“I’m also a bit bigger than Zoey,” I remind him. “Not as easy to kidnap. Ransom?” I suggest, figuring if Yvette can’t get money one way, maybe she thought she’d try another.
Barnes shakes his head. “Whole county knows Zoey as Drop-Dead Gorgeous, knows about her supposed curse. And they know she’s basically poor. County don’t pay big for the coroner. Hate to say it, but there’s no one who’d pay a ransom for Zoey.”
I would. I’d pay anything for her to be safe and sound, down in her morgue talking to cadavers, even if she’s still mad at me.
That, I could handle. This, I cannot.
Alver makes a spitting noise over his shoulder like just talking about the curse might make him a target. Barnes rolls his eyes in exasperation.
“What are we missing?”
“Don’t matter now. Just need to find her,” Alver adds uselessly as he sits in a nearby chair, crossing one leg over the other like he’s setting up for a long break.
“That’s what we’re trying to do!” I’m losing it again, any semblance of chill, calm, and collected gone like smoke at the thought of what might be happening to Zoey while we’re sitting here doing nothing.
“Not Zoey. Yvette. You both are focusing on the why, supposing this and that. Ain’t important now. If Yvette Horne took Zoey, where’d she take her? People go where they’re familiar when they’re under stress, so there are only so many places Yvette can go. Kenny’s checking the house. Where else?”
Maybe Alver’s years of service did teach him something because that’s actually helpful. Barnes must agree because he clicks around on his computer. “Yvette owns the house with Richard. So that’s all hers now. They’ve got two vehicles, her car and his pickup. Richard’s got a share in a duck blind, but that’s hours away and I’m betting Yvette’s never been there.”
A dead end, hopefully not one that leads to Zoey being just as dead too.
“What about make-out points? Everybody knows where those are,” Alver suggests.
“Where are those?” I ask.
Barnes talks to the radio at his shoulder instead of me. “I need someone to check out Mayfield’s pastures and someone to go up to Overlook Drive.”
The static clears and a voice says, “Unit One’s got Mayfield’s.”
Another voice comes through, “Three’ll take Overlook.”
Barnes nods. “Okay. Familiar places covered. Who is Yvette friendly with? Reckon she’d have help?”
“Sebastian, the dog trainer. That’s who she’s sleeping with.” I pull out my phone and open my TikTok app to show Sebastian’s account. “This is him with my dog, Chunky.”
“You see this dog trainer too?” Barnes asks.
“I did once . . . as part of our investigation,” I explain.
“Yours and Zoey’s, you mean?” Sheriff Barnes looks like the very idea gives him heartburn. I suppose considering where we’re at now, with Zoey missing, I can understand why. My chest hasn’t stopped hurting since I saw that mop bucket lying on its side.
“Yeah, he’s kinda social media famous. But weird . . .”
“Weird, how?” Barnes demands.
I think back to my training session with Sebastian. “He comes off as this charming, gym bro, dude type, but then he’d blink and be furious. A second later, it was like it never happened. He was just weird.”
“And he’s sleeping with Yvette,” Alver summarizes. “I don’t like it.”
Barnes does a bit more computer searching and then reads from the screen. “Sebastian Turner, last known address is in town. Let me call in a drive by for his place, but it’s an apartment. Not much on privacy, not where I’d take a prisoner.”
He picks up his phone and calls the police department in town while that word—prisoner—ricochets around in my head, leaving carnage in its wake. After a short conversation, he hangs up. “They’ll call back when they get an all-clear.”
I look from Barnes to Alver, lost and not sure what to do. I want to run right out the door, go find Zoey, and gather her in my arms, checking every inch of her to make sure she’s okay, then smack her ass as punishment for believing for one second that I might be lying to her or using her. And then kiss it all better, pour myself into her so she never doubts me again.
Doesn’t she feel this?
How can she not feel the power of this?
I pull at my shirt over my heart, trying to ease the fear and pain.
“Let me see that invoice that got everyone all up in arms,” Barnes tells me.
