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CHAPTER ELEVEN

TATE

Two Days Before Disappearance

Nelson Insurance Company is a shithole.

I’m not just saying it because I’m pissed I have to be here right now, either. The place looks as if it’s ready to cave in. The yellow stone building is turning green and needs to be power washed. The parking lot has no painted white lines and is cracking in every direction.

The place is a mess, in short, and I can’t get out of here soon enough. When the brown truck pulls into the parking lot, I recognize Dakota at once. He has the same dark-brown hair—a shade or two darker than mine—and the same haircut and stocky build that he’s always had. It’s been nearly a decade since I saw him last, but it feels like no time has passed. Not nearly enough time, anyway.

My old friends always bring a side of myself out that I don’t like. I slip out of my car and cross the parking lot, kicking a soda can with a fading label out of my way as I go.

“Tate.” Dakota holds out his hand, and I shake it. It feels oddly formal, but then again, we’re practically strangers. Dakota’s tried to reach out a few times over the years, but we all ignored him. He was always the one who couldn’t let the past go while the rest of us were so desperate to forget.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say with a groan, jutting my head toward the building where Aaron works. “You’re sure he’s here?”

“I set up a meeting with him this morning.” Dakota tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“You mean he actually took it?”

“Well, I didn’t give my real name.” He scoffs, looking at me as if the question was dumb. Truth be told, I guess it was. If Dakota was the type to hold on, Aaron was the type to let go. To run away, even more than I did. Everything that happened back then changed him in a way I can’t explain.

Then again, it changed us all.

“Right.” I grab the door and pull it open. The place is small and feels more like a car dealership than an insurance office. I can’t imagine the type of person who’d trust this company with their money.

At the sound of the bell above the door, I hear a set of footsteps walking our way from inside one of the three offices. As Aaron comes into view, I see the moment he realizes what’s happening crossing his face as the smile fades to a scowl. The skin around his eyes smooths out, his lips forming a frown. His usually warm brown eyes go stony.

“What are you two doing here?” he asks, leaning his head back a bit, clearly not pleased to see us.

“Came to pay you a visit,” Dakota says, always cocky as shit.

“I’m working.” Aaron scowls. “You shouldn’t be here. I’ve got nothing to say to you.” He glances up at a camera on the wall that I assume is more for looks than actual security.

“Come on, man. We just want to chat. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes.” I’m actively trying to charm him, as if he’s a client, but to my surprise, it seems like it might be working.

“What do you want?”

I lower my voice. “We should go somewhere a bit more private, don’t you think?”

“Fine.” He turns, waving for us to follow him, and once we’re in his office, he shuts the door. “I have a meeting in a few minutes, so?—”

“No, you don’t,” Dakota says. “I have you fully booked for the next forty-five minutes. Nice to meet you. I’m Carter Wellington the Third.” He looks proud of himself.

It takes Aaron a moment to process, and then he scowls, refusing the hand Dakota’s holding out. “Oh, you ass.”

“I thought the pompous name was a nice touch, didn’t you?”

Aaron sits down, not bothering to tell us we should do the same, but we do anyway. “Alright, let’s just get right to it, okay? I have work to do. What do you want?”

“We’re here about Bradley,” Dakota says plainly, folding his hands on top of the desk.

Aaron’s face pales.

“I take it you heard,” I say.

He nods slowly, visibly shaken. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I heard.”

“Had you talked to him or seen him that day?” Dakota asks.

Aaron swallows. “Why? Had you?”

“You had.” Dakota leans forward, sounding as shocked as I feel. This was just the warm-up to the conversation. We didn’t actually think he’d talked to Bradley that day any more than we’d talked to him. “What did he say?”

Aaron’s eyes shift between the two of us, then down to his hands. “We didn’t talk that day, but we talked a lot in the days…before.”

“Were you two still in touch?”’ I ask. “Before all of this, I mean.

“Look.” Aaron sighs. “What do you want? Why are you here? Whatever it is, just spit it out. I haven’t heard from you in twelve years, so I know damn well this isn’t a social call.”

“We want to know what happened to Bradley,” I say firmly.

“And you think I would know?”

“Well”—Dakota leans back in his chair—“put it this way: we don’t think you don’t know.”

