Page 98 of Finding Home

“Great. See you soon.”

“You’re okay?”

“I’m great.”

I touch his tattooed forearm and stare into his eyes. “Good, bad, or ugly, remember?”

His features soften. “I know, baby. Don’t worry. We’ll talk later. I promise.” He pecks me on the cheek and rustles Raine’s blonde curls, but I can’t help noticing he’s waiting for me to start walking up the street with Raine before he starts his own journey down the street in the other direction.

Slowly, I walk with Raine toward the direction of the ice cream place. But when Caleb isn’t looking, I dart into an alcove in front of the sewing store, pulling Raine with me, and covertly peek at my man as he makes his way down the street.

From my hiding spot, I watch Caleb pass the hardware store. And then, the liquor store, too. A couple storefronts after that, he looks both ways and crosses the street, before finally entering an establishment I hadn’t noticed down there earlier.The gun store.

Chapter 39

Caleb

Ilisten to the soothing sounds of Aubrey’s rhythmic breathing next to me, willing my own breathing to fall into lock-step with hers. But I can’t do it. Can’t relax. Can’t fall asleep, no matter how hard I try.

Partly, I’m feeling impatient and excited to give Aubrey the engagement ring I bought her in LA with my sister’s help. Mostly, however, my mind is racing with thoughts of Ralph Beaumont. Whenever I close my eyes, I see the inhuman look in his eyes, when he told me to “watch my back” at the courthouse. Something about that cop staring at my family the other day spooked me. Got my hackles up.

Something dark is brewing.

I can feel it.

Unfortunately, that security service can’t make it out here for two more days, so I’m my family’s only security system until then. I don’t take that responsibility lightly.

A rustling sound jerks me from my wandering thoughts and makes me sit up in bed and listen intently. That didn’t sound like an animal or the rustling of trees in the breeze.No, it sounded like human footsteps clomping on dried pine needles and leaves.

I unravel myself from Aubrey and slide out of bed. Peer outside my bedroom window. And sure enough, a darkly cladhumanfigure just turned the corner of the house, heading toward the back façade.Fuck!

I throw on sweats, shoes, and a hoodie and quickly grab my new, fully loaded handgun from the locked cabinet. With my firearm in hand, I grab a flashlight from the kitchen counter and step outside into the cool night air and onto the deck.

Nothing.

Nobody.

I head around the house, past The Family Tree, as we now call it—the black cottonwood with my family’s three initials carved into its bark—and then cut through a cluster of high bushes, as a shortcut to the back façade. When the back of the house is in view, I stop and peer into the darkness, trying to discern any kind of movement.

I hear a crack of a twig, or maybe the crunch of dried leaves or pine needles. And that’s when my flashlight beam engulfs a dark figure, dressed in black from head to toe, trying to open my goddamned back window with a crowbar.

“Freeze!” I shout, and the figure instantly turns to look at me with wide eyes.

Fuck me. It’s Ralph Beaumont.His face is smudged with black paint, and his silver hair is hidden underneath a black cap; but I’d recognize those deadly, evil eyes and that sneering mouth anywhere.

“Drop the crowbar and hold up both hands—right fucking now,” I grit out, pointing the gun between his vacant eyes. He’s retired law enforcement, so I’m assuming he’sarmed. But when he begrudgingly drops the crowbar to the ground—right next to a black duffel bag at his feet—and raises both arms, my assumption is immediately proved correct: the butt of a handgun is peeking out of his belt.

“What’s your plan tonight, Ralph?” I shout, jerking my chin at the duffel bag on the ground. “Did you come here to rape my daughter, the same way you raped your own?”

“Fuck you, you piece of shit kidnapper.”

I scoff. “Excuse me if I don’t give two shits what a wife-beater/pedo-rapist thinks of me.”

I take careful aim at Ralph’s forehead, squinting one eye to lock in my aim. I’m itching to pull the trigger and end this motherfucker now; but if I do that while his hands are in the air, that’d be a tough sell as self-defense. They’ve got forensics for this kind of thing, right? Plus, as much as I want him dead, I’m not sure I’m capable of cold-blooded murder. That’s what this would be, if I were to pull the trigger now, right?

I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Apologize for what you did to Claudia,” I say evenly, the gun still aimed at his forehead. I don’t expect him to do it. Don’t care if he does. I’m actually toying with him. Egging him on to do something, say something—anything—to inspire me to squeeze this fucking trigger and put an end to this nightmare, once and for all.

“Fuck Claudia,” Ralph spits out. “She was an even bigger liar than she was a slut. All I can hope is Raine doesn’t take after her slutty, lying mother.”

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