Page 29 of Like A Moth To A Flame

Snatching up my phone, I accepted the call and held it to my ear.

“Hello?” My voice was tiny and shaking. There would be no hiding it even if I wanted to.

“Hey, did you call?”

It was Barrett, and he sounded sleepy. Dang it. I hadn’t wanted to wake him up.

“Yeah, I did. I’m sorry.” I sighed, a hand pushing against my eyes to try to chase away the fog that crept in at the corners.

“Sorry? Why?”

“Well, I didn’t want to wake you up. It’s early, and—”

“And I wake up at five to feed the cattle, so I’ve been up.”

Oh yeah, I’d forgotten. Barrett’s farm was a full-blown farm. I had just opened my mouth to speak when Barrett cut me off.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Somehow, he always knew. If Barrett wasn’t gay, I wonder if we would be more than friends.

“I just…” I paused. How the hell do I even explain this? “I’m scared, Barrett.”

It made me feel weak, admitting it out loud, and I sighed.

“What happened?” His tone was suddenly serious.

So I told him everything. I told him about the money, the journals, and the gun. I told him about the journal entries that talked about the Cottonwood Falls Firefly, and how my dad seemed to not only know the arsonist, but knew what they were doing, and allowed them to do it.

Finally, I told him about the phone call, and the encounter out front, beneath the elm.

“The fuck?!” he spat. He sounded angry. I could hear it even over the phone. “Nessa, you need to call the cops!”

I sighed.

“I…” I gulped. I knew it would make no sense even before I said it. “I can’t.”

“Why?!”

“They know me,” I said simply. “They know my dad.”

“And?”

“I heard my dad talk about cases like this. They never had a good outcome. Either they believed the man, or…” I paused. “They believed the woman when the woman was dead.”

“I’m comin’ over there. Stay put.”

The line went dead before I had a chance to speak, let alone argue.

Letting my phone fall to the couch, I wondered if maybe he was right. Should I call the cops?

But no, the voice of doubt screaming in my head was vehemently against it, even now.

I stayed there, my arms wrapped around my knees and my head resting overtop of them. More than once, I nearly drifted off to sleep before the fear crept in and woke me up with a jump, my heart pounding. This was exhausting.

The sound of the doorknob rattling kicked me into high gear, and I snatched up the knife, getting to my feet. My knees were shaking, heart pounding as I tip-toed toward the door. Just as I got to it, a knock sounded. I tried to speak, to call out, but my breath caught in my constricted throat.

“Ness?” Barrett shouted from the porch. “It’s just me.”

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