Page 271 of Heart So Hollow

My blood runs so cold I feel like a porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment. There won’t be a next time because I’ll be fucking dead.

I can’t go back. Ever again.

Barrett sinks down onto the cushion next to me, glancing over my arm at Bowen’s text. She took the day off—family emergency—to make sure I’m constantly in her line of sight. I don’t know how I managed to fall asleep last night. Maybe it was sleeping in Barrett’s bed behind two locked doors. Or maybe it was pure exhaustion from cowering in terror the previous night. Eventually, the adrenaline abates and you crash. But, either way, I needed it.

“I don’t blame you for second-guessing,” she motions to my phone, “it sounds pretty good.”

“You’d think so, if any of it was true. But I know he’s lying,” I slide the phone onto the ottoman, “because Bowen’s never sorry for anything.”

“I still hate the idea of you leaving,” she shoots me a concerned glance, “and going to Colson’s.”

“I know. But where else do I go for now that doesn’t put you or anyone else at risk? Bowen knows where you all live.” Both our gazes shift to the black box on the ottoman, lit up like a bomb waiting to detonate.

“I agree, we’re out of options. It’s just…” Barrett scoffs and looks away, “Colson fucking Lutz,” she smiles bitterly to herself.

I lean in, looming over her shoulder with a devious grin, “You could threaten him,” I waggle my eyebrows at her, “tell him if he makes one wrong move, you’ll sicc Dacia Ferguson on him.”

Barrett throws her head back in a fit of laughter, cackling up to the vaulted ceiling. A few moments later, after finally composing herself, she swipes her finger under her eye to wipe away a tear.

“OK, be honest Brett,” she clasps her hands over her knee, “do you trust Colson?”

“Yes.” The answer tumbles out of my mouth much quicker than I thought it would.

Barrett gazes at my duffel bag and work tote, packed and ready to go next to the ticking time bomb. Then she turns to me gravely, her eyes filled with trepidation.

“But should you?”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

Colson

High School

I loved the dark before, but now it’s what I live for. Because now it’s not just about partying and girls and racing in the dead of night with only headlights to guide our way. Now, it’s about making Bowen’s life a living hell as long as he’s still walking around a free man.

Since law enforcement isn’t going to do their job, the Dire Wolves will. The soccer season is over and we need something to do, so we’re going hunting. And it’s open season for murderers.

I don’t show Mason, Alex, Aiden, or anyone else the video, but I tell them what’s on it. Bowen’s crusted blood is still smeared across my knuckles when I tell them what Evie said about Bowen the day she disappeared. I tell them about the pole building and her grave site and every sick thing he ever said about her. And, after that, they all agree he needs to pay, and we’ll be the ones to bring her justice if no one else will.

“They don’t know us,” Mason scoffs, “they can’t arrest all of us if we don’t talk.”

This is the first time he’s smiled since we found Evie. He’s become hard and prickly, usually staring off into space like he’s deep in thought. He’s probably thinking about that morning in the woods more often than he should. But I’m the same way, I can’t get her out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about that dank, rusted pipe, the dark sludgy water, and what Bowen turned her into.

Mason’s always been more reasonable and laid back than I am, but not anymore. After I finish telling them about Bowen, he leans back on the tailgate of his truck and empties his beer in one gulp, that same pensive look on his face, which tells me he’s already thinking of fun ways to fuck with Bowen, and I know he won’t let me down.

The first few times, we start out more subtle; showing up wherever Bowen is, watching him from a distance, and making sure he knows it. But, tonight, we all have an itch to scratch.

“You don’t have to talk to the police, no matter what they say,” Aiden pushes an oversized furry, white rabbit head over his face, “if you’re not under arrest, get up and leave. And if you are, say you want a lawyer and shut your mouth.” He would know, he was the last one of us to see the inside of an interrogation room at the Canaan Police Department.

Wells Rhinehardt showed up at the Raffertys’ doorstep the night after Evie’s funeral and took Aiden in to be questioned—for murder. It’s not the first time Wells has showed up just to be a pain in the ass, but after what happened between Jay, Sydney, Hildy, and Aiden before Evie’s murder, Wells has been trying to nail him for something and probably hoping for a promotion out of it.

“Did something happen with Evie’s hair?” Aiden asks me the next time I see him.

“Why?” I ask, acutely aware that nobody except the police and a few select family members know the gruesome details of her death.

“Because they kept asking me about it, implying that I should know—like I did something to it. Probably because of Syd…” A smarmy grin creeps over Aiden’s face as he silently recalls his last encounter with Jay Rhinehardt.

Bowen knows what happened to Jay…to Sydney…and then to Hildy…

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