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. A pile 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.

That bitch.

Stomping back to the Millers’, I went inside and found Tamara’s keys, grabbing them and heading for the door. I was sure she’d understand when she found out. I just needed them for a few minutes.

Long enough to look Trish in the eyes and decide whether or not I was going to throw her ass through a window.

I revved the engine and took off, trying to remember where the jail was. I knew it was all one building and had been renovated but was essentially in the same lot the old jail had been. I’d only been there once, as a field trip by a DARE officer, who wanted to keep us off meth or something. It had been terrifying then, and that was when Old Man Anderson was still just a deputy in the force and only Eugene had joined as a rookie.

Thankfully, there were signs along the road downtown, what counted as downtown in Foley anyway, and I followed them to the jail. The courthouse was across the street, and the sheriff’s office was next to the jail. I parked in the visitor’s parking lot and locked the car up before heading inside, my eyes blazing and scanning for Trish.

What I saw when I walked in the door shocked me and froze me where I stood.

Trish wasn’t in the room, and neither were any of the Anderson boys. Instead, there were two young rookie deputies and a woman. Someone I had hoped never to see again. She turned to me with a disdainful look and scoffed a laugh.

“Lacey Banks,” I said, almost under my breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Charlotte,” she said. “I thought you wised up and moved to Oklahoma or something. Are you here for Jesse?”

She sounded shocked, and I hated the condescension in her smile.

“Where is he?”

“He’s locked up, of course,” Lacey said. “Where he belongs.”

“Jesse does not belong in jail,” I said. “Is this your doing? Did you get them to arrest him?”

She laughed again, and I felt like smacking her right there. How dare she be so flippant?

“No,” she said. “No, Jesse got into this mess all by himself. Punched a cop, if you can believe it. And I know you can. Oh, you know how Jesse gets. Violent and angry. It’s why I could never actually allow him near our child. He’s not trustworthy.”

“He said that baby can’t be his,” I said. “You’re a liar.”

“Me?” she scoffed. “Am I the one who dated every girl in Louisa county and then ghosted half of them once he got in their pants? Am I the one who is willing to lie about his relationship status to get another girl in his grip? Am I the one who is literally known as being the bad boy of Foley, Texas?

“No, Charlotte. I am a victim . You are too. You should be on my side. Jesse screwed you over too.”

“Jesse hasn’t screwed me over,” I said, unsure if that was actually the truth in retrospect.

“Oh, babygirl, yes he did,” she said, sarcasm dripping off her voice like wet paint. “He got in your pants, didn’t he? Gave you a little of that old Galloway pipe?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“No, Jesse is disgusting. That whole family is disgusting. They’re all a bunch of liars and thieves. Jesse just happens to be the worst. I have proof that baby is his. Let me guess, he says he didn’t ever sleep with me, doesn’t he?”

I nodded.

“Look,” she said, pulling out her phone. She scrolled through until she found what she was looking for and then turned it so I could see.

It was a screenshot of a message thread. At the top, the name said Jesse , and the conversation had clearly been flirtatious. Timestamps showed the time and date, and Lacey pointed at one of the messages, where Jesse thanked her for a lovely evening and asked if she was able to walk correctly, and clicked the screen with her finely manicured nails.

“This right here, that’s when the baby was conceived,” she said. “That night. It was exactly eight months, three weeks and four days before I gave birth. Jesse knocked me up that night, and then… nothing. He never responded to another text. He never answered another call.”

“And you just told the hospital the baby was his and they took your word for it?”

She shrugged. “They knew I wasn’t lying. I was so ashamed he wasn’t there. He should have manned up and been there, Charlotte. But that’s not who Jesse is. He’s a deadbeat. He deserves to be in jail. He deserves to be miserable for all the misery he’s caused all over Texas. Including what he’s done to you. I just hope you wake up and see it.”

I paused for a moment, and then looked at her critically.

The perfect hair, perfect nails, high heels. Fantastic figure, a bare midriff that showed no signs of stretch marks or scars. Something felt… off.

“Where is the baby now?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The baby. Your baby. Where is it, right now?”

“I… I don’t like giving that information out,” she said, stumbling over her words. “Especially to someone who might still be on Jesse’s side. I don’t want him having anything to do with their life.”

“But he’s with someone, right?”

“Of course. He’s with a babysitter,” she said.

“I see.”

“Charlotte?”

I turned to see Eugene stepping into the office.

“Eugene, I need to see Jesse,” I said.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeated. “As a matter of fact, not only no, but I need you to leave. Anyone who was involved in the altercation last night is barred from the office. That includes you, Miss Garafalo. I need you to get on out of here.”

“This is ridiculous,” I said.

“They’re the rules,” he said. “I didn’t make them. I’m just following orders.”

I knew it was no good to argue. I was on his turf. He was wearing a badge and was in the sheriff’s office, and I was just a woman who wanted to see someone they had locked up. I would lose this argument every single time.

“Fine, but I will be back when he is released,” I said.

“Mmm-hmm,” Oland said, sitting heavily down in his chair and picking up a magazine.

Turning, I headed out of the office and back to the car. Opening the door, I took one last glance back and peered inside. I could just make out Lacey, standing by a desk, conversing animatedly but in a friendly way with someone else. Someone with dirty blond hair and a black shirt.

Trish.

They laughed together like old friends, and my blood boiled. Starting the car, I kept my eyes on them for a long moment, wondering if they knew, or cared, that I was watching. The Andersons were always so sure they could get away with anything. I wanted more than anything to shake that idea up. But I didn’t know how.