I stared at him. She’d been talking to Gavin? Was she fucking nuts? He must not have known who she was, at least not at first. What had she been thinking?
“Does Brian still work at the garage?” I had to force the name out.
“He runs the ranch with Gavin now—they live on the property.” He looked back and forth between us. “What are your names?” he said.
“I’m Jamie,” I said. “This is Dallas.”
“Do you know where Skylar went after she talked to you?” Dallas said.
“No idea.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“What about Crystal? Did you see her leave?” I said.
“No, the bartender didn’t either.” He met my eyes. “Why is she back here?”
I looked away, my face flushing. The room felt hot, the walls pressing in on me. I remembered him helping that night, his eyes staring at our wrists.
“We don’t know why she’s here,” Dallas said. “But we’d appreciate if you kept this to yourself for now.”
“The waitress at the diner said we should talk to Riley and Noah at the station,” I said. “Do you know anything about them?”
“Yeah, they’re good kids. But Riley’s Brian’s son.”
The tall boy with the dark hair. Skylar’s brother.
“Does he … does he have any other kids?” I said.
“A daughter, around twelve years old. Riley’s seventeen.” He looked hard at me. “Skylar said you and your sister had a fight.”
“Our sister has a few problems,” I said.
“Is she looking for more? Because talking to Gavin is a good place to start. He’s bad news.”
“We know,” I said.
“There’s been talk about him getting rough with women over the years. Nothing’s stuck, but he got arrested a few times. Brian, since he got married, he’s calmed down some, but I’ve heard he’s a real asshole to his wife and kids.” He looked at me steady, his eyes narrowed. I held my breath, waiting for him to ask how old Skylar was, to put it together, but he just said, “You think Crystal and your daughter got tangled up with them?”
I didn’t know how to answer, my mind still racing over everything he’d said, panic hitting hard and deep in my guts.
“We don’t know what happened,” Dallas said. “We just know those men are dangerous.”
“Have you talked to the police?”
“Not yet,” I said. “We were hoping to find Skylar and Crystal first.”
“We know the Luxtons have that big ranch,” Dallas said. “Do they have any other properties? Maybe an old warehouse?”
I felt light-headed, could almost smell the rotten fruit, the musty mattress.
“The Luxtons own a lot of land,” Owen said. “I think they have some out toward Armstrong. What are you looking for?”
“We’re not really sure yet,” I said. “We just wanted to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”
“We should talk to Riley and Noah,” Dallas said. “They might know something.”
“Be careful,” Owen said. “Whatever you tell them will get back to Brian.”
“We will,” I said.
“If I can help in any other way, let me know, okay?” Owen wrote his cell number down on a piece of paper and handed it to me. “I live right upstairs.”
“Thanks,” I said, standing up.
“I’ll let you out the back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SKYLAR
I scrambled up the stairs, but one of my flip-flops caught on the edge of a step and I fell, landing hard on my knee. I kicked the shoes off and bounded up the last few steps, taking them three at a time, heavy footsteps thudding behind me.
I was in the hallway, my hands reaching for the spare bedroom door, when Gavin hit me so hard in the back I was slammed into the wall. He wrapped his arm around my throat, pressing against my windpipe. I fought for breath, feeling like every bone in my throat was being crushed. I tried to get my knife out of my pocket but his right hand gripped my arm, bending it behind my back. I reached over my head with my left, smacked the heel of my hand into his nose.
“Motherfucker!” His grip loosened.
I jammed my hand under his arm and pushed out fast, forcing him to release me, then spun around and kicked him in the crotch.
He dropped to his knees, cupping his groin.
I pushed past him and started running for the stairs, digging for the knife in my pocket. I could hear his steps. He was on his feet again.
“You fucking bitch!”
I was leaping down the stairs, knife in hand. I was almost at the bottom, but he was too close. I could feel him behind me, heard his breath wheezing out. My head snapped back. He’d grabbed my hair. I lost my balance and fell hard, the edge of the steps hitting my lower back. Pain shot up my spine.
His arm was around my throat again as he tried to drag me up, but this time I used the knife to stab at his forearm. He yelled and let go. I got to my feet, jumped down the last couple of steps, sprinted through the kitchen. He was following, fast. I was almost at the front door.