by Stacy Green
The tension drained out of him. He’d been afraid she was still angry. “I think I might have discovered a pattern, but if I want to figure it out this decade, I need your help.” He explained the missing persons database and what he was searching for.
“Don’t the NOPD and LBI have people who do this sort of thing for a living, and much faster?”
“That makes it hard to keep her a secret. Plus, I’m not technically on the job.”
“Right. What do you need me to do?”
“Take Texas and Mississippi,” Cage said. “Go into both NamUs and the individual state databases. We’re looking for girls similar in age and appearance to Lyric and Annabeth who disappeared during some kind of chaotic event, but not necessarily weather-related. Anything that had the police’s and media’s attention.”
“Got it,” she said. “Emma should sleep another hour. I’ll call you back when I have something. If I find anything at all.”
“You will,” Cage said. “He—or they—have done this more than once. Oh, and make sure you check the input information for any sort of vehicle that might have been seen. Specifically, a blue pickup with a white camper top.”
“What if you don’t find anything?”
“I’ll figure that out later. Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. I know things are hard for you right now, and you’re sacrificing a lot for me.”
She sighed. “It’s okay. I love you, and that’s all that matters.”
“I love you too.”
20
Cage spent the next hour searching and cross-referencing missing girls in a tri-state area and logging the pattern on a map. Annabeth huffed in her sleep and rolled to her side.
His phone buzzed with Dani’s call.
“You find anything?”
“I think so,” she said. “No girls from Texas that really match. But in Mississippi, Shauna Lane, aged fourteen, disappeared from Meehan in 2014 during Fourth of July fireworks.”
Cage pulled up Shauna Lane’s information. Like the other girls, she was mixed race with an athletic build. She’d been walking home from a friend’s when she disappeared. People had been too focused on the neighborhood fireworks show to notice her getting into any vehicle.
He marked it down on the map and stepped back.
“What do you have?” Dani said.
Cage said. “In May 2008, a fifteen-year-old went missing from a truck stop in Hampton, Arkansas during a torrential rainstorm. Biracial, athletic—he definitely has a specific type. So, starting with Lyric, you have five girls.”
“Disappearing every three years or so. Always one girl, except for Mickie. I think she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe she looked enough like his type he decided to treat himself to two.”
“It’s all circumstantial, but when you stand back and look at it …” Cage did just that and studied his map. “It’s pretty hard to ignore.”
“And Annabeth turned up in Jasper. But there are no missing girls in Texas that match. Not in the last fifteen years. You can double check, but—”
“I think Texas might be a safe zone,” Cage said. “Jasper could even be his hometown. I need to get her back there. If she remembers seeing graves, there’s no telling what else she could remember once she’s there.”
“I’m not going back.” Annabeth sat up on the bed, her hair tousled. “And I’m done discussing it. Figure something else out.”
“Hypnosis.”
She flipped him off.
“Do you see this?” Cage pointed to the map. “He might have taken at least three more girls. You’re the only link we have to him.”
“I’m not a link,” she snapped. “The road took care of that.”
“Be careful.” He’d almost forgotten Dani was still on the line. “Doesn’t sound like getting pissed off at her is going to work. Use your Southern charm. God knows you’re oozing it.”
He dragged his hand over his face and tried to calm down. “Thanks for your help, Dee. I’ll call you later.”
Annabeth glared at him as he hung up the phone. “Is that the little wifey?”
“Please don’t be mean,” Cage said. “When you have your memory flashes, what causes them? Do they happen at any specific time?”
She shook her head. “I told you, they’re random.”
He took off his glasses and set them on the desk. “You don’t want to be hypnotized, fine. But there’s a sliver of hope that you might remember something by going back. Lyric helped save you because she wanted a chance to be rescued.”
“And I owe her?”
“That’s for you to decide. But now that you know who you really are and what she did for you, don’t you want to be able to say you did everything you could?”
She slammed her fists against the bed. “Fine. I think I killed Mickie. Are you happy now?”
21
He’s staring at me with those eyes and lips, and the lines are back between his eyes. His short, brown hair is standing on end from running his hands through it. He drags his hand over his trimmed beard. There’s like, three gray hairs on his chin, and they make me kind of nuts. I want to name them. “I need you to tell me everything.”
“I just did.”
Cage purses his lips. His shoulders tense, and his collarbone peeks out from his white shirt. “Why do you think you killed Mickie?”
My stomach turns. “I dream about her too. Only her throat’s being slashed, and there’s blood everywhere. Like pouring out.” My guts feel like I’ve chewed up a rock. “The way I see it, I’m the one with the knife. And then I’m burying her. I dug her grave.”
There. Now he knows. I’m a murderer. I must be.
“Have you always had this dream?”
“Not at first. It started out with her in the grave. Gran said they were just bad dreams. I wanted to believe her.”
I see the spark in his eyes. He can’t understand why Gran didn’t tell someone about me. Sometimes I don’t either. But I loved her. “I don’t care that she wasn’t my blood. I still miss her.”
