Golden Trail

by Ashley, Kristen

  Another dream. Another fucking, shitty, fucking dream.

  “Baby,” Roc whispered, “your phone.”

  Layne rolled, putting a hand to the floor, reaching out with the other one, he yanked his jeans toward the bed and pulled his cell out. He pushed off the floor, rolling again to his back as his eyes slid across Rocky’s clock to see it was ten after eight.

  They’d seriously slept in.

  The phone stopped ringing by the time he settled back. He flipped it open and looked at his received calls, Rocky moving into him again.

  Tripp. Tripp at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. The boys had to be at the pool with the team but not this early.

  Fuck.

  “Who was it?” Rocky asked.

  “Tripp,” Layne answered, scrolling down to his son’s phone number in his contact list, he hit go.

  Rocky pressed closer as Layne listened to it ring, his body tense because of the time and because of a phone call from his son at that time and because of his fucking dream.

  It rang twice before Layne heard Tripp saying in his usual Tripp way, “Yo Dad!”

  Layne pulled in breath.

  Then he let it out while replying, “Yo, Pal. You called. What’s up?”

  “I was actually calling Rocky but she wasn’t picking up. I thought you might be with her.”

  Rocky’s phone was likely in Rocky’s purse which was downstairs on the bar in the kitchen.

  “Why’d you want Roc?” Layne asked, shoving an arm under Rocky, his forearm going up, his fingers beginning to play with her hair.

  “Need to check somethin’,” Tripp answered.

  “What?” Layne asked.

  “Girl stuff,” Tripp answered.

  Layne looked down at Rocky who was gazing up at him.

  “Girl stuff?” he repeated and he watched his woman’s lips form a small smile.

  “Yeah, see, she’s a girl and I need to ask her girl stuff,” Tripp said.

  “What kind of girl stuff?” Layne asked.

  “The kind where she’d tell me why Giselle wasn’t out for pizza last night and why she isn’t textin’ me. That kind. I figure she’s playin’ hard to get. She’s shy but she goes out for pizza, everyone does. I used to see her there all the time and we’ve been hangin’ the last coupla Fridays. She wasn’t out last night and she always returns my texts and she isn’t so… is Rocky there?”

  While his son spoke, Layne’s body, which had relaxed, got tense then he sat up, taking Roc with him. She got tense against him and her arm didn’t leave his gut as she pressed tight against his side.

  “Yeah, Tripp, Roc’s here but I wanna know about Giselle. When’s the last time you saw her?” Layne asked.

  Tripp was silent and Layne felt Rocky’s body go still.

  “Tripp,” Layne said carefully, “when was the last time you saw her?”

  “At school yesterday,” Tripp stated quietly.

  “Was she at the game last night?” Layne pushed.

  “Don’t know,” Tripp answered and Layne looked at Rocky.

  “You see Giselle at the game last night, baby?”

  Rocky stared him in the eyes then shook her head.

  Layne went back to Tripp. “You talk to her at school yesterday?”

  Tripp hesitated a beat then answered, “No, she was bein’ weird. Kinda closed off. Avoiding me. I thought –”

  Layne cut him off. “Text me her home number.”

  “Dad, do you think –”

  “Do it, Pal, now, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Tripp whispered.

  “I got this covered, Tripp, okay?” Layne assured gently. “Me and Roc got this covered. It’ll be okay. I’ll call you but before you hang up, I wanna know you know your old man has this covered.”

  “I know.” Tripp was still whispering.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  “Text me the number.”

  “Right.”

  “Talk to you soon, yeah?”

  “Yeah, later, Dad.” He was talking quickly, in a hurry to get the number to Layne.

  So Layne said without delay, “Later, Pal.”

  He flipped his phone shut and Rocky moved slightly away from him but when he looked at her, her eyes were drilling into him.

  “What?” she asked sharply.

  “Get dressed, baby, I need you to call Giselle Speakmon’s parents. Find out if she’s actin’ okay.”

  “Why?” Her voice was still sharp.

