Page 89 of Won't Back Down
In the next second, lightning flashed, and Joe Anderson slumped to the ground, blood trickling down his face from a round hole just above his vacant eyes.
The scream rose up in my chest, fighting to get out. But I had to hold it in. Had to keep them from knowing I was conscious.
The shooter lowered his gun and spoke to someone else. “Put them both on board. If you’re squeamish about getting the job done, then just get out in open water and throw her overboard. The ocean will take care of the rest. I’ve got to go deal with this bullshit.”
Rough hands grabbed me under the arms and began to drag me toward a boat.
“No. No!”
“Willa! Miss Sutter, snap out of it!”
I blinked, and the boat, the night, and the dead man were gone. Instead, I was curled into a ball, pressed against the passenger door of Roland O’Shea’s car, my chest heaving with uneven breaths.
Roland stared at me from the driver’s seat, concern written all over his face. “Willa? Are you okay?”
Terror still had me in its grip.
Because I’d just had a full-blown flashback to Joe Anderson’s murder.
Where someone had been intent on killing me, too.
Roland didn’t try to touch me again. “Panic attack?” His voice was gentle.
I managed a small nod, still too shaken to be embarrassed that I’d lost it in front of him. Again.
“Do you want to get out of the car? Do you need some fresh air? Or I can take you straight home?”
I swallowed. “S… Sawyer. F… f… find, Sawyer.”
“Okay. We’ll find him.” Moving slowly, presumably so as not to spook me, he put the car in gear and pulled out onto the road.
I lowered my pounding head to my knees and tried to control my breathing, even as I struggled to hold on to the details that were already trying to fade.
I’d seen Joe Anderson murdered, and from what it sounded like, it had been a case of wrong place, wrong time. They hadn’t been meant to take me. They’d been taking someone else. Gwen? I wouldn’t have left the party with anyone else. Someone had attacked me. Struck me from behind. Had it all been to take her? Why? Who? The man giving the orders had clearly known who I was and been angry I’d been dragged into whatever was going on. But he hadn’t cared enough to see that I lived. What did that mean? Did I know who he was? Had I been interacting with him on Hatterwick all these years, blissfully unaware and protected by my damaged memory?
I didn’t know. But clearly things were finally starting to shake loose, and I needed Sawyer to ground me before the next wave hit and I drowned under the weight of my own memories.
CHAPTER 40
SAWYER
The staging area for the parade was absolute chaos. I couldn’t seem to find anyone in charge to ask where the founders’ float was supposed to be. Was it meant to be up front? At the end? Hell if I knew. I tried to find Roland, since I remembered he was supposed to be part of the volunteer wrangling crew, but there was no sign of him or of Willa anywhere. She wasn’t answering any of my texts—the ones that went through, anyway. I hadn’t even been able to get a phone call out since I’d spoken to Jace, and my nerves were humming with anxiety.
Had she been overwhelmed by the crowds and noise and found somewhere quiet to reset? Had something triggered one of her panic attacks? Had someone gotten to her while she was alone? Or had she simply been dragged into yet another endless meeting over Founders’ Day bullshit? Any of those scenarios felt possible, especially since I hadn’t seen our politically minded mayor.
The parade route itself was less than a mile, so either way, the whole event wouldn’t last that long. After that, Willa would be free to do whatever she wanted. But I didn’t want to wait that long to find her and confirm she was alright. I needed to lay eyes on her. To reassure myself that she was unharmed. Maybe if I made it back to the Brewhouse or the bakery and got on their Wi-Fi, I could get a call to connect.
“Get those costumes distributed correctly! The pirates go on the pirate ship float, not mingling with the mermaids. And who authorized the flamethrower on the dragon float?! That’s a safety hazard. Take it off right now!” The orders came from a harried looking guy who kept glancing at a folded paper in his hand. A checklist maybe?
He was the closest thing I’d seen to someone in charge.
“Hey, man, have you seen Willa Sutter anywhere?”
The man scowled. “Do I look like I’m in charge of her social calendar?”
Tamping down my own irritation, I kept an even tone. “She’s supposed to be riding on the founding families float in the parade.”
“Dude, I haven’t even seen the founding families float yet, let alone the mayor, who’s supposed to be at the head of it. In case you didn’t notice, I’m dealing with total chaos here.”