Page 79 of Everything We Found

Nadia didn’t deserve Aimee’s forgiveness or her friendship. Night after night for over nineteen months she’d watched her best friend agonize over the loss of James, and she hadn’t said a word. She’d let Aimee suffer knowing full well she could have ended her pain at any moment when everyone had believed James died.

The walls Nadia had erected to compartmentalize her guilt collapsed. She’d been living a double life for a decade—the loyal best friend to Aimee on one side, the keeper of Thomas’s secret and his collaborator on the other. The cognitive dissonance that allowed her to function all these years dissolved, leaving her raw and exposed. Locked in place as to what to do next, or how to fix their friendship. She didn’t see how that was possible.

Maybe this was what she deserved, a fractured, lonely existence. Disappearing into witness protection seemed fitting. Like some sort of cosmic punishment for her betrayal.

The sound of movement inside the house had Nadia quickly wiping her face. She didn’t want Thomas to catch her like this, vulnerable and insecure. She wouldn’t add to his hefty load of burdens. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she headed into the house. She’d have to tell Thomas what happened with Aimee. More secrets would only compound her guilt.

The low murmur of the TV greeted her, another news anchor reporting on some distant disaster that seemed inconsequential compared to the threat they’d been running from.

In the kitchen, Cammy worked at the stove, wielding the spatula Nadia had abandoned upon hearing Cammy’s update about Kane. Scents of sauteed mushrooms and melting cheese filled the room. Cammy flipped an omelet onto a plate.

“Need help?” Nadia offered halfheartedly, coming to stand beside Cammy at the stove.

The older woman glanced at her, taking in what Nadia grasped were her puffy, red eyes and sniffly nose. “I’ve got it under control,” she said gently. “Take it your phone call didn’t go as planned?”

She shook her head. The food looked remarkable, and she knew she should eat, but her stomach was in knots. “Where’s Thomas?” she asked.

“Think he’s in the shower,” Cammy said, sliding another omelet onto a second plate. “Man’s got a lot on his mind.”

She nodded and wandered back to the living room. Standing behind the couch, she chewed on the tip of her thumb, staring numbly at the TV. The news anchor’s words washed over her without penetrating. Aimee’s voice kept replaying in her mind.You chose Thomas over me.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Thomas hadn’t made an appearance.

Something didn’t feel right. She headed down the hallway and through her room to the opened bathroom that certainly didn’t look like anyone had recently used it. It wasn’t steamy. No wet spots on the floor. The door to Cammy’s den, the one with the futon Thomas had been meant to sleep on, was open. Thomas wasn’t there.

She searched the rooms downstairs, and when she called his name up the stairs and he didn’t answer, she returned to the kitchen. Cammy had plated three perfect omelets and set them on the table. Steam rose from their golden surfaces.

“He’s not in the house,” Nadia told her, her words edged with a creeping unease. He wouldn’t have left her here behind, would he? No, she would have seen him drive away.

Cammy frowned, moving to the window above the sink. Worry lines deepened as she surveyed her property.

“What is it?” Nadia asked.

“Come to think of it.” Cammy turned back to her. “He’s probably in the stables working out his troubles.”

“Should I leave him be?”

“Breakfast is getting cold,” Cammy said, but her tone suggested she was concerned too.

Nadia debated what to do. Thomas held everything so close to his chest and had been doing so for days now—the attacks, Phil’s murder, his mom’s disappearance, and now Kane’s betrayal. He always managed an unbelievable level of control. But how long could one reasonably hold on the way he did before they snapped?

“I’ll go get him,” she decided, using breakfast as her excuse to check on him. He just might need her more than she did him.

Nadia crossed the yard to the stable. The heavy door groaned as she pushed it open, letting in a shaft of morning light that cut across the dusty air. The sharp, acrid scent of horses and fresh hay mingled with the metallic tang of tools and the earthy odors of wool blankets and leather saddles. From somewhere in the shadows came the rhythmic, violent sound of metal striking metal.

She followed the noise deeper into the building past stalls where Cammy’s horses shifted nervously, their ears flicking back and forth. Their agitation was unmistakable—stomping hooves, tossing heads, agitated whinnies. The noise had the animals on edge.

“Thomas?” she called, her voice nearly drowned out by another thunderous crash.

She rounded the corner to the last stall and found him. He’d changed into jeans and a black shirt which he’d already sweat through. Dark patches spread across his back and chest, under his arms. Dirt smudged his jeans along with what looked like grease. With savage focus, he pounded at a broken hinge on astall door, each strike of the hammer reverberating through the wooden beams above them.

“Tom.”

He didn’t hear her, or he chose not to. The hammer came down again, the impact jolting up his arm as a ripple of muscle. The massive screw he was trying to dislodge bent but didn’t budge.

“Tom!” she shouted, finally breaking through his concentration.

He stalled mid-swing, his chest heaving. Slowly, he turned to face her, casting dark and hollow eyes her way. “You told her,” he said.