Chapter Two #2
“There has to be more. We will tear this apart over and over until something makes sense.” It isn’t lost on me that one of the officers from the kitchen has edged closer, a notepad in hand as he scribbles a summary of everything we’re saying.
We’re doing their damn jobs for them. Clayton leans on the windowsill, his breath fogging the glass.
“All I can come up with is that he blames me for his cousin’s death.
But that doesn’t explain why he’s targeted you and Harper.
” A tic beats in my jaw. Revenge is the worst type of motive.
This isn’t a jealous weirdo playing games.
This is someone who’s been nursing a rage and a narrative in his twisted mind, and whatever that narrative is, it’s dangerous for all of us.
Opening my mouth, Clayton suddenly straightens and beckons me over. “Hey, look. Something’s going on.”
Coming to stand beside him, I peer out of the window, squinting to get a better look.
Detectives cluster around one in the center, holding up a pair of photos, and the room around me seems to tilt.
The air in my lungs burns, crying to be freed from the confines I’ve trapped it in.
The images are grainy but unmistakable. The first is a front-facing shot of an ugly orange truck.
Inside, there’s a shadowed figure behind the wheel and a passenger slumped against the window, held upright by her seat belt, her hair like a curtain over her face.
In the second, the truck's tail has been captured on I-80 East beneath a highway sign.
“Where is he taking her?” I ask Clayton in a low, threatening tone.
“Home,” is the one-word response I receive, and it’s enough to set my blood on fire.
Like lava coursing through my veins, I tremble in a bid to contain the impending outburst. I was naive to think they’d be nearby, relying on Kenneth’s lack of balls to chicken out and bring her straight back, but it’s clear that’s not the case.
We’re not going to find any answers here at Waversea.
Clayton and I lock eyes for a second, two halves of a plan snapping together without the need to discuss it.
“I can have my jet here within the hour,” I state, leaning in closer than I’m comfortable with.
“But we need something to work with.” Jerking my chin towards the kitchen, Clayton spots the brown files on the island.
To my surprise, he nods and slips away without the argument I was expecting.
If he keeps obeying my every whim, we’re going to get along brilliantly.
Pulling my cracked phone out of my pocket, I light up the screen just as a lieutenant strides into the living room.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Master Waversea,” he says, all faux sympathy and a moustache that could hide a dozen lies. As if we have all the time in the world, he motions for me to sit. I don’t sit. Keeping Clayton in my eye line, I round the room, directing the lieutenant’s attention my way.
“Unfortunately, you have kept me waiting. I’m bloodied, and I’m bored.
” Striding toward the staircase, Clayton meets me there, ignoring those in the kitchen who have distracted themselves with Harper’s coffee machine.
My knuckles crack at the audacity, but one problem at a time.
The lieutenant still has his eyes on me.
“I’m going to clean up so I can be the best witness I can be,” I drawl sarcastically.
“With Master Michaels?” he raises a brow.
“I’m afraid so. He massages my balls whilst I wash my hair,” I call back without missing a beat, whereas Clayton slips and stumbles up the stairs. Entering my bedroom, Clayton closes the door as I swivel on him.
“Well?” I scowl, dropping the pretense. He rolls his eyes, pulling a brown folder out from where he tucked it into the back of his rented slacks beneath his shirt. I snatch it, hiding any notion that I’m impressed. There’s no time to stroke his ego, especially since I still blame him.
It’s his fault I didn’t spend my birthday night caged between Harper’s legs.
She could have been here. Safe and cared for.
I might have even let him watch again, but we’ll never know now.
Even once I’ve got her back, that mushy streak of generosity is gone.
I’m claiming her as mine and only mine. She doesn’t even get a choice anymore.
I’ll chain her to my bed and never let her see daylight again.
Tossing my phone at Clayton with a few harshly barked orders, he contacts the aircraft management company whilst I dive into a thirty-second shower.
Whilst relishing the burn as reddened water swirls towards the drain, I rush to come up with a plan.
The campus is swarming with cops, and somewhere out there, my father is lurking.
We need to get out of here without being seen by any of the cops swarming the place and the reporters at the scene.
I’ll be damned if we give Dickerson the heads-up that we’re coming for him.
And that’s without considering my father is lurking around somewhere, no doubt planning to pay me a visit any moment.
Nothing will stop me from finding my girl and tearing that bastard apart before anyone else gets the chance.