His expression softens. He strokes his scruff, a habit I totally dig.
“How did it start?”
“I told you, back in the hospital, I remembered seeing another girl in a grave. But that was it. Once Gran got sick, I started dreaming more. Sometimes I was awake.”
“Did you remember anything about the place you were held?”
“Just that I was trapped. It was totally dark, but it’s like I could feel the walls close. And it stinks like a dirty toilet. I’m staggering around, reaching out, and then she’s in front of me. She’s got a flashlight. I see her face—Lyric. She’s terrified. That’s when she grabs my shoulders and tells me to run and not to look back. To get help. That’s the first one. Then I’m killing that girl, Mickie. I’m killing Mickie.”
Cage exhales a hard breath and leans back in the chair. He’s thinking about what to say to me, chewing on his bottom lip. He seems to analyze every word before he speaks. “Have you finally told me everything?”
I nod.
“Can you see the doctor is right, and those memories are right here.” He taps his forehead. “He’s taken more girls. You could be the one who brings him down.”
“Why don’t you just ask me to negotiate world peace while I’m at it?” My nerves feel stretched and hot. I’m supposed to count to ten and take deep breaths. The shrink says my anger is really fear. I don’t care what it is. I just want it to stop.
“Annabeth—”
“Don’t call me that.” My bare feet hit the carpeted floor. “I’m not her.”
And I’m not Lyric. I’m just a girl stealing someone else’s life.
The pressure works its way down my throat and into my chest until I feel my ribs ache. I’m breathing too fast, but I can’t slow it down. “I’ve told you everything now, and that’s all I can do. Leave me alone.”
I rip several strands of my hair out, hoping the pain would settle me. When it doesn’t work, I d
ig my fingernails into my tattoo.
Cage stands up and reaches me in one long stride. He grabs my wrists, his big hands easily fitting around them. “Stop.”
I crane my neck to look into his eyes. This close, he smells like lavender and cedar.
“I know you’re scared. But this isn’t going to help you.”
I inhale his sweet scent, and the pressure ebbs and evolves into something even more unstable. I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t help myself. I grab his shirt collar and pull his face to mine.
22
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. So many plans just gone to waste. And she was in New Orleans, ripe for the taking again.
Did he dare go back?
His girl would be against it. But he could convince her.
Still, was it safe? He needed more of an insider’s information than his dumbass cousin.
He lit a cigarette and then checked to make sure the shower was still running. She’d be in there forever.
Inside the closet, he dug beneath dirty clothes until he found his lockbox. She knew better than to try to spy on him, but he still took precaution.
He thumbed the combination and popped the lid open. His old cellphone sat on top of his many souvenirs. He powered it on and dialed the special number.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” He blew out a ring of smoke. “You see this shit?”
23
“Whoa.” Cage pulled back, releasing her hands. “What are you doing?”
Annabeth’s face reddened, and her hands snatched at her hair again. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get an urge I can’t stop. It’s part of the whole filter thing.”
He tried to downplay his shock. “You need to find a way, at least with me. I’m married.”
“I know.” She turned away, shaking her head. “I feel so stupid.”
Cage didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t encourage her. He shouldn’t have had her stay here.
“There’s a bar downstairs,” Annabeth said. “It’s probably way overpriced, but I need a drink.”
He was shaking his head before she finished her sentence. “I can’t let you out of my sight, and I’m not finished here.”
“I’m trusting you,” Annabeth said. “So, you have to trust me. I’ll be downstairs in the bar. Come have a drink after you’re off the phone. I promise I won’t make it awkward.”
She wasn’t backing down. If she took off, she’d likely go straight to Alexandrine’s or Charlotte’s house. Cage said a silent prayer he wasn’t making a mistake.
“I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”
Annabeth let the door slam behind her, and Cage sank onto the bed. His insides turned, the back of his neck hot. He hadn’t been tempted to cheat. Risking his marriage was out of the question. But Annabeth’s warm body pressed up against his had set his pulse into overdrive.
“Visceral reaction,” he said to the silent room. “It’s been a while, and my emotions are all twisted because of screwing up before she was kidnapped.”
The tension drained from his shoulders. He was drawn to her out of duty and guilt. That wouldn’t change until he saw her kidnapper in cuffs or in the grave—and he told Annabeth the truth.
By the time he arrived at the hotel bar, fifteen minutes had turned into thirty. He needed to take a shower and get his head straight. Most of the tables were full of chatting guests. Cage’s eyes swept the bar. His stomach plummeted.
Annabeth wasn’t there.
“Sonofabitch.” So stupid. If she wasn’t with Alexandrine or at her old house, Cage wouldn’t be worrying about moving his family—he’d be begging for his old job back.
“Excuse me.” A smiling, middle-aged woman touched his shoulder. She wore a hotel nametag. “You’re looking for Annabeth?”
“You know her?”
“No,” she laughed. “But she told me a handsome, tall white cop was going to be down here lookin’ for her. My money’s on you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Where is she?”
