Page 17 of Caring for Cailin

“Shit.” Tyler makes an unhappy sound.

My heart stutters. “What?”

“Her phone is someplace called Oil City,” he says. “Looks like it’s right near the Kern River.”

“So her car broke down there.”

He hesitates. “No. Her car is an unincorporated community called Famoso. It’s about twenty miles northwest of Bakersfield.”

It takes a second for what he said to sink in.

Cailin’s phone is Oil City. Her car is in Famoso. And she can’t be with both of them.

My stomach makes a nauseating lurch. “Is she with her car? Or her phone? Or…”

“Or neither,” Tyler finishes. “There’s no way to know until you find at least one of them.”

I pick up my pace as I sprint the rest of the way to my car. “I’m going to find her. I’m not stopping until I do.”

CHAPTER 4

CAILIN

It could be worse.

I keep repeating it like a mantra in an attempt to stave off the panic.

The panic blossoming bigger and more powerful with every step into the dark.

The panic that’s clawing at my chest from the inside out.

It could be worse.

Dario could have killed me and buried me in an unmarked grave on his property.

He could have injured me so badly I’d never fully recover.

I could be bleeding out in the dirt beside the ramshackle trailer I was supposed to deliver to, unable to move as the life drained out of me.

Or that man could have dragged me inside to do unspeakable things that make me sick to think about.

The last moments of my life could be spent on desperate what-ifs.

What if I’d just said no to the deliveries? I didn’t have to explain why. I could have just said I didn’t feel comfortabledoing it. Will is a bit pushy, but he’s not an unreasonable manager. I’m sure he wouldn’t have fired me if I’d refused.

But if I’m being honest with myself, there was a stubborn part of me that wanted to prove I could do it—to prove I was the strong woman I used to be before Dario took me.

I don’t feel very strong now, though.

As I scurry along the deserted road, my feet sliding on the sand and loose stones to the side of it, my footsteps unbearably loud in the vast emptiness, I feel the complete opposite.

I’m terrified.

And I so badly wish Memphis was here.

Everything would be okay if he were. I have no doubt. Memphis would swoop in and take care of everything.

For a moment, I allow myself to imagine it. Memphis would come speeding down the road, his window down as he calls my name. His voice is rough with worry, and perhaps even, fear. As soon as I hear him, I wave my arms as I shout to him. The suffocating fear subsides as I realize my nightmare is over.