“I thought you didn’t want to see it?”
“That was before Zoey went missing. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the DA’s case or any temper tantrum they might throw when Zoey’s out there and needs my help.”
I dip my chin, my misery and desperation loving his company. I run out to my car and grab a file folder from the passenger seat. Back inside, Barnes looks the pieced-together invoice over carefully.
“This is the online pharmacy Zoey was talking about?” he asks, pointing to the logo.
“Yeah, and you can see it went to Yvette Horne at her home address,” I add.
“Hmm . . . what about this? Did you two Sherlocks look into this?” Barnes asks.
“What?”
“The billing information. This credit card number—it’s all blocked out except for the last four digits, but this isn’t Yvette’s credit card or debit card. Not Richard’s either.”
“How’d you know that?”
Barnes looks at me like I’m stupider than a box of dumbass. “First thing you do in a questionable death is investigate the spouse. I’ve been through their bank records, investments, credit cards . . . all of it. And that’s not Yvette Horne’s.”
“Then whose is it?” Alver butts in from his perch.
Barnes snatches his phone up once again, dialing numbers and directing Alver. “Call Judge Hopkins. I’m gonna need a court order for this.”
“He’s here this late?” I interrupt to ask.
Alver chuckles. “It’s his wife’s book club night, so he stays out of the house while they talk about Fifty Shades of whatever color they’re doing these days.”
Thankfully, he’s already dialed the phone while he explained and he turns to give me his back while telling Judge Hopkins what’s happening.
Sheriff Barnes says into the phone, “Operator.” After a moment, he sighs and says through gritted teeth, “Customer service agent.” To me, he whispers, “Damn automated phone system. What happened to the days when someone answered the phone?”
I don’t get a chance to explain that if that were still the case, he probably wouldn’t get a live person this late at night anyway, because he straightens and talks to whoever is on the other end of the line. “I need a supervisor. Now. This is a police matter.”
He licks his lips, ready to tear someone a new asshole if need be to get the information he wants. “This is Sheriff Jeff Barnes of the Williamson County Sheriff’s department. I have an invoice here from your company. I know where it was shipped to, but I need to know who paid for it.” He pauses and then nods even though they can’t see him. “Yeah, I can fax over a court order, but I’ve got a missing county employee that says I need you to tell me that name right now.” His order is stern, not allowing for argument, and even I would give him the information if I had it.
Luckily, the person on the other end of the phone seems to agree. “Thank you. I’ll fax that over shortly.” Barnes slams the phone back to its cradle. “It’s that Turner fellow. He paid for those supplement things.”
“Which means he ordered the supplement in Yvette’s name and had it delivered to her house.” The image of him walking out the front door with Yvette trailing behind him flashes in my mind. “He goes there to see Yvette or the dog. He could’ve ordered it and then gotten it out of the mailbox or off the porch himself.”
Barnes twists his mustache as he thinks. “You think he’s framing Yvette? Or in on it with her?”
Before
I can tease apart an opinion, Barnes’s radio goes off. “Sheriff, I’m at Mayfield’s and the gate’s open. Want me to wait for backup or proceed?”
I want to answer, yell at the officer to go inside and save Zoey. The sooner, the better because there’s no telling what could happen in the meantime. Saving her any second of pain or fear, preventing any small amount of risk to her, is worth it.
“Hold steady. Stay quiet and do a recon perimeter check. Report back in five. I’m on my way.” Barnes is already standing and running for the door. He’s faster than I would’ve given him credit for, but I’m right on his heels.
Surprisingly, Alver’s behind me, doing his best to keep up. “Let’s roll, boys.”
Outside, I go for the front seat. “Shotgun!”
Alver pushes me out of the way. “Age before no damn badge. You ain’t sitting in the front seat.”
I don’t want to waste time arguing, so I end up speeding down the street in the backseat of a cop car with the lights flashing and sirens screaming. Five minutes later, Sheriff Barnes’s radio goes off again and a whispering voice says, “Jeff, we got a situation out here. One suspect—male, thirties, six-foot-two or three, two-hundred pounds easy, blond hair, black shirt. He’s losing his shit, sir.”