“In the courtyard,” the employee said. “You want a drink?”
Cage ordered a beer and headed to the courtyard. Humidity still hung like a soaked mop, but the night air was cooler. Clear lights strung across the courtyard illuminated the uneven stones and white wicker tables. A bubbling, three-tiered marble foundation almost blocked his view of Annabeth. She was tucked away in the far corner, near the old iron gates leading onto the street.
She raised her glass. “I was starting to think you ditched me.”
Cage sat down in the chair across from her. “What are you drinking?”
“Champagne,” she said. “Cost ten bucks. You can get a grenade for that, and you’re drunk before you’re half finished.”
“A grenade?”
“All I know is that it’s bright green and loaded with alcohol. It’s served in a tall tube thingy. I’ve seen grown men pass out from drinking just one.”
“You worked at a bar?”
“I was a bar back,” she said. “And bussed the tables. They didn’t trust me to take orders. Can’t blame them. I had to quit after Gran got sick.” She drained the plastic glass and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. “What do you think? Feel like you’re back in time?”
“Every time I come to New Orleans,” he said. “Starting with driving in and seeing the big cemeteries. Even the newer ones—there’s something about the above-ground vaults that make this whole place feel like it’s stuck in time. Then you get down here, and it’s crazy.”
“Like no other place in the world,” Annabeth said. “I always think of it like putting a full-color picture of the French Quarter today on top of an old tintype from two hundred years ago.”
That’s exactly how it felt to him. Two different moments in time existing in a weird harmony. “That’s one of the best analogies I’ve ever heard.”
She snorted. “Sometimes my brain works really fucking awesomely.”
He took a long pull from his beer, nerves heating him from the inside. Might as well get it over with. Hopefully she didn’t cause a big scene. “I need to tell you something.”
“If it’s about earlier, I’m really sorry. Yeah, you’re hot as hell, but I’d never hit on a married man if I could control my brain.”
“It’s not that. It’s about the blue pickup truck.”
“You already told me about that.”
“There’s more to it.” The beer soured in his stomach. “It’s my fault you were kidnapped.”
24
His heart pounded in his ears as he waited for her temper to explode. She breathed deeply, trembling with the effort to stay calm. “I think I’m going to need another drink.” She flagged down the server and ordered more champagne.
“On your room?” the server asked.
Annabeth smiled sweetly at Cage. “Yes, just like the first one.”
He waited until the server was out of earshot and plunged ahead. “I became a cop because of my sister’s murder. I was a rookie then and angry at the world. Being a cop made me feel powerful.”
“You were an asshole,” Annabeth said.
“Pretty much. You were a track star, like I said. Colleges were scouting you. Unless you were injured, an athletic scholarship was a real possibility.”
Annabeth glanced down at her legs. “My thighs rub together when I walk. You sure you’re talking about me?”
“Yes, you were thinner and in great shape.” He clamped his mouth shut. “Not that you’re fat now. Not at all. But you were younger and trained all—”
“Please shut up about my weight,” Annabeth said.
“Right. A couple of days before you disappeared, I pulled you over for erratic driving. The car reeked of pot.” Given the late hour, he hadn’t been surprised. Kids partied. He’d done plenty of stupid things when he was her age.
“You begged me to let you off,” Cage said. “You had a big meet coming up, and the college recruiters were going to be there. I let you go. Never even told your parents.”
“Is that all?” Annabeth asked. “Sounds like you were a cool guy.”
“That’s not all. At the time, we didn’t know who killed my sister. She lived in Jackson, but she came home a lot. She was a social worker, a big advocate for kids. One weekend she came home on a mission. She managed to have a dealer’s kid taken out of his house—for abuse, not drugs. She was killed a couple of weeks later. Everyone thought her murder was revenge.”
“Where do I come in? I’m totally confused.”
“I was sure you bought from him. If you gave him up, then I could get a warrant and bring his ass down. Maybe he’d cop to murdering my sister. But you kept telling me it wasn’t him. It was some skinny white guy with greased back hair who drove a blue pickup with a rusty white camper that smelled like filth.”
She sat her empty glass down. “You didn’t believe me.”
“It was too detailed. I assumed you didn’t want to be a narc.” A bitter laugh bubbled out of him. “All these years, I blamed myself for not arresting you that night. You would have been grounded and not out at the lake. But the thing is, you bought the dope less than an hour before. The guy was headed toward Natchez, and you said I could still find him if I hurried. You told me he creeped you out. I told you to get home and to come see me the next day if you wanted to admit the truth. I never looked for that truck until it was too late.”
The beer tasted hot and gross, but he slugged it anyway. She watched him, her expression blank.
“I’m sorry, Annabeth. But I’m going to make it right. Don’t you see? We have a real shot at finding him now.”
“Let’s walk. Bring your beer.” She marched toward the street.
Cage didn’t want her running into a big crowd, especially with alcohol in her system. He caught up with her at the open gate and followed her out. The crowds had thinned, but plenty of people still roamed, drinks in hand. “What’re you thinking?”