Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)(6)

Chase needs reassurance right now, though, so I say encouragingly, “We’ll find Will. Nothing bad will happen.”

Convincing, that’s the tone I’m striving for. And I succeed—I sound so very convincing. Too bad what I’m really feeling is about ten pounds of worry on my shoulders. That worry quickly increases to twenty pounds when we make it to the bus station and, sure enough, the bus Will came in on has come and gone.

“Will’s gone,” Chase says dejectedly as he drops down into a hard plastic chair bolted down to the floor of the stuffy bus station lounge.

It’s noisy and uncomfortable in the crusty, old terminal. I sit down next to Chase and place my head on his shoulder. I’m pretty well spent myself.

After a minute of shared respite, I lift my head. “It’s been a long night and a long morning, Chase. Let’s drive up to your mom’s house. Who knows, maybe Will is home.”

Chase doesn’t reply, and when I look over at him he raises an eyebrow. His eyes, eyes I long ago christened gunmetal-blue, appear tired, clouded with worry.

“And if he’s not there?” he asks. “Then what do we do, Kay?”

“Well, we can get some sleep and maybe something to eat. We’ll go out afterward and look for Will. We’ll stay out all night if we have to, but we need to re-charge.”

Again, I try so hard to sound confident and sure. Of course, the truth is I know nothing more than what Chase knows. And that is next to nothing. Will could literally be anywhere by now. Still, starting at the house he lives in seems like a reasonable plan.

Chase has never been to the house his mother shares with her new husband Greg, and Will, but he knows the address. Back in the rental car, he sets the GPS accordingly.

And then we’re on our way.

A short while later, outside a gated community of affluent homes, the neighborhood where Abby and Greg live, Chase slows down considerably. Muttering, “Jesus,” he blows out a breath.

“Wow,” is my only response as we make our way through the ritzy plan of homes.

“Mom really did hit the jackpot when she married Greg,” Chase says, shaking his head.

“You’re not kidding,” I mumble.

The houses—no, mansions—are nothing short of spectacular. Following the GPS instructions, we wind through the palm tree-lined streets. We soon discover the house the former Abby Gartner lives in is tucked away behind an elaborate garden of cacti and desert flora.

There’s a large, black wrought-iron gate at the entrance to her home, and even though the gate is open, we stop. Ironically, the open gate is askew, making it look unnervingly similar to the much smaller wrought-iron gate that marks the entrance to the cemetery behind the church where Chase and I work.

I suspect Chase notices this too. I’m soon sure he notices when I catch him staring at the gate for a longer-than-necessary amount of time before driving through.

“Remind you of something?” he quietly asks.

“That gate looks like the one at the cemetery behind Holy Trinity.”

Chase chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, it sure does. And it’s pretty f*cking weird.”

“Very,” I reply.

The similarity is weird on a number of levels. But I’m too tired to dwell on the symbolism of how the entrance to Chase’s mom’s house matches the entrance to a place where the dead rest.

Chase drives forward, following the curve of the driveway until we reach the front of the house.

After we park and step out of the car, I realize something. “Wait, you don’t have a key, Chase. How are we supposed to get in the house?”

So far, access hasn’t been a problem. The gates at the entrance to the neighborhood were open. Same with the weird Holy Trinity-duplicate gate here at the house. But I have no doubt the house itself will be secured. Abby and Greg have been on a cruise for the past couple of weeks, and Will has been with Chase and me in Ohio. I doubt the place has been unlocked all this time.

Despite my concerns, not having a key turns out not to be a problem.

As Chase and I walk tentatively up to a wide set of steps leading to the house, the front door swings open.

Chase and I skid to a stop, and there is Will, standing before us.

When he sees us—like, really sees we are truly there—his green eyes widen. “Holy shit, what the f*ck are you two doing here?” he exclaims.

Chase dispenses with any form of greeting and gets right to the point. “I know everything, Will. Jared came to see me yesterday afternoon. So, I think you know why we are here.”

“Oh, shit,” Will mutters.

“Oh, shit is right,” Chase snaps as he takes a step in Will’s direction. “I want that gun, bro.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Will tries to sound smooth, noncommittal, but his eyes betray him. He looks guilty, guilty, guilty.

“Jared told us everything,” I interject. “We know you bought a gun from Kyle Tanner.”

Will knows he’s busted, so he tries a different tact. “So what if I did? Having a gun is no big deal. It’s dangerous out here in Sin City. I need something to protect myself with.”

“Protect yourself…or protect Cassie?” Chase tosses out accusingly.

“Uh…” Will can’t maintain eye contact with his brother.