Page 12 of StoryTeller's Tale

“Apart from the abandoned car, have the pigs made any progress?”

Legend shakes his head. “Nah. Presumably, CCTV didn’t show anything. And no one’s been able to contact her so far. She seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.” He eyes me carefully. “You know, you may be the only person to have found a piece of the puzzle. A possession of hers found in another state.”

I shoot him a quick look. Damn it. He’s right. I have. The police will be chasing their heels, trying to find her in Texas, while I’ve got evidence she might be far away.

“Do you think I ought to say something?” But even as the words come out of my mouth, I know me fessing up is unlikely. For a start, what help would that information be? I found her book, no proof she’d been anywhere near at the time. And, being who I am, a member of the Wretched Soulz, it’s likely suspicion will fall on me. The feds are only too eager to want to get a warrant out for the club, and even an innocent, “I found a book belonging to a missing person” is likely to start a sequence of events we might not be able to stop.

Legend seems to be aware of the thoughts going through my head. “Don’t see how you can. Oh, if it would help, maybe. But if she was there, I suspect it was only a brief stop. Fuck knows where she went, or was taken, after.”

“And the book’s not proof of anything.” I find justification for keeping my mouth shut. “Anyone could have picked it up and left it there. You only want to read a book once.”

“And it was dog-eared and looked used?”

Bashfully I turn away, unable to meet his eye. It was pristine, never been opened except to be signed. Fuck. It looks like Sheri’s on her own. The pigs will be chasing their tails, trying to find her in Houston where she was last seen. I try to console myself with the sensible thought that just because she was in New Mexico a day or so ago is no proof she’s there now. As Legend had mentioned, it was probably a pit stop. If she’d even been there at all.

Finders, keepers. That book is now mine. But for some goddamn reason, I get no joy from the thought I’m enjoying the book that’s rightfully hers, and while I’m getting lost in its pages, she could be going through hell.

“This housemate, she had no explanation? Sheri might have met up with a friend, a man, family member?”

“All those suggestions are on the responses to the post the housemate, Agatha, made. All discounted. Sheri, it appears, was a bit of a loner. Even going to the signing was out of character. If she had a boyfriend, she’d never mentioned it to Agatha, and she thinks it’s unlikely.”

Women disappear all the time, and often for the worst of reasons. It seems like an innocent reason is going to be hard to find. Would coming clean help in some way? If it might, I shouldn’t discount it. I rack my brains for some way I can help. “What about an anonymous tip-off?”

Legend shrugs. “Maybe, if there’s no way they can track you down.” As I turn back, I notice there’s a thoughtful look on his face, as if the wheels are turning in his mind. His lips press together, and he rubs at his forehead. “Only thing the cops would be able to do is get a hold of the CCTV footage at the rest stop and start trawling through it.” When I start to nod in agreement, the corners of his mouth turn up. “And it just so happens, I’m also able to do that.”

I don’t know how Legend works his magic, but he does. He’s the one who checks all the backgrounds of people who want to join up. Of his own, however, we’ve all a suspicion there are things in the past he doesn’t want us to know. But he’s proved himself over and over, and how he got the skills and knowledge that come in so handy can remain shrouded in mystery.

“Legend, that would be—”

“Nah, don’t fuckin’ thank me too early. I’ve got too much on my plate to trawl over security videos for hours. You want to find her, you fuckin’ look for her.”

Doing something has got to be better than sitting on my hands. “Just show me what to do, Brother.” Unless Prez has a need for me, I’ve got time. I bounce on my heels, suddenly eager. “When can we start?”

Slapping my back, he chuckles. “You have no fuckin’ idea how tedious this is going to be.” Then he considers, and suggests, “How about now?”

Feeling the need to be caffeinated, our other prospect, Ryder, is issued with instructions to bring coffees to Legend’s lair, and I follow him into his sanctum hidden deep in the clubhouse, waiting while he unlocks the door. He’s not paranoid about security with regard to our brothers stealing anything, but more worried about a drunken fucker wandering in and causing mayhem to his carefully set up equipment.

As always, I’m in awe of the array of monitors that hang from the walls, the PCs under and on the desk and at least two laptops which are there. Carefully, I step over the trip trap cables which no Occupational Safety and Health officer would approve, and take the seat opposite his expensive computer chair.

He grills me for a moment on exactly where the rest stop was, the time that I was there, and where exactly I found the discarded book. Then his fingers fly over the keyboard. It takes more than a moment as he inputs instructions, then finally, after both cups of coffee have cooled and been drunk, a look of triumph appears on his face.

“I’m in,” he says, with satisfaction. “Now, there are several cameras. I suggest you start from the one showing where you found the book.” He points to one of the monitors, and flicks through some views. Excitedly, I point out the one which shows the location, and chuckle softly when he rolls the footage back and I appear.

“Looking shady there, Bro.” He laughs, then pushes the keyboard over, and gives me some brief pointers about what to do.

Suddenly, the problem hits me. “How will I know that it’s her?”

Rolling his eyes, he snorts. “Give me a mo.” He pulls a laptop toward him, and only seconds later is turning it back around. “This is her Facebook page, and these are her photos. Now you’ll know if it’s her who drops the book, or someone else.”

Interested, I pull the laptop closer.

Until now, the Sheri to whom the book was dedicated was just an anonymous name. Now she comes alive in front of me. For some reason, I’d expected an immediate connection, in that there was one already, as the book she’d chosen had appealed to me. But the lithe beauty my imagination had summoned is not what I see.

It’s hard to tell, but unless she’s surrounded by dwarfs, she’s a little taller than I thought she’d be. About five foot nine I’d estimate. She’s curvy, pear shaped, and not immediately a person who’d attract me. But it’s her smile that gets me right in the gut. There’s a twinkle to her eyes that’s captured in most of the pictures, a curve to her lips that suggests she’s in love with life. A carefree way in which her red wavy hair is allowed to blow free with no attempts made to contain it, and clothes that don’t try to hide the body she was gifted with. Some people might complain her attire would look better on someone slimmer, but not me. For some reason, the character I can see makes me smile.

Until I remember there’s good reason to suppose this happy-go-lucky creature, I’m seeing in the two-dimensional images in front of me, is missing, and possibly dead, dying, or in a place of misery.

I wish I hadn’t bothered to look at her profile. It was easier to ignore when she was a faceless name. Lowering my head into my hands, I rub at my temples, suddenly knowing I can’t finish the book that doesn’t belong to me. Why should I have closure learning the ending in the fictional world, when the conclusion of Sheri’s story is yet to be written?

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