Page 52 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
“Fuck. That.”
He holds up a hand. “I understand you’re frustrated?—”
“Frustrated?”
I step away from him before I do something stupid, like take a swing. Getting into a fistfight with Tony when we were young, hormone-fueled teenagers was one thing; decking the sheriff is another.
That would end up with me in a holding cell until Judge Byrne decides to roll in—probably around 10 a.m. on Monday. Something I have no desire to experience when it would mean leaving Willow. Instead, I shove my hands through my hair and tug on the strands, struggling to get that sharp bite of pain on my scalp to somehow stop the anger and frustration boiling over into something more.
“We’ve been at this all day, Killian.” Tony drops his hand when I retreat a few steps, offering a sympathetic tilt of his lips. “We got farther than we thought we would, but it rained that night and almost every afternoon since. We can’t expect fucking miracles.”
“I don’t need fucking miracles.” I grit my teeth and release my grip on my hair, turning away from him. “I just need some fucking answers.”
Tony sighs. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
I twist back to face him, and several sets of eyes land on our confrontation from across the meadow where we set up our base camp for the continued search.
The team from Asheville stands with the dogs halfway across the wildflower-filled field, taking care of them after they’ve spent the day scouring the mountainside, trying to follow what little trail seems to remain of where Willow came from.
They look exhausted. Lying on the grass, panting heavily. Enjoying treats and a bowl of water.
But their failure feels like it’s my own.
“She’s been gone a year, Tony.” I suck in a sharp breath, fighting against the threatening sob that wants so badly to slip out. “A fucking year. How the hell do you think she ended up in that fucking river up here?”
He has the decency to look contrite. “I wish I could do more.”
Wishing will get us nowhere.
“You can!”
“I can’t, Killian. The dogs can only do so much. It was a long shot. We knew that, with the weather and time not on our side.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
And all they got us to was the end of the game trail we already discovered with nothing for hundreds of miles and no sign of where she could have come from.
The trail ends here.
Along with any chance of finding out why she was in this spot.
Adjusting his belt, Tony removes his hat, rubs his hand across his head, then reseats it. He moves to stand closer and drops his voice slightly, probably to dispel any belief that we might be actually arguing. “You know I’ve had people digging into those postmarks and the information Raven gave us.”
I nod.
“Well, I radioed in for an update. So far, no one’s come up with anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we haven’t been able to confirm that she was actually in any of these places. Yeah, there are postmarks and dates, but nothing else we can find. I’ve checked with the police in every city she was supposedly in. They don’t have any records of her in any way, shape, or form. No business licenses if she was selling her candles, no W-2s if she was working for someone else and getting paid. Not even a 1099. She hasn’t filed taxes in a year. She hasn’t rented an apartment where they did a background check on her. No signs of her vehicle. Nothing.”
The revelation settles on my shoulders, adding to the reality already weighing me down. “So…you’re thinking the same thing I am.”
He glances around the meadow and who’s around us. “That maybe she was never in any of those places?”
Hearing the words from his mouth makes my stomach tighten, even though I’ve been wondering how it was possible for her to have spent a year away and never to have contacted me, Raven, or anyone else except via random written notes. But the sheriff confirming it somehow makes it real, makes it so much worse.
