Chapter 9
Kade
After tracking the smaller boot marks for hours, Becca and I break at a rock outcropping. Reception available, I dial Thomas Griffin.
“O’Malley, what part of wait, did you not understand?”
Payback’s a bitch, dude. Mentally, I flutter my eyelashes and feign my best innocent voice. “What? Didn’t you get my message?”
“Why the fuck did you call the FBI? The body was found in our state forest. It belongs to us.”
Picturing his ears turning red, I hit mute. A quiet laugh later, I let him have it. “A temporary sheriff’s bound to screw up. In all fairness, I did ping your office. No one answered, so I left a voicemail.”
“Where are you now?” His abrupt bark brings out my inner rebel. No way am I giving him my location.
“Sorry… bad connection. What?” I make him repeat his question twice before responding.
“Huh? Can’t hear you.” This time, I guffaw out loud.
“Any signs of the lost city-slicker?” His shout probably distorts airwaves for miles. If he wasn’t such a jerk, I’d almost feel guilty for messing with him.
“Nope. Nothing so far.” Whistling at Becca, I pick up my sack and start walking again.
“Call me when you get done fooling around.”
The disrespect makes me lose my shit. “You want another tracker? Fine, no problem, because I got temp work piling up in my office.”
“It doesn’t matter. Because of your incompetence, she’s probably dead by now anyway.”
“What? Sorry. Can’t hear you.” I bail before saying something I’ll regret. What an asshole. Arguing with him is a waste of air.
Leaning over to pat Becca’s head, I ring my brother-in-law. “Any news on the cadaver?”
“His name’s Brett Johnson, the missing woman’s ex. By the way, I’ve taken over the investigation.”
“I figured. I just spoke to Griff. He’s thrilled.” Gravel crunches under my boots as I make my way toward the water.
“Hear this sound?” Hunt pauses. “It’s a hundred tiny violins playing Cry Me a River.” After we both chuckle, he turns serious. “Any closer to finding the pilot?”
My heavy sigh echoes my frustration. “Not yet. She’s hiking in circles. Eating berries and grubs—sticking close to the stream. It’s scary how skilled she is at wiping her tracks. But for what reason? Why stay in the same area if she wanted to disappear?”
“No clue. For sure, something’s weird. I’ll be there soon—had to commandeer a helo. In the meantime, don’t get yourself killed. Your runaway could be a murderer. One last thought—if you don’t want to lose your teen receptionist, you’d better call her ASAP.”
“Got it. See you in a bit.”
Shit, the last thing my employee needs is lockup. After saying goodbye, I reposition my sack’s weight and dial the office.
No polite greeting. Veronica yells, “I told you to stop calling—”
Holy hell. Scott was right. The girl sounds wrecked. “It’s me. Your boss? The sheriff?”
Ronnie isn't amused. “Where have you been? We have fifty-five messages from Mr. and Mrs. Gainsborough. Their kids have called too many times to count. Friends from the Navy, Marines, USAID, whoever. You have to call them all. I mean it.”
Once she stops, I lower my voice to a deliberate cadence. “Out of everyone, who was the most polite?”
She thinks for a moment. “There was an older brother—he was okay—Apollo. Yeah, that was his name.”
“Give me his number. I’ll update him. From now on, he’s their single point of contact.” Thumb hovering, I pause on the trail, while she heaves a worn out sigh.
After she rattles off the digits, she asks, “People are saying the lady is dead. Is it true?”
“We don’t know anything for sure, yet. Feel free to let the locals know.”
“You're saying I should tell Betty?” Crisis averted, she giggles.
“Exactly.” We all know the diner waitress is faster than social media.
I’m still patting myself on the back when she switches gear. “Are you going to fire me?”
Damn. Now I feel like crap—I said I’d train her but haven’t had the time. “No way. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Will do, Chief. Um… what was I supposed to do again?”
With an infinite amount of patience, I repeat myself, have her write it down, then read it back to me before hanging up.
Sighing, I call the lost person’s brother. Maybe the son of Zeus knows why the fuck she’s wandering around in the woods. “Hi, this is Sheriff O’Malley. I’m leading the search for your sister—”
“Did you find her?” His hope damn near guts me.
If it were my sister, I’d move heaven and hell to locate her. “Not yet. No worries. I’m getting closer, tho'.”
As I reach a fork in the trail, his voice tightens, “We heard rumors of a dead body. Was it her?”
“No. I can’t say more. Sorry.” Squatting, I study the ground and the nearby broken branches.
“What can you say?” His loud volume reminds me I should be searching, not making fuckin calls. Maybe, if I let him rant, he’ll run out of steam.
“It’s been days. No one knows anything. My brothers are buying camping gear. My sisters are posting online, organizing volunteers.”
Picturing dozens of unqualified people in the woods, I roll my eyes. “Please don’t. More footprints will slow me down. What would help is learning a little more about Briana.”
Much like air let out of a hot air balloon, he hisses, then stops. “Well, she’s an experienced hiker, ex-navy flyer. Worked for USAID until she got laid off.”
The level of his family’s angst appears disproportionate for someone in their thirties. “Is it unusual for her to go off the grid?”
“No… What’s concerning is her last text—I already told all this to the State Police.”
“Sorry, I’ve been out of range. Would you mind?” Maybe he holds the key to why his sibling doesn’t want to be found.
“Her message included a smiley face. Bree hates emojis. And by hate, I mean loathes. Someone else sent that text.”
Crap. No wonder her family is freaking out. “Can I ask—did she ever take a survival course?”
“Yeah. Several. Said it made her feel safer. Why?”
There, a footprint and another.
Phone on speaker, I resume my tracking. “Simply checking a few boxes.” Best not to give him false hope.
Huffing now, I reach a steep incline. “What can you tell me about her old boyfriend, Brett?”
“A bit of a player. She wasn’t all broken up when it finished.”
“Who broke it off?” I need both hands now, so put my phone in my front pocket.
“Honestly? I think it was mutual.”
About to lose 5G, I talk fast. “Did she ever mention getting back together?”
“No… but that’s not the kind of thing she’d tell me. I could ask my sisters, then get back to you.”
“Please do. One more thing? Any idea why her friend Andrea decided to go home early?”
“To be honest, I… imagine why she agreed to… in the first place. Andee despises… outdoorsy.”
Hoping not to lose him, I keep my feet planted. “Did you share all this with Officer Griffin?”
“Yeah. And more.”
“Do me a favor.” I rattle off Hunt’s number. “Call the FBI’s Burlington office. Scott Hunter will be heading up her rescue from here on out.”
After I hang up, I up my pace. If her brother’s right, she’s in deep shit.
Time’s running out.