When Snow Falls (Whiskey Creek #2)(61)
Author: Brenda Novak

He heard Cheyenne come up behind him. “What do you think?” she whispered.

He thought what she did, but he didn’t want to say so. “Have you tried to reach Presley?”

“Several times. Before I called you. She’s not answering.”

“What was going through her head?” he murmured as his eyes once again circled the room.

“I don’t know. She could’ve been high, not in her right mind. Sometimes they fought. An argument could’ve triggered it. Or maybe it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe Presley was just tired of seeing her suffer.”

“But chances are good she’ll be prosecuted for murder. Mercy killing is still considered killing. They could decide to make an example out of her. If we call the police…who knows what might happen.”

“She needs rehab, not prison.”

Unable to tolerate the sights and smells any longer, he stepped out in the hall and called Aaron on his cell.

Aaron sounded sleepy when he answered. “What the hell, Dylan? Why are you waking me up? It isn’t time for work. It’s…shit, it’s the middle of the night!”

Dylan didn’t apologize. He was too focused, too affected by what had happened. “Cheyenne’s looking for her sister. You haven’t seen or heard from Presley, have you?”

“You mean the Cheyenne who’s now going out with Joe?”

Although Dylan felt his jaw tighten, he ignored the jab. This had nothing to do with who was seeing whom. It was tragic and serious and no one deserved to face such circumstances alone. “Just answer the question.”

“We talked briefly earlier.” His contrite tone implied that he knew he’d gone too far with the Joe comment and, possibly, regretted it. “Got into a fight on the phone,” he added. “Haven’t heard from her since.”

So it had been a bad night for both of them. “What was the fight about?”

“Does it matter?”

“It might.”

“I don’t give a shit. That’s none of your business.”

Dylan wrestled with his temper. No one could get him angry faster than Aaron with his damn belligerence. “Aaron—”

“What?” he cried. “Don’t talk to me like you’re Dad, because you’re not. There’re only three years between us.”

“Then when are you going to start acting your age?” he snapped. “When are you going to start taking life seriously?”

Silence. Then, “If this is why you called, I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t.”

More silence. But at least there wasn’t a click. Aaron knew Dylan wouldn’t put up with too much disrespect, not after everything he’d done for the family.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Dylan tried to set aside their personal differences. “Listen, I don’t want our shit to get in the way of this. We can fight any day. Right now we have to find Presley. And you might know something that’ll help.”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately but eventually Dylan heard his brother draw an audible breath. “She wanted me to come over. She was having a hard time being alone with her mother. She said Anita was making gurgling sounds. It was freaking her out.”

Dylan winced at the mental picture. “And?”

“And I wouldn’t. Why the hell would I want to listen to that?”

There was more anger and belligerence in these words, but Dylan knew it stemmed from the guilt he felt for not being able to support her. Aaron could act like a jerk, but he wasn’t as bad as he made himself sound. He couldn’t face what Presley had asked him to do. Aaron had been the one to find their own mother when she took her life. Since then he’d refused to go anywhere near death. Wouldn’t walk into a cemetery. Wouldn’t attend a funeral.

“So…what? She hung up?”

“Yeah. I got a dial tone. Never called her back.” He hesitated as if wrestling with his conscience. “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Then why the big alarm?”

“Her mother’s dead.”

“It’s about damn time.”

Dylan’s hand tightened on his phone. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“What else am I supposed to say? The woman had terminal cancer.”

“You could show a little empathy, for Chrissake!”

“You’d rather she continued to suffer?”

“Quit twisting my words.”

“There’s a lot more that’s twisted here than just your words. But maybe I’m the only one who can see it. Anyway, you’re right. I don’t care,” he said coldly. “I quit caring about anything years ago, and I’m damn glad.”

With that, he hung up.

“What’d he say?”

This time, Dylan hadn’t heard Cheyenne’s approach. He stretched his neck, trying to cope with his own emotions. “Basically, he said he needs some serious help, more than I’ve ever been able to get him.”

“In what way?”

Cheyenne’s burdens were heavy enough. Doing what he could to control the disappointment and worry he so often felt when it came to Aaron, he put more energy into his voice. “In the same way your sister needs help. They’re angry and striking out at the world, and the world’s just going to strike back.”

“Is there no helping them?” she whispered.

“Not until they decide to help themselves.” That reality, that lack of power, nearly drove him mad.

She wrung her hands. “What did he say about Presley?”

“Not much. She called earlier, wanting him to come over, but…” Dylan couldn’t bring himself to repeat what his brother had said. He couldn’t present Aaron in such a poor light; he knew that no one else would understand why he’d reacted the way he had. “It was late, and he was already in bed.”

“Does he have any idea where we can look?”

Dylan thought he could guess. “She likes Sexy Sadie’s.” He shot her a look. “She also goes to Carl Inera’s a lot.”

“To buy drugs.”

He nodded.

She rubbed her face as if she was so tired she could hardly think. Then she seemed to gather her energy because she headed into the living room. “I’ll go there.”

He hurried after her. “No. You stay here.”

Her gaze darted toward the bedroom where her mother lay dead. “I don’t want to.”