I don’t believe him for a fucking second, but I don’t show it. I pace to the TV and turn it on, volume low. I flip through the channels until I hit the late-night news.
And sure enough, there it is. A house on fire, flames painting the sky, a voiceover by a local anchor in the standard-issue doom tone.
“Investigators are on the scene of what appears to be a devastating house fire on Ridgecrest. Early reports suggest?—”
I mute it, and glare at Cade.
“This was your solution?”
He nods, pride etched in every inch of his face. “Nice, isn’t it?”
Turner’s knuckles are bone white on the towel. “It was supposed to be a clean job,” he mutters. “We royally fucked it up. Again.”
Cade shrugs, not even pretending to care. “You saw the bodies. There was no ‘clean’ left. You think a bleach job was enough, Doc? Well, it isn’t.”
I grip the remote and consider hurling it as his face. “You have any idea what kind of attention this brings?”
Cade looks at me, his eyes empty except for a shimmer of sick delight. “I did you a favor. It still would’ve been a big deal.”
“But now, the computer with all the evidence is destroyed,” I say through gritted teeth. “The guy just went down as a victim. It was supposed to be a robbery gone wrong, then presentation of evidence.”
Turner’s eyes dart between us. “Too late now. We didn’t know that.”
I ignore him, and the mistake I know I made. “You both are done for tonight. You go to the bunkhouse, and you stay there. No booze, no phone, no fucking drama. Understood?”
Cade gives a lazy salute, smirk never leaving his face. “Sure thing, Doc. You want me to tuck myself in, too? Or do you want Turner to do it for ya?”
I jab a finger toward the door. “Go. Wait in the truck.”
He leaves without another word, boots thudding on the deck, then silence.
I wait until I’m sure he’s out of earshot. Only then do I let myself sigh, studying Turner more intensely. He’s broken, too, but at least I can spot that change coming.
“I think Cade is crashing out.” Turner mumbles, hesitates, and then says what I already know. “He scares the shit out of me.”
“He should.” I pour water into a glass and take a sip. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
Turner rises to his feet. “I don’t think I can stop him without a bullet.”
I chuckle, though nothing about the idea is comical. “Me either. Sleep with your eyes open.”
He lets out some sort of laugh, and then heads out into the night. As soon as it’s clear, I head back to fix the laundry room window erasing the evidence that anyone broke into my house in the first place. Is it the right thing? I don’t know.
But maybe if I don’t fucking see it anymore, I can forget about it.
And as I replace the glass, my mind dips to a darker place. A place of relief, where Turnerdoesput a bullet in Cade.
That might be the one fuck-up I’d happily cover.
Chapter 16
Jenna
“Dr. Williams!”Molly bursts into my office. She waves a brightly colored flyer over her head and her ponytail whips her in the eye, which seems appropriate for the general chaos of her vibe.
“You have to see this,” she breathes out, dropping the flyer flat onto my desk.
I drop my bandaged hand to my lap out of sight, and then scan what’s in front of me.