He purses his lips. “I had nothing to do with his death, okay? I haven’t seen or spoken to the guy in years, until he called me. Like he called all the rest of you. He told me the same thing he told all of us.”

“Which was?” Dakota asks.

“He was getting married, obviously,” Aaron says. “This fall. You know this.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Dakota says.

Aaron pinches his lips between his fingers as Dakota taps his knuckles on the arm of the chair.

“He was getting married, and he wanted to tell her the truth about what happened back then. He wanted our blessing. He said he was going to call all of you, but he reached out to me first.”

When Bradley had said those words to me, it was like an ice-cold blow to the stomach. Even now, I feel the chill hearing them spoken out loud.

Dakota’s face curls into a sneer that isn’t unlike the one I feel building on my own face.

“I guess he thought mine would be the easiest to get first, and that I’d help convince you two,” Aaron says.

“And what did you tell him?” I ask.

Aaron stares at me for a second too long, and I raise my brows, urging him to answer. “I told him under no circumstances did I think he should tell anyone what happened that night. We swore that we wouldn’t, we made a pact, and we have to keep our word.” Aaron nods, glancing down at his hands. “We were brothers first, no matter what. We have to protect each other.”

“I told him the same thing,” I say. “When he called me. How did he take it when you told him?”

“I don’t know. He seemed convinced, I guess, but I couldn’t tell. He was in love. Stupid. He wanted her to know everything before they got married.”

“Do you think he told her?” I ask again, worry flooding me.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you know?” I shout, my words dripping with venom. Panic is flooding my veins, and I feel as if I can’t catch my breath.

“Come on, man, ease up. I’m telling you everything,” Aaron says, hands up in surrender.

“If the truth about that night ever got out, my life would be ruined,” I remind him in a bitter whisper.

“And ours wouldn’t?” he asks, his auburn brows rising to meet his receding hairline and buzz cut. “We’re in this together.”

I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, weighing my next words. “We’ve never been together in this. Not really. You know it wouldn’t affect you two the same way it would me. I have a hell of a lot more to lose if the truth comes out.”

“We were there, too. It affects us just as much as it does you, and the truth about it ever coming out would be equally damning for every one of us,” he says firmly. “And that’s all I know. I told him to keep his mouth shut, advised him not to talk to you, which we know he didn’t listen to, and that was that. We didn’t speak again after that, and next thing I knew, I was reading his obituary. To be completely honest—” He cuts himself off.

“What?” I ask, leaning in. “Say it.”

He braces himself, slowing his words. “To be…completely honest, I worried he wasn’t going to listen, that he was going to tell, and you guys couldn’t stop him so you—” He cuts himself off again, tilting his head from side to side.

“Killed him?” Dakota says. “I said the same thing. Someone in this room has the most to gain from him being dead.”

His eyes find mine, and I pin him with a glare. “I didn’t kill him.”

“Me either,” Aaron agrees.

“Same,” Dakota says. “So we need to find out who did.”

Later, when we’re leaving with more questions than answers, Dakota says, “We need to find the fiancée. Find out what she knows.”

“I don’t have time for this,” I say, shaking my head.

“Do you have time for jail, then? Because if he told her?—”

“If he told her, what? What are we going to do?” I demand. “Take her out? Kill her? Are you really suggesting we?—”

“I’m just suggesting…” He holds up a hand, speaking slowly. “We advise her to keep quiet. That’s all.”

“Threaten her?” I scoff. “No. I have to work. I can’t go track down our friend’s grieving widow. Sorry.” I turn to walk away from him, but his next words stop me in my tracks.

“You were right in there. If all of this goes south, it’s you who will take the fall for all of it. We were accessories, sure, but it’s your life that blows up. Not mine. You think your pretty little wife will stay with you if she knows the truth about who you are? What you did?”

I spin around so fast it startles him, my hand balled into a fist. “Don’t threaten me.”

His hands go up in surrender, but his expression is cocky, not scared. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m merely trying to help, boss. ” He winks.

I groan, scrubbing my hand over my face. “I have to work,” I repeat.

“So take some time off.”

“How much time?”

“A week,” he says. “Take the rest of the week off, like you did today, and let’s get some things handled, then you can be back to your cushy little life in no time.”