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In the mirror, a terrified man stared back at me, hopelessness creeping in from the fringes of the frame. Another gulp of cold tap water, this one smoother than the last.
I’m going to find him.
The thought struck me like Thor’s hammer. It shattered the chorus of “no’s” and “fucks” echoing in my skull. I pushed all that shit out and took a breath. Charlie needed me, now more than ever. His blood hadn’t even dried yet, meaning his abduction had only just happened. There was time to find him, and I was going to fucking do it. I ran out of the bathroom and past my bedroom, going into my guest room. I’d been using it as a home office lately and had a good chunk of material on Charlie’s case with me. There had to have been something in the pile of notes and pages I’d compiled, something I might have missed.
I dumped it out on the floor and started filing through every single piece of paper. I worked fast: police reports—useless; a profile on Evan and his connections—useless; pictures of Hank’s overdose I got from Anya—usele… wait a second.
I stood up and moved to the window, aiming the photo under a beam of direct sunlight. Hank’s body was there, needle in his arm and life out of his eyes, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. I looked to the corner of the photo, barely visible, like a stray afterthought.
Seven or eight straws of hay. Undeniably hay. And what would hay be doing in Hank’s otherwise clean yard? Unless it had been brought there by whoever had come to kill him. And what was the one place you could most commonly find hay?
A farm.
I went back to the stack of folders and papers. It took me a second, but I found the one I’d been looking for: Hillsman Farm, the page that had been uncovered from Charlie and Hank’s stash. I’d already checked the location out a week ago and didn’t find anything notable, but maybe… I left all the paper scattered on the floor and ran out. I went into my closet and to the locker in the corner. The door clicked open as I keyed in the password. I grabbed my gun and holster and got the fuck out, jumping into my car and peeling out of my driveway, dust and gravel kicked up into a tiny tornado behind me.
This might not have even been the right lead to latch on to, but fuck, I didn’t have time to waste on doubts. If it wasn’t, then I’d figure it out when I got there. For now, the important part was getting there. I slammed down on the gas and sped down the curving and quiet roads of peak suburban Blue Creek. I noticed a speed bump three seconds too late, slowing down just enough so that I didn’t flip my car.
I did smack my head against the ceiling as my car caught air, slamming back down on the pavement.
I stepped harder on the gas pedal. Images of Charlie smiling, laughing, lounging in my arms all flashed across my mind. I couldn’t imagine what situation he was in now, but fucking hell I wanted to be the one to set it right. I wouldn’t be able to handle the weight of losing him—my soul already wore cracks from my past losses. This would break me completely. Irreparably.
Completely and totally.
I slowed down as the road narrowed and curved up a slope, skinny oak trees encroached on either side of me. My knuckles were pale as I gripped the steering wheel hard enough to snap it in half. I racked my brain for anything else I possibly could have missed. Who in the hell could be behind this shit? I’d suspected Evan until he gave me solid proof he was out of the state on the night Hank died, although he couldn’t provide whereabouts for the day Charlie was pushed off the cherry picker. I looked into Domino as well, although it seemed unlikely to me that Hank had simultaneously been dating Domino and also secretly watching him with Charlie.
Cary Pope? She had a key to Hank’s home, and she didn’t seem very happy about my return to Blue Creek. No one in her family did. Her father near pushed me out of the police department himself. But what the hell could she have been involved with?
Maybe it was Cary and Michelle. Sisters, one of them having dated Hank and the other having dated Charlie. Michelle was the last girl Charlie dated before he came out of the closet—maybe she had some festering anger over it?
But Charlie was a solidly built man. Michelle and Cary probably weighed a total of two hundred something pounds when they stood together—I couldn’t imagine either of them successfully abducting Charlie. Then again, adrenaline was one hell of a drug, and I’d seen plenty of wild things over my years-long career.