  “She’s cut Tripp out. Sudden. She –” Layne started to explain but didn’t finish because Rocky was on the move. She threw the covers back, jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

  Layne’s phone chimed in his hand. He flipped it open and saw Tripp sent him Giselle’s home number and cell number.

  Layne got out of bed, grabbed his jeans, tugged them on and then followed Rocky to the bathroom only for her to come out before he got there. She skirted him and went directly to her underwear on the floor.

  Layne turned to face her while he advised, “Sweetcheeks, brush your teeth, wash your face, make coffee. Settle, sort your head out before you make the call.”

  “They got to her,” Rocky hissed while she tugged on her panties under her big nightshirt. Then her head flew back and her blue eyes pierced him. “We waited too long.”

  “We don’t know that,” Layne replied and Rocky glared at him so he went on. “Settle, Roc, you need your shit together to make this call.”

  “We waited too long,” she repeated, her face so filled with worry it was twisted.

  “Raquel, settle,” Layne ordered low.

  She stared at him. Then she walked to him, around him and back into the bathroom. He went to stand in the doorway and he watched her preparing her toothbrush.

  “What do I say?” she asked then shoved the toothbrush in her mouth.

  “In this scenario, you’re not Ms. Merrick, high school Lit teacher. You’re Rocky, Tripp’s Dad’s girlfriend, Tripp’s your boy and your boy likes their girl, their girl likes your boy. You’re equals. You’re makin’ a special dinner for a special occasion, it’s a surprise and you want Giselle there.”

  She pulled the brush from her mouth and through the foam demanded to know, “What special occasion?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Make it up. Anniversary. Birthday. They don’t know and won’t care. Then you lead the conversation another way, is Giselle okay? She was actin’ funny at school yesterday. You didn’t see her at the game last night. She and Tripp are tight, you and her are tight, but you’ve noticed a difference.”

  She nodded, bent, spit, rinsed and wiped. Then she walked to him, snatched his phone from his hand and walked out.

  Layne used the toilet, brushed his teeth with the toothbrush she’d given him the morning after the night Astley came to visit then he walked down to the kitchen to see the coffeepot filling and Rocky getting down mugs.

  She didn’t even look at him when she whispered, “I want this done, Layne, all of this done. I want it to be you and me and the boys and Blondie and the worst thing that could happen is Jas burns the pasta bake.”

  “I get that, sweetcheeks.”

  Her neck twisted fast, her hair, that she hadn’t taken the time to put up, flying over her shoulder.

  “You need to make that so, Layne,” she ordered.

  He grinned at her because she was cute when she was bossy, because he loved it that her concern ran that deep about a kid she didn’t know all that well and it ran deeper because that kid meant something to his boy and because she ordered it because she knew deep down he could do it and that meant she believed in him.

  “Aye, aye, captain,” he muttered, her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth, probably to yell, but he lunged toward her, hooking her with an arm around her waist and stepped back, pulling her into his body. She tilted her head back and he looked down, speaking before she could get a word out. “It’ll be okay,” he assured her softly.

 
“They hurt her, I’ll kill them,” she whispered fiercely.

  “It’ll be okay,” Layne repeated.

  “It better be,” she snapped.

  “If it isn’t, it will be, baby. Shit happens, you know that better than anyone, and people deal. We just gotta move now to make certain, if it’s already happened, nothin’ more happens.” She opened her mouth to speak but Layne kept talking. “I’ve given you a job, Roc. Quit fuckin’ around and do it.”

  She went stiff in his arm then she nodded.

  Then she turned toward the coffeepot.

  * * * * *

  “Hello, Adele?” Rocky said into her phone, she was tense and she’d taken three big breaths before she’d dialed the number.

  Layne was sitting on the counter, holding a mug. Rocky was standing on the floor, her waist pressed to his knee, her hand resting lightly on his thigh.

  Then it squeezed as Layne watched her face go pale and her eyes go unfocused.

  “What?” she whispered. “Yes, sorry, of course, I’ll let you go. If you need anything…” She trailed off and Layne put a hand to her chin, gripping it between thumb and finger, he forced her eyes to his and he sucked in breath at what he saw. “I’m… yes, I’m with him. He’s right here. You want to talk to him?”

