Page 46 of The Golden Hour

My frown deepens. “For seventeen years?”

“Your father’s request.” She sighs, head shaking. “I always marveled at what a brilliant, complex man your father was, but those same traits made him hard to understand.” She touches my arm, her fingers cool on my skin. “It might be nothing. Just your father’s regret and deep pain over what he had to do. But there’s a reason he didn’t want the ranch touched. Will you try to find that reason?”

I cover her hand with mine. “Of course, Vivian.”

* * *

Back in my room, I take the burner phone from its hiding place behind an air vent and text Rabbit. She threatened to shave my head in my sleep if I didn’t keep her updated, but we both know it’s so she can tell the police if something goes wrong. Then I send the same text to Finn, whose number I have newly stored in my iPhone.

Something at my uncle’s ranch Vivian wants me to look for. Will keep u posted.

Seconds later the phone vibrates with an incoming call. When I see who it is, I momentarily teeter on the cusp of declining, then rush into the bathroom and start the shower. Nervous to hear his voice and preemptively annoyed at what he’ll say, I answer.

“Hello?”

“What uncle? What ranch?”

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

He huffs. “I think we’re past that, princess. What happened?”

Too tired for verbal sparring, I fill him in on my conversation with Vivian.

“The crazy thing is I was thinking about Uncle Ant just before then, about something he said to me a long time ago. He told me he needed to keep me safe from my parents because of what was in my head.”

Finn is quiet for a moment. “Why haven’t you told me this?” he growls.

Apparently I’m not tired anymore, because I lash back, “I didn’t realize I had to report every thought in my head to you. Besides, when was I supposed to tell you? I didn’t have your damn number until tonight.”

He sighs in exasperation. “Arguing is pointless. You’re taking me with you to the ranch.”

“Are you nuts? No way. I haven’t even asked Vivian about dinner on Thursday. Visiting my dead uncle’s ranch is private family business. I’d be insane to ask to bring you.”

“Private family business,” he snarls. “You know who you sound like?”

In lieu of shrieking obscenities, I hiss, “You’re impossible!”

He pauses. “Are you in the shower?”

Registering the teasing tone, I demand, “Are you bipolar? You have more mood swings than a teen on her period.”

His laughter douses my anger, until eventually my own lips tilt.

“You’re certifiable,” I tell him, holding in my own mirth. “The shower is on so no one can hear me talking.”

“But were you going to shower? Inquiring minds and all that.”

“Are you serious?” I bleat, then wince at the volume of my voice. “First of all, it’s none of your business. Second of all, jury’s out on whether or not you’re a psychopath. And third, what are we even talking about anymore? I’m hanging up.”

“Wait. I’m sorry. Don’t go.”

He sounds contrite enough that I ask, “What do you want, Finn?”

“Among other things, a Scrabble rematch.”

My head shakes in consternation, but my stupid lips quirk again. “You have to be the strangest person alive.”

“I think you take the cake on that one, princess.”

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