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Now I have no choice. And there will be consequences. Memories are best when cloudy and unformed. When one seeks clarity, they become troublesome.
What do you think? Should I spook her a little more? You’d think locking the cat in the basement would have been enough to alarm her, then taking the keys and the file, facing her directly, but even though a woman grown, a woman of great intelligence and charm, she’s too young to be appropriately suspicious yet. She’s too young to be afraid of every bump in the night. To realize death is coming for her, as he comes for all of us. The more you have to live for, the more afraid you are of dying. At this age? You still think you’re invincible. That nothing bad happens outside of your dreams.
Come to me, curious bee. Let me show you how the real world works. I’m doing you a favor by teaching this lesson.
What?
For God’s sake, shut up already.
Chapter Twenty-One
Halley
“Is it Kater’s blood?” Halley asks, trying to tamp down the panic.
“Excellent question. You and I both know that until it’s tested, there’s no saying for sure. Could be someone nicked a deer and it ran through here. Can’t jump to conclusions.” But as he’s saying this, he’s fingering his shoulder mike. “Dispatch, get the K-9 down to Miss Star’s place. And send Meredith out to the feedstore, get their security video from last night.”
A disembodied voice replies, “Roger that, Chief.”
Halley, feeling sick to her stomach now, carefully follows the blood trail to the street, where it disappears. The chief crosses the street, looking around, triangulating. “Nothing here. Trail stops at the gravel shoulder. Maybe the dog will find something more.”
“Should I ... search the woods or something?”
“Dog will be here in a minute. You stay put.”
She shifts around, glancing at her watch, thinking. Leaving for Brockville seems like a distant memory already. She knows this is how the world works, that it can shift on a dime, that there is nothing sacred, but she didn’t realize this would be happening to and around her this week. Maybe her eagerness to right the wrongs and help crack crimes ismisplaced. This doesn’t feel good. Not at all. She’s just grateful Early is taking this seriously. And that she stopped by. If Kater was taken by the stranger—heck, by anyone—they will at least have a jump on finding her. The first twenty-four hours are vital.
Another Expedition pulls up a few moments later, and the K-9 officer and his dog leap out. He is a gorgeous red German shepherd named Hermes with a bright-yellow harness and a badge. Halley met them on her last ride-along, and Hermes is a brilliant worker.
It takes only a few minutes to set him up with the scent. Halley watches the dog snuffle around eagerly, baying, following the trail of blood, then working the road up and down. He returns to a single spot again and again, moves a few yards east, then back. That’s as far as he goes.
“That’s it, Chief.”
“Vehicle,” Early replies grimly. “Taken and transported. Bleeding.”
“Yeah,” the K-9 officer concurs. “We’ll give it another go, just in case.”
The K-9 handler, nameplate “D. Carlin,” moves the dog around the house’s perimeter, emerging from the backyard shaking his head. “We’ve got nothing else, Chief.”
“All right. Hey, Sass, think you can sit down with the sketch artist and help with a look at the stranger? I don’t want to jump to conclusions—you don’t live here anymore, so it could just be someone you haven’t met before—but having a visual sure would help.”
Halley is relieved to have something to contribute. “Of course. Yes, he might be someone from town, but Kater and Aaron didn’t recognize him, either.”
“Aaron Edwards. He was there?”
“And a whole bunch of people. But Aaron was upset when the stranger talked to me.”
“Run me through everything he said. Was he interested in Kater? Hanging around her?”
“Not that I saw. He said he thought I might recognize him. But I didn’t, and he left before he gave me his name. He knew mine, though.”
“You’re sure he had a motorcycle?”
“Well ... no. He was wearing biker gear, and right after he left Joe’s, I heard a bike start up. But he could have gotten into a car.”
“I suppose he could have strapped her to his bike, but that would be hard, especially if she was unconscious.”
Halley has been trying to play it cool, professional, as if she’s investigating this case, following procedures, gathering the evidence and providing insights. But at this mental image—her friend bloody and unconscious, being strapped to the back of a motorcycle by that horrible creep—it’s all too much. She feels the tears start. She swallows them down and swipes at her eyes. The chief notices, though.
