Chapter 38
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
KENNEDY
Ihave no idea where I am. I’m following the others, just looking into more trees, like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The way they’re all so confident they’ll succeed is throwing me because there are miles to cover and not enough people to search. We’ve been set up for the impossible.
The smell of pine trees and wet air picks up on the breeze that twists through, and if we don’t get this done soon, we’re going to be caught out in this storm.
It’s already dark. The shadows are getting larger, and I’m just waiting for one of them to call this thing so I can get home.
Or to Ziggy’s. I don’t know how his mine will go in a storm, but I assume he’s made it through hundreds of them, so I’m interested in seeing how it works.
As long as it’s him and me, preferably no clothes, I’ll be fine.
The rumble overhead is threatening this time, and I glance at Foley and Booker to see if there’s any reaction from them. Nothing. Because of course. All I know is that I’d hate to run into Foley in a dark alleyway.
I glance back at Ziggy, hoping he gets the message that I’m done with this—but he’s not there.
My gaze moves from tree to tree, trying to find the one he’s disappeared behind, and when he’s not there, I push back the way we came. “Ziggy?”
“What are you doing?” Foley calls. “We have to keep going straight.”
“Ziggy’s gone.” That doesn’t get an answer.
I’m trying to keep my voice level because he’s probably fallen behind, but the further I go, the faster I move, the more I doubt that theory.
Tree after tree passes, obscuring my line of sight, but when I yell louder and he doesn’t answer, worry passes over me.
Did he get lost? I dismiss the thought almost as soon as I have it.
Ziggy knows Wilde’s End, so that wouldn’t make sense.
My breathing has gotten heavier by the time Foley and Booker catch up.
“He’ll be fine,” Foley says. “We have to stay on track.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know where he is.”
“Disappeared into the shadows, did he?” Booker sounds like he’s going to laugh at any moment. “Scared of the storm?”
“Ziggy’s not scared of storms.”
“Maybe he went back for something,” Foley counters.
“Without telling us?”
“The guy doesn’t talk.”
“He does to me.”
Foley lifts the giant stick he’s carrying. It’s thick and shiny, painted all black, and with it almost at eye level, I can make out the hand bones painted on the outside of his gloves. “We need to keep going.”
I bat the stick away. “I told you, I’m not leaving without him.”
“What exactly are you so worried about?”
“He was here one minute, and now he’s gone. You don’t think that’s strange?”
“Ziggy knows his way around,” Booker says, like he’s talking to a child. “He’s like a squirrel rummaging through the underbrush. He knows where we’re going, and he’ll catch back up.”
None of that makes me feel any better. “He didn’t get lost. And he’s not scared of storms. And he didn’t tell us he was leaving.”
It clicks with Foley at the same moment why I’m so worried clicks with me.
“You think something happened to him.”
“Or someone.” My pulse is picking up as I even consider the possibility. There is no way in hell that I’ve finally found the one person who makes me feel like a relationship isn’t torture and he’s taken away from me. No goddamn way.
“If there was a struggle, we would have heard it.”
Like Mother Nature is proving Foley wrong, thunder claps sharp and loud above us.
“We keep moving.”
“I told you—”
“If by some chance you’re right, hanging out here isn’t going to help him. The faster we clear our area and get back to the meeting point, the faster we have the whole town looking for him. Now, stop holding us back and get moving.”
I hate that he’s making sense because all I want is to head to the meeting point now and demand that we forget about this stranger and find Ziggy. Unfortunately, I have no idea where I am, and without their help, I’m likely to be the one who goes missing next.
They’re right that the likelihood of something happening is slim, but the way I feel about Ziggy won’t let me not worry. Would he have gone off on his own? I really don’t think so, but it’s the only option that doesn’t make me panic.
I follow close behind Foley and Booker, urging them on whenever they slow down or start to bicker. Booker really, really doesn’t like him, and I have no clue what the story is between them, but their lack of urgency is irritating the shit out of me.
It feels like forever before we clear the trees, and I make out a few people up ahead. I’m assuming this is the meeting point, and I leave Foley and Booker behind as I pick up the pace. Not even the sight of Lynx makes me slow down, and I walk right up to him and his Lord of the Flies troupe.
“Ziggy’s missing.”
Those unnerving eyes settle on me. “What did you say?”
“He was with us, and then I turned around, and he was gone.”
Lynx bares his teeth, then lets out two short whistles, and the kids scatter. “Never should have trusted him with an outsider.”
“How is this my fault?”
“Broken twins are like a broken mirror. Nothing but bad luck.”
I frown, trying to work out what he’s saying. “We’re not broken.”
His cackle is cut off by Foley and Booker joining us.
“Ziggy disappeared,” Foley reports. “No sign of a struggle.”
“A skilled hunter never leaves evidence behind.” Lynx turns and follows the kids into the forest, leaving me more unsettled than ever.
“He’s okay … right?” I must be desperate if I’m looking for comfort from a man who willingly earned a broken arm and another who excitedly fixed it.
“Of course,” Booker soothes, patting my chest and earning me a glare from Foley. “And if he’s not … I’m a doctor. I’ll put him back in one piece.”