Gone, p.1
Gone, page 1
GONE
NELL BRACH, BOOK ONE
S. E. GREEN
Copyright © S. E. Green, 2022
The right of S. E. Green to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted per the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1976. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
About the Author
The Nell Brach Series
Silence
Other Books by S. E. Green
PROLOGUE
A deer hops through waist-high grass, not far from me and Grandpa. We’re camouflaged, hunting rifles in hand. I glance over to my favorite person in the world. Grandpa’s a serious man, imposing, still built like the Army Ranger he used to be before becoming a cop, then sheriff. He doesn’t move a muscle. He wants me to take the shot.
I go back to looking at the deer.
With a slow breath out, I sight it, then pull the trigger. The animal stumbles shot clean in the head and collapses.
A silent moment ticks by.
As Grandpa quietly prays, my lips move to the words I’ve heard him speak countless times. “Grant us wisdom and respect to keep us humble. Embrace this animal’s spirit and bless this gift of nourishment to our family. May we keep this memory forever so that every time we hunt, we remember and honor this animal.”
“Amen,” I whisper.
Still crouched in our blind, Grandpa looks at me through the early morning mist. “I’m proud of you, Nell.”
“Thank you, Grandpa.”
“I want you to listen closely to my words.” He pauses, allowing time for his gaze to penetrate mine. “You listening?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Always be ready. No matter what. You don’t know what’s going to happen in this world. You are the only person you can rely on. You’ve got to be ready to do what’s needed to protect those you love. Your mom, she’s just like your grandmother, a fragile woman. And your little brother needs a strong person watching out for him. That’s you.” His brown eyes narrow. “You hear me?”
I nod.
Grandpa keeps looking at me like he wants to say more, or perhaps he’s not satisfied that I heard him. I’m about to assure him when he stands up and walks away from me toward the deer.
I couldn’t know that would be my last weekend with him.
ONE
Six Months Later
Saturday, 3 p.m.
An old station wagon covered in bumper stickers passes us as we pull into our new neighborhood. “New” is a generous word. Like the rest of White Quail, Tennessee, its best days are far behind.
I steer our ’65 Chevy short bed along Shadow Lane, creeping past postage-sized brick homes with slush-covered lawns. Up ahead is Grandpa’s house. Just the sight of it brings me peace. Between that house, this truck, and the contents within, it’s all we have left of him.
Beside me sits Tyler, my six-year-old brother. On the other side of him is Mom. She sighs heavy and deep. Her voice comes thin, “Never thought I’d be moving back into my old home.”
“I love it here,” I say.
Tyler arches up, trying to see over the dash. “What are we going to do first?”
“Eat,” Mom and I say in unison, and then share a smile.
The front door opens as I park the truck. Mom’s long-time best friend, Olivia, appears. Smiling, she waves. Her six-year-old son, Luca, pushes past, running out without a coat into the chill.
“Luca, wait.” Olivia ducks inside the house and reappears with a thick flannel jacket. “You’re just getting over a cold.”
Before I get the driver’s door open, Tyler’s pushing at me to get out. He’s excited to see Luca. As they squeal and jump around, Mom and Olivia share a sweet and welcoming hug. I hope being around Olivia will cheer Mom up.
Moving here from Georgia is a good decision. Mom will see that. Other than the apartment we rented, Mom’s job at Popeye’s, and my job cleaning homes, we had nothing. Here we’ll have an actual house that’s paid for, I’ll start the police academy soon, and Olivia already set Mom up with a data entry job where she’ll work from home and have more time for Tyler.
Finally, we’ll get ahead.
“The place is all cleaned and ready. Grace helped me bring food over. Your boxes arrived yesterday. Thought we’d eat and then help you unpack.” Olivia comes around the truck to hug me next. “Lord, you’re tall.”
“You saw me six months ago. I haven’t grown.”
She feels my bicep. “Your mom said you’ve been working out.”
“Getting ready for the academy.” Grabbing my wallet and keys from the dash, I ask, “Is Grace here?”
“Inside.” Olivia throws an arm around me and together we make our way into Mom’s childhood home.
“Did you get here by taking the double-secret pass-through?” Tyler asks Luca.
“You know it.” Luca crams a miniature brownie into his mouth.
Playfully, Olivia glares at the boys. “Which you two are not allowed to take without a grown-up.”
The “double-secret pass-through” is just a path through the trees that connects our neighborhood to the one beside us where Olivia lives. Every few weeks, Grandpa used to take his shears and cut back rogue branches and weeds. Now that he’s gone, I suppose I’ll do that for the two neighborhoods.
Grace plops down beside me on Grandpa’s brown plaid couch. To her mom, she says, “I found a car. It’s two thousand. I’ve got half. Do you still think you can kick in the other half? I can’t keep borrowing your car and as much as I love Matthew, it’s not his job to chauffeur me.”
