Noah's Quest - 13. I shot the Sheriff

“Damian!” Uncle Matt gasped, his voice cracking with shock.

“Dad, I can explain... please!” Damian begged, squirming against the wall where he was still pinned.

“Do we even trust him?” I asked, glaring daggers at my cousin.

Grandma walked over, stopping inches from him and staring cold, hard truth directly into his eyes.

“Grandma, please,” Damian pleaded, his voice breaking.

Then, with a heavy thud, Damian suddenly fell to the floor as his bindings vanished. Little B stood nearby, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face.

“What the hell is going on here?” Uncle Matt demanded, his doctor’s composure completely shattering.

Damian swallowed hard, a look of pure, unadulterated terror stamped across his features. He looked up at us trembling. “Is he... is he really dead?”

“Who?” I asked, cocking my head.

“Jack,” Damian whispered.

“What does Jack have to do with any of this?” Grandma demanded, stepping forward.

“Everything,” Damian choked out.

“You better start explaining right damn now,” I snapped through gritted teeth.

Damian let out a shuddering sigh, tears spilling over his cheeks. He looked up at me helplessly. “Could you give us a minute?” I asked, glancing at the rest of the family.

I noticed Little B had already wandered back over to the island. He put on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and picked up his markers, tuning us out entirely.

“Damian, what happened?” I asked softly.

He sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “I... I should probably tell Dad at the same time.”

“Probably easiest,” I agreed grimly.

I went and gathered Uncle Matt, Uncle Nick, and Grandma. We pulled up chairs, forming a tight circle, and waited for Damian to speak.

“It started several summers ago,” Damian began, his voice barely audible. “Right before Noah moved back...”

Suddenly, a loud, disorienting swooshing sound filled my ears. The kitchen blurred around me, and the world shifted like a scene changing in a movie.

I was standing beside a sparkling swimming pool in Grandma's backyard. The air was thick with humid summer heat. A younger Damian and Dominic were cleaning the pool, laughing and splashing water at each other.

“Hey, boys! When did you get in?” Grandpa asked, walking out onto the patio. Trailing right behind him was Jack.

“Hey, Grandpa! We got here about an hour ago,” Dom called out. “Dad let us take an Uber this time.”

“You boys are fourteen—about time he started trusting you,” Grandpa chuckled. “I’ve got Lucky and Marty coming by in a bit to look at doing some room updates for Noah.”

Jack stood on the patio, a sleek, predatory smile playing on his lips as he ogled Damian and Dominic, who were both shirtless in their swim trunks. What a absolute creep.

Grandpa turned and walked into the house, but Jack lingered by the edge of the pool.

“You boys are looking really fit,” Jack said, his tone dripping with an unsettling warmth.

“Thanks, Jack,” Dom said obliviously, pushing the pool vacuum.

Jack stood there watching them, his eyes lingering far too long.

Before I could process it, the scene snapped again, and suddenly I was standing inside the house on the second floor.

“Nick, I don’t like what I’m seeing out there,” Lucky muttered, staring out the window at the pool deck.

“Jack?” Grandpa shrugged, “He’s harmless.”

“I told you, man, there’s just something about him that makes my skin crawl.”

“He’s a politician,” Marty chuckled “That’s why.”

The memory accelerated, spinning out of control until I slammed back into another reality inside a massive, hyper-modern luxury condo. My gut told me it belonged to Jack.

The doorbell chimed. Jack answered it wearing a silk bathrobe. Damian and Dominic were standing in the hallway, looking nervous.

“Boys, thanks for coming,” Jack said, stepping aside. “I sure hope you didn’t tell your grandfather.”

“Nope,” Damian said. “It was hard coming up with an excuse, but we walked to the end of the street to catch an Uber.”

“Good,” Jack smiled.

I watched in mounting horror as he handed them beers and slid a plate of food across the counter. The sick bastard was actively getting them intoxicated. My blood began to boil, white-hot rage surging through my veins as I was forced to witness Jack taking predatory advantage of my cousins.

The scene shifted one final time, landing us in a booth at a LongHorn Steakhouse. Jack sat across from Damian and Dominic.

“Your cousin Noah,” Jack said, leaning in with a disgusting leer. “You are going to bring him to me.”

“He has a boyfriend,” Dom snapped, a rare twinge of real anger breaking through his fear. “And quite frankly, so do we.”

“You will break them up,” Jack said calmly, taking a sip of his water. “And you will make sure they don’t run back to each other.”

“What if we don’t?” Dom asked, a tremor of fear shaking his voice.

Jack smiled coldly. “Then these photos of your incestuous little relationship will be mailed directly to everyone at your school, your university, and your family.”

Both boys collapsed inward, completely defeated.