  Shit, shit, fucking shit.

  “Just hang on one second, okay?” Rocky said into the phone.

  She took her phone from her ear and wrapped her other hand around it.

  “Giselle was supposed to go to the game last night. They live close to the school. She walked there but her friends say she never showed and she never came home,” Rocky whispered, her eyes bright, the tears not forming but they were threatening.

  This was unexpected and definitely unwanted. Withdrawal was one thing, missing another.

  Layne put his mug down, jumped off the counter, grabbed the phone she was holding out to him and put it to his ear.

  “Adele?” Layne said into the phone.

  “No, Tanner, you’ve got Wade, Wade Speakmon,” Giselle’s father spoke back and his voice was tight.

  “Wade, Rocky told me Giselle didn’t come home last night,” Layne said.

  “The cops know, we called them already. They’ve been here. Still, I know what you do, I want you to look for her and I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you whatever you want. You come over right now, I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”

  He had called the cops but Layne didn’t get a call.

  A young girl from Youth Group missing, Merry would hear or Colt, Layne would get a call.

  Fuck.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Layne stated quickly and went on. “Which uniforms did you get?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Who were the cops who came out on the call?”

  “He didn’t wear a uniform. They sent a detective. I figured they weren’t messing around, seeing as she’s a…” He stopped talking and Layne visualized him swallowing, struggling to keep it together and Layne struggled with him, trying to keep his patience. Then Wade continued. “They sent a detective right off.”

  Fuck!

  Layne looked at Rocky then he was on the move, moving swiftly toward the stairs, speaking and walking. “What was the detective’s name?”

  “Rutledge. Harry Rutledge,” Wade answered.

  Fuck!

  Layne took the stairs two at a time.

  “Only Rutledge?” he asked.

  “Sorry?” Wade answered.

  “Was it only one detective? Did they only send Rutledge?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want the names and phone numbers of all her friends. Every one. You get your wife to write them down. You call the police, you talk to Garrett Merrick, Alec Colton, Patrick Sullivan, Mike Haines or Drew Mangold. You don’t talk to anyone but one of those men and you absolutely do not talk to Harrison Rutledge.”

  “Why?”

  “No time to explain. I’m hanging up now. Do it. Someone will be over to get that list.”

  “Okay,” Wade Speakmon whispered.

  “Don’t worry Wade, I’ll find your girl,” Layne promised then flipped his phone shut.

  He was in Rocky’s room and he bent to pick up his t-shirt as he flipped his phone open.

  “Layne,” Rocky called and his neck went back to see her standing in the door, face pale, dark hair framing it, she was holding her body carefully.

  “Not now, baby,” he whispered, straightened, pulled his shirt over his head then he scrolled down to Ryker in his phone and hit go.

  It rang once then Ryker answered with a, “Yo.”

  “You listening?” Layne asked.

  “Yep, to nothin’,” Ryker replied. “Relieved Dev, who, by the way, is a pain in the ass.”

  Layne was moving while bent, grabbing his boots and socks. “Dev get anything?”

  “Nope, that’s why he’s a pain in the ass. Pissed and left while bitchin’ about spendin’ all night listenin’ to nothin’. Don’t think they’re even there. Silence.”

  “I want Gaines,” Layne stated, sitting on the edge of the bed, he put the phone between ear and shoulder and Ryker finally read his tone.

  “What?”

  “You got any clue where he’d be?”

  “Why?”

  “Speakmon girl is missin’ and has been since last night. She left to go to the game, never made it there, never made it home. I want Gaines. You leave my office, you get on your bike and you find that fucker. You got friends, you get on the phone, you mobilize their asses and they find that fucker. I want him in my office.”

  “Blows your operation, bro,” Ryker said softly.

  “We’ll worry about that later. Find that fucker,” Layne replied, yanking on a boot.

  “Blows everything, you take him,” Ryker returned.

  “Find. That. Fucker,” Layne repeated, flipped his phone shut and yanked on his other boot.

  “Layne,” Rocky whispered and Layne didn’t look at her.

