33. A Night Off

Dixie shoved a covered tray into Hailey's hands as Hailey followed Chance up the stairs. "Your dinner, hon."

"But, Dixie, I don't need—"

"You hush now, little girl. Dewey made this special just for you, and you don't want to crush the poor man."

Unexpected tears welled and pricked Hailey's eyes. "Well, you tell him for me I really appreciate it."

Dixie gave her a sly wink. "I added a piece of mud pie. Oh, and this is from the boss." She handed over a small gift bag.

A gift from Noah? Hailey's heart fluttered as she peeked inside. She let out a squeal of delight. "Aw, this is so thoughtful!" She hauled out a clear plastic bag bulging with blue MMs. "I'll have to give him an extra special … um, hug when I see him."

Dixie cackled. "I'm sure an ‘extra special' is exactly what the boss is hoping for. Now go on upstairs. I'm fixing to leave, and I'll lock up."

Giggling, Hailey trotted the rest of the way up the stairs and opened the door for the dog. She had been enjoying a rare evening off—Dixie, Luane, and Dewey had barely let her set foot downstairs unless it was to let Chance out for potty breaks—and was looking forward to slipping into a steaming bath and getting lost in a spicy romance novel. Noah had texted her when he'd reached Silver Summit, and she'd teased him she'd be looking for new ideas to try out on him. He'd promised to come home as early as possible tomorrow, adding an emoji with its tongue hanging out.

Later, she might tackle her book order and whittle it down some more. The task was a work in progress—one title at a time, each one painful to cut.

Other priorities came first, though, like biting into Dewey's Swiss burger and sweet potato fries while they were hot. While she did just that, Chance stood by the door and whimpered.

"If you're gonna beg, dude, you gotta do it right. You stand next to the human you're begging from, not across the room."

Her little speech didn't keep him from parking his butt by the door and continuing his soft cries.

She abandoned her remaining meal to prepare his food bowl. "I know you can't possibly have to go potty again, so you must be hungry. Come get your yummy food." When she placed the bowl in its usual spot, though, he barely glanced at it. He remained in the same spot as if he'd been riveted to the floor. "Oh, I get it. You're waiting for Dad. Well, he won't be home until tomorrow, so you're stuck with me." She gathered up her bath pillow, bomb, and book, but Chance still didn't move.

She huffed out a breath and fisted her hands on her hips. "Okay, buddy. It's like this. I can't relax while you're looking so distressed, which means any hot water and smelly good stuff in the tub will go to waste. I'll let you out one more time, and if you want to stand there all night afterward, knock yourself out." At least she would know she'd tried everything, short of having Neve check him out.

The dog stood, sniffed beneath the door, and let out a sharp bark. Then he paced back and forth, his whimpers louder than before. Her skin erupted in goose bumps, and she doused the lights so she could peek out the windows without being backlit. Nothing stirred in the street below.

Mustering her courage, she cracked open the door. Chance tried to bolt, but she shoved him back inside.

"Stay," she commanded before tiptoeing down the stairs to the back door, where she looked through the peephole. Nothing moved in the illuminated semicircle cast by the exterior light—nothing except heavy pine limbs being ruffled by the wind. No notes fluttered on her windshield, and she blew out a relieved breath. Those damn messages had had her tiptoeing on spikes since they'd first appeared, and they were probably the reason her nerves were a little raw at the moment.

She double-checked the locks and raced up the stairs, prickles cascading from her neck to her tailbone. Chance barked and spun in circles when she pushed her way back inside.

Dropping to her knees, she wrapped her arms around him, accepting a sloppy slurp. "Is there a girl dog in heat out there? Maybe you smell a moose on the loose. We don't get many of those in Noah's loft, you know." Her attempt at lightening her own mood thudded like an encyclopedia hitting a library floor. He seemed to calm, though, so she stood and hazarded turning on one table lamp.

He barked again and returned to his bowl, sniffed, and lay down. So what if he was acting off? Because he'd grown so comfortable so fast, she and Noah sometimes forgot that he'd only been rescued a month ago after being terribly abused.

"Go ahead and be weird. You've earned the right," she told the dog. He gave her a twitch of his tail.

Her phone rang, and up popped an unknown number with a Western Slope area code. While she expected follow-ups about the county's ongoing investigation, they wouldn't call after regular business hours, so she let it go to voicemail while she cleaned up her leftovers. Pouring herself a hefty glass of wine, she sat on the couch and started up the voicemail. The familiar voice decalcified her spine. She set the glass on the coffee table before she could drop it, and it wobbled in place and nearly tipped over.

