5. Eli
5
ELI
F reya spins to face Oz and I sigh in relief for a single second because I’m not ready to talk to Freya yet. Then Oz’s words sink in.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Oz’s throat bobs, his eyes blinking rapidly behind his glasses. “We’ve all tried and she’s not picking up. It’s just going to voicemail.”
I dive into work mode, steeling my spine and avoiding the way Freya looks at me as I go to Oz.
“Have you checked with the venue? What time was the comedy gig due to finish?”
“I, uh, I don’t know.” Oz’s chest heaves.
I place my hands on his shoulders and bring his gaze to me. “Look it up and then call to check it’s not just overrun. I’ll get your mom to call Priya’s parents, see if she’s back yet.”
Freya slips her hand into Oz’s. “One thing at a time, Oz.”
He draws in a breath and nods. “Yeah, okay.”
I leave the kitchen and head to the living room. I swear I can feel Freya’s gaze on my back but I don’t slow down. I don’t think about it. I can’t, not while Layla’s missing.
River’s always on at me about compartmentalizing and I know I’m no good at it. Whatever I’m feeling always bleeds into my actions, and right now I want to get out of here.
I clench my fists and force myself to channel the desire into something useful. When Priya’s dad tells Lucille Priya’s been back for forty-five minutes and she doesn’t know where Layla is I jump on the chance to leave. “I’ll go out in the car and trace her route home, see if I can find her.”
River throws me the car keys.
“The gig was at The Laughing Stock, just off Main Street,” Doug tells me as he rubs circles on Lucille’s back.
“What if—” Lucille’s voice cracks.
Jude’s loose afro bobs as he shakes his head. “We don’t know anything yet.”
Doug runs a hand over his beard. “I should go with you.”
“We’ll take another car,” River says. “Cover more ground. Lucille, you keep trying her phone.”
I drive slow, the tension in my neck that never fully goes away aching as I search for figures in the shadows of the streetlights. There aren’t many people out at this time though and the sidewalks are empty. It picks up a bit as I get closer to town and I come to a stop, rolling down the window to ask a couple if they’ve seen a teenage girl. They shake their heads in apology even after I show them my badge.
I circle back round to where Priya said they parted ways and get out on foot. I didn’t grab a sweater before I left, and the chilled night air sends a shiver through me.
I try to tell myself it’s not Maxwell. He may be in Danville, but his last kill was only yesterday. He doesn’t move that fast and Layla is not his type.
Adelaide Janson was in her thirties, blonde, Caucasian. Now that Freya’s twin is no longer in the picture he’s reverted back to his original profile.
Except it’s not a coincidence he came to Danville. He’s targeting us and I’m not at all convinced he wouldn’t take Layla to get at Oz.
I don’t think Freya would forgive herself if that’s the case. She already blames herself for everything her father has done. It made her reckless when Oz was kidnapped by her sister, and I dread to think what she’ll do if Maxwell really does have Layla.
I message River to make sure he’s keeping an eye on her. She’s no longer wearing the tracker, so we have no way of finding her if she does another runner. And I upset her in the kitchen. I saw it in her eyes. I hadn’t meant to back away, I just couldn’t let myself touch her.
Sitting there in the living room while the guys teased her—while Oz had his fingers inside of her—knowing I could join in if I just reached out, was a specific kind of torture.
I shouldn’t have slept with her. I needed her to know I didn’t blame her for Maxwell killing my mother and after weeks of fighting my attraction to her I gave in. I let myself believe for just a while that we could be together, all of us with Freya.
But it’s not that simple.
After River got the call about Adelaide, I promised myself I wouldn’t touch Freya like that again. If she still wants to be with the others, I won’t get in the way, but I can’t be with her, it wouldn’t be fair.
Now I just need to figure out how to tell her that. And how to stop Jude from kicking my ass when he finds out.
My phone rings in my hand. I swipe to answer. “Oz?”
“She’s back. She’s fine.” His shaken voice is music to my ears.
I stop walking, my heart kicking up a storm before settling down. “Where was she?”
“She left her phone at The Laughing Stock, she went back to get it, but it was dead. She’s been walking back.”
I go to straighten my hat before remembering I didn’t have time to grab it on my way out. I feel uneven without it. “Sorry, man, I must have missed her on my way into town.”
“No,” Oz’s voice drops with disapproval, “she took a short cut, came the back way so she wouldn’t be as late. The route she’s specifically been told not to take after dark.”
I get the sense from the way he said the last part that Layla is there with him now. I smirk, the relief rushing through me. There’s nothing like the scorn of a big brother.
“We’ll see you in a few,” Oz says.
My stomach twists. I can’t bring myself to go back yet. “I think I’m going to take a drive for a bit actually. I’ll meet the others at the hotel.”
“Everything alright?”
I kick at a loose stone on the sidewalk. “Yeah. It’s just this case, you know.”
Oz sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay. Do you want to talk to Freya?”
“No, that’s alright. I’ll message her.” I know it’s a lie as I say it and I wonder how deep a hole I’m going to dig myself before I manage to get out and just tell them all my decision.
I say goodbye to Oz and walk back to the car. I don’t drive aimlessly. I head straight for the crime scene. He killed Adelaide in her own home this time. I guess he no longer has a home base to take his victims back to. I hope that means he didn’t have the time to torture her.
I pull the tape off the front door and find a spare key under a friendly gnome with a yellow sun hat. Adelaide was a young mother. Her husband and two little kids are staying with his parents while the scene is processed.
The hallway is carnage. I pick my way through the glass scattered across the floor from the broken picture frames knocked off the walls. The side table is splintered, keys, papers, and other family knickknacks strewn across the carpet. Adelaide put up a fight.
I follow the destruction up the stairs and into the master bedroom. The body’s long since been removed but I don’t have to guess where it was. Blood spreads out across the bedspread, the tang of it hanging in the air. I breathe through my mouth so I don’t have to smell it, but the taste coats my gums.
Ropes stained with blood hang from the headboard, a clean slice through the twine where they would have cut her loose.
The emptiness I carry inside spreads through me, a deep aching numbness enveloping my body. I walk on dead feet to the end of the bed and drop to my knees. The thump as I hit the ground sounds too far away and the pain doesn’t register. I place my hand on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch the blood.
“Enough,” I whisper to myself.
I don’t know how long I stay there, going over and over in my head what I have to do. The thing I’ve never actually told River but that’s always been there, unspoken. He might have let me before, but now Freya’s in the picture I know he’ll try to stop me. They all will, but I won’t let them. Arresting him is not good enough.
Arthur Maxwell needs to die.