The penthouse is deathly silent as I walk in. Something I have become accustomed to, but right now I don’t care for it. I kick off my shoes and make my way to the couch, placing the envelope on the table in front of me. I trace each letter of my name, in his handwriting, and tears start to gather in my eyes. I open it slowly and dump the contents on the table. A set of car keys and a folded piece of paper. I unfold it slowly, my hands trembling a little. There’s an address at the top, and a letter below.
Payson,
If you’re reading this, then things didn’t go the way I intended. I won’t waste your time with explanations you don’t need. What matters is what you do next. Take the keys and go to Jeff’s. If this really did happen, then he will be expecting you. It’s yours, and everything inside. Once you’ve collected it, drive to the address listed at the top. Don’t bring anyone with you, and don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Trust that even now… I know what is best.
-Jay
I stareat the letter far longer than I need to, trying to make sense of it. Nothing about the last couple of days has made any sense to me at all. I look at the keys, then the address, then read the instructions again before I stand and head to my closet to pack some clothes. If he wanted me to go to this address, then there must be a reason. And I am not ignoring it. Not this time.
CHAPTER 38
Payson
The gate doesn’t open right awayas I pull into Jeff’s driveway. I pull up just enough for the camera to catch my face, the engine idling beneath me, steady and low. A soft click, then the gate slides open. Jay was right, he knew I would come. I drive through slowly, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. The building ahead is unremarkable. I haven’t been to Jeff’s since I was a little kid, his mansion has changed so much. Jeff is already outside when I step out, looking every bit the same as the last time I saw him, except the gray in his hair is really starting to show now, and he’s still just as built as he was before. He was Jay’s shadow in all the ways I can remember.
“Payson,” he says, still sounding the same after all these years.
I nod, smiling softly toward him.
“Jeff.”
“He told me you’d come.”
I swallow, sobs lingering in my throat just wanting me to let them go. “When?”
His jaw tightens. “Years ago.” I don’t ask any questions. I find the more I ask, the more I learn. And the more I learn, the less likely I will continue to do as I’m told and end up getting myself in trouble. “Come on.” He gestures toward a separate building near the back of his home. I follow him inside, walking past rows of vehicles. Some covered. Some old, and some new. All maintained. “I’m a collector,” he says, as we move deeper into the garage. We stop at the far end in front of one of the covered cars. It’s tucked away, separated from the rest in its own space. He throws off the cover, and a black 1972 Chevelle stares back at me. Even under the thin layer of dust it’s still…perfect. Not restored to look new but preserved to stay how it was meant to. And it’s his. Or was his. I take a step closer, my fingers brushing over the cool metal of the hood. He used to talk about this car like it was a person. He used to tell me there were secrets that lay within.
“You kept it,” I say quietly.
Jeff chuckles. “I didn’t really have a say in the matter.” He wouldn’t have sold it even if he needed the money, or the space. It belonged to his best friend. Their friendship was one I always admired. A loyalty that was far beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed. “He wanted you to have it,” Jeff adds, nodding toward the keys in my hand.
My heart aches at the thought. “Why?” I ask.
He shrugs before adding… “Because he knew you would understand what it meant to have it.” That answer doesn’t explain anything but somehow explains everything.
I smile. “Thank you, Jeff.”
He inclines his head slightly, patting my shoulder. “You know where to find me,” he says, turning and walking out of the garage, leaving me alone with my feelings and the car. It feels like all I have done lately is watch people walk away from me. For once I wish someone would stay. I circle the car once beforeopening the door. Taking it and letting it settle deep as I pull it open and slide into the driver’s seat. The smell hits me first. Not the leather, or oil, or the musk, but him. Faint, but there, nonetheless. His favorite aftershave, and the only one he’s ever worn all my life. I rest my hands on the steering wheel, curling my fingers loosely around it, closing my eyes, and resting my head against it. It’s like I can feel him here with me. Not like an empty feeling of death, but a feeling that he’s somewhere else. I swallow hard, focusing on the task at hand. I pull out my phone, typing in the address from the paper. The screen buffers for a minute, mapping out the route. It’s not anywhere near here. Good. I don’t want this to be a quick trip. The engine turns over smoothly the instant I turn the key. The hum of the engine echoes loud between the walls. Fourteen hours. That’s how long it’ll take me to get there. I’m not sure what I will be walking into, or what he left me way up there, and I am entirely nervous all at the same time. I shift the car in reverse, allowing the vibrations to soothe me as I back out of the garage, and head toward my destination.
