Page 3 of Shattered By the Currents

She opened the door to her middle-aged, graying, and grumpy landlord, keeping the pistol hidden behind the door. “Dale?—”

“Your rent’s late.”

She frowned. “What? No, I have my payments on automatic transfer.”

“Still late.”

“Um. Okay, I’ll check my account.”

“You think I haven’t been told that before?”

“No. I will. I have the money. It must be a mistake by the bank.” How that was possible, though, she had no idea.

“You have twenty-four hours.” He turned and walked away from her ground-floor apartment toward the parking lot.

“Or what?” Maybe it was a dumb question, but she needed to hear the answer.

“You’re out,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Shit.

Quickly, she slammed the door closed and rushed back to her bedroom. Once the pistol was back in the drawer, she grabbed her phone from the bedside table. The second she pulled up her banking details, her world narrowed.

“No.” The single word of disbelief came out in a breath.

There was no money in her account. None.

That wasn’t possible. She had money.

Panic sliced into her, making blood rush between her ears and her vision blur.

It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake.

With shaking fingers, she searched the number for the bank. As it rang, she paced her small bedroom, nervous energy bouncing off her shoulders.

Shehadmoney. Shehadto have money. If she didn’t, there’d be no way to pay for rent or gas or food. She’d have no way tosurvive.

An automated voice came over the line. “Thank you for calling Blue Bran Bank. For quality assurance, this call may be recorded…”

She pressed the numbers as prompted, reminding herself to breathe. To focus. There was a solution to this problem. She just had to find it.

When she was supposed to be put through to an operator, she got a “the line is busy, please hold” message.

“Dammit.”

She continued to pace for an entire five minutes before she ran out of time. She needed to get to work at the community center for a book club meeting. Yes, a book club meeting in the morning. The ladies were all elderly retirees who insisted that nine a.m. was the only time they could do it.

She put the call on full volume, then set the phone on her dresser as she pulled on clothes, a flowy beige skirt and strappy white top. After dropping a banana into her bag, she headed out.

Every second that passed had her heart thrashing harder against her ribs. Because what if thiswasn’ta mistake? What if the bank couldn’t magically make the money reappear?

She had nothing to fall back on. No second account. No family to help. Her parents didn’t even have a spare room she could stay in if she had nowhere to go.

It was just her.

She dropped into her car and drove toward the community center.

It should feel good being back in Deep River. This was her hometown, the place where she’d grown up. She’d come back for her parents. To watch over them. To make sure they were safe.