Page 38 of A Sublime Casualt
The thought makes him uneasy, but he offers up a slow nod. “I’ve heard him talk about his cabin before. Years ago. But when I brought it up recently, he mentioned he sold it.”
“He’s full of shit. Go now. Run by the house. Call Fiona and tell her if you find Phoebe safe and sound. If not, call her anyway.”
Jackson rises reluctantly and holds out a hand, and I slap it. “I’m only doing this because I love you. I hope for your sake you’re right and this chick isn’t some batshit escapee from an asylum somewhere. I’ll head up Creek Road and see what I can find. I’ll give Thomas another call and see where he’s at with things.” He glances out the cutout in the door, and the guard opens it up for him. “Do not do anything stupid.” He glowers at me as he steps on out. “But I have a feeling it’s too late for that.”
Jackson leaves, and about five minutes later, Thomas shows up. It might just be my lucky day after all.
* * *
Thomas shows up before six—postsbail, twenty-five thousand dollars, and I make him promise to keep this quiet until I can fill my mother and sister in myself. I scour the station for signs of Neil, but he’s not at his desk. His truck isn’t in the lot. Fiona shoved my belongings my way before I took off. She said she needed to keep the gun, but I took it anyway and she didn’t put up a fight.
“You’re going to get fired,” she says it stern like a promise.
I slip my vest on and put my gun and nightstick in its holster. The only thing I want is to get everyone I love home safe.
Thomas gives me a lift back to the house where I find Jackson. No sign of Phoebe anywhere.
Jackson folds his arms, looking good and pissed for me. “She took your truck and the gun. You’ve been robbed. You happy? End of story. The girl was a con.”
I speed to the kitchen. “She took weapons, knives. She took the gun to keep her safe. She knows how to use it. And she took my truck to get to the cabin.” I look to Thomas and Jackson. “Which one of you is going to give me his truck?”
Jackson fishes the keys from his pocket. “I’m coming with you, man.” It comes out tired, more out of obligation than with enthusiasm to find my sister, to find Phoebe at this point.
Thomas gives a quick look around. “You are in deep shit. I’m staying put. Call for backup, would you? Do not go up there on your own.”
I look to Jackson, unsure of what in the hell to do. There’s not a soul at the precinct who would side with me on this one. Neil is well-liked, well-appreciated. I’m out on bail for murder. I’m pretty sure I’m on my own with this one. I glance to Thomas. “If we’re not back by midnight, send reinforcements to Neil’s cabin. All I know is that it’s tucked in the Tennyson Hills. In the meantime—” I shoot him the picture I took of that acrostic. “Find someone to figure out who sent this. I want to crack this mystery wide open like the rotten egg it’s turning out to be.”
Jackson and I take off for the Tennyson Hills, and I drive like a man possessed.
I’m coming for you, Phoebe. And I’m hoping to find Lizzy there, too.
* * *
Night falls hard,and it’s a virtual blackout in the woods. I keep my brights on for now, but the closer we get, it’s only going to serve as a beacon to Neil if he’s up here. It might endanger anyone he’s holing up in that cabin of his. My God, I hope Phoebe is nowhere near that place. The dirt trail that leads up the hillside twists along a stream, and it hits me.
“That poem.” I pull my phone out and bring it up.
Neil has a cabin somewhere in the Tennyson Hills, a couple miles north from his house. I glance down at that acrostic one more time. “Meandering through where the rainbows live.” I shake my head. “Trout. Rainbow trout. He was giving us directions. He’s been screwing with us this entire time.”
Jackson takes the phone. “Enduring winter’s wrath with fire in my belly.Wood burning stove, fireplace. That’s what it is. I don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there, but I want you to prepare yourself.”
An image of Karen Gilroy’s gray, lifeless body comes to mind. I paid her a visit in the morgue once I learned Lizzy’s wallet was found nearby. I needed to see what Lizzy was potentially up against. Just the shock of seeing her bruised body, that open gash on her left thigh as if she got caught on barbed wire, it was too much to bear. She was beaten. Her life ended because of those bruises. The heroin might have been the official reason she’s not breathing anymore, but she wouldn’t have lasted long regardless. The thought of seeing my sister that way sickens me.
“We’re going to find her.” My adrenaline skyrockets as I take the twists and turns as fast as I can. The truck skids out from underneath us as we pick up speed. “I can feel it, Jackson. I can physically feel us getting closer to Lizzy. So help me God, if she’s not breathing—if he’s got her chained up like some animal—I’m going to hunt him down and kill him.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right there cheering you on.”
The road narrows as we come upon a forest to our left.
“Hey”—Jackson swats me—“put it in reverse. I think I saw something.”
I drive back about twenty yards.
Jackson shines a flashlight into the woods and, sure enough, it reflects off a brake light. I pull in slow, my heart going off in my chest like a steel drum.
“That’s my truck. Phoebe must have gone the rest of the way on foot.” I pull in across from her, sandwiching Jackson’s truck between two pines. We get out, and the smell of smoke tells us the rest of the story.
Jackson ticks his head toward the east, and we make our way in the direction of the smokestack.