“What money?” Is he talking about Brooks’s signing bonus? He can’t possibly think that’s how this works.
I reach for my purse, and he lifts the gun, waving it at my hand.
“Don’t do that. You stay still.”
I nod, my entire body vibrating.
“I was going to give you my wallet. I don’t have much, maybe forty bucks. But you can take my bank card. And there’s a nice watch in there. One of those that connects to your phone. It’s not a name brand; it’s a cheap knockoff. You can have it, though. Maybe sell it?”
My eyelids flutter as fear pricks at the corners of my eyes. I feel the tear form.
“Oh, God. What do you want?”
“I need Brooks to give me the money. Where is he?”
His father’s pupils seem larger than normal, and he keeps scratching at the arm holding the gun. If I didn’t have Holly, I could maybe take him down, or at least run away. But I can’t risk anything happening to her.
“He’s out. But I can call him. I just need my phone,” I say, glancing to my purse.
His father takes a few steps toward me and I flinch, but he ends up dumping my purse on the table and pulling my phone out to hand to me.
“Call him.”
I nod, my hand flailing as my fingers try to work. I consider pressing the emergency button, but again, that gun is probably loaded. And his dad isn’t right in the head. I’m pretty sure he’s in withdrawals or having a full-on meth-induced delusion.
I manage to press Brooks’s name, and his father snatches the phone from my hand, putting it on speaker. Brooks answers after two rings.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“It’s your dad. I’m here at your house. And I want my fucking money.”
He ends the call and tosses the phone toward the kitchen sink. It bangs against the counter and lands in the iron basin, and I’m pretty sure I heard the screen crack.
“Now, we wait,” he says, fanning the gun at me and Holly. I think he’s telling me to sit down.
I pull the closest chair out and sit in it, and Holly wails as if reading the fear emanating from my body.
“Shut her up,” he barks.
I nod and cry, wishing I could yell back that babies don’t work like that. Instead, I hush her and do my best to smile through my pained face. My phone vibrates against the sink, and I’m sure it’s Brooks calling me back. I mentally calculate how long it will take him to get home. Too long, for certain. But I can survive this. I will keep Holly safe. What’s forty minutes when a full life is waiting on the other side?
TWENTY-FIVE
BROOKS
This is what Roddy meant.
I knew it when he said those words, but I thought I’d have years before I came head on with making this choice. And I never thought it would actually be Lindsey and Holly I was saving. I assumed it would be my own ass. It would come down to me and the stranger. That the guy would finally hunt me down when I’m old and haggard, and he’s barely hanging on to life. I’d give him the money and spit in his face before he killed me.
I haven’t slept well in days, not since Roddy and I found that cash. I thought about calling the detectives working on our break-in about it, but they haven’t done shit since they inspected the house. And Roddy was right—when someone hides that kind of money in a vehicle, they aren’t fucking around. Calling the cops would only put me on the map with the wrong guys even more than I already am.
There are at least two people after that stash: my dad and the stranger. What a fucking gift Mom willed to me. I laugh out in anger as I tear down the highway. Hunter had already left for the afternoon when Lindsey called, and I was just packing up her father’s gear. I left it all by the river, but I think her dad will understand.
I continue pressing Lindsey’s contact every ten seconds. She’s not picking up, and my mind is racing with the worst thoughts. Roddy and I estimated there was about ten million in those stacks. I’m no expert in counting drug money, so it could have been more. It was definitely not less.
I should have fucking called the cops.
I finally reach our street, and I peel around the corner so fast my tires skid across the gravel road. It’s not easy to fishtail in an enormous SUV, but I manage to spin out and snap the rear axle, sending my car skidding at fifty miles per hour into a thicket of wild brush.
