48. Colt

48

COLT

I stepped inside the house I’d grown up in. The scent of it had changed slightly over the years; there was lilac lacing it now, a scent Emerson favored. But the roots of it were the same. It wasn’t anything I could put a name to; all I knew was that it meant home .

Walking through the kitchen, I steeled myself. The riot of emotions pulsing through me was almost more than I could bear. The pain of all Emerson had endured and the joy of all Ridley had given me melded together into something that only heightened both.

But that was life. There couldn’t be true happiness without grief, no pleasure without pain. Each one made us recognize the other in equal measure.

Rounding the corner, I found Emerson standing in the living room alone. Her arms were wrapped around her waist as if she were trying to hold herself together as she stared at a painting. I knew it was one of her own. A favorite.

It was a landscape of the lake my house was now on. One she’d painted from a combination of memory and photos. The canvas was cast mostly in dark purples, blues, and greens, with stars dotting the two upper corners. But the sun was just beginning to come up over the horizon, giving a glow to the center of the piece.

Hope.

I saw it more clearly now, how all Emerson’s artwork had that quality—how she was painting it for herself, creating it when the world had stolen so much.

“Em,” I said, voice raw.

She turned, not fast but not stalling—in a measured way, almost as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her eyes were red and puffy.

“Where’s Trey?” I asked.

Emerson swallowed, her fingers digging into her sides. “I told him I needed a minute. He went out front to return a call.”

I nodded absently, feeling the emptiness of the room, the lack of distraction. “I’m sorry I lost it.”

Emerson shook her head, those blond strands shifting over her features. “I need you to believe in me.”

I felt the blood drain from my face as a pit took root in my stomach. “I do?—”

“You don’t.” Her words weren’t any louder than a moment before, but they had a bite to them. “I know not leaving this house might make me seem weak?—”

“It doesn’t,” I argued.

She held up a hand. “It makes you think I’m delicate, that I could break. So you step in and try to fix everything for me. But the more you do, the less I have to try . And I need to stretch myself, Colt. I need the challenge of trying to accomplish new things. That’s what this was.” Emerson gestured to all the recording gear.

“The urge to shield you is never going to stop,” I admitted. She opened her mouth to argue, but I kept going. “That’s partially because I have a lot of guilt around what happened. Guilt for being late. For not being there when you needed me most.”

“Colt—”

“But mostly because I love you and you’re never going to stop being one of the most important people in my life. You’re my sister . The only family I have left. The idea of anything else happening to you kills me.”

Emerson’s eyes glittered with unshed tears again. “I love you too. You're the best big brother around.”

“I don’t know about that. But I’m going to try to do better. And the first part of that is standing with you while you tell your story. Because doing that is going to touch people. It’s going to help some of them feel not so alone because of what’s happened to them. It’s going to inspire others to help solve this case. It’s going to be fucking hard, but it’s also going to be worth it. And I know you can do it.”

She flew at me then, her slight body colliding with mine as she held on with all her might. “I love you too, Colt. This is all I’ve ever needed. Just knowing you’re with me.”

“Always, Shortcake.”

“I hope this means you pulled your head out of your ass,” Trey called from the entryway to the living room.

Emerson released me and sent him a smile as she wiped the remnants of her tears away. “We’re good.”

Trey arched a brow at me. “What about your girl? You fuck that up?”

I flipped him off. “We’re good too. Better than. She was just giving Em and me a moment.”

I glanced out the big picture window toward the garden. I had to move closer to it to see where she was, but when I did, there was no one. Not a single soul in that garden or the forest around it that I could see.

Panic hit hard and fast, but I tried to breathe through it. There were a million explanations. She’d walked into the woods or around the front of the house.

But I was already moving, storming through the kitchen and out the back door as Trey yelled my name. My pace picked up to a jog as I hit the deck, my head on a swivel. But there was no sign of her anywhere.

That panic dug in, holding my lungs hostage and making them burn, and then I was running. I headed straight for the spot in the back garden. The one where Ridley had told me she loved me.

My Chaos.

The only one who would tell me she loved me in the worst and best moment of my life. But she wasn’t there either. I scanned the area with new eyes. Assessing ones, slipping into law-enforcement mode.

My gaze caught on it then. The disruption of earth in two lines. Drag marks.

Everything in me seized, but I didn’t move. I crouched, taking them in and froze.

“What the hell is going on?” Trey demanded, slightly out of breath from running after me.

“Her phone,” I croaked, not able to look away.

I felt Trey lean over me then, trying to see what I did. His hand landed on my shoulder, then convulsed in a death grip. “Is that blood?”