Page 267 of Heart So Hollow

“What police?” I scoff, reaching for the glass of bourbon as she slides it across the island, “I don’t live here anymore, Barrett. The police here won’t take a report from me, they’ll tell me to go to Canaan, and you know I can’t do that.”

Barrett’s face falls as realization washes over her, and she slowly nods.

“I can’t imagine what he’s already told Jay, and God knows who else…” I run my hands up my face in anguish, “Bowen doesn’t get embarrassed about anything. I might as well be sitting at the dinner table telling all of them about my kinky sex life. They won’t believe a word I say against him.”

“Shit,” Barrett exhales in defeat, “OK, you have a point.” After a moment, a bitter scowl seeps across her face and she shakes her head, “God, he’s such a fucking fraud.”

“What do you mean?”

“You probably don’t notice because you’re not on them that much, but he and his sister blow up social media with nothing but gushy stuff about you. And then he goes and does this…” Barrett takes a swig of bourbon, “if that’s all people see and his family is the law, I don’t blame you for not wanting to report him. Who’s going to believe you?”

I tip my glass back with a shaky hand, letting the burn work its way down my throat and into my gut. Barrett’s phone sits next to mine, each a mirror image of the other just minutes before, except mine was conveniently missing more than a few of Barrett and Bowen’s texts to one another.

“Have you heard from Bowen since last night?” she asks.

I pause and stare at my phone, devoid of new texts or voicemails, “No.” I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried.

“God,” Barrett rolls her eyes, “and he tried to make it seem like Colson murdered his stepsister.”

“Colson didn’t,” I shake my head adamantly, “Colson would never have done that. And what Colson said about Bowen…” I trail off, still unable to wrap my mind around Colson’s story compared to Bowen’s recounting of events all those years ago, “I know none of us are who we used to be in high school, but I never would’ve believed that Bowen was like that.”

“Until now,” Barrett mutters, “after you find out his last two relationships include a dead girl and a missing fiancée.”

I take another sip of my bourbon to stave off the chill running up my back, “But I still don’t know why Bowen would tell you about Colson’s arrest and then act like you made a pass at him.”

Barrett shrugs, “Chaos? Colson’s a murderer, I’m a slut, and as long as you believe one of those things, it’s one less person in his way? I think he just wanted to cover all his bases,” she lowers her eyes to the floor in disgust, “and maybe get something out of it if he could. But you still have a job, right?”

“Apparently. I guess Colson gave Dave enough information that he stopped the off-boarding process and told me to take a few days to sort everything out. I mean, how fucking creepy is that—” I scowl into my glass, “sending a fake resignation letter to my boss…”

“It’s more than creepy, Brett,” Barrett looks at me gravely, “it would appear that Bowen never meant for you to leave that house.”

Her words hit me like a smack in the face, but I know she’s right. And just as I open my mouth to tell her so, the doorbell rings. We both freeze, staring at one another. Seconds later, there are three heavy knocks on the door. All I can hear is my pulse against my eardrums and the dull rush behind it as a wave of adrenaline surges through my veins.

Barrett slides off her chair and her eyes dart to the ceiling, “Upstairs,” she whispers, “follow me, and don’t make a sound.”

Creeping out of the kitchen and down the hallway, we have to go straight toward the front door to get to the stairs. Both of us curse under our breath, forgetting that the curtains on the front window are wide open, and the porch is just to the right of it. My stomach drops when I see a black F250 sitting at the curb right out front. As soon as we get to the staircase, we both shoot up the stairs, two at a time.

Barrett leads me into the bedroom on the front of the house, which sits right above the garage. It’s lined with windows, with one catty-corner to the gable above the front porch.

She points to the wall adjacent to the window, “Sit down and don’t say anything,” she whispers.

I sink down onto the carpet, my knees drawn up to my chest as she raises the blinds and unlocks the window, craning her neck to peer down onto the porch.

“Son of a bitch…” Barrett spouts as she hoists the window open, followed by the screen. “What do you want, Bowen?” she calls down a few seconds later.

When I hear his voice, I squeeze the tops of my knees and my breath goes shallow.

“Is Brett here?” he asks in his normal, everyday tone.

“Why would she be here?” Barrett’s voice is thick with contempt, “Did you forget that she stopped speaking to me after what you said?”

Bowen sighs in exasperation. Instead of a response, an awkward silence hangs between them. I also notice he doesn’t question why she’s hanging out the second story window to talk to him instead of answering the door.

Bowen’s tone sharpens and his voice gets louder, “Because if she’s not, then something really bad might’ve happened to her.”

Barrett doesn’t miss a beat, “Like what?”

“She was still at the house when I left for work this morning, and when I came home, she was gone, the house was wrecked, windows broken, and her boss said she resigned. And I know Colson’s already been in my house once.”

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