Page 37 of Forgotten

“Then hop in.”

Logan headed off to the house to get ready for work as Luke and I went onto the road and north to the sheriff’s office. We didn’t speak in the car, but as soon as we pulled in, Luke put the truck in park and grabbed my arm.

“Don’t say anything until I do,” he said. “Logan knows we’re here. If we don’t come back, he’ll come get us, but we don’t want to give them a reason.”

“Speak for yourself,” I said. “I want a piece of Arn’s teeth.”

I slammed the door of the truck as I got out, stomping my way inside with Luke trailing behind me. He wasn’t going to try to talk me out of anything anymore. The Galloways rolled deep, and we rolled together. If one of us was going to scrap, the others were too.

Arnold and Oland were relaxing at two of the desks, their feet up on them when we came in. Immediately, they got to their feet, but I didn’t give them any warning. I lunged and planted a fist into Arnold’s jaw.

The scuffle was quick, but it ended with me in handcuffs and Luke being told to get the hell out. That I was under arrest for assaulting an officer.

“How can I assault an officer when the man I punched isn’t legally wearing a badge?” I grumbled.

“I’ll get you out,” Luke said. “Just keep your mouth shut. And if he is any more beat-up than he is right now when I get out, there will be hell to pay, boys.”

“Get moving before I arrest you for threatening an officer,” Oland said.

“It ain’t a threat, Oland. It’s a promise.”

As Luke headed out of the door, running back to the truck to go gather the others and figure out how to get me out, Eugene grabbed me from behind and bodily threw me into the first available cell. I landed hard on my chest, and they slammed the door shut without bothering to uncuff me.

Chapter Eighteen

Charlotte

“Well, this is weird,” I muttered to myself as I stood in the empty driveway of the Galloway ranch.

I’d never in my life been there when it was empty. I didn’t even think it was possible for it to be empty, not with the stranglehold Luke had on scheduling for the boys and how seriously they all took their jobs. Jesse’s truck was parked along the side, along with Luke’s, but all the other cars, including the ancient farm use truck, were gone.

I knocked on the door several times, wondering if maybe someone was inside and sick, but no one responded. It was starting to concern me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I scrolled until I found Jesse’s number and called. It rang three times and went to voicemail. I tried again, and it did the same thing, so I texted. When no message came back after a few minutes of sitting on their porch, I figured no one was going to.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have anyone else’s number. Not even Amber’s, since the last number I had for her was a decade ago. The only thing I had left was to keep trying Jesse and hope that he answered at some point.

I tried again, expecting to hear his voicemail pick up again as I kicked a rock away from where I sat on the Galloway porch. It looked like someone had been in a rush to get out of there. Apile of lumber was sitting beside the house, which was odd. Luke was, as far as I remembered, very particular about things being put away properly at all times.

Lost in thought, I didn’t process that the phone had been answered for at least a few seconds.

“Hello?” I said, suddenly realizing it. “Jesse?”

“No,” a voice responded. It wasn’t Jesse and sounded distinctly female. OId worries and jealousies cropped up for a second, and I tried to tamp them down.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Umm…”

“Hello?”

“This is Trisha Anderson,” the voice said hurriedly.

“What the hell, Trish? Why do you have Jesse’s phone? What’s going on?”

“Look, Charlotte, I don’t have anything against you, so I will give you this warning,” Trish began, her smug, condescending voice like nails on a chalkboard. “Jesse is a no-good bastard. He’s a womanizer and a drunk and a deadbeat dad to top it off. You should head on back to Oklahoma and forget he ever existed, all right? That’s advice from someone who doesn’t have skin in the game, Charlotte. You get on back to Oklahoma before he knocks you up and leaves you too.”

Before I could respond, the phone clicked, and the line went dead.

I tried to call back, but it didn’t even ring. She’d turned the phone off.

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