Page 33 of Last Seen

Chapter Twenty-One

Halley

“Is it Kater’s blood?” Halley asks, trying to tamp down the panic.

A disembodied voice replies, “Roger that, Chief.”

Halley, feeling sick to her stomach now, carefully follows the blood trail to the street, where it disappears. The chief crosses the street, looking around, triangulating. “Nothing here. Trail stops at the gravel shoulder. Maybe the dog will find something more.”

“Should I ... search the woods or something?”

“Dog will be here in a minute. You stay put.”

She shifts around, glancing at her watch, thinking.

Leaving for Brockville seems like a distant memory already.

She knows this is how the world works, that it can shift on a dime, that there is nothing sacred, but she didn’t realize this would be happening to and around her this week.

Maybe her eagerness to right the wrongs and help crack crimes is misplaced.

This doesn’t feel good. Not at all. She’s just grateful Early is taking this seriously.

And that she stopped by. If Kater was taken by the stranger—heck, by anyone—they will at least have a jump on finding her. The first twenty-four hours are vital.

Another Expedition pulls up a few moments later, and the K-9 officer and his dog leap out. He is a gorgeous red German shepherd named Hermes with a bright-yellow harness and a badge. Halley met them on her last ride-along, and Hermes is a brilliant worker.

It takes only a few minutes to set him up with the scent. Halley watches the dog snuffle around eagerly, baying, following the trail of blood, then working the road up and down. He returns to a single spot again and again, moves a few yards east, then back. That’s as far as he goes.

“That’s it, Chief.”

“Vehicle,” Early replies grimly. “Taken and transported. Bleeding.”

“Yeah,” the K-9 officer concurs. “We’ll give it another go, just in case.”

The K-9 handler, nameplate “D. Carlin,” moves the dog around the house’s perimeter, emerging from the backyard shaking his head. “We’ve got nothing else, Chief.”

“All right. Hey, Sass, think you can sit down with the sketch artist and help with a look at the stranger? I don’t want to jump to conclusions—you don’t live here anymore, so it could just be someone you haven’t met before—but having a visual sure would help.”

Halley is relieved to have something to contribute. “Of course. Yes, he might be someone from town, but Kater and Aaron didn’t recognize him, either.”

“Aaron Edwards. He was there?”

“And a whole bunch of people. But Aaron was upset when the stranger talked to me.”

“Run me through everything he said. Was he interested in Kater? Hanging around her?”

“Not that I saw. He said he thought I might recognize him. But I didn’t, and he left before he gave me his name. He knew mine, though.”

“You’re sure he had a motorcycle?”

“Well ... no. He was wearing biker gear, and right after he left Joe’s, I heard a bike start up. But he could have gotten into a car.”

“I suppose he could have strapped her to his bike, but that would be hard, especially if she was unconscious.”

Halley has been trying to play it cool, professional, as if she’s investigating this case, following procedures, gathering the evidence and providing insights.

But at this mental image—her friend bloody and unconscious, being strapped to the back of a motorcycle by that horrible creep—it’s all too much.

She feels the tears start. She swallows them down and swipes at her eyes. The chief notices, though.

“Hey. It’s okay. She’s your friend. I know what you’re doing, depersonalizing so you can help, but this is different.”

“How am I supposed to feel?”

“Scared. Upset. But do it later, yeah? I need to get a team out here—no, Miss James, you do not count, you’re a civilian—and start searching.

Get this information out on the wires so folks can start searching.

Give me your prints, and your current info, then go back up the mountain or wherever you were headed. I’ll be in touch if I find anything.”

“You should let me help. I can help. I can—”

“Halley. No. You’re involved in this now. You’re a witness. I can’t have you on this case. You hear?”

She dips her head. “Yes, Chief.”

By the time Halley finishes at the police station, the sun is dipping gracefully behind the edge of the forest and the entire town is abuzz with the news of Kater’s disappearance.

The sketch artist did a pretty good job with her description of the stranger, and an unidentified partial fingerprint was found on her mother’s file.

Chances are it’s Theo’s, or maybe Aaron’s, but just in case, they are putting it into the system.

She can’t leave for Brockville now. At least not tonight.

She’s as rattled as everyone else. Plus, the chief was pretty clear that she needed to stick around.

No sense pissing off Early. He’s one of the good ones, and she wants to keep him on her side.

She checks on her dad, who is relieved she’s still in Marchburg, then heads to the house.

Ailuros deigns to speak to her, but only after she gives him a snack. Spoiled rotten, that cat.

Anne calls, then comes over and makes lasagna, and while it should be comforting to have someone take care of her, Halley can’t settle.

They sit at the table together awkwardly, two women who love the same man finding their bearings, drinking wine, and making small talk about her dad, town, the latest from school, and, eventually, Kater’s disappearance.

Anne is not tuned in to the crime world, and Halley gives her a rundown of what happened at the scene, and what steps will happen next.

Finally, they’ve exhausted all the chitchat, and Anne clears the table, sits back down, and with a sigh says, “Ask me. I can tell you’re about to burst.”

“Did you know?” Halley asks. “Did you know about my mom?”

Anne’s curly blond hair is tamed in a thick braid today.

She has a habit of playing with it, and she immediately reaches for it as she starts talking.

“He didn’t tell me the whole story, no. He said she died in a terrible accident, and that it rocked him to the core.

