“The girls are less likely to get hurt if they leave them be wherever they are.”
Every second of the drive felt like torture.
As we approached the first neighborhood on the list, a call from Parker came through. He spat out an address, and I punched it into my phone and brought it up on the map.
“Only two minutes from here.”
“I’ll update the police. My team said street cams caught the van near that address.”
“Okay, see you there.” I ended the call with Parker and turned to Logan as we careened down the roads. “How are we going to approach this?”
“I’m going to fucking murder my parents, that’s how,” Logan snarled.
“The police are on their way, too, so maybe refrain from murder. You need to be on the outside of the bars to hold our kid when they’re born.”
He shot me a withering look, and I resisted the urge to laugh despite the shitty situation we were in.
“Logan, I want you to remember those fuckers aren’t your family. We are. We love you, and none of us blame you for any of this.”
“I blame myself enough for all of us.”
I was going to have to hire a full-time therapist to live at our house after everything.
By the time we skidded to a stop on a quiet suburban road, I was ready to commit my own list of felonies. The house was a wreck, or at least the yard was at first glance. It was the sort of home that made people actually glad HOAs existed. Garbage littered most of the yard, and while I was sure it had once been a beautiful and pricey property, it had either fallen into a serious state of disrepair or been trashed.
“Is anyone even here?” I asked, glancing around. There were no obvious signs of life, and the windows were dark.
Logan kicked in the side door as Parker and Avery sprinted up the driveway. Dust kicked up as the door whipped open, sending me into a coughing fit.
“Do you think they’re here?” Avery asked. “The bond feels so chaotic, I can’t tell.”
“Neither can I,” Parker muttered, looking strung out from the stress.
“Clover!” Logan hollered into the house, making my ears ring.
Only silence met his call.
“Is that a good sign or a bad sign?” Avery asked in a hushed whisper, following closely on his tail as we trudged inside.
The house was empty.
Almost desolate.
There was no furniture, and the flooring had been ripped up in places.
“They clearly aren’t living here…so why are they renting this place? It’s a fucking dump,” Parker said, kicking over an old take-out container.
“My money is on meth…” Logan’s words were matter of fact, but the rest of us all turned to stare at him as we made our way through the living space. “That’s probably why Rick is back in town.”
“Meth?” Avery asked in a strangled whisper.
“Nothing good ever happens with Rick around. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
I simply nodded in agreement, having unfortunately met Rick a few times in our younger years.
“Clover!” Logan yelled again. “Check the rooms just in case.”
An almighty crash rang out from what I could only assume was the basement.
