by Mary Stone
“I’m not capable of losing you.”
She stared at him, surprise making her mouth sag open.
“If you think Ollie was bad without Beez, that’s nothing compared to what I’d be,” he said, staring straight ahead, “without you.”
She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. As she stared at him, her heart flooded with love. “Oh.”
“So, fine. We’ll spend a few days back at the gorge if it’ll make you happy. But if there really is something bad going on around there, I don’t want you out of my sight. You’ve got to be careful. Deal?”
Emotion burned her eyes, clogged her throat. “Deal.” Besides, she didn’t want Linc out of her sight, either. As much as she wanted his help, he was in more danger than she was. He was the SAR guy, not her, and two SARs falling victim to accidents in such a short time period? That was definitely too odd to be a coincidence. “So, we go back? Tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah. Fine.” He yawned. “Just…can we not talk about it until tomorrow?”
She sighed. She didn’t want to aggravate his PTSD, so she tried her best to screw her mouth shut, as hard as it was. Meanwhile, she scribbled down more and more questions, filling three full sheets of paper with her ramblings.
As the sun finally slipped behind the hills, taking with it the last light of day, she squinted in the dusk to see what she’d written, then stuffed it into her backpack.
Still, her mind kept racing with ideas. She lifted her phone and started to search Amy Cooper’s personal information, just as they hit the Asheville exit.
“Any idea about dinner?”
Kylie’s mouth watered. They’d had Cheerios for breakfast, watery coffee for lunch, so she had to admit, she was starving. “Something greasy.”
Linc didn’t like grease, but he humored Kylie because she did, which was probably the reason he’d softened up a little around the gut. He pulled up to the drive-thru of a taco place, and they got home at a little after seven.
As they pulled up the drive, they could already hear Vader yipping his head off, even with all the windows closed.
Storm whimpered in sympathy, then she let out a howl that made both of them look at each other. “What’s wrong, girl?” Kylie said, smoothing her ears. She looked at Linc. “Has she ever made a sound like that before?”
“No.”
Kylie ran to the door with the tacos and opened it. As she did, Vader came rushing out, not for her, or for Linc. He went right to Storm.
Linc called from the truck, “Jesus. The long-lost lovers reunite.”
“Oh, gosh, god forbid you get separated from your best friend,” Kylie baby-talked the big dog, batting his tail as the two animals sniffed each other excitedly. “Just remember who feeds you.”
Then she turned and looked inside, and her mouth fell open.
It looked like a furniture store had exploded in their living room. Vader had done a number on the sofa. In fact, all of the cushions were bleeding white batting all over the place. Several pillows were shredded to piles of fabric, and there were feathers everywhere. She winced as she put the bag of tacos on the center island.
Linc came in and groaned. “Damn it to all hell.”
“See? We can’t leave him alone for that long again or we’ll wind up sitting on cardboard boxes for the remainder of our lives,” Kylie said, reaching for two glasses so she could pour them some drinks. “Can you call someone at the vet to come and watch him tomorrow? Maybe we should just take him there, so he has other dogs to play with.”
He lifted the phone to his ear. “Already on it.”
After they ate, mostly in silence because Kylie couldn’t stop thinking about everything happening in Georgia but knew Linc didn’t want to talk about it, they both set to cleaning up the living room. The couch was practically destroyed, so they pushed it out onto the porch so Linc could take it to the dump some other time. Then they swept and vacuumed up all the feathers, and by then, it was late.
They went up to the bedroom, got into bed, and she tried to go to sleep, but Kylie’s mind whirled with everything she wanted to do. There was too much to think about. Too much to do.
She looked over at Linc, but he was fast asleep, snoring softly. He didn’t seem to think there was anything to worry about, and his meds had knocked him out for the rest of the night. She thought of Ollie, depending on her to get answers. Pressing her lips together, she kicked off the covers and grabbed her laptop.
She opened it up and quickly started to outline all the thoughts in her head. She wrote down the names of the people who’d gone missing, wondering if there was some other connection besides two of them being part of SAR. She’d read somewhere that killers rarely targeted people at random. Was there some deeper connection here?
