Page 77 of Whiskey Chase
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ears. “I don’t know, Scarlett. I think we’ve got enough in common to outweigh those very different differences.”
I liked that answer, and I told him so with a kiss. I kept it sweet and light. I wasn’t about to jump Devlin’s sexy ass here in my parents’ house surrounded by their ghosts. “Thank you for your help,” I whispered, pulling back to admire his just kissed mouth and that neat beard.
“Anything you need Scarlett, ever. Just ask.”
“I wouldn’t say no to some lunch after we finish this trunk,” I said hopefully.
He kissed the tip of my nose. “Anything you want.”
Happy again, I dug into the depths of the trunk. It looked like we’d already found all the good stuff. What was left were lace curtains—probably my gram’s—that needed a good washing and a balled up plastic bag at the bottom. I pulled the curtains out and sneezed. If I could clean them up, they sure would look pretty in my front windows. I plucked the plastic bag out of the back corner of the trunk and was surprised that it had some weight to it.
“Not empty,” I said, peering inside. Something cherry red that rang a distant bell in my head. “Huh.” I pulled it out. It was a cardigan. I spread it out on the floor and ran my finger over the buttons. Four big, red buttons, and the top one was a white button with yellow daisies on it. “Oh, my God.” The memories flooded back. “This is Callie Kendall’s sweater.”
“The girl who disappeared?” Devlin asked, peering over my shoulder.
I nodded. “She always had the coolest clothes. She lost a button off of her favorite sweater climbing trees or something, and the next day she came back with this button sewn on. By the next week, all the girls were swapping out their top buttons.”
“How did it end up here?” Devlin asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. All of us Bootleggers played together. She was practically one of us since she spent every single summer here. I probably had her over to play or something. She was the coolest girl I knew,” I sighed. “Smart, pretty, nice. She was real quiet, but sometimes she just broke out of her shell, and you felt lucky just to be around her. I was jealous of her, and I looked up to her. If that makes sense. I was devastated when she went missing.”
Something was tugging at my memory and then pulled hard. I was missing something important.
“How about we collect our spoils for today and...”
The missing poster flashed into my mind. The piece of paper I’d studied thousands of times in the years since Callie vanished, willing it to give me a clue, to give us all answers.
Last seen wearing denim shorts and a red cardigan sweater.
I dropped the sweater as if it were a rattlesnake.
30
Devlin
“Ineed you to text the Bodines—just the brothers,” I said to Jonah without preamble when I stormed through Gran’s door.
“Okaaaay.” He drew out the word and put down his sandwich.
“Text them and tell them to get their cowardly asses over here now.”
I stomped into the living room and dumped the stack of papers I’d promised Scarlett I’d scan for her and then headed for my bedroom. I needed to shower off the dust and mustiness of Jonah Bodine’s house. And I needed to calm myself down before I told three grown men who weren’t afraid of a little violence that they needed to grow a collective pair and stop dumping shit on their sister.
She’d been exhausted when we left her father’s house. Had even begged off on lunch saying she just wanted to take a nap. She was shaky and overwrought, and I placed the blame squarely on each pair of broad Bodine shoulders. They shouldn’t have made her see to their father’s house on her own. It had obviously taken a toll. We’d no sooner finished going through the trunk than she’d collapsed in on herself. I’d driven her home—with no argument from her—leaving her truck there.
I stepped under the stream of hot water from the shower head that Scarlett had replaced herself. Just because the woman could do it all didn’t mean that she should be expected to do it all. I let the anger simmer. Anger was a welcome change to what I’d felt when I’d first come here. There was strength in anger.
Ten minutes later, I was dressed and pacing the living room when the first car pulled up outside. Bowie didn’t even bother knocking. He rushed in through the kitchen door. “Is Scarlett okay? She’s not answering her texts.”
“No thanks to you,” I snapped. “Sit down.” If he was surprised by my tone, he didn’t show it. I caught Jonah trying to sneak down the hallway toward the stairs. “You too, Bodine.”
Jonah slunk into the living room and, shooting me a curious look, took Gran’s favorite wingback.
“This better be fucking good,” Gibson drawled when he came through the front door. Jameson was behind him. Both were dressed as if I’d interrupted them at work.
Bowie sniffed the air. “Is that burnt arm hair?”
Jameson shrugged. “Phone scared me.”
