Chapter 56
Chapter fifty-six
Cooper
“Where the hell are they?” I seethe, my boots pacing across the parking lot of the track.
Ryder picks up his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Jefferson,” he grits out. “I’m done with this bullshit.”
Ryder had notified him about Dean, and officers had the place swarmed by the time we left.
He had agreed to have him and three other squad cars nearby while we waited for Billy to show up.
We didn’t have much of a plan, or his money, but I was getting my girl back regardless.
We’d use force and manipulation if necessary.
“We need a trace. Now. He’s still not here,” he barks into the phone.
He’s silent for a moment before he hangs up. “He said it should be within ten. Techs are working on it. He could be using a burner.”
Something in my gut tells me this isn’t right. That he wouldn’t just demand we show up then bail. But this is Billy. What if he just wanted us to be distracted while he got out of town. While he took her with him.
A flash of light flickers across the lot as Jefferson barrels out of a squad car.
“We have a problem,” he says, his strides long. “Got a trace. Pinged at the trailer first. Last location was on the highway right outside of town, then it disappears.”
“Just like that?” Ryder asks.
“Just like that. Either he turned it off or threw it out the window. Something.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” I pull off my hat and run my fingers through my hair. “We need to physically check the last location,” I call out, already on the move to my truck.
“We’ll follow you,” Ryder calls before he gets behind the wheel.
When we all file out of the parking lot, I still can’t erase that gnawing feeling that we’re missing something. And it may be too late.
“This is it?”
Jefferson nods. “Yeah. It ends here.”
We’re parked on the highway that’s leading out of Mayson Ridge.
“I can’t see shit,” Ryder scoffs. “There’s no way we’re going to find a phone in all this overgrown grass.”
The fact it disappeared doesn’t sit right. He was only about ten miles from the track. Why would he not show?
Walking along the road, I shine my phone light on the asphalt looking for anything. A sign.
Where are you, Birdie?
Then I see it. Skid marks. Ruts in the grass. I shine my light farther out, across the ditch that separates the road from the drop off.
Shit.
The guard rail that acts as the barrier to the river below has a chunk missing.
The tension along my spine nearly snaps me in two when I see the trajectory.
“Ryder!” My voice breaks as I charge toward the guard rail.
The black night is thick, but as I shine my phone over the edge of the drop off, a small shiny light reflects back at me.
A taillight.