Chapter 17: Gwen - Hunter or Hunted

The sun warmed that god-awful chill that’d crept up my spine when we stepped into the funeral home. Our bed-and-breakfast—the only lodging in this town—was only a block over. Sebastian and I walked there hand in hand, and in silence.

That shiver in my spine may have eased, but nothing was helping with the lump in my throat and the heaviness in my chest. I should’ve basked in the heat we wouldn’t see in Montana until summer. I should’ve drunk up the views of the historic buildings, and the blue sky, and all the small-town southern charm.

But all I could see was Delilah in that casket and her little sister wrapped in the arms of the man who’d killed her.

Bed-and-breakfast now in view, Sebastian broke the silence. “So did you get anything interesting from Charlotte?”

When my mouth fell open, only a huff escaped. “I don’t know if I’d call it interesting. Depressing, maybe. Sickening, definitely.”

“What’d she say?” He kept his voice low, offering a friendly wave.

I followed his gaze to the kind middle-aged innkeeper who’d led us to our room last night. Beth, if memory served. She stood on the porch with a tin watering can in hand, spraying the pink, yellow, and white flowers that draped lazily off the wooden railing planters.

Sweet as she’d been, she’d talked our ear off for half an hour. She only let us go when we said we were headed to Delilah’s funeral. Or Allie’s, as she’d called her.

She’d said her name with a certain familiarity. They knew each other. In small towns, everyone did, so no shocker there.

Still, I did want to speak with her. Just not at this moment.

“Did you see a back door when we got in?” I asked Sebastian.

“In my peripheral when we were leaving this morning,” he said. “Circle around the block?”

“Please.”

We continued past the half-height wrought-iron gate in front of the B&B. Sebastian gave my hand a squeeze. “But you were saying?”

“It was just…” Pressing my lips together, I blew a consoling breath from my nostrils. “Never in my life have I wanted to punch a woman so badly.”

Couldn’t call the sound that left him a laugh. Maybe closer to a snort.

A similar sound fell from my lips too. “Or maybe grab her and scream, ‘Why don’t you see what I see? Why don’t you understand?’”

His tone softened when he said, “About Delilah’s death?”

“Not really. I can understand that. It was out of character when she left a few months ago. They haven’t communicated since. I can see why she’d believe Delilah killed herself.” Eyes falling to the brick sidewalk below, that chill crept over my arms. Every hair on my arms stood upright. “It was everything else. She almost… defended Evan?” Those words tasted sour on my tongue. “Charlotte didn’t just excuse him. She defended him.”

“That’d explain why Delilah came to the ranch,” he said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But it doesn’t make sense to me. Sure, Charlotte cares about Evan. She’s friends with his parents, all the kids grew up together, whatever. But why the hell would she just write off him abusing her daughter as a nonissue? Even from an evolutionary standpoint, it doesn’t make sense. It’s in the nature of every animal on the planet to protect our young.”

“We’re communal creatures though.” Sebastian gazed ahead as we walked, tone somewhere between flat and intrigued. Not like he’d burst at the seams with excitement, but like the philosophy of this discussion tickled his brain. “Nature versus nurture and all that. We live in a patriarchal system that ostracizes women without a second thought and always gives men the benefit of the doubt.”

I slowed my pace and gave him a once-over.

Catching on, Sebastian arched a brow at me. “Do you disagree?”

“No.” I stopped and turned to look at him head-on. “It just sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have.” He shrugged and veered right, down the brick alleyway. “My mom acted the same way about Jason. Almost everyone did, man or woman. It was always, ‘Relationships are complicated,’ or ‘It’s complex.’ And it is complex, but abusive relationships aren’t. They’re simple. The complex part is the way society reacts to them. The dismissing, the minimizing. If people actually saw it happening, if they watched the fight in real time, start to finish, they’d always defend the victim. Unless they’re abusers themselves.”

Nothing I could argue with there either. While in my marriage, I’d regurgitated that line more times than I could count. It’s complicated.