Olivia sighs. “I sure am going to try. You know I’m doing my best.”
“I know.” Grace picks at the loose hem of her sweatshirt. “I wish we could sell that stupid studio.”
“You and me both,” Olivia agrees.
I bump my shoulder against Grace’s, letting her know I get it. We’ve spent our entire lives not having money. Her dad died five years ago, leaving them with a run-down recording studio that eventually ran its course. Now the building sits empty and hosts a family of rodents and more than one spider.
“Speaking of used cars, I need one. We opted to sell mine. It wouldn’t have made the trip here anyway.” Mom comes from the kitchen, carrying two glasses of blush wine. She hands one to Olivia before sitting in a rocking chair near the empty fireplace. “You make that mac and cheese, or did you buy it and plate it like a faker?”
Olivia laughs. “Plate it like a faker, of course. And we can go look at cars next week if you want.”
“Sounds great.” Taking a sip, Mom eyes Grace over the rim. “You, my dear, get more and more gorgeous every time I see you.”
Grace accepts the compliment with an awkward and shy smile, but it is the truth. Mom’s not just being nice. Grace is beautiful.
“Now that you have your associates, what are you thinking about?” Mom asks. “You going for your bachelors?”
Grace hesitates. “Um, probably not. I might have a secretary job at the elementary school. I go in for a second interview soon.”
“Here’s hoping then.” Mom smiles.
“When do you start your training?” Grace looks at me. “First of the year, right?”
“Yes, I can’t wait.”
“Following in her grandpa’s footsteps,” Mom mumbles.
She doesn’t like that I want to be a cop. She was raised by one. I get it. But I’ve never wanted to do anything else. I’d planned on joining the force back in Georgia, but then Grandpa passed and here we are.
Done with their brownies and bored with us, Tyler and Luca jump up from the living room floor. “Can we go outside and play?”
“Not without supervision,” Olivia says, looking pointedly at her daughter.
I stand up, pulling Grace with me and shooing the boys. “Get your jackets, your hats, gloves, scarves, and whatever else, and let’s go.”
Outside, the boys race ahead singing, “Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts…”
We follow at a slower pace.
“Is it weird being in the house?” Grace asks.
“A little.” Six months ago, Grandpa suffered a heart attack and died. I was here visiting over a long weekend when it happened. He came home one night from being out with a friend. Something seemed off about him. But when I’d asked, he simply shooed me off and went to bed.
I found him the next morning.
At least he went in his sleep, Mom had said.
I guess, but it bothers me how unaffected she seems by the whole thing.
“Talk to your dad recently?” Grace asks next.
“Of course not.” I shrug. “I hate it for Tyler more than anything. He’s been asking about Dad a lot.”
“What do you tell him?”
“I tell him the truth. That Dad never wanted a family. Mom, though, keeps his hopes up. ‘Your dad will come around. Just wait and see.’ Drives me nuts when she tells him that. There’s a reason he never married her. There’s a reason he insisted we didn’t take his last name. Mom’s always been his one reliable booty call.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too.” We continue following the boys as they skip toward the double-secret pass-through.
Tucking her bare hands into the pockets of her jean jacket, Grace leans in. “Now that we’re alone.” Excitement dances through her eyes. “Matthew proposed.”
“Get out.”
She laughs. “I said yes, of course.”
I hug her. “Oh, Grace, I’m so happy for you.” Marrying Matthew and having his babies is all she has wanted since the moment they met back in ninth grade.
“We’re telling Mom together, so keep it quiet for now.”
“For sure. Olivia loves Matthew. She’s going to be thrilled.”
“I know.” Grinning, Grace walks through the pass-through and I follow.
We come out the other side. Tyler and Luca are several houses over, looking inside the back of an old station wagon covered with bumper stickers. Filth smears its opaque windows.
“Hey!” I yell. “Get away from that.”
The engine revs and the station wagon peels away from the curb. Tyler and Luca stand side by side, watching it circle through the neighborhood before turning onto the main road.
I catch up to the boys, grabbing them both. “What are you doing? You know better than that.”
“But did you see all the bumper stickers?” Tyler’s eyes widen. “There were so many.”
“I don’t care.”
Grace comes up behind me. “Luca, what the heck? You’re not supposed to be nosy.”
“Sorry,” her brother mumbles.
A "For Sale" sign sits in the yard with a small freshly painted white house up against the tree line. “Do you know that car?” I ask Grace.
“No. Maybe they were here looking at that.” She nods to the house as she grabs Luca’s hand.
“Maybe.”
Back in Grandpa’s home, dirty dishes pile the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. Mom and Olivia finish off their second bottle of wine. Their inebriated laughter brings a smile to my face. Beside me sits Grace, exchanging text messages with Matthew.
