Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 119

"Nothing, man. Don't worry about it." He folds his arms, deflecting like he shouldn't have said anything.

My eyebrows snap up.

"Goddammit, Arch, this isn't the time to play stupid." I slam the carton on the counter so hard juice sprays out. My heart shouldn't beat like this when it's probably nothing. "What sob story?"

"I told her I wouldn't say anything," he grumbles.

"Funny," I say, my voice heavy, "because I told her the same thing."

He stops scowling and studies my face. "What? What are you talking—"

"Archer, what story?" The harshness in my voice surprises even me. Then he sighs.

He tells me the same thing Evelyn told me—she's neck-deep in debt and she can't make the deal we offered her work—so he offered her a private loan. A hundred and fifty thousand in his case, softie that he is.

"Shit." My gut clenches. A brutal possibility hits me like a brick. "She played us, Arch."

"Evelyn Hibbing? Hell no. There's no way she'd ever—" He stops, his face souring. He prides himself on being the kind of guy who doesn't get played, especially not by a little old lady who's been around for our whole lives.

I don't wait for his response. I'm already texting Dex, asking if she told him the same thing.

Yeah. How'd you know? he replies a minute later. She pulled me aside when I came to pick up Junie, after they baked a cake.

My head's about to pop right the fuck off.

I still don't understand how it could be related to what's happening to Arlo, but I know it reeks.

I dive into the trash can, pawing through it like a demented rat, the dread in my gut turning to solid lead.

Something isn't right here.

"Hi, Archer," Mom says as she comes back in. She attempts a weak smile. "Did Evelyn make her flight okay?"

I swing around to face her. "We need to do a sweep."

"If there's any poison in this house, it won't be in the kitchen," Mom says, frowning. Archer glances between us.

"Poison? What are you guys talking about?"

"Doesn't matter," I snap. "I don't mean obvious poison, Mom. We need to look for what's missing. Is there anything out of place around here?"

Archer catches on immediately, but instead of agreeing, he frowns. "Do we need to call the cops?"

Mom stares between us, bewildered.

"Please, Mom. Trust me, just have a look around," I urge. "What are you boys not telling me?" she demands.

God, he's so pale he's almost fading into the bedsheets.

Only his hair—the same rich coppery dark brown shade as Patton's— stands out.

I gently sweep it away from his face. There's a tube running up his nose and a bandage across the back of his hand where another tube was placed.

According to the doctors, he's stable. But stable doesn't mean okay.

It just means he's not about to drop dead. Who knows if that could change.

I just need to keep watching him. Keep assuring myself he's okay. The seconds crawl by, torture in every passing beat.

His shallow, soft breathing doesn't change.

They assured me he isn't in a coma and sleeping like this is natural with the meds he's on, but nothing about it feels normal.

"I love you, big guy," I whisper over the distant murmurs of the hospital.

Foxglove poisoning.

That's what the tests say, according to the doctor who found me hours after they finished pumping his stomach.

We were lucky, he said, because we got Arlo in fast, when he could still get help. If we'd waited—