Page 121 of Gifts

“This is Sergeant Woodall from the Sheriff’s Department. Who am I speaking with?”

“Asa Hollingsworth. I live with Keelie. What’s wrong?”

The facts roll off his tongue fast and urgently. “We’re at the high school and there’s been an incident. Ms. Lockhart made a call to nine-one-one reporting a shooting victim lying in the parking lot. She was cut off from our dispatcher—units were sent and we’re here in the parking lot at the school, but no one is here. The dispatcher lost her in the middle of the call.”

“No one?” I go back into the house and pass by the noise of the kids and head for the office I’ve taken over. Pulling the file for her SUV, I add, “She drives a silver Infiniti QX80. Do you see it?”

I hear him shout the make and model to someone around him but when he comes back, my insides tighten. “The lots are mostly empty. No make and model that fits that description in sight.”

I read off her tag number to the sergeant and add, “It can be tracked with the stolen vehicle locator. Can you do that faster than me?”

“Yeah. Give me the VIN and we’ll get that going,” he says and I hear him sigh. “And Mr. Hollingsworth, I need to let you know there was a phone lying on the pavement when we got here next to a pool of blood. From listening to the nine-one-one recording, I assume the victim is Tom Logan. There was another voice in the background right before it went dead, but we don’t know who that was.”

I give him the VIN and toss the papers to the desk. “I want to listen to that recording. I’m on my way.”

Grabbing my keys off the desk, I leave out the front door without saying goodbye and dial Levi. I hear him laugh into the phone. “Aren’t you in the next room?”

“Nobody leaves the house,” I demand. “Lock up and set the system. You and Emma feed the kids and get them to bed on time—I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll have someone come over and sit in the driveway.”

“Dad?” His voice turns grave. “What’s wrong?”

My stomach churns at his tone. “Something’s happened with Keelie. I don’t know what, but I’m gonna find out. Don’t say a word to the kids and make an excuse for me.”

“Yeah.” I hear him setting the alarm and moving away from the madhouse. “Bring her home, Dad.”

That cuts through me and I have to work hard to find my voice, because I know I’d die trying. “I will, son.”

*****

Keelie

When I open my eyes, the drum inside my head is pounding so hard, I’m afraid it could break through my skull. It makes the bump on the temple when Stan blew his tire out seem like a bug bite. I’m being jostled and thrown around—pain shooting through my brain.

Even though my vision is fuzzy, I know exactly where I am—I’d know this smell anywhere. I’m lying in the back of my brand-new SUV, but I’m not alone. I’m packed in like a sardine next to Tom Logan.

“Son of a bitch,” I hear from the front of the car and my breath catches. “If you’re going to shoot someone, fucking finish them off, you moron.”

I groan and everything comes back to me.

In the blink of an eye, Brett White knocked me out—I’m pretty sure with the butt of a gun.

“You just created a shit-storm. I’ve got two counselors I’m gonna have to do something about. This can’t be traced back to me.” Brett growls.

Oh, fuck. Brett White has been behind the drama all along.

“Yeah, I have them. It’s like Brandon Jakes and Kyler Sutherby all over again when they found out you were working for me and I had to deal with them, too. You fucked up again. I expect you to take care of these two, as well.”

Brandon and Kyler? Oh fuck, could it get any worse?

I don’t hear anything for a few moments until his outburst makes me cringe. “I think the common denominator is you. Maybe I need to put a hole in your head and find someone competent to work with, huh? When I get there you’d better fucking deal with these two. I don’t need a witness, understand?”

My car is moving fast to wherever we’re headed and it’s bumpy as hell. I try to protect my throbbing head from bouncing on the floor board in the cargo area. It feels like we’re off-roading—driving over rocks, boulders, and through valleys. Tom moans from the movement, and all I can think is thank God he’s moaning. It means he’s alive. I push up from the floor to feel my head spin and ache at the same time, and I have to squint to see through my blurry eyes. When I peek over the back seat as quick as I can, I confirm my nightmare.

Brett is driving the Infiniti and from the sounds of brush scratching along the sides with trees whizzing past us faster than they should—he’s really testing the limits of my new SUV, dammit.

Tom rolls to his back, this time letting out a wince from the pain. Dipping back down out of sight, I focus on Tom.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head and put my fingers to his lips, needing him to stay quiet. I have no idea how long we’ve been driving, where we are, or most importantly, how the hell we’re going to get out of this situation.

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