She glanced over at Linc, sleeping so peacefully, and an uneasy feeling came over her. He dealt with dangerous situations all the time. And in the past six months, she’d dealt with her share of mentally imbalanced people—a jealous wife, a serial killer, a murdering art thief, a deranged mafia princess. What if there really was someone out there who wanted to hurt Linc? What if he ended up on the target list, and by bringing him down there to help her, she was putting him in danger?
She forced the thought out of the way. Like he said, it could just be a coincidence.
Besides, he’d never let her go down there alone. As far as he was concerned, they were a package deal. And looking into this for Ollie was her job. Searching for missing persons was his job. They couldn’t just give up because of some dangerous possibilities. They needed to see this through.
Dangerous possibilities never had stopped her before. Linc would say that the danger was what spurred her to action. And it was true. She loved this part of the job.
She only wished it didn’t involve putting Linc in danger too.
Or…other people. She thought back to what he’d said to her, about having kids. He wanted kids. Would she be able to shelve her love of danger in order to keep their children safe?
She thought about that, long and hard, staring at her computer.
She didn’t know. She’d heard that becoming a mom changed a person’s whole life. Her mother had told her that. But she’d just found this great career she loved. What if she wasn’t ready for her life to change so dramatically?
Blinking away the thought, she forced herself to concentrate on the names she’d typed into her computer. As she was typing out more questions, thinking about how dangerous Linc’s job could sometimes be, she remembered him talking with Will Santos about some prison escapees they’d tracked down. That sounded exciting, but in all their conversations about the dangers of his job, Linc had never mentioned it to her.
She wondered why.
She flipped off her laptop and set it on her nightstand, then turned off the light and tried to go to sleep. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, wide-awake. She’d have to ask him about the prison escapees tomorrow morning.
That was just the first of only a thousand questions she couldn’t wait to find the answers to.
It was going to be a very long night.
14
At ten o’clock in the evening after the Tallulah Falls search, Will Santos could think of nothing he’d like better than a nice, quality craft beer and maybe a little pussy.
Instead, he was sitting at the bar of the Wagon Wheel Saloon, some backwoods shithole with beer that tasted like ass, women who were old enough to be his mother, and Jaxon Mott chewing his ear off about some shit-stupid sport called extreme ironing.
Not quite a nightmare come true, but not exactly the kind of unwinding he’d been looking for.
He’d desperately needed something to calm him down. When he’d found Kevin far off the trail, covered in freshly fallen leaves, the man wasn’t dead, but he’d been damn close. He’d lost a lot of blood from the arrow wound, which had gone straight through his chest. He was pale and barely breathing. The EMT who tended to him said that, if he hadn’t found him, he’d have bee
n dead in a matter of hours.
The other team had fared worse, finding Amy Cooper dead, a victim of murder and possible sexual assault.
It was the kind of day that made him wish he’d picked another line of work.
Now he was sitting at the bar, with Jaxon Mott, a talkative fucker who’d been on the search for Amy Cooper. As Jaxon went on, having a conversation with himself, Will popped a handful of peanuts into his mouth and read a text from Sam, his little brother. We won.
Will grinned. His brother was a senior at Clemson, and their star running back. He typed in: Go Tigers. He was damn proud.
When he looked up, Jaxon hadn’t even stopped to take a breath.
Jaxon Mott was a total asshole. Will had known that about three seconds after the guy opened his mouth. He thought he was cool shit, and he wasn’t afraid to let everyone know, in the loudest voice possible. Damned if every word out of his mouth wasn’t about how wonderful he was or how many chicks he’d banged. He’d strutted into the bar an hour ago, treating every person in the place like they weren’t worthy of him. It was a wonder, Will thought, that they hadn’t been kicked out yet, or worse.