“Sebastian,” I whisper, and Barnes’s eyes shoot to the rearview mirror.
“Zoey?” Barnes says into the radio.
The answering silence is painful, that moment on the edge where you know you’re going to fall but are helpless to do anything to fight it.
Please, let her be okay. I’ll do anything. I love her and I haven’t even taken her on a proper date yet.
My soul gasps like a living, breathing being inside me as the realization dawns, bright and pure.
I love Zoey Walker.
We haven’t gotten to know each other the way most people do, but nevertheless, I know her. Inside and out. I know her fears and her dreams, even the ones she tries to hide because she doesn’t think she can have them. I know her quirks and superstitions and would willingly, happily live in a damn log cabin if that’s what she wanted so that she’s surrounded by good-luck wood at all times.
I know her kindness and her heart, so full of love and generosity that she encircles herself with defenses, not for her own protection but for everyone else’s. And not despite it all, but because all of that makes up who Zoey Walker is . . . I love her.
Barnes’s radio crackles to life again. “Two females—one blonde, one Zoey. They’re down on the ground but alive. Zoey looks . . .” He pauses, and I feel the car rear back before jolting forward as Barnes, who was already nearly flying, pushes the speedometer even higher. “How far out are you?”
“Three minutes, tops.”
“Roger. Hurry.”
“Kid, when we get there, I need you to stay in the car,” Barnes tells me, eyes never leaving the road.
“Fuck no,” I snarl. “That’s my . . .” My what? My girlfriend? No, that’s not nearly enough.
My everything? Closer.
“Zoey. My Zoey,” I tell him.
His jaw works and his eyes tick back to me. “I hear you, son, but this is a police matter and I can’t be worrying about a civilian out there. Don’t get in the way of my doing what needs to be done to get her back.”
I don’t have a chance to argue because the radio crackles once more. “Can’t wait. Support when you arrive.”
The radio quiets.
“What does that mean?” I demand.
Barnes just pushes his car harder. “Buckle up.”
It’s the only warning I get before Barnes sends us airborne over a railroad track. We crash down to the road right in the middle of a pothole, and he jerks the car, taking a sharp turn. I slide all over the backseat, banging into the doors and trying to hold on to the cage between the seats.
Alver grabs the oh-shit handle and whoops like we’re out for a day of fun off-roading, “Whoo!” At least he warns me before the next turn, shouting, “Another one!”
“Brace yourselves,” Barnes orders, hands going white on the steering wheel at ten and two o’clock. “We’re going through.”
“Through what?” I say from the backseat, unable to see ahead from the odd position I’ve braced myself in.
“Fence!” Alver shouts a split second before metal screams over the hood of the car, tinkling on the glass windshield, and then scrapes down the back.
I don’t look back, though. I’m looking ahead to an open field. In the glow of headlights, Sebastian is wrestling with a uniformed officer, trying to take his gun. Though he’s outweighed by a solid sixty pounds of muscle and outmanned by desperation, the officer is doing his best to hold on to his weapon.
I see Yvette and Zoey, helping each other up from the ground. They’re both limping, wincing with each step as they try to get out of the danger zone.
“Zoey!” I yell, beyond thankful to see her alive but horrified at the swelling bruise on her face and her painful movements.
Barnes brakes hard, the car not even sliding to a complete stop before he throws it in park and is out.
“Freeze, Turner!” His voice is hard, cold as ice, and authoritative as he holds his gun steady, aimed right at Sebastian. Barnes takes slow, careful steps toward Sebastian and the officer, who are still struggling for control.
I’m fighting the door despite knowing it’s locked from the outside and I can’t get out. But I have to get to Zoey, an overwhelming need to help her giving me strength I don’t usually have.
Alver bangs on the glass with a hard fist to get my attention. “Calm down so I can open the damn door without you knocking me down. I ain’t as young as I used to be!”