Tyler and Luca triumphantly enter the living room, both with green-painted faces and their hair plastered into spikes.
Mom groans. “Please tell me that’s washable.”
“Great green gobs of greasy grimy gofer guts…” They jostle back and forth, giggling. “Mutilated monkey meat. Hairy pickled piggy feet.”
Grace gags. “That is the grossest song ever.”
“Which is exactly why they sing it.” Olivia waves them off. “Come back in a costume.”
“Really?” Luca’s eyes widen.
“Really.”
The boys barrel down the hallway. Olivia takes another sip of wine. “That’ll keep them busy for a while.”
Luca and Tyler instantly reappear. “But they just moved in,” Luca whines. “Can I take Tyler to our house? We’ve got the good stuff. I want to show him my pirate stash.”
I know what’s coming when Olivia looks at me and Grace.
“How about I take you over there in thirty minutes or so?” I say, ignoring the matching bummed looks on their faces. “I promise. Why don’t you have another brownie?”
With dramatic sighs, they select another brownie and sulk off.
Mom eyes the dirty dishes. “Shall we draw straws to see who cleans?”
Sliding her phone into her back pocket, Grace pushes up off the couch. “We’ve got it.”
“Thank you, girls.” Olivia brings up Spotify. “Any requests?”
“Bon Jovi.” Mom squeals like a teenager.
Laughing, Olivia shakes her head. “Little trivia for you, Nell. Your mom was in love with Bon Jovi pretty much the moment she heard him sing for the first time. Down the hallway in her old bedroom, she had not one or two, but three posters of him on her walls.”
“Guilty as charged.” Mom slugs down the rest of her wine. “Bon Jovi,” she says, and Olivia launches “You Give Love a Bad Name.”
I follow Grace into the kitchen. We clean as our moms sing to Bon Jovi and get drunker.
“Good thing neither of them has to work tomorrow,” Grace says.
“Good thing.”
“You Give Love a Bad Name” transitions to “Livin’ on a Prayer” and that rolls into “It’s My Life.” We clean as their singing gets louder. Eventually, they’re up and dancing, hugging each other as they shout the words.
Grace makes a pot of coffee. “When do you think they’ve reached their limit?”
“When they pass out.”
Forty-five minutes later, I dry the last plate and put it away. Grace snaps the lid onto the leftover potato salad before sliding it into the refrigerator.
“I can’t believe you put mustard on the baked beans,” she says.
“I put mustard on everything.”
Olivia and Mom sit side by side on the couch, having gone from full-on Bon Jovi singing to quietly humming along to John Denver’s mellow voice. The two wine bottles sit empty on the carpet at their feet.
“Guess we’re unpacking tomorrow,” I say, eyeing our chilled-out moms.
Grace chuckles. “Yep. Maybe we can do Christmas decorations, too.”
“That sounds fun.”
“You think our brothers passed out from brownie overload?”
“It has been quiet.” Smiling, I walk from the kitchen. “Speaking of, I suppose I should make good on my promise to take them over to your house.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Down the hall we walk, passing Mom’s bedroom, mine, and coming to a stop at Tyler’s. With a knock, I open the door. Boxes of unopened clothes and toys sit piled against the wall. A handmade blue and white quilt covers a twin bed. The closet door shows empty shelves and a hanging rod. A brown dresser takes up the space across from the bed.
“That’s weird.” I check the bathroom and Mom’s bedroom, while Grace looks in mine.
“Tyler?” she calls out. “Luca?”
Other than John Denver’s smooth voice, the house answers us with quiet.
Back in the living room, I look between our moms. “Where are the boys?”
Flushed with wine, Olivia waves her hand toward the hallway.
“No, they’re not,” I say.
Grace comes in behind me. “I checked all the closets, too.”
“They’re probably just outside,” Mom mumbles. “Weren’t you taking them to Olivia’s house?”
“We’ve been in there cleaning the kitchen.” I look between our moms. “Did you see them leave?”
Blankly, they stare back.
“We haven’t seen them since they came out with painted faces.” Olivia looks at Mom. “Right?”
“Right.”
I cross over to the front door. An empty yard greets me. Still, I yell, “Tyler! Luca!”
Grace pushes past me, shoving her arms into her jean jacket and handing me my wool coat. “Come on. Luca probably took Tyler to our house.”
We take off in a jog, cutting around Grandpa’s lot. We cross our neighbor’s backyard and duck through the pass-through over to their neighborhood. Their house sits four down on the right. Our jogging increases to a sprint as our feet eat up the sludge-covered lawns and circular potholed road.
Grace has the key out and ready and lets us in. Their house looks a lot like ours with three bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen, and a living room. An attached garage is the only difference.
