Page 81 of Misery
"I don't know—dark hair—he said—" She's struggling to focus through the head trauma. "Said he was an old friend. Said to tell you—to tell you Thiago says hello."
My blood freezes.
My phone buzzes.
Vanir:
Black SUV heading north on Highway 9. Moving fast. Thermal shows two occupants—one unconscious in the back.
"How long ago?"
"Five minutes? I can't—everything's fuzzy?—"
Another text from
Vanir:
You want me to call it in? Get cops involved?
No. Can't involve cops. Not with Thiago.
Not when he knows everything about me.
"Stay here," I tell Starla. "I’ll get Gwen and Vail to come over straight away."
"Find him." She grabs my arm with bloody fingers. "Please. Find Ivar."
I run for my bike.
In an SUV, Thiago could be anywhere.
But Vanir's still tracking:
North on 9 becomes Route 44. He's heading for the county line.
CHAPTER NINE
Elfe
The bar feels different without Oskar in his usual spot.
It's been forty minutes since he left, and the empty space at the end of the bar might as well have a neon sign pointing to it.
Every time I turn that direction, I expect to see him there—watching, protecting, making me feel safe just by existing in my periphery.
The way he's been for weeks now, a constant presence that I've grown to depend on like breathing.
But he's not there.
Just Aren, trying to look casual while obviously on high alert.
The prospect is sweet, really.
Maybe twenty-two, still has that eager-to-prove-himself energy that all prospects get.
Tall and lanky where Oskar is solid, nervous energy where Oskar has this controlled calm.
He's nursing the same beer for the last half hour, eyes constantly scanning the room like threats might materialize from thin air.
