Page 17 of SALT

I'm just about to respond when Everett's voice, echoing down the tunnel beside the concession stand, steals my focus. Whatever words I hoped to eavesdrop on are lost as soon as he and a tall woman with dark brown hair enter the concourse. Their voices instantly drop to inaudible decibels.

"Who is that?" I nod toward their retreating backs.

Parker follows my line of sight. "You really have holed yourself up in that shop, haven't you? That's Lauren. She's the new Event Coordinator." I watch Everett open the door for her as they exit the stadium. Fucking great, I'm over here losing sleep, and he's already getting chummy with the new girl in town. I don't need to see her face to know she's new. A woman like her, especially in a small town, doesn't go unnoticed.

"What aren't you telling me? Why did you move out?"

"I don't have the energy for this conversation, Parker. I'm so tired. I just want to go home and sleep for, like, ten days," I pout as my already sour mood worsens.

The last thing I expected to happen when I left was to be replaced. Though I shouldn't be surprised, he clearly has a type. Tall, big breasts, long, dark brown hair; oh yeah, and someone born in the same decade.

"Fine, I'll follow you home. I'm sure Connor has something I can throw on." He looks down at his practice gear. "I need a shower."

"Park, it's fine. I'm a big girl. It was probably just raccoons, and my overactive imagination got the best of me. You know what… It could have been Evan. He stayed over Monday night after his ex-wife kicked him out and Everett refused to let him stay at his place." The Evan theory is a stretch. I only let him stay one night, and he shocked the hell out of me the next day when I came home and he was gone. I was convinced he'd still be on the couch, begging for just one more night. "Let's not forget, this is Waterloo. Nothing exciting or crazy ever happens here."

He tosses his unopened bag of Doritos back into the box. "I don't like it, Cam, and I'm surprised Everett let it happen. One more night. If you come in here tomorrow looking like shit again, I'm coming over." A text comes through on his phone, and his lips pinch. "I've got to take care of something, but if you can't sleep, or if you hear anything, call me."

The sound of something crashing outside stirs me awake. I lay stiff as a board, unsure if it was real or just a figment of my imagination. The second I got home, I double-checked everything, ensuring all the doors and windows were locked, re-armed the alarm, and took a hot bath before falling asleep in the middle of the bed with nothing but a towel. My body was jello, and I was too damn exhausted to move. I'm now currently internally cursing my lack of motivation. I slowly turn my head toward the window. I fell asleep in the master bedroom because that's where the big clawfoot soaker tub with my name written all over it was. I hate first-floor bedrooms. It doesn't matter if there are blackout curtains or window blinds, I always feel like there's an eyeball on the other side, finding the smallest crack to peer through and watch.

Mackenzie has full floor-to-ceiling sheer curtains, the kind that filters light, and because it's dark outside, all I see is the dim glow of moonlight. Thank fuck. If I saw a damn shadow, I'd probably have a heart attack. I lay still for seconds longer, waiting, not wanting to alert any potential serial killers lurking outside to my awakened state. Once I'm convinced that, yet again, my mind is playing tricks on me, I slowly sit up in bed and rewrap the towel around my body before searching for my phone to check the time. That's when I hear the distinct sound of a floorboard creak, and my heart starts beating in overdrive. That was a weighted creak. Connor and Mackenzie's house has a wraparound deck, and I am all too familiar with the sounds those old, weathered deck boards make. If that were an animal, the noise would have been higher pitched, shorter, and likely followed by little feet scampering.

My palms start sweating as I frantically run my hands over the bed in search of my phone only to remember I put it on the dresser right outside the master closet and bathroom door. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now I have to risk making noise. My toes have just barely grazed the cool wood floors when the floodlight outside the window goes off. Any care I had about being discovered goes out the window as I sprint toward the dresser, grab my phone, and quickly sidestep into the master closet, gently closing the door behind me. My fingers can't unlock my screen quick enough. Parker's number is saved to my favorites and the list of people I keep close is small, so my thumb quickly connects with his name.

When the phone starts ringing, I hold it tight between my shoulder and ear as I pull one of Connor's shirts off the rack. I know I joked I was excited about being abducted by a masked man a few nights ago, but now that the reality of actually being taken is here, it's not as appealing.

"Come on, Parker. Pick up…" I quietly whine. When it goes to voicemail, I quickly pull on the shirt before shining the light around the closet. I've been in Mac's closet before, but not in the dark. I head toward the back, where I know she has dresses hanging, and tuck myself between them, weighing my next call. I don't want to call Everett. I'm determined not to be an obligation. His best friend's daughter, who he has to rescue in the middle of the night because she doesn't have any other family.

I scroll down to Elijah's name. He and I aren't close by any means, but he's Parker's brother. We see each other at family functions, and we worked the fields together. It's not an ideal choice, but neither is being chopped up into tiny pieces.

"Hello."

"Elij… wait, Parker, is that you? Why are you answering Elijah's phone? You know what? Don't answer that. I need you. I think someone is outside the house for real this time. Something woke me up, and then I heard a distinct floorboard creek, and the floodlight went off—" A call coming through steals my words. Everett is calling me. I quickly hit decline. How fast can you get here?"

"Cam, you need to answer that call."

"What? How did you know I was getting a call?"

"Don't worry about it," I can hear the annoyance in his tone. "I'm so fucking sorry, Cam. I won't get to you in time. Answer that call."

"Parker, you said you'd come. Please, please, please, I'll let you hold my hand. Please come so it doesn't have to be him."

"It was him the second that floodlight went off, Cameron. He's already en route. Answer the call…" I hear Elijah say something in the background, and then Parker says, "I have to go."

There's no room to argue because he cuts the call.

The sound of glass breaking has me curling into a ball and pulling one of Mac's dresses off the hanger to throw over myself, hopeful whoever is breaking and entering will see a pile of clothes and not my pathetic ass. My phone vibrates in my hand, and I see Everett calling me again.

"Everett," I answer, trying hard to force calmness into my voice when all I feel is sheer terror.

"Cameron, where are you?" he demands, his voice strained with annoyance.

"You know where I'm at, Everett," I answer, determined not to be the damsel in distress that I am. Plus, he knows where I am. What the hell kind of question is that? It's that hint of annoyance that has me finding my spine. I'm half tempted to run out of the closet and take my chances with my would-be assailant.

"Cameron…" I hear a smidgeon of regret in his tone. It's been the standard between us lately. He loses his cool and then backtracks. "This isn't the time for playing games. Where are you in the house? Don't mess with me on this."

"I'm in the closet in the master bedroom."

"Good. Go to the door. To the right of it, behind the belt rack, is a keypad. I need you to enter 1010."

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