Page 102 of The Banned Books Club

She missed her parents, worried about her mother constantly and pored over her sister’s social media posts for Backcountry Adventures as a way to feel like a part of them. She was curious what Sheldon and his family were doing. He had an Instagram account, but he didn’t post very often—unless he wanted to show off a picture of a buck he’d killed or something like that. He had taken the time to put up her picture—and so had Wakefield Trucking, on their Facebook page—asking anyone with information as to her whereabouts to contact him or his parents.

That had made her paranoid at first, but there were so many people in LA. She couldn’t imagine those posts had enough reach to endanger her in any way.

As she put her makeup in the drawer, she realized she was as happy to be in Los Angeles now as the first day they’d arrived. Moving to a place like this was something Sheldon would never have been willing to consider. To be fair, he couldn’t have left the business. But the story would’ve been the same even without the business. He blamed Californians for ruining the country, complained about it all the time. So it was nice to finally have the freedom to choose whereshewanted to be. Living in such a warm, gorgeous place, with so much to do and see, was the perfect antidote to the miserable years she’d spent trying to make Sheldon happy—and losing her own happiness in the process.

“I’m me again,” she said to herself in the mirror. She was scared she’d live to regret what she’d done, was afraid she wouldn’t be able to provide a life as good as the one her boys would’ve known in Wakefield. But she’d been so desperate, she hadn’t seen any other way. And she couldn’t go back. All she could do now was put the past behind her and give it her best shot.

She put on the taupe dress she’d bought yesterday at a discount store with a pair of low heels and turned to the side to examine the fit. It wasn’t too dressy or too casual. It didn’t scream “discount store,” either. Hopefully, whoever handled the interview this morning would think it was just right.

The color was back in her cheeks, she noticed before she turned away from the mirror. Even though she was nervous about whether she’d get the job—was afraid she’d be turned down across the board—she’d felt so hopeful these days and that wasn’t something she was used to experiencing.

“You can do it,” she told herself and grabbed her keys.

Something had to be done; this couldn’t go on.

As Gia listened to her parents talk to the officer who’d come out to take the police report, she realized nothing was going to change. The officer didn’t show much alarm. He shrugged it off by saying someone was probably just drunk and acting out. He didn’t feel the malevolence behind Sheldon’s actions like Gia did. After all, the town was generally safe, and they were talking about the son of one of Wakefield’s most prominent families, a hardworking business owner they’d never had any problem with before.

Even the words that’d been spray-painted on the house didn’t seem to rattle him—and that afternoon around three, Gia understood why when Cormac called to see how her day was going. She was sitting on her bed with her computer in her lap, commenting on responses to her posts on behalf of Backcountry Adventures while she told him about the windows, the graffiti and the lack of any real response from the police.

“What was the officer’s name?” he asked.

“Pratt.”

“Waylan?”

She “liked” a comment about how fair their prices were given the value of the experience. “I don’t know. His first name wasn’t on his badge, and I’d never met him before.”

“Has to be,” Cormac said. “He’s a good friend of Sheldon’s. I see them at the bar together all the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “No wonder, then. Sheldon’s family is too well-connected. I doubt we’ll be able to get the help we need. And that is so unfair to my parents. They haven’t done anything wrong. They don’t know where Margot is. Neither do I, for that matter. But at leastImade it clear from the beginning that I don’t like Sheldon. That gives him a reason to hate me.Theywelcomed him into the family with open arms.”

“Maybe I should spend the night on your couch tonight so I can keep an eye on things.”

“And get shot because Sheldon doesn’t expect anyone to be there? No way.” And she couldn’t go back to his place, either. She wouldn’t leave her parents again.

“Then I’m going to call him and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing.”

“That’ll only make him mad atyou!”

“If it’ll get him to leave you and your parents alone—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I ordered some security cameras. That should help.”

“When will they come?”

“Email confirmation says tomorrow. He’d be stupid to come back tonight, anyway. He has to know after what he did to the windows we’ll be on pins and needles, so he’ll be much more likely to get caught.”

“This has gotten way out of hand,” Cormac said.

She “hearted” a comment from a customer who’d posted a picture of a mountain lion taken while on one of her tours. “Because Sheldon is used to getting his way,” she explained, agreeing with Cormac. “He’s never had anyone stand up to him, and he didn’t think Margot had the nerve to be the first. If I’m being honest, neither did I. She’s never done anything this gutsy before.”

“What if we approach his folks? Ask them to see if they can get him to calm down? It’s in their best interest, too. He could wind up in jail if he doesn’t.”

She remembered their behavior the night they came over and knew they were probably helping to fuel their son’s anger—not mitigate it. “I might have to try that approach—get them to see reason since I know he won’t. But I don’t have a high degree of confidence it will work. Where he’s concerned, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“I take care of Johnny Maine’s bulldog. He’s on the force. I’ll call him and see if he can do something to help.”

Gia didn’t answer. She hadn’t even comprehended what she’d heard. His words had merely turned into a background rumble as her eyes zeroed in on a comment she’d just found on a post. It was from someone named M. Lane, and it was simply a heart.

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