“I didn’t mean to call you,” she stutters, sounding confused.
“I called you, Austin. What’s happening?”
Not wasting time with closing the empty safe, I shove the gun into the waistband of my jeans and grab my keys, letting my cabin door slam behind me as I run out into the cool May air.She’s stuttering her way through a response when the banging gets louder. Austin yelps and then muffles it, the line going dead right after.
“Fuck!”
I hit Jameson’s speed dial, backing my truck around and shifting into drive with the other hand.
“‘Sup?”
“Get your gun and be ready to jump in my truck.” I don’t bother waiting for an answer, hanging up immediately after. I know he’ll be standing outside by the time I get there.
Sure enough, he’s waiting, but as soon as he sees my face, he rounds the hood to the driver’s side instead of hopping in like I told him, wasting precious seconds. “Get in the fucking truck,” I seethe.
“I am, brother. Scoot to the other side. I can’t let you drive like this. Just tell me where we’re going.”
I don’t have time to argue, and not driving will give me time to call the sheriff anyway, so I slide across the bench seat, dialing while I explain. “Austin’s. Quickly.”
Jameson doesn’t wait for more information, tires spinning as he peels away from his cabin. He hits the button on the visor to make sure the gate is open long before we reach it and I love him for trying to make up for the seconds we lost.
“Cedar Creek Sheriff’s Office, Walker speaking.” Has he always talked this fucking slowly?
“It’s Maddox Whittaker. I need you to get your boys to the Taylor residence before I make it there or you’ll be cleaning up a crime scene.”
Jameson swears under his breath, taking the turn onto the main road faster than he normally would. I relish in the way my body knocks against the side of the car door.
The quick sound of Walker’s office chair rolling back against the floor comes through the receiver, followed by quick rustling. “Elaborate.”
“Don’t have much to give you besides hearsay and a gut feeling,but I got a call from someone who said he witnessed Wayne Taylor grabbing his daughter at Quitter’s today and when I called her, she was crying and whispering, like she was hiding. It sounded like Wayne was beating the door down and screaming.”
The Sheriff lets out a sigh that sounds way too close to relief for my liking. “So, a domestic dispute?”
“A fucking murder if I make it there before you do, Walker, and that’s all the warning you’re gonna fucking get.”
I hang up, throwing the phone to the floorboard. There’s no way he’s going to make it there before we do. We’re five minutes out if we were going the speed limit and we definitely aren’t.
“Is it even worth mentioning that Mama will have a fit if you end up in the slammer or worse?” Jameson asks, flashing his lights at an oncoming car as he veers into their lane to pass the one in front of us.
“Nope,” I tell him, grabbing the bar above the door as he veers back into the proper lane. He’s going as fast as he can, I know that, but it’s still not fast enough and all my mind has time to do right now isthink.
Austin’s obvious distrust in men.
Her desperation to make money & her plans to leave town.
The breakdown in the office of the bar after that ranch hand grabbed her.
Another memory tries to grab me—emotionless eyes in a dimly-lit hallway and a jacket she wouldn’t take off—but we’re pulling up to the dilapidated single-wide Austin shares with her soon-to-be-dead father so my mind loses track of the thought.
I’m out of the truck before it’s even parked. “Maddox, goddammit, be smart about this!” Jamie’s yelling, shutting it off and rushing after me. I brace myself, kicking open the front door. Dramatic and unnecessary based on the way it slams against the wall easily, but intended to make a point and distract Wayne if nothing else.
There’s noise toward the back of the trailer and I draw my gun, heading that way.
“Fuck, that’s a lot of coke,” my brother mumbles under his breath behind me, but I’m only focusing on the tiny voice I can hear as I get closer.
“Daddy, please don’t do this,” Austin begs, sobbing. “I’ll get you the money. I won’t leave town. Please.”
The door to what must be Austin’s room has been forced open, a dresser knocked over and in disarray but that’s all I can see from here. I plan to be smart about it, like Jameson warned, but when I hear the unmistakable sound of a fist meeting flesh and Austin’s yelp, caution is tossed aside. My brother swears behind me like he knows, and I’m running the few feet remaining to the bedroom. Austin’s on the floor but if it weren’t for her hair, I don’t think I’d know it was her.
