Page 91 of Forged in Rain

I huff as I type.Look, it’s not like anybody is just going to tell me shit. Besides, I don’t know what I’m looking for

How about where the fuck is John?

Well, that would make sense. Dick.Again, nobody’s telling me shit. You work for Pam. Maybe you’re the cock waffle who should be taking the info back

There’s a pause before he responds.What the fuck does that even mean?

Then, before I can even type, another message comes through.I work for me

Whatever

To that, Hate offers a final text.Look, it’s coming and soon. If you want to be on this side of the ground when it does, I suggest you start digging

With a tired sigh, I lean back against the seat and press against the bruise on my chest until it aches so badly I’m forced to stop. The pain grounds me, though, and I focus on the task at hand.

If I’m to believe Hate, I need to find answers and quickly, but how do I learn anything of value? And what do I do with it?

Trust McCafferty? Pam?

If Iris is to be believed, which is debatable, we need to focus on John. And even though McCafferty agrees, I don’t exactly have a reason to trust him, but Pam is a total mystery. What happened to my fun-loving aunt?

I don’t know what to do, but I better figure it out and quick.

Iris emerges a half-hour later, and thankfully she doesn’t look rumpled or high. When she’s back in the car, I waste no time. I need answers.

“Iris, if John is alive, where do you think he would go?”

“Well, maybe the cabin?”

“What cabin?”

“It’s up in the mountains. We used to go up there during the summer.”

“So, maybe he’s there.”

She gives me an unreadable glance but nods. “Yeah.”

“What? What are you not saying?”

“I get the feeling Mom’s already checked there.”

Eyeing her uneasily, I say, “Do you think she was trying to get rid of him, too?”

She laughs, the sound bitter, and it sends a chill down my spine. “If so, she was too fucking late.”

“What if she did? Maybe he is truly gone?” It’s macabre, but I can’t help the surge of hope. If John’s gone, maybe the issue is resolved.

McCafferty doesn’t have to worry about whatever he’s doing. Right?

“No, not possible. What about the letter?”

Slumping, I chew my nail. “Maybe she made it up to get the police off her ass?”

“But why the Cue shit, then?”

“Fucked up,” I murmur, rubbing my roiling stomach.

I can’t help but think of the baby in that picture. Where is it? And what happened to the poor girl?

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