Page 26 of Property of Hayride
I feel the weight of Natalya’s stare, but I don’t turn away from Ellie. She knows something. I can tell by the way she’s fidgeting and won’t maintain eye contact. Her breath hitched as soon as I said Thad’s name.
That reaction proves she has information that Nat and I need to know. “Just tell me,” I press, hoping she’ll crack under the pressure of my stare and the harshness in my tone.
“I know the girl he left with. She’s a new hire at the hotel. We’re not close, but I can give you her address.”
That’s a start.
Natalya glares at Ellie. “You couldn’t tell me that when I was frantic with worry? When I asked about my brother?”
I place my hand on Nat’s knee and gently rub her thigh with my thumb. I hope it’s enough to calm her down. If we piss off Ellie, she might not talk. “I’d like that information. Can you write it down for me?”
“Sure.” Ellie reaches into the pocket of her uniform top and scrawls a few lines on a notepad before ripping off the page and handing it over. I pass it to Nat, who looks at it before she shoves the paper into her pocket.
She’s staring Ellie down. “Why was the new girl taking the tour?”
“She was supposed to be learning about it, so she knows how to run it. I can’t be the only one leading the tours. I never get a night off.”
I give Nat a look, hoping she’ll chill out and drop a little of the attitude. It’s not helping. “Is there anything you can tell me about Thad’s behavior? Or the girl? What’s her name?”
Ellie sighs. “Rashell Allen.”
Allen. Like Rayford Allen. Or Johnathon Allen.
I don’t react to the name because I don’t want either of the women to realize the connection until after we leave. This just got fucked up fast, and I struggle not to slap Ellie for keeping such important information to herself. For fuck’s sake, there’s a killer on the loose in Raven’s Crest. Ellie is the only person who’s been able to make a connection.
“Do you know where they were headed? Did either of them say anything to you?”
Ellie shakes her head. “No. I just heard something about a party.” She shrugs. “I’m too busy to get involved. My mom is sick at home. We’re struggling to pay the bills.”
Shit.I could sympathize with that. I don’t sense that she’s keeping any other secrets. Maybe she didn’t know about the Allens or the cult. It’s possible. If my memory is correct, she relocated to Raven’s Crest a few years ago. She didn’t grow up here.
“Sorry to hear that, Ellie. Would you do me a favor? If you think of anything else, message me. Any time. If you think it’s relevant, I want to know.” I give her my number, and she types it into her phone. My phone vibrates as she sends me a text that says, “Ellie.”
“I’ve got to get back to work.”
I stand, reaching out my hand for Natalya. “Thanks. We appreciate the help.”
Nat rolls her eyes as Ellie walks out of the break room. “You think she’s telling the truth?”
“I do. Come on. We need to talk to Scythe.”
Nat doesn’t say much until we’re outside by my bike. “I want to check out that address, Hayride.”
“So do I.”
“Then we go. Now.”
“Fireball, I need you to trust me when I say this is dangerous. We can’t go to that house without letting my club and Boomer know what we’ve learned.”
“Then text them. Right now.”
Fuck.She’s not going to let this go, and I don’t blame her. Thad might be there, and this is the first solid lead we’ve had about where to find him.
I send messages to Scythe, Mountain, and Boomer, covering all the bases. This is fucking crazy. I don’t know what the hell we’ll find at Rashell Allen’s home, and I don’t want to take Natalya anywhere near it.
She doesn’t know the town’s layout or the neighborhoods, so I take advantage of that and hop on my bike, riding toward The Barn. She’s got her arms wrapped around my stomach and I love the feel of her warmth around me. I’m going to enjoy this while it lasts.
Natalya doesn’t figure out that we’re not heading to Rashell’s address until we’re close to the gate outside the clubhouse. I ride up as the prospect opens it, and I can feel Natalya’s body quiver with what I assume is anger. She’s got a right to be pissed.
