Page 59 of Deceit & Desire

“I know, baby,” I admitted, placing a hand on his arm. “But it’s the only way we can move fast enough to stay ahead of them. If we stick together, we’ll waste time chasing the same leads instead of covering more ground.”

Roman muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further.

I pressed on, turning my attention to Kat. “Kat, I want you to start with Missy’s social media. Look through her posts, her messages with me, her comments—anything you can manage to access that might give us a lead. You can log in as me if you need to. You already have all my passwords.”

Kat quirked a brow, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “I knew saving those would come in handy someday. You’re lucky I’m so trustworthy.”

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. “You can set up in the guest room or Dad’s office, whichever works better for you. Just dig deep. I don’t care how far back you have to go.”

Kat gave a quick nod, already pulling her phone from her pocket. “Consider it done, boss.”

I shifted my gaze to Roman, who was still glaring out the window. “Rome, I need you to check the trucks. Specifically the ones with the ranch logo on the side.”

He turned back to me, his brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because whoever firebombed the evidence repository used one of those trucks,” I said, my voice steady but cold. “They wanted it to be seen on the security footage. It was deliberate. You know the fleet better than anyone. If there’s anything off, you’ll find it.”

Roman’s jaw clenched, but he nodded slowly. “Fine. But what about you?”

“I’m going to search through my old mementos,” I said, my tone softening. “Anything from when Missy was alive—letters, photos, notes. If there’s a clue we’ve missed, it might be buried in the past.”

My father, who had been silent until now, turned slightly in his seat to look at me. “And what happens if Barton gets wind of this? If he figures out what you’re up to, he’ll see it as interfering with the investigation.”

“I don’t give a damn what Barton thinks,” I said sharply. “This isn’t about him. It’s about the truth. The sooner we find it, the sooner we can clear our names.”

Dad sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Just… be careful, Zoe. Barton’s not the only one who’ll be watching.”

“I will,” I promised, though I wasn’t sure how much weight the words carried.

* * *

I satcross-legged on the worn rug of my old room, surrounded by piles of memories that told me nothing useful. Boxes of letters, photographs, and yearbooks stared back at me like ghosts of a simpler time, mocking me for thinking they might hold answers. My chest tightened with frustration, my fingers gripping a faded picture of Missy and me, smiling at the creek like nothing could ever go wrong.

I dropped it back into the box and exhaled sharply, brushing my hair back from my face.

“Damn it, Missy,” I muttered, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “Why couldn’t you have left us a clue?”

My gaze drifted to the window, the amber glow of the barn’s lights catching my eye. A chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t set foot in that barn since I got back to Montana. I’d avoided it like it might reach out and swallow me whole. Knowing Missy had died in there… it was like there was an invisible barrier keeping me out.

But then a thought struck me, sharp and unwelcome. Missy’s diary. She was always writing in it, tucked away in the loft of the barn where no one could bother her. Could it still be there?

The thought alone was enough to make bile rise in my throat. My pulse quickened, my hands trembling as I stared at the barn. I could feel the panic clawing at the inside of my ribcage, threatening to take over.

“No,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head. “Not now. Get it together, Zoe. You have to do this.”

I stood, pacing the room like a caged animal. My breathing was shallow, and the walls of my old room felt like they were closing in. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms, trying to force the panic down.

“You can do this,” I said aloud, the words a shaky mantra. “Missy’s gone. The barn is just a building. You’ve done harder things than this.”

It didn’t feel true, but I latched onto the lie, anyway. My stomach churned as I left the room, my steps heavy as I made my way downstairs and out into the cool night air. The barn loomed ahead of me, a shadowed silhouette against the star-dotted sky. Every step closer felt like walking into a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

When I reached the doors, I paused, swallowing hard against the nausea rolling through me. My fingers hovered over the latch, frozen.

“Just a building,” I whispered again, forcing my hand to move. The latch creaked as I opened the door, the familiar smell of hay and wood washing over me, tinged with something else that made my stomach lurch. Fear… my fear.

I stepped inside, my eyes drawn to the loft. I suppressed a shudder. When Missy’s death was ruled a suicide, they said she’d jumped from the loft with a rope around her neck, hanging herself from one of the barn’s rafters. My stomach roiled at the thought of having to go up there.

The ladder leading up to it seemed impossibly high, like a climb to some forbidden place. My legs felt like lead as I crossed the barn, my breaths shallow and quick. I gripped the rungs tightly, the metal cool and unforgiving under my hands, and started climbing.

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