The Stillwater Girls(64)

“Hold on.” Brant cocks his head at me. “Davis.”

The soaps. Lavender-scented. Goat’s milk. Tied in lilac-colored string.

His brother claimed to be selling them for a friend of his, and Brant would always buy a bar here or there out of sheer kindness and to support what he believed were local artisans.

I gasp. “Your brother.”

“That son of a bitch.” Brant stands, the indentation beneath his cheekbone pulsing. When his eyes snap on to mine, he tries to speak, but nothing comes out.

He’s in shock.

I’m not surprised.

Davis was always jealous of our financial situation. Always asking for loans and handouts. Always making snide comments. Always making Brant feel as though his success was undeserved, dumb luck. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to imagine Davis exploiting an opportunity to inflict pain on his brother.

“Yes. Your brother.” Chuck sniffs as he laughs, rubbing his scarred chin. “Anyway, your words, not mine.”

“I don’t understand. How did you know to go into the forest?” I ask.

“I’m getting there,” Chuck says, pointing a meaty finger. “All the times I’d searched his property, it was when he was at work, so it was always in the dark. One morning, he came home stumbling drunk around nine in the morning, probably stopped off at the bar on his way home. Gave him twenty minutes to pass out and decided to take my chances. And good thing I did. Found a little clearing just behind his trailer. Plain as day, I saw a worn path, almost like something with wheels was using it because the ruts were small but deep in parts. Sure as hell wasn’t shoes that did that. So then I got to thinking about the soaps he was selling . . . followed the path, saw it went deeper and deeper . . .”

I’ve heard enough—for now. “How do we get Hannah?”

“So what are you saying? That Davis has some part in this?” Brant asks Chuck. “Why wouldn’t Beth have said something?”

“You’ll have to talk to her about that,” Chuck says. “But more than likely, I imagine she was working to make sure the two of you weren’t in cahoots in any way, didn’t want you tipping him off.”

My husband begins to protest. I know him, and Chuck’s comment has offended him to his core, but I place my hand on his arm in hopes to keep him from saying something he’ll regret.

“We have to go,” Brant says as he stands and pats his pockets for his keys. “Now.”

“No.” I grab his arm. “We have to call Deputy May.”

Davis has guns. And zero qualms about using them. His entire acreage on the outskirts of town is littered with “No Trespassing” signs.

“Your brother is insane,” I remind him. “You’re not going there without the police.”

Rushing to the kitchen, I grab the slip of paper with Deputy May’s personal cell number and yank my phone off the charger. Before I have a chance to dial her number, Chuck appears behind me.

“If you’re calling the police, I’m pretty sure they’re already there,” he says. “Beth was on her way last I talked to her.”

Everything’s happening so fast, and yet it’s not happening fast enough.





CHAPTER 45

WREN

There’s an unusual amount of commotion coming from downstairs, so much so that I can’t focus on the sketch I’m drafting—a picture of the three of us sisters. I want to give it to Sage before she goes to her new home in Vermont in a few weeks.

Placing my pencil down, I make my way to the top of the stairs.

Deputy May is here.

And the stranger from the cabin is still here. He hasn’t left.

Nicolette and Brant are talking so fast I can hardly understand them, and they keep pacing back and forth, passing the stair landing time and again. Going from the kitchen to the living room and back.

With a clammy hand clenching the banister, I make my way downstairs.

“Wren.” Nicolette stops pacing the foyer when she sees me.

“What’s going on?” I take a look around and thank my lucky stars that that brute is seated a good distance away from me. Nicolette’s eyes are bloodshot, and her hair is a mess, like she’s been running her fingers through it, pulling and tugging at the ends. This isn’t her. This isn’t the Nicolette I’ve come to know. Dragging in a sharp breath, I ask, “Did you find Evie? You did, didn’t you?”

Brant and Nicolette exchange looks.

“No,” Brant says. “Not yet.”

“Then what is this?” I ask. “Why is Deputy May here?”

“We have a lead,” Deputy May says. “We’re just going to go check it out, Wren. We’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

“I’m coming with you.” I begin to make my way to the back door, where my shoes rest on the rug, but I’m stopped by the collective “no” coming from the group.

“You’re going to be safer here,” Nicolette says. “I’ll give you the code to the security system. It’s too dangerous for you out there.”

I could scream.

For the first time, Nicolette sounds like Mama.

“No.” My voice is so loud it startles everyone into silence. “She’s my sister. I’m coming with you.”