Page 38

C laire stayed busy.

When she wasn’t brushing Buttercup, she was sweeping the porch, scrubbing the kitchen, or checking on Clara Mae — as best she could while hobbling on crutches.

The older woman claimed to be fine, but Claire knew she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites since Peter vanished. She just sat in her chair with her shotgun close, pretending to knit.

But Claire couldn’t just sit. Not when Adam was out there alone. Not when her cousin had vanished without a trace.

She fed the horses, checked the hands’ work, the fencing out back… Anything to stay distracted.

Grams had stopped by several times to check on her, but instead of upsetting Grams by talking about Lala’s part, Claire focused on the fact that she was helping Clara Mae and Peter.

The sound of tires crunching gravel reached her. Not fast, like someone in a rush. Slow. Deliberate.

She stood on the porch, a crutch under one arm, her gun slung over the other. A big black truck pulled into the drive.

Boyd.

He staggered out of the cab, clearly drunk, his boots dragging like anchors. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, and he wore the same leather jacket he’d had since high school.

Claire didn’t move. Unlike last time, she was holding a gun. If he came within twenty feet of her or pulled a weapon, she’d use it after what his partners put her through.

Boyd looked worse than ever — eyes bloodshot, face pale, hands shaking. Whatever confidence he used to carry had vanished. Replaced by something feral. Desperate.

“Where is he?” he slurred.

Claire didn’t flinch. “Who?”

“You know who. Adam.”

“He’s not here.”

Boyd swayed. “They’re gonna kill me, Claire. If I don’t give them what they want…”

Claire’s spine stiffened. “Where’s Peter?”

Boyd’s eyes darted. “I wish I knew. They took him. Thought he was Adam.”

Claire stepped forward, rage and fear rising in tandem. “Where is he?”

“He was … the same place they had you.” Boyd laughed, harsh and broken. “Doesn’t matter now. He’s gone.”

Claire’s breath caught. “What do you mean gone ?”

“Your little friend escaped. Now he’s lost somewhere out there, and they’re pissed.”

Claire gripped the porch railing.

“They’re looking for him now. But so am I. ’Cause if they find him first, it’s over. He don’t know nothing. Your boyfriend don’t know nothing. And me?” He let out another bitter laugh. “They’ll chop off my balls and feed them to me because, guess what? I don’t know nothing, either.”

Boyd was spiraling.

She slid her hand to the gun.

“Thomas bypassed me a long time ago. Went straight to the snake’s mouth. I was just the guy who made the intro. But in their world, that makes me liable.”

Claire didn’t need to hear another word.

“Leave. Now.”

Boyd flung his head back. “You never cared.”

She didn’t respond. Just stared him down until he climbed back into his fancy truck.

Only when his taillights disappeared did she drop onto the rocker, just outside the sliding glass door. She needed to stay within earshot of the phone.

Adam said he’d call after each stop.