aimed at her.
“If you would have let that no good brother of yours go, none of this would have happened. But no. You, like him, are more trouble than you’re worth.”
Millie let out a small noise as Gordon pushed her through the door. She spun around but not before taking a few steps away for distance. The back door to the grocery store was behind her, but the door to the main room was closer.
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