Colette: I’ve figured out who has been stealing money from the ranch. I’m coming to meet with you. We need to talk
She was going to the ranch, and he wasn’t there?
Fuck.
His foot pressed on the accelerator. Just a little faster. He needed to get to her. What if she was in danger? He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. The message was from a while ago; maybe she had arrived.
He pressed on her number, and the phone rang twice before she picked up.
“Marshall! Help me,” her voice, the tone alarmingly high. “He’s here, your?—”
A muffled sound, like the phone smashing on the ground, made him sit up in his seat.
“Colette!” he called out, but no sound came in response. Voices, he could hear voices—hers, and a man’s. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
She was calling out for help, and Marshall wasn’t there.
Slamming a fist on the steering wheel, Marshall figured he had about twenty more minutes until he got home.
Fuck.
What if he was too late? He didn’t dare hang up, in case she needed him. The call was their lifeline, and it was all he could do to listen. He was terrified of what would happen if he hung up.A painful cry came from Colette, then a scuffle. Silence, then a weak moan. He bellowed her name in the cab of the truck, but no answer came. Chills coursed through his body as he swore. How fast could he drive to get home with a trailer full of cattle? He was about to find out.
Somewhere in the background, Colette made an agonizing sound.
Then, silence.
The call disconnected.
What the hell did that mean?
Marshall dialed her number and growled as it went to voicemail. After a call to the police, Marshall was at a loss. Colette was in danger and possibly hurt, and there was nothing he could do about it. Emergency services always took a long time to arrive, given their rural location. Somewhere in his mind, awareness dawned, and he called Evan.
Evan could be there in a matter of seconds. He might even still be somewhere on the ranch.
The phone rang and nothing. He dialed again.
“Pick up the fucking phone, Evan,” he demanded.
After the third call, Evan picked up, his voice laced with confusion. “Marshall? I’m just finishing up in the stables. Are you on your way?”
“Evan, you need to check on Colette, she’s at the house or the guest house, somewhere. I think she’s in danger. I’m almost there, but you need to find her.”
“On it, Marshall.” Evan’s fast panting breaths on the line told Marshall he was running. Bless him. “What’s that smell?”
“Tell me what you see. I’ve called the police; they’re on their way.”
The sound changed as Evan left the barn, the typical noise of animals in the background transitioning to the dark silence of the night.
“Oh fuck, I gotta go, Marsh.” His friend could be heard uttering another curse and Marshall could hear him running.
“What’s happening? What do you see?” Marshall begged. The powerlessness was suffocating. Anxiety clutched at his chest, and all he wanted to do was scream.
“The guest house is on fire.”
CHAPTER 53
Thunder roared in his ears and Marshall fought to maintain his focus as his mind raced to all the dark places Evan’s words had opened up in his mind.
