His hands clasp on either side of my neck, his thumbs curving up over my jaw and brushing my lower cheek, and his mouth comes down onto mine in a kiss that is equal parts fear and frustration. The resignation is in his following sigh.
“Letting you go and do this goes against every fuckin’ instinct in my body.”
I curl my fingers around his lower arm, tilting my face down into his touch as I meet his eyes. They’re icier than I’ve ever seen them, yet there isn’t an ounce of coldness in his gaze.
“You’re not letting me. I’m choosing to go.”
“I know.” He grinds his teeth. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel sick at the thought of you getting hurt.”
“Then find her first,” I say simply.
He touches his forehead to mine. “We both know you’re a killer magnet. If you find her, do what you did before and call me and leave the line on, okay?”
I nod. “I promise.”
He takes a deep breath and moves to step back, but I grab his collar and pull his mouth down to mine. He freezes for all but a second before he returns it. The kiss is fierce. It’s desperate and frustrated, and each brush of our lips is my fear mingling with his.
But it’s still more. Still everything. Still every breath we are struggling to take and every touch we wish we could give.
When he pulls back, my heart is pounding inside my chest, and I think he’s transferred all of his worry into me.
“Be safe, cupcake,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine again. “Just don’t get yourself fucking killed, okay?”
“Believe me. Not getting myself killed is at the top of my to-do list. And then, when I survive, you’re second on it.” I smile.
He does, too, and a little bit of the tension disappears.
“Now, go,” I demand, pulling his hands from my face. “And be safe yourself, okay? Because, if you get shot, you’re getting bumped down my list.”
“Got it. Now, since there’s no way I can stop you, go let your badass gene out to play.”
Nothing in the town hall building. Nothing in the hair salon. Nothing in the nail salon. Rosie hasn’t seen her, and neither has Melanie or old Mr. Beatty, who runs the hardware store next to the bookshop. My whole team is on the lookout as they do their own jobs, and I’ve driven past enough cop cars to know that Sheriff Bates has pulled out all the stops and has almost the whole department out on this wild-goose chase.
I can’t believe she disappeared so quickly. It’s barely been two hours since I called her, yet she’s absolutely nowhere to be found in Holly Woods. Drake has checked her house and her parents’ place, while Trent searched the town hall top to bottom immediately after I did.
She’s all but vanished into thin air, yet there’s no proof of her even leaving town. And if she tries to, she’s getting caught there, too, because Sheriff Bates called in some favors from the Austin PD to bolster town security, and there are more than one or two cars on every road in and out of Holly Woods.
Sure. We can’t be absolutely certain that it’s her on paper, but my gut says it is. And my gut is never wrong.
Apart from right now, when it’s telling me that I need a cupcake. I don’t have time for that, but I happen to have a big bag of crispy M&Ms stashed in my glove box, so I reach forward and tug them out, opening them. Hey, I’m parked.
I throw a handful into my mouth and chew. Running around like a six-headed chicken on steroids washed down with vodka isn’t going to get me anywhere. It’s not going to get any of us anywhere.
One of the most important lessons my nonno taught me when I was eight and fell in love with Sherlock Holmes was that, to catch a killer, you need to think like a killer. And, he said, unless your killer is psychotic, then the chances of you finding them without a plan are nothing. Someone who kills for a reason will always have a plan, and in that plan, you’ll find every reason a hundred times.
I take another handful of M&Ms.
One can only assume that Ellis killed Natalie because Ellis found out about the video and assumed Natalie had evidence. That would tie in to the break-in, too. She tried to get in and out but got desperate, for a reason I’m unaware of. Then, like most members of D.O.M., she was aware of Nat’s close relationship with Vince and correctly assumed that Vince would be the next obvious target.
Wait. Mr. Lawrence said that Vince had several girls he could have swapped her out for without knowing. What if Ellis was of his partners, too? What if he’d accidentally let slip about the videos and that’s how she knew? Then it would be completely plausible that she was in the room when it should have been Natalie.
So, by this reasoning, her motive is the knowledge of the video. Meaning that her next target…
Oh, shit.
Her next target would be the only other person who knows that the tapes exist.
Alyssa McDougall.
I wrench my hand out of the bright-green bag so fast that it falls to the floor and scatters the colorful candies across the black carpet. Simultaneously, I start my engine and dial Alyssa’s number. When it goes to voicemail, I use voice control to call her again. But it happens again.
“Call Drake,” I tell my phone.
“Dialing Drake,” it responds. Two rings, and then, “What?”
“Alyssa!” I shout, beeping my horn at someone driving too slowly. I move into the next lane, overtake them, then cut back in front with my foot down. “She’s the only other person who knows about the tapes and she isn’t answering her phone!”
“Where are you?”
“Like two minutes away from her house. If that. And I think I just ran a red.”
“Don’t worry about that now. Get to the house, and if you can get inside and confirm Ellis is there, do it. But try to stay out of sight until we get there. I’m calling the sheriff now.” Then, he hangs up, and I pull up outside the huge house thirty seconds later.
Apparently, I was driving faster than I thought. I wonder if I can charge the red light and speeding tickets to the mayor on account of potentially saving his wife and all.
I leave my purse in the car, but I take my keys so I can lock it. My keys end up in my bra, because, well, I have nowhere else to put them where they won’t jingle.
My heartbeat is racing while my stomach does some kind of anxious shimmy as I approach the front door. It’s ajar, and that only sends my heartbeat skyrocketing even higher. The silence of the house as I step on the top step, though, has my badass gene kicking into action. My adrenaline spikes, and although I know I should probably hide and wait for the police, my curiosity is stronger, and I slide through the gap in the door.
Drake’s gonna kill me. So is Trent. Probably Nonna, too, actually.
A floorboard creaks to my immediate left, and I turn, my head instantly reaching up my dress for my gun. I meet the eyes of a timid girl no more than twenty and hold my finger against my lips.
“Upstairs,” she mouths.
“Go out the front door now,” I whisper to her, that one word confirming everything. Like the fact that I should go back outside. “The police are on their way.”
She nods quickly, hugging herself so tight that her knuckles are white.
I’m guessing that Alyssa sent the staff “home” at Ellis’s request—except most on them live on site or in a separate part of the house.
I remove my gun from its holster, thinking this is my best bet for safety right now. Except leaving.
Jesus, I’m not going to let her scare me out of here. Besides, the bitch shot my brother.
I keep to the edge of the stairs as I take each one tentatively. It’s too quiet in this house. Yet another reason why I should turn around and go.
Damn feet take another few steps upward.
“Oh, come on!” Ellis yells out of nowhere. “You have to know where it is!”
I pause at the top of the stairs, just able to see inside the room they’re in. The same one as before again. I wonder if Alyssa lives in this room. Mind you, there was a wall pretty much lined with books. I’d probably live in that room, too.