Then I was home. I pulled down the familiar gravel drive, saw the places where I used to play as a kid. Memories came swirling back to me, almost as if I had been gone for years instead of a couple months.
I stopped the car outside the main house. My father’s truck was parked in the usual spot, along with my mother’s SUV and at least one of my brothers’ trucks. I climbed out and practically ran up the old wooden steps, onto the porch, and stopped at the front door.
I took a deep breath. I probably looked crazed, and I didn’t know what to expect inside. I had no clue what I was going to uncover in there.
But I couldn’t back down, not now, not ever. If there was one thing I had learned from Travis, it was that bravery could mean the difference between winning and losing.
I turned the doorknob, my heart a beating mess in my chest.
It was locked.
I let out a breath, feeling silly. I quickly walked to the end of the porch and flipped over the chair cushion on the rocking chair. Tucked into a little pocket my mother had sewn into it was the front door key. I grabbed it, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
No blood. No violence. No horror. Just my house, quiet in the early morning light.
“Mom?” I called out. “Dad?” I walked into the kitchen, but nobody was there. Normally my parents would be getting up around now, but the house was silent.
That seemed ominous. “Mom? Reese? Jonny? Reggie?”
I walked through the downstairs but saw nothing out of ordinary, just evidence of their lives continuing: my brother Reese’s dirty boots, my mother’s sewing kit left out on the couch, magazines piling up next to my father’s chair, used glasses in the sink. I shook my head and headed toward the stairs.
Nothing seemed strange. Nothing seemed off, and yet something was wrong. I slowly walked upstairs, afraid of what I’d see.
Just as I got to the top, the door to my parents’ room opened.
My mother stood there, wearing her pajamas, wrapped in a bathrobe. She looked exhausted. “Hartley?”
I ran to her and threw my arms around her. She seemed surprised, but I couldn’t have been happier to see her.
She was okay. She was fine. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
“Honey, what are you doing here?”
“I was so worried,” I said. “I called last night, a bunch of times, but you never answered.”
She laughed, confused. “So you drove home?”
“I guess so.” I let her go and looked at her. “Where were you guys?”
She sighed. “Old Billy’s sow gave birth. His sons were on vacation and you know Martha isn’t doing well, so we went over and gave him a hand. Your dad and the boys are still over there, helping him with his morning chores.”
“Oh,” I said, blinking. “That’s really nice.”
“Guess so.” She cocked her head, smiling. “Are you okay?”
In that moment, I realized that I wasn’t. I wasn’t even close to okay.
I had just freaked out and run off to check on my family just because they hadn’t picked up the phone when I’d wanted them to. I didn’t call any cell phones, didn’t even bother to wait. I just ran off at the worst possible moment.
No, I was far from okay. I was a damn mess, deep in something I could barely fathom, in way over my head. And I couldn’t tell my mother any of this, because she’d force me to call the police.
Instead, I had to lie.
“I was homesick,” I said. “I guess I just really wanted to come home.”
“Well then, I’m glad you’re here. Are you hungry?”
I nodded and let her lead me downstairs.
I had to get back. I’d made a mistake, and I was going to pay for it, I was sure. But I had to get back and pay for it in Knoxville. I’d grab a bite to eat, drink a cup of coffee, and then I’d get the heck out of there.
In the end, at least my parents were safe. That was all I really wanted.
I hadn’t realized how much this whole thing was getting to me, but clearly the stress was beginning to have an effect. I’d thought I had it under control, but maybe I was wrong.
I just hoped that it wasn’t too late to fix this.
Chapter 22
Travis
I never thought I’d find myself driving a truck for any real long distance, but there I was sinking into the thick padded seat, working the clutch, and snaking my way along the Georgia highway.
I knew where Hartley’s family lived. She hadn’t exactly told me, but I’d looked her up as soon as I had some basic information about her. The Baker family farm was in Dade County, about three hours from Knoxville through some shitty fucking backwoods roads.
Which of course were awful for a big rig. But I had no other way of getting there, and I needed to bring her ass home as soon as possible. Hopefully the mafia hadn’t even noticed yet, but that wouldn’t last long. I suspected they knew already, and it was a race to see who could get to her first.