What? Alver’s going to let me out?
I still, though every cell in my body is buzzing with energy, ready for release.
True to his word, Alver opens the door, eyeing me hard. “Go get her. Stay out of the way.”
I heed his warning, taking a loop around to the right so that I come up on the back side of Yvette’s car. Face to face with Zoey, I finally feel the smallest hint of relief.
She’s okay, or she will be.
“Zoey!” I hiss, not wanting to draw Sebastian’s attention to the women getting away to safety. She’s hunched over, her and Yvette holding each other up, but at my voice, her head jerks up in surprise.
“Blake?”
The relief I see in her eyes guts me. I don’t want her to ever consider for a second that I wouldn’t come for her. No matter what. No matter what dragon she’s slaying, or what superstition she’s fighting, I’m here for it. Here for her.
“Come on, we need to get you out of here.”
She takes two steps and then a loud bang makes us all instinctively duck for cover.
“Shit!” I growl. I rush forward, wrapping my arm around Zoey, who in turn keeps Yvette at her side, and I usher them behind the car, pushing them down to the ground. Carefully, I peek out from behind the taillight as another loud bang echoes through the night.
I hear Alver call out, “Clear.”
Barnes yells out, “Zoey?”
“She’s here,” I answer. “Behind the car.”
Barnes runs around the car, skidding to a stop in front of us. “You good? Injured?” he barks at Zoey.
She seems surprised at his intensity but stammers, “Yeah, but we need to get Yvette to the hospital.”
“Shit,” he snaps, but without missing a beat, Barnes picks up Yvette from the ground, one arm under her knees and one behind her back. I’m impressed by his strength, especially when he covers the ground with wide strides toward his car.
I try to pick up Zoey too, but she shoos me off. “I’ve got it.”
“Zo, you’re limping,” I plead, every wince she makes stabbing me in the heart.
“I’m fine, Blake.”
Fuck, that tone. She’s right beside me, but her voice might as well be echoing from how far away from me she really is, back in her fortress behind defensive walls.
<
br /> “Lean on me at least.”
She does take that option, though she stubbornly hops toward Barnes’s car. I help her sit down in the back seat with Yvette, wanting to crawl in after her so I can hold her. I’m not ready to let her go yet. Not when she’s mad.
Not when she’s not mine.
Barnes orders Alver, “Get the crew out here and start your paperwork. Good shot, old man. And call the State for their coroner.”
Coroner?
Good shot?
I look back to the field to see the other officer standing guard over a deadly still Sebastian. He’s got his gun out like he thinks Sebastian might be faking it, but there’s a pool of blood growing larger beneath him in the pale grass.
I guess Alver protected Zoey after all, taking the shot to save her. I give him an appreciative look. He might not be Zoey’s biggest fan, and I’m still not his, but he was instrumental in getting us here tonight, just in time to help.
Zoey tries to climb back out of the car. “I can do it.”
But Barnes stops her with a hard look, his jaw popping. “Zoey Walker, you know good and goddamned well you cannot handle the crime scene of a crime you were involved in, and you can’t process the body of the man who kidnapped you.”
Barnes is thunderously angry, honestly sounding like the father of a teenager who’s pushing some known boundaries, but Zoey doesn’t back down. Like the grown ass adult and professional she is. “Fine. But I want to see every document. And I want to observe the autopsy.”
Barnes dips his chin in agreement, so she pushes one step further. “And I want every test known to man run on Sebastian. I want to know every single potentially toxic thing he’s touched in his entire lifetime.”
“Why?” I question, fear blooming fresh. “Did he give you something?”
“Not me. Yvette,” Zoey answers, looking into the car at the sobbing woman. She drops her voice, kindly adding quietly, “He was poisoning them both for the money. It was all Sebastian, not Yvette. He was manipulating her, playing on her confusion from the metals.”
With that, she sinks into the car, pulling Yvette into her arms and pressing her cheek to the woman’s blonde hair. Barnes shuts the back door, climbing into the front seat, but I can’t . . . not yet.
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