He loved your mom. A lot. I think she was the love of his life, to be honest. I admit, I was upset when he shared the truth yesterday.

I can understand why you were, as well. But Halley, you need to know that everything—everything—he’s done your whole life has been to protect you. ”

“Everyone keeps saying that. I don’t know that I agree. Changing our names and running away? I understand that everyone thinks Cat is dangerous—”

“Not thinks , Halley. She’s a killer. And by all accounts, an unstable one.”

“So I’ve talked to some people who say otherwise.

It seems like once she got out of jail or juvie or whatever you want to call it, she straightened out her life.

She went to school. Got married—though it ended in divorce.

She has friends. They’re sick with worry over her disappearance. Does that sound like a killer to you?”

“I understand how your emotions can be clouded here. And I admire you for the attitude that one horrible action doesn’t define a person.

That’s an incredibly mature and hopeful reaction.

But the woman you’re describing is a sociopath who killed your mother and tried to kill you, too.

She doesn’t deserve an ounce of loyalty, sister or no. ”

“I can’t let this go, Anne. I have to know what happened to her.”

“Even if it puts all you hold dear in danger?”

“I think it’s the other way around. I think not knowing, not having any concrete proof that Cat’s alive or dead, is much more dangerous. She could pop up anywhere, anytime, if I don’t figure this out now. I’m interested in resolving the danger.”

Anne shakes her head sadly. “Your dad said you wouldn’t be persuaded.

That when you get an idea in your head, you can’t ever let up.

But Halley, you need to realize that this isn’t only about you and your feelings.

Your dad’s packed a lot away to keep you happy and safe.

You’re tearing him apart, too. And we don’t know if it’s tied, but another woman is missing.

Or worse. This has gotten bigger than your desires, Halley.

We can’t have something happen to you, too.

It would break your dad. And that would break me. ”

“Heard, Anne. Loud and clear.” Halley stands. “I’ll help you clean up.”

“I’ll take care of it. I know you’re anxious, Halley. This is a lot to handle. Your whole life has been upended.”

“Yeah. Well. I guess. I’m more worried about Kater right now.”

“Do you think her disappearance has anything to do with you finding out about your sister and your mom? The timing, that strange man last night—”

Halley’s cell phone rings, and she digs it out of her pocket. At the number on the screen, her heart drops. “It’s the chief,” she tells Anne, then answers.

Early’s voice is sharp and tense. “Halley, I have some bad news. We’ve found Miss Star’s remains. I need you to come to the station immediately.”

“Wait. What? She’s dead?” A gasp from the teacher, her eyes wide, mirroring Halley’s.

“I’m sending a car for you, Halley. Are you alone?”

“No. Mrs. Peterson—sorry, Anne—is here.”

“Good. Stay right there, and we’ll be by to get you in a few.”

“Am I under arrest or something?”

“Stay put,” he says and hangs up.

“Oh, God,” she says, stumbling to Anne, accepting the hug, her entire being shifting. Is this her fault? Has she caused her friend’s death?

Anne lets her go and sits down hard at the table. “They found Kater’s body?”

“Yes.”

“Was she murdered?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.” Halley is in shock. She stares out the window into the black darkness, empty. She recognizes the sensations of disbelief and confusion. They were just together. Just talking. How could Kater be gone? How could she be dead?

Only a few moments later, the doorbell rings. Anne’s startled expression brings Halley back to reality.

“Listen to me. Tell Dad what’s going on.

Tell him Kater’s body was found, and that they are bringing me to the police station.

I don’t know if I’m a suspect somehow, which would be absolutely absurd, but just in case, I am going to say nothing until I make sure I’m not being arrested.

I’ll call if he needs to get a lawyer down there to be with me. Okay? Do you understand?”

“I do. That’s very smart, Halley. This situation feels precarious.”

Banging on the door now. “Miss James? It’s Officer Meredith. I need you to come with me.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but please, go as soon as I leave. He’ll know what to do.”

Anne nods, and Halley grabs her backpack with the notebook and her phone. She opens it and texts Theo. Just in case, he needs to know.

Friend here was killed, chief bringing me in. No idea if it’s for questioning or security. I’ll be in touch if I can.

She confirms the message sends, then stows the phone in her pocket and opens the door.

Officer Meredith—midthirties, former Marine, reddish-blond hair cut in a bristling flattop, powder blue eyes, the whole menacing-meathead act derailed by a smattering of freckles across his nose—looks downright relieved to see her.

“Come with me,” he says. She picks up her bag and follows him to the cruiser.

The neighbors are out and watching, of course; Meredith was yelling at the door.

She keeps her back straight and her eyes forward, ignoring them all.

Then he steps around her to the front passenger door and yanks it open, and she lets out the breath she’s been holding.

Not under arrest, it seems, at least not yet.

Not that she’s done anything that would warrant being put into custody.

She climbs in, buckles her belt, and seconds later Meredith has the truck in gear and is pulling out of the drive.

She wants to ask what’s happening, but she also wants to be careful, so she doesn’t say a word, just waits quietly, timing her breaths with the siren, watching the town pass by in a blur as he flies to the station.

Less than five minutes later, he has her out of the truck, tucked into his side, and hustles up the back steps. He doesn’t relax his grip on her until the door swings closed behind them. He visibly relaxes and lets her go.

“Glad you’re okay,” he says gruffly. “Chief’s waiting on us. Let’s go.”