Chapter 35 Portland
Portland
Bob arrived shortly after, and I said quick goodbyes, then hurried out the door, Darcy’s words whirling through my head.
I slid into my car, put the keys in the ignition, and called Georgie.
“Hey, sexy,” she answered cheerfully.
“Hey, Georgie. Quick question—what was the last name of the boy who worked at Jefferson’s ball opening car doors? His first name was Paul.”
She let out a brief, surprised laugh. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d be your type.”
“I just have someone who might have some work for him,” I lied.
“Oh, okay, it’s Smith. He’s a sweet kid. I have his number, so I’ll send it through.”
“You’re awesome, thanks Georgie.”
“I know.” She giggled. “Catch up this week?”
“Absolutely. Gotta run now, though. I’m at work, chat soon.”
“See ya!” she said brightly and hung up. The text came through with his number a few seconds later, and I dialed it immediately.
He answered in three rings. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Paul Smith?” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel absently.
He hesitated. “Yes, it is. Who’s this?”
“Hi, Paul, it’s Amy Williams. I met you briefly at the ball. I went home with Ethan Braxton.”
“Oh yes, I remember you.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I knew what he was thinking. I rolled my eyes.. “What can I do for you, Amy?”
I thought about lying, making up some story that I was working for Matt, but I knew it could get messy, so I asked straight out, “I was just wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the cars you drove out on that night.”
He hesitated again. “Ahh, yeah I guess.”
“It’s nothing bad, I promise it won’t get you in trouble.” He didn’t respond, so I plowed ahead. “I was wondering if you can remember bringing Katrina and Robert’s car around to them that night?”
Silence. He knew something, and he wasn’t going to answer me. “Paul, are you there?”
“Yeah, sorry, just thinking. No, I don’t actually. I think it may still have been there when I left. There were about a dozen or more cars in the lot still, but Mr. Jefferson let us go early due to the storm.”
“What time was that?”
“About 12:30, why?”
“I’m friends with their daughter,” I lied again. “She just asked me to get some information so she can piece together the events in her mind.”
He drew a breath. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“Horrible,” I answered, my throat tightening. “Sorry, just one more question. Do you happen to know if Karson Worthington’s car was still at the party when you finished up?”
“Yeah, I remember it. That car is the stuff dreams are made of. I was wishing I could take it for a spin,” he gushed.
“Thanks, Paul, I appreciate it. I know Karson, so I’ll see if I can get him to take you for a spin one day.”
“Really?” He sounded excited. “That’d be awesome.”
“I’ll do my best. Thanks again, see you later.”
My heart thudded against my chest with sickening intensity. What did this all mean? Karson had lied, Robert wasn’t drunk, they didn’t leave early, and Karson had stayed later than he said.
I tucked my knees to my chest, closing my eyes, and the visions came storming back.
The sweet scent of his skin. The blur of fire and forestry. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re safe now.” His voice in my ear . . .
My eyes flew open. Karson was not a normal human.
The brain hypoxia might explain forgetting, but it couldn’t explain what I’d felt.
The heat, the pain, the speeds we’d moved at—those things were concrete.
Did Karson kill them? And if so, for what reason?
Was it possible he was a partner in the development?
He certainly appeared wealthy enough to be.
“In every case, you can’t ever assume you know the truth until you’ve explored every possibility.” It was my father’s voice replaying in my head.
I unfolded my legs and chewed on my bottom lip.
There was probably a perfectly innocent explanation.
I drove the few hundred feet to The Hollow with a dogmatic determination to confront him.
If he wasn’t at the bar, I’d knock on his door and insist he told me the truth.
I wouldn’t leave until he did. I tried not to think about Lucy.
She’d asked questions and disappeared. Was it possible Mike was right, and she knew something that they wanted to keep hidden?
He wouldn’t hurt me, I deluded myself. He’d saved me. No one saves people and then kills them.
I paused by the bar’s doors, collected my courage, and pushed them open. Grace looked up with a surprised smile. “Hey, Amy, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for Karson.”
“Really? I knew it.” She smiled widely. What she thought she knew I didn’t have to guess, but why she thought there was something going on between us, I didn’t know.
Her smile fell, and she grimaced. “I think he left town. He went yesterday.”
Left town? Why the sudden need to leave? “Do you happen to know where to?”
“No, but you should ask Shelley—she’d know.” She gestured with her head. “She’s out the back.”
I opened the door, but Shelley wasn’t seated at her desk.
I moved over to it, looking for anything that might help me find him.
A stack of unopened letters sat neatly to the side.
I glanced back at the bathroom door, listening for the sound of footsteps.
Intrigued and unable to stop myself, I picked one up.
Karson Worthington
Apartment 3 The Wharf
Mercedes Place
Portland.
It had been redirected to The Hollow.
I heard the toilet flush. Panicking, I dropped the letter back in its spot, making sure it sat exactly as I’d found it and stepped back from the desk. Shelley jumped when she saw me, her hand flying over her heart. “Shit! Oh, Amy, you scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry, Shelley, I was just wondering if you know where Karson is?”
She eyed me warily, moving to her desk. “He’s gone away.”
“Do you know where he went?”
She shook her head, lowered herself onto the chair behind the counter, and put her black-framed reading glasses on. “No.”
A blunt response. I got the impression that even if she did know, she wasn’t saying. “Everything okay?” She studied my face.
“Yes, definitely. It’s just a fundraiser thing. I pulled the short straw and said I’d ask him.” I fiddled with my bandaged fingers.
Her demeanor relaxed. “Oh, I’m not sure when he’ll be back. You never know with Karson. It could be a day, a month, or a year.” She picked up a pen and began to scribble on some paperwork. “But he did say he might be gone for a while.”
This news perked my ears. What need would he have to be gone for a while? Why the sudden departure? Was he running before he got found out?
“Oh well, it can wait until he gets back. Thanks, Shelley.”
By the time I made it to the door, I’d decided I would fly to Portland, find him, and find out the truth.