Chapter Twenty-Four

Brandy

My nerves jangled, and my foot kept bouncing as I tried to drive as calmly as possible away from Madie’s. Owen and Collin were in the back of the cab, and I was still driving his truck. I had to scoot the seat all the way forward just to get my toes on the pedals, and I was nervous about driving something so large, but Collin assured me I would be okay. I just needed to breathe and focus.

We had waited an hour before responding to them, telling them we were on our way, giving Luke and Jesse a little more time to head back. They knew where we were going, so hopefully if something did happen, they would get there shortly. I had no idea what they would do, exactly, but I knew they were coming, and they were righteously pissed off.

The sunlight was bright, and I turned the AC on in the truck to make sure the boys were as comfortable as they could be. They were sitting on the floor, baking equipment all around them and the canvas ready to be pulled up and over their bodies when they crouched. Owen was the one who was going to be the least comfortable, but he seemed the most game for it. He was almost excited.

The GPS on my car had the country club’s address typed in, and it was guiding me off the main road and down a backroad to another backroad. The farther we got from the main road, the more nervous I was, despite knowing the location was a country club. Rationally, I figured nothing that bad could happen at a country club, right? It was full of rich white dudes who played golf. No matter how far off the beaten path it might be, it had to be within ten miles of a Starbucks, just based on that fact alone.

“How much longer?” Collin asked.

“It says about five minutes.”

“All right, Owen,” he said. “It’s showtime.”

I heard rustling in the back, and then a muffled voice called out, “All right, Brandy, we’re ready. You just tell us when you see something and what you see.”

“Okay,” I said.

The backroad led to an access road, which then led to a curvy path. It almost looked too small for a car, but I followed it anyway. Then I found where it ended, and my heart sank.

The country club was abandoned. The parking lot was empty, grass growing up through cracks in the pavement, and old, sunbleached signs for golf gear hung in the windows of the only building that was accessible from the parking lot. In the distance, another car was parked, and my phone dinged. I stopped the truck and looked at the message.

“What did they say?” Collin asked. “Do you see anything?”

“A car in the distance,” I said. “The message just says to stop here. Oh, wait, here’s another one. Walk fifty steps.”

“No,” Collin said. “Don’t get out of the car. That’s extraordinarily dangerous.”

“Collin,” I said, trying not to move my lips too much, “they might be watching me with binoculars, so I can’t talk much. I just want you to know I cannot argue with you on this, and that I am very, very sorry. I hope this works.”

“Brandy, don’t—” he began.

“If I scream, come running,” I said. “But otherwise, stay where you are.”

I opened the door and flung myself out before any further protest could mount. My phone in my hand, my legs shaking in fear, I started counting my steps. At twenty-five, I looked back at the truck and had a single moment of doubt. Maybe I should run back to the truck and haul ass out of here. Maybe I should just deal with the ramifications of the video being leaked. It would be horrible, but I would survive. I’d just have to move again.

Probably away from Collin.

No, I can’t do that. I can’t run again. Not yet.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through my nose, I continued walking toward the car. At forty-nine steps, my phone vibrated, and I looked down at it.

You did well. Unfortunately, though, you lied.

Oh no. No, no, no.

We know Collin is in the truck. If you are serious, you will take him back home. Then you will text me a picture of yourself in your own car. I will give you an address. You will be there at midnight.

Or else.

I stared across the parking lot at the car in the distance. I couldn’t even make out what make or model it was, much less anything else about it. The windows were blacked out, too. Slowly, it started to move, disappearing around the back of the parking lot, circling around the country club. And just like that, they were gone.

Turning, I tried to keep myself together. I knew what I had to do. It was the worst possible decision to make, but it was the only one I could. And I needed to do it now. Just when I thought I had things figured out, just when it felt like life might finally be turning around, now I had to do this.

But it was the only way.

I was going to have to be alone. Completely alone. It was the only way to save everyone and maintain some of my dignity.

The pavement was uneven as I walked, and I felt like I was walking through a dream. A nightmare. The world seemed liquid and like it wasn’t rooted down, like at any moment, it could flood away. I felt dizzy and like I could fall, but if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d actually go down. I might just float like a leaf on water.

I was lightheaded, and for a split second, I had complete clarity.

I didn’t drink enough water.

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, trying to get back to my feet. The truck was still there, but no one else was in the parking lot. I was hot and sweaty, and I had scrapes on my elbows and arms from falling. I must have passed out. A heart condition that I rarely ever had to think about as long as I stayed hydrated had reared its ugly head.

Shakily, I made my way closer to the truck, the reality of my situation weighing heavily on me. I was going to have to hurt Collin. And myself. And it was the only way to make sure I could do what I needed to do.

I just hoped I had the strength to do it.

I opened the door of the car and got inside, sitting heavily in the driver’s seat and pressing the button for the ignition.

And then I cried.