Page 14 of Tango
Those men last night? They were killers. Which means whoever hired them is more than likely the same one behind Ramiro’s death.
My phone dings, and I check my texts.
Dad: Fred and Jemma just got here for coffee.
Me: Great. Thanks.
I shove my cell back into my pocket. “If you think you can keep your head, Alice’s parents are awake. They’re staying in one of the ranch hand cabins and just showed up at my parents’ for coffee. They’ve been through a lot though, and I want to make sure we don’t push too hard right away, no matter how badly we want answers.”
“I can keep my head,” he replies. “I just need something to tell Darlene.” Frank pinches the bridge of his nose. “And it can’t be that her son is dead. Not until we know for sure.”
I clasp a hand on his shoulder and squeeze gently, hoping it will offer him even the slightest comfort. “Then let’s go see if we can find some answers. Hier, Tango,” I say as I release Frank and pat my hand against my thigh. Tango jumps up from his bed, tail wagging, and heads for the door. I grab the bottle of water I’ve been nursing for the last few hours, pull open the door, and step out into the near-stifling August afternoon.
Frank gets into his truck while I opt for my utility vehicle to make the short drive to my parents’ ranch house, all while mentally combing through every moment of last night—from witnessing the most beautiful pair of haunted eyes I’ve ever seen staring up at me to watching her disappear into the night with only a backpack before the police arrived.
Is she alive now?
Has Web Safe found her again?
Alice Sterling haunted what little sleep I tried to get once I settled her parents into the cabin. After it became clear I wasn’t going to get any rest, I gave up on sleep and spent the rest of the hours before dawn researching everything there is to know about her.
After her parents died when she was young and her grandparents refused to take her in, she was put into the system. Which is where she was—in and out of foster homes—until the Sterlings took her in at thirteen.
She graduated high school at the top of her class and was even voted valedictorian, despite her rocky start. Then she excelled during her first four years of college before obtaining a degree in cybersecurity. After that, she landed her job at Web Safe, where she quickly gained a reputation for being the best at determining where there’s a hole and plugging it.
I’ll be honest, I half fell in love with her just from the credentials in her file. Of course, it’s not actual love—just fascination—which is what I had to remind myself nearly every time she popped into my head last night.
It did get me thinking though—what if she found a hole someone didn’t want found? Did she bring her friend into it for help? Is that why Ramiro was killed? Why she believes Web Safe is after her?
I park my UTV in front of my parents’ house then climb out and head up the porch steps, Tango right behind me. Frank remains in his truck, his phone pressed up to his ear. When I pause in front of his truck to wait for him, he offers me a wave, letting me know I should head on inside. Which is probably a good thing. It’ll give me time to talk to the Sterlings without him present.
The moment I push open the door, the scent of my mother’s homemade apple pie hits me square in the chest. I breathe it in, a smile spreading across my face. It doesn’t matter how stressed I am or what I’m facing, that smell will always ground me.
“I smell something delicious,” I call out as I step into the kitchen. Tango happily trots alongside me, though the moment he sees my mom, he abandons me to do circles at her feet.
She smiles at me. “Apple pie, baby. Hey there, sweet boy.” She pats Tango on the head.
After kissing her cheek, I take a seat at the dining room table where Fred and Jemma are both sitting, cups of coffee in their hands. Fred’s face is battered and bruised, the cut over his lip having crusted over.
Jemma’s cheekbone is bruised, her eye black, and her own split lip crusted over. My hand clenches into a fist in my lap even as I know the danger has passed—for now.
The fact that they’d put their hands on her at all… What if it were my mother who—nope. Bury that one. “How are you both feeling?” I ask, hoping to steer my thoughts in a different, less dark direction.
“Sore,” Fred admits. “And worried about Alice. Has there been any word from her?”
I shake my head. “I’ll find her though.”
“You have to find her before they do,” Jemma insists. “They’re going to kill her.” Her eyes fill, and Fred wraps an arm around her shoulders.
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” I offer what I hope is a reassuring smile, which then turns to a very real, grateful smile when my mom sets a mug of coffee down in front of me. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime, honey.” She ruffles my dark hair just like she did when I was young before heading back over toward the stove.
“Can you tell me what happened last night?” I sit up just enough to retrieve the small notepad tucked into my back pocket then pull a pen from my front pocket. After flipping to a blank page, I look up at them expectantly.
They exchange glances.
“If you don’t tell me the truth, my likelihood of success is much lower than it could be. I need you to be completely honest with me. Even if it looks bad.”
