Page 7 of A Sublime Casualt
“Neil didn’t call. Gabby did. She got a notification on Facebook. Apparently, Miles has a social media feed that drips through it and she saw something that shook her.”
I stare at the screen impatiently while my hand swipes his phone over and I shoot a quick text to Neil to get the hell over here. My phone is dead. In fact, getting a replacement was going to be my first move after a shower and power nap. I’m not on duty until later.
Jackson leans in, his eyes hooking to mine as he gives a slight nod. “It seems Miles has been smoking some really bad shit. Do not freak out. Nothing he says is real. He’s a stoner, thirty-year-old skater boy, remember?”
He’s not quite thirty. In fact, he’s three full years younger than my sister, and not her type. Hippie, long golden hair. Pretty, my mother called him. His eyes are perpetually glossy, and his wallet is perpetually empty. He was and still is a societal leech. He hooked a hose up to my sister’s bank account while they were dating and kept siphoning funds during the first few months after her disappearance until a friend who worked with my mother at the bank tipped her off when she went into overdraft.
“He’s a piece of shit.” My voice rides the edge of fury. “He killed her, didn’t he?” I thunder, my fist hammering over the table so hard my coffee jumps right over the lip of the mug.
“Whoa, big boy.” Jackson holds out his hands as if to steady me.
The front door cracks open as Neil pokes his head in. “What’s up, girls?”
Jackson shoots him a look, and before I know it, he’s standing behind me, his aftershave so thick it stifles my next breath.
Jackson takes us right to Miles’ homepage, his banner a picture of his eyes too close to the camera, his fingers shooting up from behind in a peace sign. Under his name it reads,Live, Laugh, Be Free.
Free is something Lizzy is not.
“Aw, crap.” Neil slaps my shoulder. “I’m sorry you have to look at this shit.”
“What shit?” I lean in and furiously scan the words scrambling around the page like ants. And then I see it. Holy hell.
“You guys won’t believe this.” I read Miles’ post word-for-word, monotone, because he is right. I cannot believe this. “My girlfriend is dead, and she just sent me a DM. She says she’s scared, and she is in hell.” My voice breaks as I say those menacing words. “She’s afraid for herself and that bad dudes keep screaming at her. She says it’s hot, like really fucking hot. And she’s petrified out of her mind. Guys, this is real. It’s her account. I’ll screenshot that shit. Lizzy is dead, and she’s talking to me from beyond the grave.”
Jackson clasps his hand over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. He’s a troubled idiot. We both know that.”
Neil points at the screen. “Five hundred forty-three shares, one thousand thirty likes, and over six hundred comments. That’s why he did it. He’s a damn attention whore. I’ll pay him a visit.” He slaps his hand over my arm. “I’ll catch you later.” He heads for the door. “And whatever you do, stay away from Miles Wallis. He’s a nutcase. I’ll see what I can do about getting a search warrant. I’ll get his computer to see if I can find something. You know it’s just a matter of time. I told you from the beginning, he’s hiding something.”
He nods from the door before disappearing. Neil has been more like a brother to me than a partner, the dad I never had. He’s older by a decade, married,separated. He’s tall and muscular with a friendly face that makes everyone instantly trust him, and that’s what makes him the best detective in the entire damn country. Too bad a trusting face isn’t enough to bring back my sister.
I forgo the shower for the next hour and stare at that cryptic message as if it were a word from God, from the devil, and it probably is the latter. But a fearful part of me believes it. Deep down, I suspect my sister is suffering greatly. Three weeks after she vanished, they found a body—naked and slashed to ribbons. A gray and rotting corpse, later to be discovered sexually assaulted, tossed in a thicket as if she were an animal. Her name was Karen Gilroy. As if finding a body next to Conrad University wasn’t bad enough, they found Lizzy’s wallet nearby. It stung like a warning, a bright red caustic beacon that indicated things had gone horribly wrong for Lizzy. She was in danger. Karen was dead, and my sister was more than likely next.
Miles Wallis catches my eye from the screen, and I stare him down with that ridiculous look on his face.
No, Neil. I will not stay away from Miles. In fact, I’m going to hunt him down and beat the shit out of him right after you pick his apartment clean like a chicken bone.
Lizzy is out there. Dead or alive, she’s coming home again.
I’ll make damn sure it happens soon.
Charlie
Oh my God, were the only words Gabby said all morning. She moaned them over and over again until I was showered and changed and ready to take off for the Hideaway Café. It appears Lizzy’s boyfriend—the rebound—according to Gabs, is convinced he’s being messaged by his badly misplaced girlfriend. Lizzy has supposedly revealed to him that she is no longer living and rotting in hell.
Well, isn’t that convenient?
Gabby offered to drive me to work, and since there’s a cold snap hitting us hard, I don’t decline the offer.
“I’m grabbing lunch,” she announces as she lurches into a parking spot right out front and we head in together.
The scent of grilled burgers greets us at the door, savory and rich with smoke. Dena nods as she passes us by, and I’m quick to thank her for covering half my shift.
“Not a problem.” The marionette lines around her cheeks depress. They look drawn in as if someone took a Sharpie to her pale flesh. “More tips for me.” She winks at Gabby before heading to the kitchen.
I duck behind the counter and pour Gabby a cup of coffee, decaf only. She doesn’t like the jitters. “You want the usual?”
I can count on one hand how many times Gabby has eaten here and still have fingers left over, and each time she places the same order. Steel cut oats. Maple syrup.