Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(59)
“With what? Fucking traffic control? Way too many of ‘em runnin’ around.”
“Not too many, one too less. Nolan is missing.”
Murdock’s shock was genuine. He glanced at the truck in the drive.
“He took Declan’s on his trip, and no one’s heard from him and your dad’s being a dick and apparently was weeks back, too. We might as well tell him every f*cking thing! Because I swear to God if he is not helping them find Nolan because he thinks you and I are hooking up I’m going to kill you.”
“Yeah, you’re good at killing people,” he hissed, pushing her further away, finding the sobriety he needed.
“And you’re good at f*cking every whore in this town.”
“Gotta get it somewhere,” he spat back, earning a sneer from her.
“What I’m telling you is that people already know we’re only friends. This shit right here, bending the law because you can, because you think your son was slighted, is bullshit—especially when every minute counts.”
They didn’t count. Murdock’s hell was back, the less than five-minute reprieve was not nearly long enough, so short he wished he never felt the relief—it sucked remembering how life could be. It wasn’t Declan at the bottom of the Savanna River—it was Nolan.
Fine. Whatever.
What was bad now was they’d all be looking for him and someone was bound to find him, or the truck. Now more than ever he needed his alibi to hold.
“What he hell is Atticus doing?”
“Nolan was supposed to bring me stuff to mail. He didn’t.”
Murdock lifted his brow.
Thinking he wasn’t following she went on.
“I looked where I told him to leave it and it’s not there. Atticus is double checking.”
Murdock moved his gaze back to her. “I had nothing to do with my dad saying anything to Declan’s people. I don’t even know why he did. But that right there proves my point. Your dad had a lot of friends in this town, and more so, he had friends in this town that would use any excuse to exercise a grudge. You and I are stuck. We are stuck until all those old f*cks move on to the by and by and forget your dad existed. There is no time limit on murder. Cut and dry. You turn me in for arson and I will say what I saw. I will say I was sick in love with you and did what I could to keep you safe. I’ll walk away a hero.” He jutted his chin up. “Being called a whore by some fast food grease monkey will be the least of your worries.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I am,” he said brashly. “I protected you. God knows why. I live with the sick guilt every f*cking day. You have ruined my life.” He got in her face. “Yes. I will threaten you if you dare to take what’s left of it away.”
She stepped back, her gaze racing over him. He may have pushed too far, he was aware of that, but he also knew this girl needed to know he was not playing.
“You want me to tell my dad I don’t give a f*ck who you are letting hit it? You want me bring home a girl for him to meet? You want me to spray paint on the f*cking water tower we’re friends without benefits then I f*cking will—but our story stays the f*cking same unless you’re ready to get locked up, too.
“You ass.”
He wanted to say more, something else to lock in their pact, but her grandmother called her name, said it was getting late.
Yeah, whatever, he could take a hint.
Fine by him. He was heading to his dad’s office now. He had no choice but to stay in front of all this shit.
***
The months after it was made known that James Nolan Rawlings was missing were a blur for Justice. Not the same kind of blur after her dad died. If anything, the stress of the search helped her bury her deadly summer in some dark place deep inside.
Now she spent her spare thoughts worrying about her Rawlings’ boys, Noland and Declan.
Social media had managed to expand the story in every direction. The national news even ran the story for all of five minutes one day. The local news kept up the hype for a few weeks but all in all, the search was waning.
The law said any trail they could have followed was cold long before the report came in.
The family had not only hired private investigators, but also each leave Declan was able to take, which was next to none, he used to follow the path he did know Nolan had planned on taking.
Declan meant what he said about him and Justice being careful. For the first few weeks he could only write from where he was, and he never wrote to her, but wrote to his family. Either Atticus or Boon would drop a page off for her at the garage, one that wasn’t addressed to her but clearly written for her eyes.
Mostly the pages told her what he was doing to find Nolan from where he was, and where he thought he was going to be transferred. The word deploy was now the most terrifying word in Justice’s vocabulary. She didn’t care how short the mission was.
She’d always send a letter back, just as vague, straightforward, nothing that could ever be used against them. Just like the glances they always passed to each other in school, they learned to read between the lines, see what was hidden from sight but felt.
After the first half of the fall semester, and it was made clear that Boon was failing all his classes, Justice started to tutor him three days a week. It was part of her personal assistant job at the garage. She made the same amount an hour.