Page 113 of Entangled

Time to rise and fucking shine, Sheriff.

I reverse out the driveway so fast my tires skip when I come to a halt before turning the wheel and shooting off up the road like a race car driver. Taking the turns along the route way faster than I should and only slowing down when I reach Mulberry Lane four minutes later. I rake my eyes along either side of the street for any sign of a blue house and find my mark about halfway down.

The house is a pretty two-story painted slate blue with white shutters. The gardening in the front of the yard is as impeccable as the rest of the house. Perfectly suited to the uptight sheriff.

I bring Franny to a screeching halt in front of the house and grab the photographs from the passenger seat. My stomach twisting with rage and anxiety as I throw open the door and charge up to the house. Not even bothering to turn off the car or close the door behind me. The white door looms before me, pristine, without a mark on it, as if no one has ever dared to sully it by knocking. It looks as perfectly false as I suspect the person sleeping inside is. I give the door a silent fuck you and start banging on it as hard as I can, not stopping or missing a beat despite the pain in my fist until it flies open a few minutes later.

“El?” Tiff’s anxious voice greets me, her body wrapped in a pink robe. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” Her eyes flick behind me, running the length of the street as if looking for anything out of place.

“Where is your mother?” I grind out, brows dropping at her appearance.

She is not who I want.

Her brows drop in confusion and she shakes her head as if trying to clear the dregs of sleep. “My mother?”

“Yes,” I snap furiously. “Where is she?”

“Uh—she, she went out of town yesterday,” she stutters out, taken aback at my tone. “Was going for a short vacation she said.”

That fucking bitch.

That conniving, covering-up, motherfucking bitch.

She wasn’t getting away with this.

“El?” Tiff’s quiet, nervous voice pulls me from my thoughts and I see the anxious look on her face. “El, what’s going on? What’s that in your hand?”

It dampens some of the anger in me, that scared childlike look on her face, the worry in her tone. I don’t want to drag her into this hell. No matter what her mother has or hasn’t done to me. I love Tiff and she doesn’t deserve to have this kind of damage done to her. To lose her innocence like mine was torn away from me. By the actions of others.

“Just…” I heave a breath. “Just let me know if you hear from her, okay?”

“Of course, but El–El!”

But I’m already gone. Walking quickly across the yard and throwing myself back into Franny before driving away and turning toward the marina. Jace will know how to get in touch with his aunt, or he’ll know who will know where to find her. I don’t need Tiff for that.

I make it to the marina in record time, parking in my usual spot and practically running down the dock, photographs in hand. Praying that he managed to make it back to the boat to crash and didn’t fall asleep at Zane’s. That Zane isn’t here to witness the crazy I’m about to unleash. Gripping the rail of the boat, I pull myself over and charge into the cabin.

“Jace!” The door to the bedroom is shut and I walk toward it, calling out again. “Jace!”

He pulls open the door just as I reach for the handle. “Ellie?” His eyes squint down at me, voice coming out worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Come look at this.” I walk over and flip the switch for the light above the small table before laying the photographs out on it. “Look.” I point, nodding my head toward them.

He walks over while rubbing at his eyes and blanches when he sees the photographs before his expression quickly turns worried. “What am I supposed to be seeing here?” He flicks his eyes to me.

“Look, there.” I run a finger over the blank space in the blood spatter. “Someone else was there, Jace.”

“There, when…”

“When it happened.” I nod insistently and point to the photograph again. “Look.”

His eyes search my face for a moment before he leans down to inspect the photograph, brows dropping as he looks it over. “Blondie…” He starts hesitantly, rising back up and turning to me. “You don’t know that for sure. It could have been a robe hanging on the back of the door or—”

“I know, Jace.” My voice cracks and I lift my chin stubbornly, looking up fiercely into his concerned eyes. “I know. I went through every evidence log, looked at every photograph. There was nothing hanging on the back of that door.” I shake my head. “Someone else was there that night. I would bet my life on it,” I tell him adamantly, reaching out and bringing the photographs of his aunt to the front before pointing to her. “And your aunt knows something. I don’t know what, but she knows something. She covered it up and just left town to go on fucking vacation in case I managed to figure it out. Tell me, Jace, when has she ever taken a vacation? Because she really doesn’t strike me as the type.”

Jace stares at the photographs for a long time, eyes narrowed in thought and darting between them before he slowly nods. “Okay.” He blows out a breath, lifting his eyes back to mine. “Okay.”

“I need you to find her,” I rush out urgently.

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