"I know you're there, you little bitch," Cliff's gravelly voice slurred. "Pick up the goddamn phone so I can tell you how thoroughly you've fucked up my life." He marched through a string of vulgar names, some decipherable and others not. She hit pause, panic constricting her chest and throat. Should she keep listening? Should she call Noah? Charlie? Reece? Each one was busy; besides, they couldn't help her from where they were.

Chance slid his head onto her lap and whimpered. Then he ran to the door again and barked. Fear paralyzed her, then grabbed hold and shook her. Hard.

Think, Hailey, think!

Shane. She'd call Shane, but he'd want to know everything that was said, so she swallowed down her fright and hit the play arrow again. Chance returned to her side and watched her with worried brown eyes.

Cliff ranted on, calling her more disgusting names, droning on about how she'd ruined his career, his reputation, his future. The voicemail ended with a chilling warning: "I know where you're hiding, and I'm coming for you. I'll see you real soon." His closing cackle made the small hairs on her arms stand up like fine needles.

It took her scrambled brain a moment to locate Shane's number in her contacts, and her fingers trembled so fiercely she poked at a different number, disconnected, and tried again.

His phone rang … and rang … and rang … and clicked on.

"Shane?" she screeched. "Is that you?" Please don't be his voicemail.

"Yeah, Hailey, I'm here. What's going on?" Noise in the background had her picturing him in a honky-tonk, sipping from a longneck.

In a maddeningly quavery voice, she told him about the call.

His voice was as calm as hers was shaky. "Text me the number, and I'll see if we can pinpoint him. Hang tight, okay?"

"Th-thank you." She sent him the number and waited with her hands trapped between her thighs to keep from chewing her nails to the quick. Chance trotted between her and the door, squeaking as he went. The burger in her stomach flipped over.

After what seemed hours, Shane's number lit up her screen. "Yes?" she croaked.

"He's nowhere near you, Hailey. That number pinged from five hours away, southeast of Vail."

She gusted out a lungful of relieved air. "Oh, thank God! So you don't think he knows where I am?" And that he's getting ready to murder me?

"Doubtful. He's just a drunk asshole who wants to shake you up. I'll come by and see you tomorrow. I'm gonna want to listen to that voicemail in person. I'll text Reece and have him drive by when he's done with his shift, yeah? I'd do it, but it's my night off, and I'm in Ouray, and uh …"

You're planning on getting lucky tonight. "No worries. I'm sorry I cut into your free time—I owe you. I really appreciate all you've done."

"Did I put your mind at ease?" A hopeful grin came through in his voice. God, he was sweet—though he didn't do a thing for her.

"You did, thanks. What time does Reece get off?"

"Eleven. Don't worry, though. He won't bother you. He'll just have a little look-see. Meanwhile, relax and get some sleep. You're safe."

"Thanks, Shane."

After an hour, Hailey's tummy had finally settled enough that she could throw back a handful of MMs. Chance had licked his bowl clean and was now velcroed to her side. She slid him the side-eye. "I guess being scared shitless makes a body hungry, huh, boy?"

She finished off her wine, and her limbs suddenly turned heavy, rubbery.

"I'm skipping the bath," she told Chance, who let out an odd series of frantic yelps. "God, I hope you don't keep this up all night, or I'll be a zombie. I'm letting you out one last time and crawling between the sheets."

She pulled on her boots and coat while he pawed at the door. "Hang on to your doggie pants."

He didn't hang on to his doggie pants, streaking out the door and down the stairs to the back door, where he yipped and barked and hopped in place. Hailey's leaden legs carried her down a step at a time. As she closed in on the bottom stair, an acrid smell hit her full force—and that's when she noticed a haze hanging by the back entrance.

Her inner alarms blared, and instinct took over. She unbolted and threw open the back door in one swift move. Smoke poured in. Chance bolted through the curtain of gray into the parking lot. Hailey tucked her mouth and nose against her arm and took off after him. When he disappeared into the trees ringing the lot, she screeched to a halt and pivoted. Flames licked a mound of trash and wadded paper strewn across the threshold. The fire wasn't big yet, but it had ignited the wooden door—a perfect source of fuel. The stinging smoke cleared for an instant, revealing a plastic gas can with its protruding spout open. She froze in place.

Try to put out the fire and save Noah's building? Risk an exploding can? Or run blindly after Chance on a prayer she could find him in the dark?

A fraction of a second, and her choice snapped into place.

Noah woke up with a start. Where the hell was he? He looked around, not recognizing the dark room. On the nightstand, his phone buzzed like a riled-up bunch of bees. He snatched it up, registering two things at the same time: It was 2:00 a.m., and Reece was calling. The combination set alarm bells clanging inside his head, and his heart kicked into overdrive.

"Hey," he answered, his tongue thick and pasty from the many whiskeys he'd thrown back with Leo Cantrell and his partners.

