As usual, Travis was dealing with work, taking phone calls, checking in to ensure everything was being handled at the resort. Gage left him to it, figuring it was what Travis wanted and needed. He was keeping himself separate as much as possible, more so from Gage than the kids, and Gage was attempting to respect that.
But when Travis had disappeared after dinner, not coming back even after the kids were situated in front of the television and their iPads, Gage went to look for him.
He wasn’t surprised to see him sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the desk.
No. Not the desk. He was looking at a white envelope that sat neatly on top of his leather blotter.
Gage stepped into the room. “What is that?”
Travis’s eyes shot up to him as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. His hand immediately went to the envelope, covering it.
“Travis?” Gage watched his husband closely, saw the guilt on his face. “What’s goin’ on?”
“It’s a letter,” Travis finally said as Gage approached.
“From?”
Travis pulled his hand back, revealing the cursive writing on the front. “Kylie.”
Gage stopped, his legs locking. “What?”
Travis turned the envelope so Gage could read it. “Evidently, she wrote us a letter and left it with the attorney. Said we were to get it in the event of her death.”
Although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, he asked anyway. “What does it say?”
Travis shrugged. “I haven’t opened it. Can’t.”
Gage’s attention was locked on the standard white envelope and the familiar handwriting. He knew Travis didn’t mean it was physically impossible to open the letter, but rather he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Gage understood fully because, looking at it now, his first instinct was to back away from it.
Although he was a far cry from getting over what had happened, he felt stronger than he had in the beginning. That first week … he’d been a mess. And it had taken days for him to be able to breathe without tears clogging his throat. But suddenly all the progress he’d thought he’d made faded away, leaving him breathless and sad.
“Should we read it?” Travis asked, his voice scratchy and raw.
Gage looked at him, looked at the letter.
If he read a letter from Kylie … especially one from the grave…
Gage shook his head. He couldn’t do it.
“I was gonna tell you,” Travis said softly. “I’ve only had it for a couple of days. Wasn’t gonna open it without you.”
That wasn’t what Gage was worried about. Strangely, he believed Travis, knew the man wouldn’t keep something like that from him. Not unless it was to protect him.
“Do you want to open it now?” Travis repeated, the letter still sitting there between them.
“No,” he blurted, backing up. “No, I don’t.”
He felt Travis’s eyes on him as he left the room, leaving the letter and Travis behind him. Now he had to deal with a fresh wave of grief.
Chapter Fifteen
Saturday, February 20, 2021
Brantley woke on Saturday morning with a migraine hangover.
While he hated the feeling, he would take it over the actual headache any day. And last night’s had been brutal. It had hit him midafternoon and lasted well into the night.
Although he rarely tried to tie the headache back to a trigger since they seemed random and indiscriminate in their assault, he wanted to believe this one was brought on by the stress of the past week. The winter storm that had all but leveled central Texas had been brutal, leaving a mess in its wake.
There were still large portions of the area without power and water, and while they’d lost both for a short time, it appeared they were up and running despite the boil notice in effect.
Of course, the storm had completely derailed their investigation, mainly because it had shut down the town and the neighboring cities. Having been forced to lock down, they hadn’t been able to actively search for Juliet. The Sniper 1 Security team had been impacted, the storm taking a bite out of the Dallas area as well.
Now that it was over, he hoped they could get back on track, because while they hadn’t found her, Brantley had thought they were making progress. Thanks to JJ and Luca’s combined efforts, they’d made a connection between Juliet and a computer programmer by the name of Samuel Aldering. It wasn’t a huge breakthrough, but they were able to track him down and learned Juliet had had an affair with the man, something good ol’ Sammy wasn’t proud of, obviously. And thanks to some blackmail on Juliet’s part, Sam had helped her to hack into a few camera feeds and a phone.
The information wouldn’t necessarily lead to them finding her now, but it did fill in some of the holes and answered a few questions.
“You awake?”
Brantley rolled over toward the sound of Reese’s voice. He offered a small smile as an answer.
“How’re you feelin’?”
“Like I was run over by a truck. The headache’s gone, at least.” But that meant he would be moving slowly, his body’s natural response as it tried to avoid doing something that might bring the pain back.
Reese took a seat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side.
“And everything else? Texas no longer at a standstill?” Brantley prompted.
“They’re openin’ most everything. Said the roads are clearin’ but it’ll take a couple of days over freezing to get rid of all the ice.”
At least there was an end in sight.
“You up for some breakfast?”
Brantley grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. Eggs, bacon, pancakes?” he asked hopefully.
Reese chuckled. “The works, huh?”
“Yep.”
“All right.” Reese stood. “Why don’t you grab a shower now that the water’s back on. I’ll start cookin’.”
Twenty minutes later, Brantley joined Reese in the kitchen. The bacon was in the oven, scrambled eggs piled high on a plate, and Reese was flipping a pancake at the stove.
“Coffee’s made.”
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” he said as he grabbed a mug and headed for the coffee maker.
“You can love me all day long, but you’re still doin’ the dishes,” Reese retorted.
“My pleasure,” he said at the same time his phone rang. He took a sip of his coffee and hit the button to answer the call, immediately changing it to speaker. “Walker.”
“I don’t wanna get your hopes up, but there’s a good chance we know where she is,” Z said, his tone a bit urgent although it was obvious he was attempting to hold back.
Setting the mug on the counter, Brantley stared down at the phone. “Where?”
“It’s not one-hundred-percent vetted, but it’s the second tip we’ve received in a few hours, so I think there’s reason to be optimistic.”
“Where, Z?” he demanded.
“I’ll tell you under one condition.”
Brantley could feel his face heat, his frustration growing.
“You and Reese have to stay put until RT gives you the go-ahead.”
“That’s not the deal,” he argued, realizing too late that he wasn’t going to get the information.