Page 78 of The Voice We Find

It takes me a second to catch on. “Then where are they?”

“Probably in the same place she’s been hiding them every time she plans to be away from home—from me, specifically. In the bottom drawer of her bathroom vanity.” He blows out a long breath. “That was the first time I’ve asked her about it directly.”

“Why do you think she’d lie to you?”

“Why does anybody lie?” he asks, staring off momentarily. “Because they’re more afraid to face the truth than the consequences of being caught.”

I’m about to comment on this when my phone vibrates between us on the table.

Natalie.

I silence it, not wanting to cut this conversation short with August when I’m certain she’s only calling to confirm she got my message last night and fed Phantom this morning.

When she immediately calls back, August stands and clears our plates. “Go ahead and take that. I’m gonna head next door. Feel free to come by afterward. Norma loves company.”

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

The instant he leaves through the garage door, I answer Natalie’s call.

“Good morning, Nat—”

“Did you take the utility van to Petaluma last night?”

“What?” I’m startled by her abrupt tone.

“The white utility van Jasper keeps locked in the single car garage.”

“Um, yes. The Escalades were both out on tour drop-offs when I needed to leave for the studio, so I—”

“He’s on his way there.”

“Where?” I ask as icy fingers walk my spine.

“To wherever you parked the van. He went to use it this morning, and when it wasn’t there, he tracked it. Where did you even find the keys?”

On rubbery legs, I move across the living room to the front door. “They were inside the van—tucked into the visor.” I spent a good thirty minutes searching the garage and the house before recalling a random memory of Jasper before he left for college in a shiny new Corvette. He’d popped his visor and managed to shoot his keyring directly onto his pointer finger.

“I don’t understand why he’s coming,” I say. “I can drive it back as soon as the roads clear up. Most of them aren’t even passable yet. The storm was brutal last night.”

I step out onto the front porch, shielding my eyes from the sun as I spot the van in question across the street. I’d parked under a tree, not wanting to take up August’s entire driveway. But the closer I get to it, the more my dread solidifies. Especially when I see the fallen branches. I blink at them in disbelief.

“He won’t give up,” Natalie says a bit breathlessly. “Here’s what you’re going to do. When he gets there, just hand him the keys and tell him you didn’t know the van was off-limits. Tell him you thoughtitwas a part of the fleet, and it won’t happen again.Do not argue with him, just—”

“Um ... Natalie?” I clutch the phone to my ear and stare incredulously at the giant dent in the van’s roof and the way the side wall looks as if it’s been beaten by the world’s largest baseball bat. On repeat. At eighty miles an hour. “The van is ... it’s damaged. Dented from the storm.”

My sister-in-law goes quiet. “How bad is it?”

As I walk around to the back, any optimism I hold for its repair plummets. The back doors are warped to the point they won’t fully open or latch closed. “Bad. Possibly even totaled.”

I hear her take a deep breath. “Tell Jasper you called me and that I’m already working on an insurance claim. Don’t ask questions, and don’t—”

But her words are drowned out by the distorted sound of a loud engine coming up behind me on the side of the road. The sun’s glare on the front windshield of the shiny silver Mercedes SUV is too intense to see the driver, but the man who thrusts open the passenger door is, without a doubt, my brother.

“He’s here,” I whisper into the phone receiver before I end the call.

When he stalks toward me, there’s a gleam in his eye that pulls at every childhood insecurity. Of all things for me to be wearing, these strawberry-patterned pajama pants are certainly not adding to my confidence. I throw a glance in the direction of Norma’s driveway, but I don’t see August anywhere. A part of me is relieved he won’t be a witness to this, while another part—the fearful part—wants to scream his name. Especially when Jasper circles the van with the stealth of a predator.

“I just saw the damage a few minutes ago. I’m so sorry this happened.” I try to remember what Natalie told me to say, but the words are frozen in an unreachable capsule. “If I’d known the storm was going to be this bad, I’d have—”

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