31. Cope

31

COPE

The phone rang for the dozenth time as I pressed the cell harder to my ear, as if I held it tightly enough, it would make Sutton answer. Her voice came over the line, but it was the recording telling me I’d reached a number I knew was hers. Her voice was so bright and cheery—the opposite of the worry currently coursing through me.

I glanced at my watch as I hung up. She should’ve been home almost an hour ago. Luca was already fast asleep upstairs.

My gut churned as I hit another number on my cell. Arden answered on the third ring, her metal music cutting off quickly. “This’d better be good because I was right in the middle of a nice flow.”

I heard the bite in my sister’s words but didn’t take it to heart. I knew just how much she loved me by how she’d answered at all when evenings were her prime creation time. “I need you to come to the house.”

“What’s wrong?” Arden asked, but I could already hear her moving, snapping her fingers for her massive dog, Brutus, to follow her.

“Sutton was supposed to be home from the bakery an hour ago and she’s not picking up her phone.” I heard the strain bleeding through my words and knew Arden had to pick up on it, too.

She paused for a moment, the sound of feet crunching on gravel coming across the line as she made her way from the workshop to my house. “She probably just got caught up. It’s easy to do when you’re in the zone.”

God, I hoped that’s what it was. I’d seen Sutton in her element while working on some baked-good creation. The rest of the world ceased to exist. “Yeah. That’s probably it.”

But I could hear the doubt in my words. She always let me know if she was running late. All I could think about were the dark roads from town to my place, and the lack of streetlights. And how it had taken a lot less for Teddy to find his end.

I grabbed my car keys from the dish in the kitchen and headed for the front door. As I opened it, I caught movement. Arden came into view at the side of the house, a flashlight in hand, her dark hair piled in a messy bun on her head, and her clothes splattered in paint and who knew what other artistic substances. Brutus stayed tight to her side, the cane corso’s height reaching past her waist.

“Where’s my guy?” Arden asked.

“He’s asleep upstairs.”

Arden lifted her chin in a nod. “I’ll get a snack with Brutus. You got any leftovers?”

I knew what she was doing—trying to keep things light and easy as if there was nothing to be concerned about. “Spaghetti and meatballs in the fridge.”

She shot me a grin. “Just the kind of payment I like. I’m starved.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” I asked, my eyes narrowing on my sister. She was notorious for forgetting anything and everything in the quest for her art.

Arden winced. “I might’ve missed breakfast.”

“Eat,” I demanded. “I’ll be back in an hour tops.”

“Text me when you get eyes on Sutton, okay?” Arden requested.

The fact that she was even asking meant she was worried, too. And that set me on edge. I jerked my head in a nod and headed for the garage. I was off my property in a matter of minutes and made the drive into town in a third of the time it should’ve taken. If the cops tried to pull me over, they’d have to wait until I got to the bakery to write me a ticket.

My headlights swung across Sutton’s SUV parked at the back of the building. I caught sight of the back door as I pulled into a parking spot. It stood slightly ajar as if someone hadn’t bothered to close it all the way.

I grabbed my phone and shut off the engine. My fingers fumbled for Trace’s contact as I slid out of the SUV. He answered on the second ring. “Hey, Cope?—”

“I’m at the back of the bakery. Sutton was late getting home and wasn’t answering her phone. The back door’s ajar?—”

“Stay in your vehicle,” Trace commanded. “I’m sending units and am on the way.”

“You know I can’t do that.” I was already halfway to the door, and nothing would stop me from going inside.

“Damn it, Cope. You don’t know what’s on the other side of that door.”

I didn’t give a flying fuck. All I knew was that Sutton was in there. A million different possibilities flooded my mind as I stepped inside—none of them good.

About a third of the lights were on in the bakery, giving it a shadowy look that made it almost unrecognizable. The country ballad playing over the speakers was so at odds with the scene that it grated on my ears. I crept down the hallway, scanning the space, Trace’s voice from the phone demanding to know what was happening.

My gaze swept the café, not seeing a single sign of life. Then I turned toward the counter. There, just behind it, cabinets had been torn open, their contents thrown about. My heart jerked in my chest, and I picked up my pace, rounding the case that was normally full of desserts.

I froze the moment I got to the other side. My blood went ice-cold as I saw Sutton crumpled on the floor. Her skin was unnaturally pale, none of her typically golden glow present. The only color at all was a dark red substance at her temple.

The color jolted me into movement, and I shouted for Trace to send EMTs as I ran toward Sutton, my phone clattering to the floor. I sank to the hardwood, my knees cracking against the surface as I reached for her neck. I held my breath and pressed two fingers to her flesh, praying I felt something. Anything.

At the faint throb of her pulse, my breath left my lungs in a painful whoosh. It was as if the air were barbed. “Sutton,” I croaked.

There was no response. It was then that I saw the red marks on her throat—marks that looked a hell of a lot like the outline of fingers. Fiery rage swept through me in a wave of flames, but I kept my touch featherlight as I brushed the hair away from her face. “Sutton, baby, come on. You gotta open your eyes for me.”

Pain pulsed through me at the lack of color in her face and that trickle of blood at her hairline. I didn’t have the first clue what to do. If Trace or Shep were here, they would know. They both had extensive first-aid training, but I was just the idiot who’d gone on to play hockey.

Sirens sounded. That was good. Help was coming. Sutton just had to hold on until then.

My thumb swept across her cheek. “Come on, Warrior. Fight. For me. For us.”

There was a little movement behind Sutton’s eyelids as if she were trying to open her eyes.

“That’s it, Warrior. Show me those ice-blue eyes. The turquoise depths I could drown in.”

They fluttered in earnest now, the motion matching the beat of my heart against my ribs. Then, they opened. Sutton quickly squinted against the light and let out a little moan.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” I told myself as much as her.

“Cope?” she rasped.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you. Help’s coming.”

“What happened?” Sutton croaked.

I couldn’t give her that answer, but I would find whoever was responsible. And I would make them pay.