CHAPTER 39
Payson
The further Idrive away from the city the longer the roads stretch. Hours pass, and eventually time starts blurring together. The radio does work, and I had it on for a little bit, but the further into the mountains I drive, the quieter I want it to be. The chirps of the crickets and hoots from the owls are the only thing I can hear over the hum of the engine. Gas stations with flickering lights, paper cups of coffee that go cold before I can even finish them, have been the only constants since I left the city. I don’t rush, just take my time. The further away I drive the better I start to feel. Maybe this was what he left me. Maybe this is what he meant by saying only I would understand.
By the time the road starts to wind, there’s nothing left but trees. Endless amounts of trees, tall, and closing in just enough to make the world feel smaller. The mountains rise around me gradually shifting the air, the temperature, and the roads which are now curving with the mountains. The Chevelle handles it with ease, steadily pushing through like it knows exactly where to go. I roll the window down at one point. The air is muchcooler and…cleaner. It fills the car, mixing with the faint trace of aftershave that still lingers in the leather, and for a minute it feels as if he’s guiding me.
I follow every direction without question. There’s nothing else to do but drive and listen. Eventually, the map reroutes me onto something narrower. Less maintained but still paved. All I can see are trees as I come to an intersection. A four-way that feels out of place in the midst of all the trees surrounding us. No signs. No lights. Not another car in sight. Just four directions cutting through the woods. My headlights stretch across it, catching nothing but empty road and trees that don’t move. The GPS chimes softly.In 600 feet turn right.I nearly miss it as I turn onto the small paved road. That sinking feeling that I may not come back from here lingers in the air. It’s like in movies when you see a woman alone turn down a long road, leading to a serial killer.
The road narrows the further I drive down it, darker now and the trees become thicker, nearly suffocating, until a driveway appears. A driveway that screams someone with money lives here, though no one would ever see it way out here, out of place from the rest of the world. My grip tightens on the wheel as I slow, turning onto it. The car moves up the incline with ease, gravel shifting beneath the tires as the pavement ends and rock takes over. Coming into view with clean lines. Sharp edges. Modern in a way that feels almost unreal sitting in the middle of nowhere. It reminds me of something I once saw in one of those vampire movies. Too perfect to belong here, but onscreen not so much, but the difference; the glass is dark, reflective, and I can’t see through it.
I pull up slowly, the headlights washing over it briefly before I cut the engine. I wonder if I have the address right as I sit there just… looking at it. This is where he sent me. Why? I reach for the keys, pulling them from the ignition and step out. Theair is cold, and I suck in a deep breath. It’s weird how different the air can feel and smell between the city and out here in the middle of nowhere. Not to down my phone company, but I am very surprised it brought me here without losing service. Top notch. I move toward the front door, my steps steady and even as something low in my chest tightens. There’s a faint glow from inside barely bright enough to be seen unless you peek through the panels beside the door. Someone’s here or was.
Knock, knock, knock.Nothing. No movement, no sound other than the chirps from the crickets. I wait a few seconds longer, and when I don’t hear anything, I grip the handle, pressing the button and pushing it open. It’s unlocked, which is strange to me, but I guess not so much out here. The air is warm when I step inside. A welcome to the cold. Everything is neatly placed and clean like it’s been staged, similar to an Airbnb before the next guest arrives. I close the door quietly behind me, my gaze moving carefully across the room. The furniture is pristine, and there are no signs of clutter or signs that anyone has been here. Not that I can tell. My eyes land on the empty fireplace, and the space beside it where wood should be stacked, a barely noticeable outline of where there has been some before. The soft leather couch sits low and wide with a plush blanket draped across one side. The second I take a seat, I realize just how tired I am. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. The weight of everything I haven’t let myself feel there, ready to escape. I sink deeper into the fabric, letting it consume me as my eyes drift to the table in front of me where a half full glass of bourbon sits. That shouldn’t be here. My fingers twitch slightly against the edge of the couch as I try to think if I ever heard Jay mention this place before, but the thought never leaves because exhaustion hits me harder and heavier than ever.
CHAPTER 40
Ledgar
