Page 91 of Lost on Ice
“You’ve reached Abbie Wixx. I can’t come to the phone right now…”
“Damn it!” I growl, hanging up on her voicemail.
I try again. And again, and again, and again.
Voicemail. Every fucking time.
Panic rising, I call Detective Peterson instead.
“This is Peterson,” he answers.
“Where is Abbie!”
There’s a pause, and then, “Jake? Is that you?”
“Yes!” I shout. “Where is she, Peterson? Have you found anything out? Is Stuart out of custody?”
“No, he’s still in jail on that warrant we found for him. I’m sorry, Jake. He’s not our guy. As soon as I heard from Sophie, we sent out a BOLO so every LEO is on the lookout for her. We’ve set up checkpoints coming in and out of Ivy Glen to try and catch anyone that might have taken her if they try to leave town. I promise, Jake, that we’re doing everything we can to find her.”
I grit my teeth, pushing down the anger rising up inside me. It’s not his fault—I was certain they’d gotten the guy too when they went after Stuart. Maybe it’s my fault, actually. I put all that focus on Stuart in the first place.
“If the fucker who’s been tormenting her has her, we don’t have time to waste…” A rational thought pops into my mind, breaking through the panic tornado. “Holy shit! I might know how to find her!”
I pull off to the side of the road and throw on my hazards.
“What?” Peterson snaps. “How?”
“I had her share her phone’s location with me when I was out of town last week,” I explain as I quickly pull up my maps app and search for Abbie’s name. “I don’t think we put a time limit on it, so I still might have access… got it!” Thank God! I study the location and realize it’s only thirty minutes away from the city. I rattle off the address to Peterson, saving it for myself.
“Okay, I’ll get units out there right away…” His voice suddenly fades away and I can hear other people speaking in the background, but I can’t tell what they’re saying. However, when Peterson exclaims, “Are you shitting me?” I tense.
What now?
“Peterson?” I bark into the phone. “What the hell is going on?”
“Jake, I got bad news.” He releases a short breath, his voice tight and furious. “I just got word that we’ve got a positive ID on the perp who vandalized your car. The restaurant cameras caught him, but they’re old and grainy and it’s taken a little while to clean up the footage enough to see who it was.”
That means they know who Abbie’s stalker is!
“Who is it?” I demand to know.
He pauses a moment and growls, “Dr. Paul Westbrook.”
Westbrook… Westbrook?
That smug motherfucker. I fucking knew there was something about him I didn’t like. My blood boils and I see red. I pull back onto the road and speed into the night.
“Fucking Westbrook!” I spew through gritted teeth, and I don’t care that the detective hears me.
How could I be so stupid? How could I not see that it was Westbrook? He obviously followed her from Harrisburg, and none of the shit that’s happened to us in Ivy Glen started until he arrived. I’m such a fucking idiot!
“Son of a bitch!” I shout, stomping my foot on the gas, making the car’s engine roar as I speed down the road.
“Jake, what are you doing?” Peterson asks, his tone heavy with suspicion.
“I’m going after her.”
“You can’t do that,” he insists. “You need to back off and let us handle this situation.”
