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“What about his social media account? MySpace. Have you looked at that?”
I smirk. “MySpace isn’t really a thing anymore.”
“I mean social media in general,” he says, ignoring the jab.
“No, I haven’t looked.”
Rhett’s eyes shift to my cell phone sitting on the counter.
“Do you want to… Now?” I ask.
“Yes. Now.”
I retrieve my phone, click into Instagram and search for Jesse’s name. Sure enough, like every other millennial in the world, Jesse Taylor is—was—extremely active on social media. I scroll through the images. Most feature Jesse with his friends, a motley crew of self-loathing youths with their middle fingers permanently stuck in the upward position. All dressed in black.
“Normal stuff.” I slide the phone across the table. “Nothing that really stands out.”
Rhett takes his time scrolling through the images in the feed. I find myself staring him, noticing, again, how attractive he is. I remember the media circus and how many times Rhett’s good-looks were brought up, despite being totally irrelevant and inappropriate.
“Do you know if Jesse does drugs?” he asks.
“Not sure. I know that he’s a troublemaker so it’s really not that hard to imagine…. Why? Do you think he does?”
“From the crew he hangs out with, yes.”
“You know some of those kids?”
“No. I know their parents.”
“How?”
He shows me the phone, points to one of the taller kids with a tattoo on his neck. “I recognize this one from pictures on his dad’s prison cell wall. And this one?” He points to another. “Came to see his mom a few times. Their folks are in prison.” Rhett hands back the phone. “I think I know where to find him.”
“You know where to find Jesse?” My brows shoot up. “Really?”
“I have a guess, yes.”
“Where?”
“Inside Mount Mansfield State Forest.”
“You think he’s hiding somewhere in the woods?”
“Specifically, in a cave, yes. There is a maze of interlocking caves in the mountains north of Mount Mansfield. Off the beaten path. They call it The Hideout. It’s a place where people go to buy and sell drugs.”
“I’ve never heard of it. How do you know about this?”
“You learn a lot in prison—despite what you may think.”
“Oh.” I wonder what else Rhett knows that other normal, law-abiding citizens aren’t privy to.
“Who is working Jesse’s missing person case, do you know?”
“Detective Johnny Stroud,” I say.
There is no mistaking the flash of hatred in Rhett’s eyes. For a man as stoic as he is, this is an explosion of emotion. I’m not surprised there is bad blood between the two, considering Stroud was the lead investigator on Rhett’s case, in which he was convicted of murder.
I clasp my hands together. “Do you… do you think we should call him and tell him all of this? That you think you know where Jesse is? He’s been looking for him for a while.”
