by Lara Swann
“Please.” I interrupt, and I can’t hide the desperate tone to my voice as I change tack. I might be willing to intimidate the hell out of the Mayor, but I’m not about to throw cheap tactics like that around with someone who hasn’t done anything wrong - especially a woman. Even if I am in a hurry. “I really need to know where he is. It’s important.”
She looks at me for a long moment before finally sighing.
“I don’t know.” She says, shaking her head. “I tried calling him when he didn’t come in, but he didn’t pick up on either his cell or his home phone. This happens sometimes. He’ll probably be back in later this afternoon, or tomorrow—”
“Fucking hell.” I groan, then look at her. “You say this happens sometimes. What happens? He’s unreachable and doesn’t turn up? Are there any similarities between when that happens? Anything that goes on—any particular meetings he has beforehand, or warnings or indications he gives you?”
She just stares at me as if I’m insane, which isn’t too dissimilar from how she’s been looking at me this whole time, and I know I’m not making any sense to her.
“Is there any way you have to find him? A GPS tracker on his phone, or…something? What does the town do in emergencies?” I can’t stop the questions from tumbling out, as soon as they appear in my mind, my brain sifting through for any possibilities - anything that might be helpful.
It only takes another look at her dumbfounded expression to answer my own questions. Of course no one GPS tracks the Mayor. This isn’t the damned military. And I doubt Ashton has ever had an emergency that has required immediately finding the him.
God damn it.
“Never mind.” I say, before she can point any of those things out, turning to dash out of the Town Hall, adding over my shoulder. “Thanks anyway.”
Not that I’m really in the mood to thank anyone. Or that she was any help.
Except for telling me the Mayor isn’t here, too…
Which means…I just might have a chance. I might be jumping to conclusions, but that’s all I can do right now - hope and pray for the best outcome. If his absence is related to Kelsey’s then that means either he’s involved in whatever happened to her last night - or the people who chased her off the road have also taken him. The conclusions Kelsey described to me don’t give me any indication which one it could be - and it still doesn’t tell me where they could be - but it does give me one small hope.
Maybe it’s not too late.
If he’s not here, that makes it a more coordinated thing than just running someone off the road. There has to be a better plan. Right?
So whatever happened when her voicemail cut off last night…maybe it wasn’t as final as she thought. I’m running on pure hope here, but it’s all I have. I can’t face the idea of losing someone else - of the idea I turned her down and she went off to face all that alone - the thought I wasn’t there for her.
I still have nowhere to go though. I can’t just jump in a car and drive down to Kalmath Falls. What the hell is that going to do?
I march down the street, my body too energized and electric to move slowly, just trying to think. Think.
If you were an intimidating, blackmailing kind of thug, what would you do?
I force my brain to work through it. It doesn’t even make sense to do anything down near Kalmath Falls…if Kelsey was found way down there, surely that would just draw suspicion? If they were going to…do it…wouldn’t they try to make it look natural? Some kind of accident?
Like the car accident last night?
I shake off that demoralizing thought. I’m not going there. She’s alive. She’s okay. She has to be.
I can still fix this.
And if it’s going to be an accident, it should be somewhere she would reasonably go or could be found…somewhere around here.
Great. Which still tells you…nothing.
It means that maybe you don’t have to drive for 3 hours to try to pick up a trail long gone cold, but you can’t just go driving around here either. There are too many places, and no leads.
I let out a stream of curses, startling a couple of people I’m passing, but I don’t even look at them.
The problem is I know nothing about these guys. The Mayor was the only link I had, and if he’s gone…I know nothing. Kelsey couldn’t find anything else—no one else has any link to them at all, except maybe the fake drainage company, but I definitely don’t have time to go chasing those sorts of dead ends, and—
I freeze. Literally stop moving as it occurs to me.
There is one other link.
The thought twists my gut into pieces as I think it, but once I do…I can’t stop.
Margaret.
If Kelsey was right about this, then something really did happen to her. Someone got to her - hurt her - used that to threaten Ken further. The same people who probably got to Kelsey last night.
And…whatever they did to Margaret…whereever they did it…
Simple behavioral science - simple common sense - says they’re most likely to do exactly the same thing again. People aren’t inventive, not really. They take shortcuts. They do what’s easy. If they’re looking for somewhere around here to go with Kelsey…most likely, they’ll go to the same place they took Margaret.
It’s a long shot, I know that. But it’s the only thing I have to go on and all of this is a long shot.
My bigger problem is…how the hell do I find that out. From what Kelsey described, Margaret has some pretty severe flashbacks. I’ve seen veterans with PTSD. I don’t want to trigger that. I don’t want to make things worse for her, or bring it all back, but…
This could be Kelsey’s life.
I’m already walking toward my truck, even as I’m telling myself I’m trying to decide if I’m going to do this. If I’m going to make a poor, vulnerable woman go through that.
Even though I know, deep down, I’ve already decided. There’s no comparison. If it could save Kelsey’s life…I’ll fucking pay for the therapy myself.