Jaxon guffawed loudly, drunk already. He was wearing a motorcycle jacket, but Will suspected he didn’t own a motorcycle. He was too pretty for that. “Yeah,” he said, so loud the voice rattled Will’s eardrums. “Extreme ironing is still foreign in a lot of these hillbilly towns. All they’re into around here is making moonshine and screwing their sisters.”
Will clenched his teeth. You think you could say that a little louder, dude? A few “hillbillies” on the other side of the state didn’t hear you.
“Hey. Chill out,” he said to his idiotic fellow SAR. “I mean, I didn’t even know extreme ironing was a thing. What is it again?”
Jaxon sighed and ran a hand down his face. “You take a board to the most ridiculous place you can think of…and then you…”
Will only caught bits of the conversation. As Jaxon went on, he looked furtively around the bar. Three big men in cowboy garb at the other end of the bar tossed back shots and sneered at them. Will had been frequenting bars since he’d come of legal age, but never any place this rough. These “sister-screwing hillbillies” were huge. He’d never been in a bar fight before, and he really didn’t want to start with these guys.
Will motioned to the bartender and asked for another as it suddenly hit him, what Jaxon was saying. “Wait. So, it’s actual ironing? Like clothes?”
Jaxon shot him a you’ve got to be kidding me look of genuine disgust. “Ain’t that what I’ve been tellin’ you?”
Will raised an eyebrow, confused. As he did, he noticed that Jaxon’s pants were nicely pressed. “Back up. Ironing. How is that, exactly, a sport again?”
Jaxon blew out a weary-sounding breath, then began to speak slowly, like he would to a small child. “Because you do it someplace really wild. Like on the top of a cliff or something.”
Will narrowed his eyes, trying to understand. “But I hate ironing.” He looked down at his crumpled t-shirt. “I don’t iron. Why would anyone do that for sport?”
“Just something to do, man. It’s thrilling, plus nothing beats the satisfaction of a well-pressed shirt,” Jaxon said with a grin. He knocked on the bar top to get the bartender’s attention. “Give us another round. What’s that, rum and coke?”
Will shook his head. This guy was not only a prick, he was completely off his rocker. “I’m good. Got to get back home. Take it easy.”
He sucked down the rest of his drink—it was a rum and coke, hold the rum. When he discovered they didn’t have any good craft beers to tempt him, he’d decided a coke was a better choice, especially since he had to make it all the way back to Atlanta tonight. He hadn’t drunk much at all in the last few months. He was tired enough as it was from the search, and the last thing he needed was for his mother to hear about another DUI.
As he reached for his wallet, he thought of Kevin Friedman. Poor guy.
When Will had first spotted him in the forest, he thought the SAR was dead. In fact, he’d been certain of it. Kevin’s skin had been covered in dirt and blood, and the hunting arrow sticking out of his chest had looked like a nightmare. Will knew he’d see that imagine for the rest of his life.
It had been cold last night, and it was a miracle that Kevin hadn’t succumbed to the elements, and that they’d discovered him when they did. He’d been unconscious, and almost completely covered with leaves.
Next to him, Jaxon did another shot of Jack. “Wooooooooo!” he yelled after he downed it, raising his arms up in victory. “I just wanna get shitfaced.”
Looks like you’re already there, buddy, Will thought as Jaxon sat down and nearly missed the stool.
He’d come here with Jaxon, hoping they could discuss what had happened because he was still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing…how could a SAR, wearing the orange safety vest, be mistaken for a deer? Especially out on the South Rim, where hunting was prohibited. He’d wanted to unwind, talk a few theories, relax a little before heading home.
Now, though, he felt as tightly wound as an eight-day clock.
He pushed off the stool, more than ready to escape this place and this man. “Good talking to you. But Star’s waiting for me in the car, so I’m gonna—”
“Wait, dude. Just stay a little longer,” Jaxon said, nudging his elbow as he spun on the stool. “The night is young, man. Look at that one. I think she wants me.”
Will squinted through the smoky haze and spotted a woman who must’ve been twice Jaxon’s age. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about her. But there really wasn’t anyone else in the vicinity who didn’t have either a beard or three chins.