The horrific realization hit me like a freight train. That was how so much private information was leaked. There was no way Shane and Shawn had figured out what I learned from Silas on their own—Jack had orchestrated the entire plot, using Damian and Dominic as puppets to tear Shiloh and me apart.

I watched the memory play out as Damian and Dominic fabricated the lie, feeding it to Shiloh disguised as Tristan. I watched Shiloh break down, shattered word by word.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white. “I’ll kill him,” I snarled into the empty air. “I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”

A dark, familiar laughter echoed behind me.

“Beat ya to it,” a voice drawled.

I spun around. Silas was standing there, leaning casually against the restaurant wall.

“Silas?” I asked, stunned. “It was you?”

“Sure as shit was,” Silas chuckled. “Honestly, I didn’t know it was possible. Quite frankly, neither did anyone else... until I pulled the trigger.”

I stood there in absolute shock. Jack had assaulted my cousins, blackmailed them, and destroyed my relationship with Shiloh—all because he wanted to get his hands on me.

A wave of intense, violent nausea hit me. I staggered over to a nearby trash can and threw up.

Silas watched me with a sympathetic look. “Just so you know, your dad went to bat for me with the elders over the shooting. They wanted to banish me and permanently strip away my ability to interact with the living.”

“For... for protecting me?” I stammered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“That, and the whole 'using a gun as a ghost' thing,” Silas said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, you’re about to go back to the living room. Damian hasn’t said a word yet because you passed out cold the second I pulled you into this vision.”

“So... they don’t know?” I asked, rubbing my throbbing temples.

“Damian wasn’t going to tell the whole story,” Silas warned. “Now you know the absolute truth.”

“I do,” I muttered, staring at the floor. “But I’m not going to run back to Shiloh.”

“No,” Silas agreed softly. “Not now. But eventually, your paths will cross again. You’ll become friends... until your paths realign down the road.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded.

Before I could get an answer, Silas vanished into thin air.

SNAP.

Suddenly, I was lying flat on my back on the living room sofa.

“Noah? Are you okay, honey?” Grandma asked anxiously, pressing a cold compress against my forehead.

I sat up abruptly, pushing the compress away, and fixed Damian with a lethal glare. “I know everything,” I spat. “And I’m going to kill him.”

“Kill who?” Grandma asked, horror creeping into her voice.

“Jack,” I spat.

Little B casually walked over from the kitchen, holding a stack of drawing paper. He held one out to me with his small hand. “I made you some pictures.”

I took the first drawing. It showed the construction site from his earlier vision, but instead of Grandpa being led away in handcuffs, he was being congratulated with a giant mall bustling in the background.

The second drawing made me gasp aloud. It depicted a figure writhing in the fiery pits of hell—or at least, what an eight-year-old imagined hell looked like.

“That’s Jack,” Little B said, a chillingly wicked grin spreading across his face.

Grandma took the drawings from my hands, her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Jack assaulted them,” I said flatly.

“Who assaulted who?” Grandma asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

“My brothers,” Little B stated, looking directly at her.

“What?” Uncle Matt asked, looking utterly lost.

“Jack,” I repeated, turning to Matt. “He assaulted and blackmailed Damian and Dominic.”

I watched a chaotic storm of emotions rage across Uncle Matt’s face—confusion, disbelief, and finally, pure, unbridled fury.

“I’ll kill him myself!” Uncle Matt spat, jumping out of his chair, his hands shaking with rage. “I’ll tear him apart!”

“Chill out, Mattie,” Uncle Nick interjected calmly, putting a heavy hand on Matt's shoulder. “The dude is already dead.”

“Under several feet of concrete, too,” Little B added casually.

Grandma’s head snapped toward the youngest boy. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Little B mumbled, suddenly very interested in his shoes.

Grandma immediately pulled out her phone to make a few urgent calls, while Uncle Matt escorted a weeping Damian into the study to talk privately.

I pulled out my phone and sent Chase a quick text:

Noah: We need to talk the second you get home.

I leaned back, my mind racing over what Silas had said—until your paths realign again. I violently shook my head, forcing the thought out. I couldn't deal with that right now.

Knowing that Jack had set his sick sights on me made my skin crawl. I needed air. I walked out the back door, kicked off my shoes, and sat on the concrete edge of the pool, dangling my feet into the cool water.

I was so deeply lost in my own head that I didn't even hear the patio door slide open behind me.

“Hey, Grandpa,” I said softly as a shadow fell over the water.

Grandpa sat down beside me, holding back a wave of heavy emotion. “Noah... I need you to believe me. I didn’t know. I had no idea.”

“Grandpa, I don’t blame you at all,” I said, looking over at him. “Obviously you saw something good in Jack, or his charm worked on you. Either way, you are not responsible for his sick actions.”

Grandpa wiped a hand over his face and offered a weak, grateful nod. “Well... on that note, Lucky is inside. He wants to talk to you.”