I speed down the high street and I’m pretty sure half the town notice and glare at me - I’m not sure by the time this is over, I’ll have any friends left here, but I’m not thinking about that. I make it to the Mayor’s house in record time and have to take a moment to compose myself before I head over to the door. I might be desperate and running out of time, but the last thing I want to do is scare this poor woman.
Who I’ve never even met.
I ring the buzzer with no idea what I’m going to say and no time to plan anything, counting down every second as it ticks by until the response. I’m on the cusp of ringing again, even though I really don’t want to seem aggressive about this, when the intercom crackles.
“Yes?”
“Margaret? My name is Liam, I know you don’t know me, but I really need to talk to you—”
“I’m sorry, I’m not accepting visitors.” I can almost sense her moving away, ending it just there and I call out desperately.
“Wait! Don’t go! Listen…I know what happened to you, all those years ago - and I’m really sorry, and I don’t want to bring it up, but I need your help or the same thing might happen to someone else. And I can’t let that happen. I can’t.”
God. This not thinking through what I’m going to say or how I’m going to convince her is really not working out for me. All that’s coming out is an incoherent, desperate mess.
There’s a long silence and I think she might have gone completely, my stomach twisting into knots as I start thinking about what I could possibly do next - when eventually, a very quiet voice comes back.
“You said you know…what happened to me?”
I swallow, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I really don’t want to bring this back for her, but…
“Yes.” I say, my own voice lowering, calming a little, just because it’s impossible not to when I think about it. “I know it wasn’t an accident, Margaret, and I’m so sorry for what happened. I don’t want
to bring it all back, but I really need your help. They’ve got Kelsey. I’m so scared the same thing might happen to her…or worse…”
I’m rambling now, I know I am. I’m right here on her doorstep, announcing this to all of the world - not that there’s anyone passing by in this nice, spread out neighborhood - but I can’t stop myself. I’m spilling everything I know to a plastic box with a speaker attached. There’s probably a camera somewhere too, but I have no idea where it is so I don’t look around to try to appeal to that.
Another long silence and I’m torn between worrying what might be happening to the woman on the other side of this box - and what might be happening to Kelsey.
“I think you’d better come in.” She says finally, and I’m almost as relieved to hear that her voice still sounds okay as I am to hear the door unlocking.
I open it, but this time I don’t race through the house. I’m all too aware that my ex-military build and intent need right now might look all too much like something that could upset her - and as much as I try to make myself smaller and less intimidating…I’m not sure it’s going to work.
“Margaret?” I call out, trying to keep my voice soft.
I hear a noise from down the hall. I don’t entirely catch what it is, but I follow it anyway and eventually push open the door to a large sitting room that was probably once quite stately. Now, it looks pretty run down, but I barely notice it as I focus on the woman sitting in a wheelchair, by the window.
She looks up immediately, her expression drawn and more than a little bit anxious, and I move forward a small way before coming to a stop.
“Margaret.” I say softly. “Thank you for letting me come in, I promise I won’t disturb you for long—”
“You said…you said you knew what happened to me?” The expression on her face is pure disbelief, and I nod, approaching far enough to crouch down in front of her, with one arm resting on the couch. I’d sit, but with her slender frame I feel like I’d be towering over her.
“I don’t know the details.” I say quietly, holding her gaze and hoping she can see how earnest I am. “And we might have got some parts of it wrong - but I know it wasn’t an accident, I know there are people threatening you and your husband, blackmailing him…”
I trail off as she starts to shake, one hand rising to her mouth and a disturbing keening sound coming out from behind it. I swallow.
“I really don’t want to bring it all back for you, but Kelsey…she’s been looking into this. She wanted to make it right. Only, I got a message last night and…I think they found out. I think they’ve taken her and I have no idea where she is. I can’t find Ken, either. I have no leads, no clues…but I’ve got to find her.”
I realize as I’m saying it that none of this is really anything to do with her - that it’s all just me and what I want, what I’m looking for. She doesn’t deserve that, but I also can’t do anything else.
She’s still shaking in front of me, her eyes unhealthily wide and big in her frail face as tears pool in them, and I have no idea what to do.
“Listen, I know this is awful. It’s a terrible thing to ask. I hate that I have to, but…I need to find Kelsey before something happens to her…”
“What?” She cuts through, her voice wobbly. “What…do you need to ask?”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for it. If I’m struggling so much just to ask it, how is she going to deal with hearing it?
“Do you remember anything about where they took you? Where you went? Details…backgrounds…little things. Anything that could give a clue that I could start working from.”
Her shaking intensifies, but her eyes are locked onto mine, filled with fear and…what might almost be fury. They’re clear, though, not drifting into the past - not just yet - nothing like what Kelsey described had happened when she was here.
“They took…Kelsey?” She asks, pain flashing across her face as I nod. “Bastards. Fucking bastards, all of them.”
I don’t expect the muttered words, but somehow they make me feel slightly better.