"Is Hailey with you?"

"Hail …? What?"

"I need to confirm Hailey's whereabouts. Is she with you right now? Is she in your apartment? Is she at the Loose Moose?"

The urgency in Reece's voice caused Noah's foggy brain to stir. "She's in the apartment. Taking a bath. With Chance."

Reece yelled to someone. "She's upstairs!" Shouts reported back.

Noah startled fully awake. "What the fuck's going on?"

"We have a situation."

"A … situation? What the hell does that mean?" A siren wailed in the background. Panic rose from Noah's gut and grabbed him by the throat.

Reece's voice was calm, but an undercurrent of fear threaded through it. "Someone tried to light the tavern on fire. It's out, but there's a lot of smoke and—"

Noah leaped from the bed. "What the fuck? What do you mean someone tried to light it on fire?"

Reece puffed out a breath. "It looks that way, but right now we need to focus on—"

"Where's Hailey? Where's Chance?" Noah only gave his brother a moment to hesitate before he yelled, "Tell me, Reece!"

"I don't know."

He shoved a hand through his hair. "Somebody needs to get the fuck inside and look for them!"

"We're doing everything we can."

"It's not enough if no one knows where they are!" What little patience Noah had evaporated, and he began pulling on his clothes one-handed. "Fuck this shit! I'll go in."

"You can't."

"The hell I can't!"

Reece's voice took on a big brother tone that infuriated Noah. "You're not here, dude. You work on getting your ass home while we do our job. Should I find someone to come get you?"

"Get me? Why?" Noah flipped on the light and switched his phone to speaker.

"I'm not sure you're in any condition to drive, and I don't want to risk you too."

"Not here!" a voice that sounded like Shane's yelled in the background.

"Reece, shit! What do we do? I can't lose her! I can't lose either of them!" Noah's voice cracked.

"We'll find them, Noah. Listen, I know it's hard, but try to stay calm and find someone to drive you. You're not thinking straight, and the roads are icy."

"Right," Noah choked. No more words would come out. Steel bands cinched around his chest. Tears ran unchecked into his beard as his heart shattered into a million irretrievable pieces.

Noah sat on the passenger side of his truck, checking his phone for any message from Hailey. He'd called so many times he'd filled up her inbox. If texts had a limited capacity, he'd have maxed that out too for all the times he'd tried to reach her. Not even one little word back made his heart sit like a brick in his chest. He wasn't sure the organ could still beat.

He returned to staring through his windshield at the inky sky as the high beams swept the dark asphalt. Hard, frozen beads rained down, slicking the truck and road with an icy sheen. Though he was exhausted, he couldn't keep his thumb from tapping against his leg in a frenzied tempo. Behind the wheel sat Leo Cantrell, who maneuvered the truck with an ease Noah was incapable of calling up.

After ending the call with Reece, Noah had bent to his brother's pressure and had rousted Leo. The man hadn't wasted a minute jumping into action. Not only had he insisted on driving Noah to Fall River himself, but he'd enlisted an employee to follow behind in his vehicle so he could return to Silver Summit. "You're in no mental condition," Cantrell had asserted. "Your woman needs you firing on all cylinders, and this will be one less worry renting space in your head."

Noah had swallowed his pride and accepted … for Hailey's sake.

Emotions warred inside him, one massive, seething collection of terror, pain, and rage. And so many questions. Was she all right? Was Chance alive? Who had done this?

A mantra was on a steady loop in his head. She's okay, she's okay, she's okay. He closed his eyes and imagined her soft weight cradled in his arms beneath the covers. She fit him perfectly—in body and spirit. He'd never known anyone like her. Kind, bright, and bursting with optimism. Beautiful inside and out. And what he loved best: what you saw was what you got. She didn't play mind games—she didn't even know how.

No, they hadn't known one another long, but did time really matter? He knew her like he'd never known anyone in his twenty-eight years, and he couldn't imagine meeting anyone like her again in his next twenty-eight years. Or the twenty-eight beyond those. How long you knew someone was less important than how well you knew them. In one short month, she'd become part of him, and losing her would be like hacking off a huge chunk of himself.

Don't go there,he told himself. Instead, he stared at his phone, waiting for a text from Reece telling him they'd found Hailey and that she was fine. That text didn't come.

As they rolled onto Bowen Street, vehicles clogged the road. Bright blue and red lights pulsed, casting eerie shadows on the brick fa?ade of the Miners Tavern.

Cantrell parked the truck and killed the engine. "You let me know if you need anything, and that's not just some platitude. I mean it."

"Thanks, man. I get that."

Noah reminded himself to breathe as Cantrell deposited the key in his open palm and got out of the vehicle. Sucking in a lungful of air, Noah braced himself and followed him outside.