But it never had been. Not really.

The simple reality, the one I’d ignored for a decade, was that Troy was a shitty person. He just did a beautiful job convincing me, and everyone else, that he wasn’t.

Sebastian paused on the sidewalk. The rear door to the bed-and-breakfast was within sight now, perched beyond the wooden railing of the wraparound porch. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” I said.

“What’d your mom think of your ex?” he asked.

My stomach rumbled. I prayed he wasn’t going where I thought he was with this. “She loved him. But she didn’t know everything.”

“What did she know?” Curiosity shone in his hazel eyes. Not judgment, but curiosity. I could handle curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking. We don’t have to get into this if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s alright.” I cleared my throat and raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. When I caught him texting another girl for the first time, I told her about it. A few other times too, with different things. Cheating and shit like that. But I never told her about the violence.”

Just the thought of telling my mom about that, even as I mentioned it now to Sebastian, made my skin quiver and crawl. The embarrassment of acknowledging I’d allowed that kind of treatment, that I’d lived with it as long as I had, was almost as unbearable as the behavior itself.

“What’d she say?” he asked. “Like, did it change her opinion of him?”

The crawling quiver over my arms intensified. He sounded all too much like Rhiannon.

I picked up my pace and flicked open the lock on the wrought-iron gate. “Usually something along the lines of, ‘That’s men for you.’”

“Hm,” he murmured, trailing behind me as we climbed the wooden steps. “Yeah, I guess that was the mindset of that generation.”

Relief loosened my shoulders. He could’ve kept pushing, like Rhiannon would have, and I appreciated that he didn’t.

With caution, hoping Beth wouldn’t hear us coming in, I spun the knob. The front door opened to a hallway. A sign on a door to my left said Kitchen Personnel Only. On my right, a wooden staircase—narrower than the front set—tucked against the wall. I started up them.

“About Charlotte though,” Sebastian said, voice barely louder than our tiptoed footsteps, “it’s easier to have a ‘both sides’ take. Especially after you hear guys like him tell the story. They’re manipulators. One conversation with Evan, and I get why anyone would defend him. He knows what he’s doing.”

Almost at the top of the stairs now, I looked beyond the mahogany banister. Half a dozen doors stared back. The one with a gold plate reading 14 stared back at me. Our room.

Relieved we hadn’t faced Beth on our way up here, any stiffness gathering at the back of my neck released. “How’d that go anyway? Did you get anything from him?”

“Depends on what you mean by that.” Sebastian fumbled in his pocket for the room key. Once he found it, he spun it in the knob and held it open for me. “I didn’t learn anything we didn’t already know.”

Brushing past him, I shook off my jacket and laid it on the antique wooden dresser just past the entry. “As in, he confessed?”

“To killing her?” He huffed, clicking the door shut behind him. “No. To being the type of misogynistic piece of shit Delilah made him out to be? Yeah.”

“Ugh.” I sat on the edge of the bed, covered in a classic floral patterned comforter. “What’d he say?”

“You know. The usual.” Unclipping the buttons of his long-sleeve dress shirt, he leaned against the dresser. He lowered his pitch to a mock gravelly man voice. “‘You know women these days. All this woke, I don’t need a man bullshit. A guy makes one mistake and his life’s ruined. Blah, blah, blah.’”

I rolled my eyes and bent down to unclip my heels. “Literally just met you and he’s already spewing the red pill shit.”

“I’m actually surprised he didn’t use a buzzword like that. He blamed the internet for her leaving him, said something about the ‘Me Too’ shit. He was testing the waters.”

Finished unbuttoning the sleeves, he moved onto the ones descending his torso. Now I had to agree with his earlier statement—the chest hair wouldn’t have been appropriate for the funeral, because my eyes lingered on it far longer than they should have given the topic of conversation.

