With that, I turn, wading through the stray branches and pushing through the trees. My feet skid to an abrupt halt at the sound of her voice. “You’re a good guy, Sebastian. Sometimes I think you’re the only decent human left here in this fucking town.”
My jaw locks. “I’m not a good guy. And I probably never will be.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
I raise a brow, waiting for her to go on. “If something bad happens, can you protect her?”
Hesitating, I scratch at the back of my neck, suddenly confused. What the hell is she talking about, and how drunk am I?
“Protect who?”
“My sister.”
My frown deepens. “Why would you ask me that? Is she in danger?”
Madison shrugs. “No. I just…I don’t know.” She shakes her head, looking down at her feet. A shiver wracks her shoulders, and she wraps her arms around her body protectively. I glance around, trying to see if the trees are swaying, but there’s no breeze. It’s summer. There’s no way she can be cold. “You ever get the feeling that something bad is going to happen?” I shake my head, still not following. “I have that feeling, and I can’t shake it. I should probably stop drinking. Alcohol makes me paranoid. But it almost feels like…all the wrong I’ve done in my life, it’s finally coming for me, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
My phone vibrates incessantly in my pocket, and I know it’s my father. I blow out a sigh and try to put her mind at ease. “I gotta go, but you should stop drinking. Get some water and go home, Madison.”
I turn to leave but hear her mutter more to herself than to me. “I can’t. There are still things I have to do.”
I jolt awake, sweat clinging to my forehead after that dream. Guilt slams into my chest, just like it always does when I have this dream. Because there are so many what-ifs about that night. What if I stayed and helped her while she was upset? What if I made Simon give me and Madison a ride home that night? She would’ve been far away from the woods. Far away from the kissing rock. Far away from death.
After Simon gave me a ride, I met up with Trent and Marcus at the house, passing off bottles of alcohol for the rest of that night. I’ve thought about this moment countless times in my life. What if I had Simon drop me straight off with my parents? What if I never gave them alcohol that night? Maybe then they all would’ve been clearheaded.
I’m not a good man. I’ve done things, covered up things, that I wish I wouldn’t have. All that’s done over the years is eat at my soul. Make me push my emotions aside and brace the numbness. Brace the façade that I don’t care—that I don’t feel anything.
Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I try to rub the fatigue away. I’ve been holed in my office for the past few days, trying to take care of this clusterfuck of events. Trying to make sense of what’s happening.
I still don’t have any of the answers I need. Too many pieces are missing, too many unknown factors. I don’t know who is digging back into the case or why, and I don’t know what to make of Mackenzie or the games she’s been playing. Something niggles at the back of my mind, demanding to be heard.
I had to make a statement earlier this week on behalf of Vincent and the rest of the guys before Page Six, The Inquirer, or any other papers twisted the situation. I’ve kept Mackenzie’s name and identity out of the press. Not that she deserved any of my protection at this point, but I can’t find it in me to throw her to the wolves.
I found out the hard way that she was, indeed, alive. The news came like a blow to the chest. I wanted to see that she was alive and well with my own two eyes, despite the mess that had transpired between us. The issue was, she was taken to the Redwood Memorial Hospital, but because her injuries were so extensive, she had to be transferred to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Eureka. It didn’t escape my notice that if Vincent was never airlifted back to LA, they would’ve been recovering in the same hospital.
The staff wouldn’t give Dan and me any information other than news that she was stable. Her parents wouldn’t allow anyone to see her, so that meant I had to call daily to make sure she pulled through. The last time I spoke to the head nurse, she hesitated when telling me that Mackenzie was moved to another facility, and that was all she could tell me. I haven’t been able to locate her since. That’s what scares me the most, my need to still know where she is at all times.
Glancing down at the bright screen, I move the cursor, reading over the reports once more. Zach’s home was broken into while we were in Vegas. Nothing was taken like it would’ve been in a regular robbery. Instead, his office was trashed and the safe left open, but nothing of importance taken. There were no fingerprints, no footage, and none of the neighbors remember seeing anything suspicious that night.
Deep in my gut, I know it was her. I don’t know how she managed to get in and out without leaving one fingerprint behind. I don’t know what the hell she would want with Zach or with anything in his safe. I think back to the night of the poker game when she was gone for a while.
Was she staking out the place? It would make sense if she took his money or any of his valuables, but that’s just it, she didn’t.
From what we can tell, she didn’t take anything valuable at all.
So, what did she take?
What was her endgame?
The guys want to believe so badly that she’s a gold digger, but if she was, wouldn’t she have taken the good shit and run off? Why trash his office and leave everything of value behind? It doesn’t make sense.
Zach is pissed. Trent is being secretive, and Marcus is doing damage control, just as I am, trying to find a fucking solution to this mess. And Vincent has been oddly quiet during this whole process. He’s back in Ferndale for the time being, recovering with his parents, who he loathes. Another suspicious act in itself.
After his outburst at the hospital, Vincent hasn’t mentioned Mackenzie’s name. I didn’t tell any of the guys she’s alive and well. The news outlets have reported vaguely that both victims in the accident have survived. That was answer enough for them.
I’m just about to call it a night when there’s a knock on the other end of the door, and Dan lets himself in. With a cloud of heavy silence surrounding him, he walks in with purpose, a thick file in hand, and he drops it onto the table before me.
“Everything is in there.”
I drop my gaze to the file and frown. Placing my hand over the manila folder, I start sliding it toward me, but pause at the sound of Dan’s deep voice.
“There’s a lot to take in, but remember, not everything is always as it seems. And I suggest you read this before going any further.”
That frown deepens when he drops Mackenzie’s thick stack of papers onto the table next to the file. I haven’t so much as opened it since the night this clusterfuck started. So much has happened, and I haven’t had a chance to do shit, let alone read whatever lies she’s surely written in there.
“Where the hell did you get this?” I demand through a narrowed gaze.
Dan shrugs, a cold gleam in his eyes. “I figured someone should read it at least. You had it sitting on the coffee table.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to berate him, but I honestly don’t even have the strength to do so. I’ve been up for almost thirty hours now and the short ten-minute nap I took earlier isn’t going to cut it. My brain isn’t processing the way it normally does.