Dirty, Reckless Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 3)

“Well, you’ll probably see an update about it on the news today,” he says.

“An update on what? The case?”

“Yes. I wanted to let you know we’ll have officers patrol around your house just to keep an eye on things. I know you’re afraid of Colton, so I wanted you to hear it from me first. We put out a warrant for his arrest. There’s evidence against him in his father’s disappearance.”

“What?” I shake my head. “No. Colton wouldn’t . . .” I hesitate, thinking of his text message to Molly. It’s done. “I’m not afraid of him. Not now that I remember more. Colton wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I don’t want to tell you how to feel, Ellie, but please be cautious. I’ve believed Colton was responsible for your assault from the beginning. I just haven’t had the evidence to prove it. Until now.”

“What? What do you mean?” When I close my eyes, I picture Colton being hauled off to prison, hands in cuffs behind his back. I can hardly breathe.

“We have evidence. A weapon. This is important—can you tell me anywhere you think Colton might hide? Anywhere at all?”

“No,” I lie. “I don’t know.”

“Are you at home now?” Huxley asks.

“No, I’m at Levi’s.”

“Good. Maybe stay close to friends until this blows over. I can always come keep you company too if Levi’s busy.”

I don’t correct him and admit that I’m alone. Levi set the alarm when he left. I’m sure all the doors are locked, but more than that, I’m sure Colton wouldn’t hurt me. We have evidence. I don’t know what they think they found, but they’re wrong.

“Turn on the local news. I think they’re covering it on the noon edition. With the way this town talks, you might want to know what they’re saying. And let’s plan on meeting again next week. You can catch me up on anything new you remember—big or small.”

“Sure.” I end the call and head to the living room to turn on the television.

He’s gone.

The text could have meant anything. Maybe he meant he went to confront Levi but Levi was gone. He could be anyone. Gone doesn’t mean dead.

The local station is airing commercials, so I pull up the text messages on my phone. Only when I scroll through the old messages do I remember what I discovered at Mom’s. I don’t have any messages from before I was hospitalized. Either the police cleared them out while they had it, or I cleared them out myself. But can’t the police access old text messages, even when they’re no longer saved to the phone?

It’s done. Do the police already know about that text?

I turn my attention to the local news as the opening credits run.

“The search continues for a missing father and son in Jackson Harbor, but today the tale has a new twist,” the woman on the screen says. “Local attorney Nelson McKinley hasn’t been seen since August twenty-fifth, according to the missing person report filed by his wife later that week. His son, Colton McKinley, who’d been interviewed several times regarding his father’s disappearance, became a missing person himself ten days later, raising the question, did he fall to the same fate as his father, or was he a guilty criminal on the run? Today, the question seems to have been answered. The Jackson Harbor Police Department have issued a warrant for the arrest of Colton McKinley.”

The screen cuts to a video of a gray-haired man in uniform standing behind a podium. The banner on the bottom of the screen identifies the man as the chief of police. “We suspected foul play in the disappearance of Nelson McKinley, but until today we had no evidence to support the theory that McKinley had been murdered. Yesterday, Nelson McKinley’s boat was discovered near Janesville, Wisconsin, and the evidence found on the boat has led us to treat the case as a homicide moving forward. Additionally, we’ve obtained a warrant for the arrest of Colton McKinley, the son of the victim, whose prints were found on a weapon left on the boat. The same weapon is believed to have been used in the assault against the younger McKinley’s fiancée seven weeks ago.”

I hold my hand over my mouth and shake my head. No. Colton would never.

I think I’m going to be sick.

The screen cuts back to the newsroom and the woman who began the report. “For the purposes of this ongoing investigation, JHPD couldn’t disclose details of what they found. What’s important, the chief of police told reporters, is that the community understands Colton McKinley may be armed and should be considered dangerous.” They flash his picture on the screen—an old, pre-rehab mug shot from a night Colton was arrested for fighting. “If you have any information about McKinley’s whereabouts or about this case, please call the JHPD tip line.”

The number rolls across the bottom of the screen, and I pull my thumbnail from my mouth. I’ve already gnawed it to shreds.

My phone rings, and my mother’s face pops up. I slide m

y finger across the screen to answer. “Hi, Mom.” I try to keep my voice steady, to project a calm I don’t feel.

“I just saw the news. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m with friends.” I cringe a little with guilt over misleading her, but letting her worry won’t help anything.

“But you’re coming home today, right? I’m so worried he’s going to find you.”