Page 72 of The Burdens We Share
Harvey shakes his head, “He’s in jail.”
Selene adds, “This was obviously planned. If it was an impulse and someone saw her and just grabbed her from the street, the likelihood of them remembering a detail as small as a traffic cam is slim.”
Dallas rubs his jaw, “Whoever did this is obviously skilled. The splice would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else. I only caught it because I’m better than a professional.”
The office door swings open and we all look up to find Slater rushing inside. His eyes search for Aria and when they land on her, he relaxes. “I’ve called everyone I know. Nobody’s seen her anywhere.”
I look down at Dallas and he whispers, “We called him after you spoke to Harvey.”
I nod and sigh. He reaches for my hand and looks up at me with reassurance and so much confidence, “We’ll find her.”
“So what the fuck do we do?” Selene cuts through all the side conversations, getting straight to business. Never have I been more grateful for her lawyer side.
Harvey sets his jaw, “We find my fucking fiancé.”
Selene waves him off impatiently, “I got that, thanks. I meanhow.”
Dallas answers, “I’m gonna try to track the activity on this specific camera to see if I can trace an IP address or some detail that may lead us to whoever cut the footage.”
Nobody asks the question we’re all thinking.What happens if this doesn’t work?Brody is my best friend. She met me at the hardest point in my life and welcomed me into hers with open arms. She’s had my back througheverythingeven when I was an asshole to her because I let drugs and alcohol control me. Shebrought me into Satan’s Angels and our band would die if she weren’t in it. In a lot of ways, she feels like a sister to me and the thought of losing her has bile burning up the back of my throat and tears threatening to stream down my cheeks. I refuse to accept that something bad could’ve happened to her.Brody is okay, I tell myself.She has to be.
Chapter 22
Ivory
Brody’s been missing fortwo days with not a single lead as to where she could possibly have disappeared to. Dallas has been working twenty-four hours a day to find her along with Harvey who looks so unkempt and disheveled, my heart hurts for him. He has black rings under his eyes and his cheeks look sullen, his stubble growing darker from having not cared enough to shave.
Dallas has insisted I stay with him at his house until we figure out what’s going on. He’s worried that whoever took Brody and messed with the traffic cameras may try to come after Aria and I next, so he’s back to being my bodyguard and has guys stationed outside the house at all times as an extra precaution. He did the same for Aria, placing security around the house she and Sly share.
We’re all at Dallas’ today, brainstorming more ideas and watching more footage from around the cityjust in case. While Dallas and Harvey have been working non-stop, Aria and I haven’t been able to sleep a wink. Every time my eyes fall shut from exhaustion, I think about Brody and my eyes open back up and I watch more footage. Selene looks awful and almost sickly, but her skin still looks flawless and glowy. I wish I could say the same for myself.
I’m seated at the kitchen table, watching footage on one of Dallas’ millions of laptops when Aria drops into the seat next to me, her hair tied up in a messy bun, amber strands spilling out. She has purple circles under her eyes and she wears a baby bluematching sweatsuit. “Hey, do you have a tampon? I think I’m getting my period and I forgot to grab one this morning before we left.”
I nod, “Yeah, I’ll grab one.” I push out of my seat and through the room. I feel Dallas’ eyes on me and look over my shoulder, “Going to the bathroom.” He nods and focuses back on the computer. He’s anxious. I can see it in his face and I can hear it in his voice when he speaks. He’s worried about Brody of course, but his anxiety is from worrying about me. He’s scared that I’m going to go to the bathroom and never come back. The last two days have consisted of him watching every move I make, from blinking to refilling a glass of water.
I make it to the bathroom in Dallas’ bedroom and open one of the many drawers he cleared out for me, reaching inside for a tampon. I close the drawer and pivot to make my way back downstairs and behind the computer when my phone buzzes from the back pocket of my jeans. It’s probably my mother or Sam because anyone else who’d be texting me is downstairs. I ignore it and continue walking as a thought occurs to me.Noteveryonewho would be texting me is downstairs. Brody isn’t here.Could it be her? Anxious energy consumes me as I stop in my tracks and pull my phone out, immediately unlocking it and opening my messages.
I feel the color leech from my cheeks as my eyes take in the blocked contact on my screen. My hands begin to shake as a million thoughts race through my head. I click on the message and panic sets in as my fear comes to life. Here, on my screen is a new text message from the same person who started texting memonthsago. My stalker.
No.
This can’t be possible. Connor Mulligan is in jail. Dallas would know if he wasn’t and if that were the case, he’d do everything in his power to put him back in jail. This can’t be.
I’m so caught up in my anxiety over my stalker that it takes me a few moments to acknowledge the message he sent me, or rather theimagehe sent me. There on my screen, in my hand, is an image of Brody, bound to a rickety wooden chair by her wrists and ankles. There’s a gag in her mouth and I swallow a sob as I take in her fearful expression, the mascara trails that have long dried on her cheeks, blood coming from her bottom lip, and the pure terror on her face.
Trepidation claws up my throat as I read the accompanying message:
BLOCKED
I have something that belongs to you,
my sweet Ivory. I’m willing to give her
back if you cooperate with me
I respond immediately, my fingers shaking as I type my message.
ME