“That’s what people like him do,” he continued. “They take something with a little bit of merit, like the excessiveness of online cancel culture, and they see how far they can stretch it. Just how far they can push before you get uncomfortable. When you do, they back down. But I kept playing the part. I was hoping he’d give up more.”

“He didn’t give you anything more valuable than that?”

Shrugging off the button-up, he headed for his open suitcase by the window. “Not really, no. But he did ask me to meet up with him for a drink before the funeral tomorrow.”

I straightened, confusion pinching my face. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, why?” Apparently catching my tone, he glanced at me over his shoulder.

“That doesn’t strike you as odd?” I asked. “Like he knows we’re here because we suspect something, and he wants to keep his eyes on us?”

Sebastian shook his head and went back to his suitcase. “Nah. He thinks we’re buddies.”

“He just met you.” I pressed my hands into the bed behind me to stretch out my upper back. The flight had only lasted a couple hours, but my neck had started aching before we landed. “Why would he think he could trust you?”

“I wouldn’t say trust. I just don’t think he has anyone else.”

“Delilah’s whole family was throwing his ass a pity party.”

“Right, but that’s just it.” Sebastian tossed a plain white T over his head. Facing me again, he adjusted it around his hips. “Who was he hanging out with the whole viewing? A teenage girl. At Sarah’s funeral, Jason hung out with my parents and his. All Sarah’s friends? They were with me. My friends? Same thing. No one wanted to hang out with him, because even if they weren’t sure he’d killed her, he’d made her life hell. They hated the bastard. Did you notice the group of girls who were hugging Ava? They looked a little older—they were probably Delilah’s old friends. None of them consoled him though.”

As the dots connected, my mouth fell open. “Because he doesn’t have any friends, and Delilah’s friends know what we do.”

“My best guess.” Sebastian propped his shoulder against the window frame, crossing his arms. “He probably exiled her from her friends, so they hate him. He was probably worried his friends would wanna sleep with Delilah, so he sabotaged those friendships too. If he ever had any, at least. People like him can’t hold meaningful, long-term relationships with anyone.”

Fair point. Troy had been the same way. He had a handful of online gaming friends he spoke to on a regular basis, but by the time I’d left him, he’d already lost all his in-person friends. I didn’t have any left either, because, as Sebastian pointed out, they all hated my husband.

Evan found some kinship with Sebastian. Which worked in my favor at the moment.

“Makes sense,” I said, kicking my shoes the rest of the way off. “What’d you tell him?”

“About getting a drink together?” he asked. When I nodded, he continued. “I don’t know. I didn’t get his number or anything. He said he’d be at the refreshment hall all morning. Figured it was a waste of time honestly. And I didn’t think you’d wanna hang out with Delilah’s friends and family all morning.”

“Well, I do wanna ask around. Maybe talk to those friends Ava was hugging if they’re there.” I stood and headed for the dresser.

Sebastian was one of those live-out-of-my-suitcase-all-trip kinda people. As soon as we got in though, I’d organized all my things in the drawers. In the top one lay my spiral-ring notebook. I grabbed it and headed for the chair in the corner.

“But I had another idea too.” As I sat, facing Sebastian, I summoned a smile. I hoped it came off sweet, but judging by the downward turn of his lips, it came off mischievous.

“Why do I have the feeling it’s a bad one?” he said.

“Apparently because you have no faith in me.”

He gestured to the notebook. “What’s in there, Gwen?”

“Now I don’t wanna tell you. You’re doing that ‘looking down on me’ thing again.”

“Because you’ve got that same mischievous look in your eyes as the day you asked me to do this shit with you.” Still, he sat on the edge of the bed. As if to say, See? I’m not looking down on you. Just looking at you. “What’s in the notebook, Gwen?”

There was that disapproving tone again. “Look, if you don’t want to get involved in this, I get it. You don’t have to. If you want to know nothing, I’ll tell you nothing. Plausible deniability and all that.”

“As you know, I’m a good liar. I don’t need plausible deniability.” He reached out for the journal.

