Just as I start to walk away, he whispers, “Please be safe.”
Chapter 16
Present Day
After I got back from meeting with Devon, Ryan and I spent the evening stuffing ourselves on take-out food, binging Netflix, and trying to forget about how horrible the day was. The calls and texts from Ryan’s friends throughout the day became so incessant that he ended up powering off his phone, which is something he rarely does. Neither of us got much sleep, so this Monday morning it seems especially hard to get up and moving.
Even though Ryan is taking the next several days off, he’s still got a full day since he offered to help with the planning of James’s funeral. While I probably could have taken the day off as well, I don’t want to be available to visit the Bernards again, nor do I want to be forced to devise a way to disappear around lunch to meet back up with Devon.
I’m in the kitchen filling up a travel mug of coffee for each of us when Ryan starts down the stairs.
“I’m heading to the Bernards’ first with a few of the guys,” he says. “Mrs. Bernard wants us to help her contact his work and let them know what happened. Then we’re headed to the funeral home.”
“Yeah, I don’t envy you today.” I hand him his coffee and start packing my bag for the day. “Shoot, I left my phone on the charger upstairs.”
By the time I’m heading back down, Ryan is waiting by the door with his bag slung over his shoulder, his coffee mug in one hand and his keys in the other. “I shouldn’t be too late tonight.”
I grab my stuff from the chair. “Me either. Call me when you’re headed home and I’ll duck out early,” I say, then follow him to the garage.
Just before I reach the door of my 4Runner, Ryan pulls me in close and kisses me gently. “I’m dreading today,” he says quietly. “Is it terrible that I don’t want to go over there?”
I run a hand down the side of his face, then wrap my arm around his neck, holding him close to me. He buries his face into the side of my neck.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper in his ear. I can feel my phone buzzing in my purse, but I don’t let go of Ryan until he’s ready.
I’m not sure how long we stand there holding each other, but he finally pulls away, giving me one last kiss before he lets me go and moves to his car.
I’m getting in my car as he climbs into his. As the garage door opens, he nods for me to back out first. I start inching out of the garage since it’s a tight squeeze, watching my passenger side mirror to make sure I’m not going to scrape the door of his car.
As soon as I’m clear, I pull out my phone to give it a quick glance since I rarely get notifications of any kind. It’s a text from an unknown number and my heart starts racing. I’m sure Ryan is wondering why I’ve stopped halfway down the driveway.
I open the text.
Unknown number: 911
Shit. That’s my warning from Devon to get the hell out of here. I look up to find Ryan is stepping out of his car, his attention drawn to the street behind me.
I check my rearview mirror, afraid of what I will see there.
Three police cars have pulled up behind me, blocking us both in.
It only takes a few seconds to realize there’s no getting past them. It also occurs to me that had I not lingered with Ryan in the garage, I would have seen Devon’s text as soon as I received it. Those few minutes may have cost me a clean getaway.
Ryan is out of his car and moving to my door, attempting to open it, but the car is locked since I’m still in reverse. I do a quick mental inventory as to what is in this car that could possibly get me in trouble, but know that there’s nothing.
He knocks on the window. “Evie, open up.” His eyes track the approaching officers.
With slow and deliberate movements, I put the car in park and cut the engine. The second Ryan hears the lock disengage, he opens my door and pulls me out.
His face is wiped free of expression. Even though I didn’t see him while he was talking to that rogue employee, I imagine this is what his face looked like then.
Does he think they are here for him because they have discovered his activities in East Texas? I do appreciate the sentiment when he steps between me and the cops, but the text from Devon tells me they are here for me and he can’t save me from what’s about to happen.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ll handle this.”
He does think they are here for him.
The same officer, Deputy Bullock, from the Bernards’ house is leading the way up the driveway, his eyes probably twinkling behind the mirrored shades.
