“It’s just another dead end.” She slumped back in her seat.
Someone, somewhere, had to know some-damn-thing, and frustration ate at her that she couldn’t find them.
Maybe Julius would find something.
She snorted at that. Her cousin probably forgot about it the moment she walked away from him. He was a good guy, but he rarely followed through with anything that wasn’t about him. He was the human equivalent of a butterfly, alighting briefly on responsibilities before flitting off to something more interesting.
“You always let Julius get to you?” Ghost asked. His voice was softer than usual, almost careful.
“What, are you a mind reader?”
“Your face changed. You had a slight scowl when we walked away from him, and it’s back. Figured you were thinking of him.”
She hadn’t realized she was that transparent. “Julius has always been... Julius. The golden child who can do no wrong in my grandmother’s eyes, even when he’s doing wrong right in front of her.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I’m not.” She wasn’t. Not really. “It’s just frustrating to watch someone skate through life without consequences while the rest of us are held to impossible standards.”
“Sounds like River,” Ghost muttered.
She knew River Beckett by reputation. The guy was a flirt, a joker—always grinning, always deflecting. Nothing like Julius’s confident swagger.
“Really? River?” she asked, genuinely confused. “They couldn’t be more different.”
Ghost’s mouth twitched in that not-quite-a-smile way. “They both like to run their mouths. Most people who do that are just noise. River is not. Neither is Julius. I got the impression he’s playing a game.”
“Yeah,” she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “He’s always playing a game. Usually three or four at once.”
She glanced over, trying to get a read. Ghost looked almost relaxed, posture looser than usual. Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe the absence of other eyes.
“Why are you really doing this?” she asked, the question out before she could stop it. “Chasing after missing women, even when nobody else gives a shit?”
He didn’t answer at first. The truck’s engine filled the quiet.
Finally, he said, “Doesn’t matter what I want. Or why. I see the pattern. I can’t ignore it.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
So she tried again. “You ever have anyone go missing on you?”
That got a reaction—a barely perceptible tightening of his jaw—but he didn’t respond.
“I did,” she said before he could shut her out again. “My cousin. Mary Rose. She was seventeen. Disappeared after a party, and nobody did a damn thing. Not the sheriff, not the tribal police. They just… stopped looking and— She bit back the rest, swallowing the old bitterness. “It’s why I went into the FBI. Not because I thought I could find her, but I needed to do something. I needed to make sure the next Mary Rose wasn’t forgotten.”
“You get her back?” he asked.
“No, she’s still gone.”
Ghost didn’t apologize, didn’t try to fill the silence. Just kept driving, and she couldn’t decide if she liked him for that or not.
They turned down the road to her rental, the gravel popping under the tires. The night was full of crickets and the far-off hoot of an owl. Her porch light glowed at the end of the drive, a little island in the dark.
She hesitated, not ready to get out yet. “What about you?”
He parked but didn’t kill the engine. “What about me?”
“Family. You have an annoying but loveable cousin like Julius?”
