Chapter 43 – Aster
ASTER
After finally dragging myself off the floor, I track Lily’s burner on my laptop.
And what a goddamn surprise… it’s at Jackson’s place.
The other piece of shit who’s missing and hasn’t answered any of my calls.
The one person I trusted more than anyone not only to keep my identity, but to give me names for those who deserved to be killed that the police couldn’t convict.
I stupidly thought because Oliver trusted him, I could too.
After moving to Cleosville, Jackson and I reconnected, and one night after a few drinks, he shared frustrations about a guy who killed his own girlfriend and got off the hook on a technicality.
I try to convince myself this is all some bullshit prank and she’ll be sitting in his living room. At the bare minimum, maybe I’ll discover something that will help me find her… or her body.
My chest tightens. No. We’re not going there.
I will not allow myself to accept she’s dead.
It doesn’t feel like she is. From the moment I met Lily, things just felt different.
It was like there was this thread attached from my heart to hers, and when she first smiled at me, it glowed gold.
Like the unbreakable lifeline in Hercules that couldn’t be cut.
Ours can’t be cut. It’s permanent, and I still fucking sense it—that’s how I know she’s out there.
If she wasn’t, surely I wouldn’t feel it anymore… along with any single reason to live. Right?
I take a deep breath.
Let’s shove the suicidal thoughts into my box of fears and focus on the task at hand.
Finding my girl.
Heading to the drawer of my desk, I open it. Vetrel’s gun glints up at me. Hesitancy courses through my veins, but I force my moral compass away and snatch it out. If ever there was a time to use a cheat, it’s tonight.
Cars whir by in my peripheral as I weave in and out of traffic on my motorcycle.
Twenty minutes later, I’m outside Jackson’s house, shielded in the shadows.
His police cruiser is gone, and I thank fuck for it because I might off him out of spite.
After our arrangement became more permanent, we limited our contact, but that doesn’t mean I don’t keep tabs on where he lives.
Quietly, I open the side gate, slipping into the backyard, and let myself in the sliding glass door. Closing it softly behind me, I take a steadying breath.
It’s quiet. So eerily quiet. I use the moon to guide me so I don’t cause any alarm by a visible light being shined throughout the house.
In the kitchen, there are take-out containers open on the island, food still inside. Seems like he left in a hurry.
Unfortunately, the tracker only gives me a location within 500 feet, so I’ll have to case the house the old-fashioned way.
In the living room, it’s empty. No sign of her, no clues, absolutely nothing.
I check the guest room for good measure, and more of the same.
After pulling up Lily’s contact on the burner, I dial her number.
The ringtone goes off faintly in the distance, and I follow its echo down the hall.
As I near the opposite side of the house, the sound amplifies.
The door is slightly ajar, and I nudge it open, allowing myself inside.
Jackson’s room. It’s large, spacious, and tidy, with absolutely no sign of Lily.
I head for the dresser, and open the drawers in rapid succession, finding nothing.
Moving on to his nightstand, I freeze in place when Lily’s burner phone screen stares at me from the drawer.
What the hell are you doing with this?
Could he have killed her? Is he Kodak?
I trusted him. He wanted the same thing as me. Didn’t he? That’s why I took out the bad guys he recommended with no hesitation. Was that a mistake? Was I led by blind faith?
There’s no way Jackson is an infamous serial killer.
Why would he send me targets if he could just take them out himself? To double the carnage?
My mind spins, trying to untangle what I believe. Jackson has helped me for years now. And since he’s a detective, he’s clearly a morally gray one. He knows Lily, and he’d have access to her house for leaving gifts. He’d be privy to her whereabouts thanks to Liam. Shit!
I shove Lily’s burner in my pocket, not giving a single shit if he notices it’s missing. I hope it spooks him. I need him to make a mistake.
There’s only one other thing in the drawer, and I pick it up. A sole piece of paper that solidifies my next plan of action.
It’s a check to Jackson for $10,000… from Judious Westerford.