I tugged it back. “And I don’t need you to tell me that this is illegal, or I could get caught, or that this might be a bad idea. I know all of that, I’ve considered the consequences, and I’m still gonna do it.”

Deep breath escaping his nostrils, he propped his elbows on his knees. “Alright. I won’t be an asshole about it. What’s in the notebook, Gwen?”

“Evan’s address,” I said. “And directions to get there from here.”

Sebastian squinted for half a second. Then his shoulders sank. “You’re gonna break into his house?”

“Yep.”

“Why?” Face screwed up in confusion, he shook his head. “And where’d you get that? Shit, did you google him? Did you leave a paper⁠—”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about.” I narrowed my eyes. “If you keep acting like I’m an idiot, I’m not gonna tell you anything else.”

His disappointed frown came back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you were stupid. I don’t think you are. But can you answer the questions, please?”

I huffed. “Before we left, I went to the library in Black Pines. I used a burner, logged onto their Wi-Fi, and searched for Delilah online. It wasn’t hard to find her. Wasn’t hard to find Evan from there either. He’s very active on Facebook. Posts almost every day. Usually pictures of himself or random life updates. I got his work schedule, employer name, and then his address. With that, I found the realtor listing from when he bought the house three years ago. I know the exact layout, the entry points, and where all the windows are located. From the Google Maps photos, it doesn’t look like he has cameras either. I could be wrong, but I’ve got a plan for that too. The big thing was making sure he’d be out of the house for a while so I could get in there and look around. It actually works out perfect. If you’re getting a drink with him, I’ll know he’s not home, and I have the perfect opportunity.”

Sebastian’s frown hadn’t gone anywhere, but there was something else in his eyes now. Pride, maybe? Amusement? “What’re you looking for?”

Biting my lip, I raised my shoulders. “I don’t know. Something that proves he was in Black Pines? A crumpled gas station receipt in his pants pocket? A mark on a calendar? Something. I don’t know. But I know that you’re right. If I’m gonna do this, I need proof. This is the only way I can think to get it.”

Another deep breath fell from his nostrils. He rubbed from his eyes down the bridge of his nose. “If he’s smart, you’re not gonna find anything.”

“He flunked out of college, went back to his hometown, and started dating a teenager. I don’t think he’s all that smart.”

“Valid.” Sebastian squinted me over. “What’s the plan if he has cameras?”

“There’s gotta be a blind spot somewhere,” I said. “It’s one level with a basement, and it butts up against the woods. All the brush was cleared when he moved in, but from the map images, he’s let some shrubs grow up. I can crawl under them and get in through the basement window. It’s small, but I measured my hips and shoulders. I can squeeze in.”

Giving me another once-over, he straightened up. “You’ve thought of everything, huh?”

“Just about,” I said. “Still not sure what I’ll do if someone comes in while I’m there. I guess go to jail? Which then eliminates my chances of getting away with killing him, because if he shows up dead, I’ll be the obvious suspect. But hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”

“Well, better you go to jail for breaking and entering than murder, so.” He leaned back on the bed, propping himself against the mound of pillows. “I support it. Do what you gotta do.”

I laughed and brought myself to my feet. As I sat on the bed beside him, stretching out my legs, I propped myself up on an elbow. “You’re not gonna lecture me?”

“You’re not gonna listen if I do.” He rolled onto his side to see me better. “If you go to jail, I’ll bail you out.”

Laughing again, I reached out for his cheek. I trailed my thumb over the hair along his jaw. My fingers found their way into his beard. “That’s true love right there.”

“Must be. I never would’ve done this for anyone else.” His hand came to my hip, tugging me closer. “How’re you doing anyway? After seeing her like that.”

Weights fell onto the corners of my lips, dragging them down. “Okay, I guess. I don’t know. Better, maybe? I don’t envision her with a bullet in her head every time I shut my eyes now, so better, I think.”

“That’s how you thought she died?”