  He flipped his phone open and called Devin.

  “What?” Devin clipped, Layne stood and moved to Rocky.

  “Giselle is missing,” Layne answered.

  “I’m on it,” Devin declared and disconnected.

  Layne stopped at Roc and finally looked down at her.

  “It’ll be okay,” he whispered.

  Her hands came to his tee at his sides and fisted.

  “Layne,” she whispered.

  He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pulled her to him and kissed the top of her hair.

  Then, his lips still there, he whispered, “It’ll be okay. Get to my house. Now.”

  He felt her head nod.

  Then he let her go, pulled gently away and took off.

  He was out of the gate and on the road when his mind cleared of everything except trying to shut it off from thinking he waited too long.

  He was trying but he was failing.

  * * * * *

  The door to the reverend’s house opened and Layne looked at Pastor Knox.

  “Well, Tanner Layne!” He smiled big. “What a surprise, you here, you and your Ma back at church, bringin’ your boys and Raquel into the fold –”

  Layne didn’t smile and cut him off. “I need the whereabouts of TJ Gaines and I need them right now.”

  Pastor Knox’s smile faded, his brows drew together in confusion and he asked softly, “What?”

  “Your Youth Minister, TJ Gaines, is not a Youth Minister. He’s the recruiting agent for an underage sex racket,” Layne laid it out and Pastor Knox’s face went as white as his hair. “Giselle Speakmon went missing last night and I need Gaines.”

  “That can’t be,” Pastor Knox whispered.

  “It is,” Layne returned. “Now I got a girl missin’ and I don’t have time to convince you this is true. You know where he is, where he might be or how I can get in contact with him, you need to tell me and you need to do it right now.”

  “I… we… we check out all of our employees. He chec
ked out.”

  “TJ Gaines checked out, sure. But the man you got workin’ for you is not TJ Gaines.”

  “I –”

  “Reverend, you can freak out later, “Layne cut in impatiently. “Now, I need everything you can tell me about TJ Gaines.”

  Pastor Knox stared at him then he stepped back from the door, turning sideways and Layne didn’t hesitate, he walked right in.

  * * * * *

  Layne’s boots made noises on the tile around the high school swimming pool but no one could hear it because all the noise the boys were making while swimming their laps was reverberating around the huge room.

  But Nick Fullerton saw him, he pulled his whistle out of his mouth, smiled big and walked to Layne.

  “Tanner,” he called while walking. “Jas tell you? He picked up another one last night. Purdue.” His smile turned huge but it would, Nick Fullerton was a Boilermaker. “They’re real interested.”

  Again, Layne didn’t smile back.

  Instead, when Nick stopped close to him, he ordered, “I need my boys out of the pool, showered and their asses in Jas’s car. Giselle Speakmon went missin’ last night.”

  Fullerton’s eyes got wide and he whispered, “No shit?”

  “No shit. Tripp and Jas know Giselle. I need my boys.”

  “Dad!” Tripp yelled, he was out of the pool and running as best he could on the grips on the tile toward Layne and Fullerton.

  Layne glanced at his son then his eyes went back to Fullerton. “Any boys want to help find her, it would be appreciated. They find anything, they call me. Tripp and Jas have my number. She isn’t alone, they don’t go in, they stay clear and they call me. No one else. Not the cops. Me.”

  “Dad,” Tripp repeated but Layne didn’t look at him. He lifted his hand and curled it around his son’s wet shoulder but he didn’t take his eyes from Fullerton.

  “That understood?” Layne demanded.

  “What do you mean, she’s not alone?” Fullerton asked.

  “Someone might have her,” Layne answered.

  “This someone dangerous?” Fullerton asked.

  “Absolutely,” Layne answered.

  “Shit,” Fullerton muttered.

  “Dad!” Tripp yelled and grabbed his father’s forearm so Layne looked to him to see Jasper was at his back, Seth, Jamie and Mitch at Jasper’s back.

  “I can’t send high school students on a girl hunt if it’s dangerous, Tanner,” Fullerton said, calling Layne’s attention back to him.