“They’ve ruined my life. My family. Everything. And all this time…never…couldn’t say anything, or…Emily…my daughter…my grandchild…all this time…”
The fury seems to give way to a wave of sobs, frustration pouring out of her so thick and tangible that it makes me ache for her.
Jesus.
“I’m sorry.” I say, a lump rising to my own throat. I know I should be thinking about her pain, but when she says that all I can think about is Kelsey…and me…and Maya. And what life will be like if this goes wrong. “I can’t imagine…”
I want to ask about the location again, I have the question burning in the back of my throat. I’m trying to stifle the urge to fidget, to drum my fingers against my thighs with impatience, far too aware of every passing moment, of how long this is taking and where I could be…but I want to give her time, too. It’s an impossible situation.
“I’m so sorry to ask.” I finally say again, after a few minutes pass like that. “But is there anything…do you think you can help…at all?”
She looks up at me, blinking.
“Where you were taken?” I prompt, hating myself every time I ask the words, every time I risk prompting the memories, the flashbacks.
She blinks again and it seems to take a moment for the words to penetrate, but when they do she nods.
Her body might be shaking, looking pallid and too thin, but there’s a glean to her eyes that’s almost scary - and when she speaks, her voice is anything but frail. I can hear the years’ worth of animosity in it.
“Yes. I know where it was.”
This time I blink, at the confidence in that answer.
“Ken’s old farm. His Uncle left it to him years ago…they wouldn’t let him sell. Nothing there, just a few decrepit buildings, we never visited, except…until…” She hiccups, her face - which momentarily came back to life - collapsing in on itself again.
I just stare at her. She knows the exact place?!
That’s so much better than I could have hoped for.
“Thank you.” I whisper. “It’s okay, you don’t need to think back to it, that’s…that’s all I need, really. What’s it called?”
“Longbourne Farm…” She manages, her chest heaving. “Between Redmond and Bend.”
Oh my fucking god. I just won the lottery.
“Thank you.” I say again, jumping to my feet - then immediately feeling bad about it as I look back at her. I don’t want to leave her like this, either. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want me to call someone?”
“No…” She shakes her head, then pierces me with that look again. “But when you go there…kick their ass.”
I let my features mold into a grim smile, my body shifting as I no longer worry about being intimidating.
“I can promise you that.”
“Go.” She says, and that permission is enough to free my body. I’m at the door within seconds. “Liam…”
I pause as I hear my name, almost like she’s trying it out, and glance back.
“You’re the cupcake man.” She says it like she’s just figured something out, and I nod. “I liked those cupcakes.”
“I’ll drop some by another time.”
I leave her with the promise, darting out of the house the moment I’m out of her sight, unable to believe my luck.
I swing into the truck, double-check that I’ve got the gun and extra ammunition I grabbed from the house - all loaded and ready to go - before setting my cell phone’s navigation. It picks up on the location right away - and just like that, I’m racing out of Ashton.
I’m still counting on this being the right place - on Kelsey being alive and well, just waiting for me to come after her - but I don’t let myself think about that too much.
This has to work. It has to.
I simply can’t face anything else.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kelsey
Fo
r a moment I think I’m still in the car, tumbling over and over and over, the motion making me feel ill as every part of my body aches. Then the motion settles slightly, the bumping becomes more rhythmic, and something inside me stops spinning quite so badly.
I groan, every slightest motion or sound feeling like it’s driving into my head, which seems far too big and filled with a strange cotton that somehow muffles and amplifies everything agonizingly.
Nausea swirls through my gut and I drift in and out as I struggle just to breathe evenly and keep the nausea down. Breathing hurts, too. Everything aches, and my head throbs like someone is sticking knives into it, but breathing sends a sharp pain through my chest. One I don’t like. Not at all. And if I could think, I might even be worried about it. As it is…blackness drags me under again.
I’m not sure how long it takes before I stir properly, before I don’t go through the same confused, muddled thought process every time the world comes back to me - but eventually, I force my eyes open, the nagging feeling getting through to me even through all the hurt and confusion.
There’s something I need to do. Something important. Something I was worried about, just moments ago—
“I’m so sorry, Kelsey.” A voice says as I try to blink, startling me, the voice vaguely familiar through the cotton wool around my head. “I never wanted to drag you into this. I tried to stop you.”
I squint, only the genuinely sorrowful tone stopping me from thinking the words come from one of those half-pitying mock-regretful assholes you get on television. They certainly sound that way. I cough a little bit, trying to raise my hands to wipe at my eyes so I can see properly - but they don’t work. I tug again, feeling the resistance as my hands stay exactly where they are - stuck between my legs. It takes me another moment to work out that they’re tied there - and that’s enough for a pulse of adrenaline to shoot through me, some of what happened coming back as the fear kicks in.
I finally force my eyes open - and then blink again in surprise as I see the Mayor sat opposite me. Only he doesn’t look very Mayor-ly at the moment. His shirt is crumpled and dirty, his face unshaven and his whole posture defeated.