“Wait.” Will pointed at the woman, trying not to be too obvious. “Her?”
Jaxon nodded and licked his lips. “Yeah.”
The old woman winked, and Will felt vaguely nauseated.
For the second time that night, Will looked at Jaxon as though he was insane. That the hell was the man thinking? He was pretty sure he’d seen Jaxon arrive at the park earlier this morning with a young, hot blonde. “Didn’t you come to the search with a blonde woman?” he asked.
Jaxon nodded, not taking his eyes off his prey. “Yeah. My girl Crystal. She’s back at the trailer. But…” he punched Will and winked, “what she don’t know won’t hurt her. Am I right?”
Will edged away from the deranged man. “I guess, but you’re on your own. I’ve really got to go. See you—”
A loud voice boomed across the bar. “Who the fuck do you think you’re looking at?”
Will followed the sound to a giant, mean-looking biker. A real one, not just a pretty poser, like his fellow SAR. The man was staring directly at Jaxon.
Oh, shit, Will thought as the man advanced on the kid, hands ready to wrap around his neck. Here it comes.
Jaxon just gave him a surly smile as the guy shouted, spittle flying everywhere, “You really think you can look at my woman? I’ll rip that smug look off your damn—”
Before he could finish, Will jumped in front of him. “Hey. Sorry. My friend didn’t know she was your girl. No problem. He didn’t even touch her, so no harm done. Why don’t I buy you a drink?”
The guy’s eyes fell on Will and the heat began to drain from his expression.
Before it could, Jaxon laughed. “Sorry to break it to you, but your girl was making eyes at me. She wants to ride me into the sunset.” He looked over the guy’s shoulder. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”
The honky-tonk music wafting from the jukebox seemed to screech off-track, and the silence that pervaded the bar was deafening. Will rolled his eyes, right before the big guy nudged him out of the way and prepared to throw his punch.
Will tried again. This time he stuck up a hand, not sure he wanted to risk a fist to the face. “Whoa. Come on. Nothing happened. Let’s just walk away.” He motioned to the bartender, who handed him a shot of something he could smell from three feet away. He hand
ed it to the guy. “Here. On me. We were just leaving, anyway.”
The guy dropped his fist, grabbed ahold of the shot glass, and downed the fiery liquid, his gaze never breaking from Jaxon’s. “You best be going. And don’t come back, pansies.”
“We won’t.” Will threw a twenty down on the bar to pay Jaxon’s tab.
He grabbed the dumbass by the arm and hoisted him out of the bar. Jaxon fought but eventually followed.
They stood there, in the chilly night air, breathing hard. Will said, “What the fuck was that? Jesus, do the words ‘don’t engage’ mean anything to you, or do you always pick fights like that?”
Jaxon stamped the dusty parking lot with his foot and growled, “He was an asshole. Why’d you pull me out of there? I wish you would’ve let me rearrange his face.”
Will gave him a look. “Seriously? He had a foot and fifty pounds on you.”
“I’m a good fighter. I could’ve knocked his block off and made him go screaming to his mommy.”
Or you could’ve ended up dead. Which was more likely. But that’s okay, don’t thank me, Will thought, stalking across the parking lot. “It’s been fun, but like I said, I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow for the briefing. Take it easy.”
He hurried off to his pickup, unhappy about going home to his house south of Atlanta, alone, without some warm female company. Oh, well. Probably for the best. He’d have to get an early start to get back up here. There was going to be a press conference with the police to update them on the situation at the falls and on Kevin’s condition, and he didn’t want to miss that.
He’d left Star in the back of the car with her water dish, a few treats, and her favorite chew toy. She jumped into the front seat and nipped at his chin excitedly as he opened the door. “Hey, love you too,” he said with a chuckle, pushing his overexcited pup back.
Slipping into the truck, he turned up the heat, then headed out of the gravel parking lot, onto the narrow road. He’d been to the gorge dozens of times, so he knew these roads well. As he drove, he turned on a classic rock station and tried to relax.