“Maybe? Not really. Nobody told me how she died. But that next day, you told me about Sarah, so I guess my brain just…”

“Conflated the two,” he murmured. “Yeah, Edwards told me. I didn’t know if you wanted the details.”

I hadn’t. Picturing her hanging from a tree wasn’t much better than the bullet in her head. That did pique my interest though. “You’ve talked to Edwards about all this?”

“A little, yeah.” He pressed his lips together. “He always kind of agreed with you. There was some shit at the scene that didn’t add up for him. His superior shut him down though. That’s why—well, I guess I can understand your perspective a little better now.”

My heart picked up in my chest. “Did he tell you what wasn’t adding up?”

His eyes softened. “A couple things, yeah. Like I said, I wasn’t sure how much you wanted to⁠—”

“No, tell me whatever you know.” I spoke quickly, assertively. He tensed the slightest bit, and I made sure to soften my voice when I continued. “It’s not as fresh now. I can handle it. And honestly, when I saw her like that and I realized she hanged, I started doubting myself. I don’t know how a hanging could be murder without leaving traces for the cops to find.”

Sebastian pressed his lips together again, but he shrugged. “I can. If he garroted her, then suspended her in the tree once she was dead…”

Chills rose over my arms. My stomach rumbled and roiled, burning a path of acid up my esophagus. I swallowed it down, but the taste still tainted the back of my tongue. “I guess that makes sense. Was there something at the scene that suggested that?”

“Two things stood out to Edwards,” he said. “She shoveled a path to the tree. Which is odd for a suicidal person. If I were gonna hang myself from a tree, I don’t think I’d try to make my walk there more convenient.”

“Especially someone like Delilah,” I said. “I don’t think she’s shoveled snow once in her life.”

I winced at the present tense I’d said that in. Sebastian didn’t mention it.

“Her shoes were weird too,” Sebastian said. “They were a few sizes too big. And name brand. Delilah didn’t seem to care about that sort of thing.”

My breath stopped in my chest. “Evan does. He’s one of those shoe guys. He posted his collection on Instagram.”

“Something to look out for when you search his house,” he said. “It was a pair of white Nikes. Size ten, if memory serves.”

“I will,” I murmured, wishing I’d taken a better mental picture of the collection on his profile.

He had a whole wall of them in his game room. I remembered that much with clarity. I hadn’t taken screenshots, and I didn’t want to tap into the B&B’s Wi-Fi to search for Evan on the burner. Like Sebastian said—or had started to say before I cut him off—I couldn’t leave a paper trail. No one needed to know that I’d cyberstalked the last fifteen years of Evan’s social media.

Tomorrow, though, I would take pictures of the collection. When we got to a library, or somewhere else with public Wi-Fi, I would find Evan’s post. Then I’d compare and see if a white pair of Nikes were missing.

“If someone was trying to cover their footprints, that’d explain the shoveling,” I said.

“That’s what I thought too.”

“Did Edwards mention anything else?”

“No, just the shoveling and the shoes,” Sebastian said. “But something else stuck out to me. She used a rope. And sure, she could’ve gotten it at a shop in town somewhere, but Edwards asked around at the home improvement stores, and none of them remembered ever even seeing her. I guess she could’ve gotten it at the ranch somewhere, but she wouldn’t have known where to look for a fresh roll of rope, right?”

“No. Rhiannon would’ve given her some if she asked for it, but any construction-type equipment is kept under lock and key.” I shook my head. “Rope’s cheap and everything, so I don’t think Rhiannon inventories it, but still. Delilah lived in the apartments. She wouldn’t have had any reason to keep track of that sort of thing.”

“That’s what I thought too.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, Gwen. The cops are done digging. I get why you’re not.”

Those chills had settled, and that aching in my stomach did too. Something warm started in the center of my chest and spread through my whole torso. I considered thanking him again, but I leaned closer instead. The kiss stayed sweet at first, just a soft touch of lips.

But I lingered longer.