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“About time,” Jaxon called over his shoulder from the table.
“You called him?” I asked, my eyes wide.
Julian arced an eyebrow. “Problem?”
His abruptness stunned me. “N-no. I just didn’t know.”
Julian continued to walk toward the box. “He called me because this concerns me too. I need to be here to see it opened.” He stormed over to the table where Agent Hyatt already started cutting into the corners of the cardboard.
Stepping behind him, I peered around his shoulder. His unique scent hit my nose, and I held in a cry. Julian could come off stage from a three-hour concert and still smell like soap, spice, and sex. I closed my eyes and tried to bottle as much of it as I could for later.
“What the hell?” His voice broke through my reverie, slamming me into the present. Opening my eyes, I moved in front of him. Slowly, I scanned through the white tissue paper and zeroed in on what lied beneath.
The faded unicorn stared up at me—the matted rainbow mane dingy with time, and white fur stained with dirt. Trying to catch my breath, I shoved the box as hard as I could across the table. It flew with ease and landed with a thud on the floor.
I heard my screams in my own ear, echoing as if they came from someone else. Present faded into past as the muted tan walls of my kitchen dripped into the disgusting mauve and blue flowered wallpaper that peeled off every corner of the tiny trailer. Voices muted as they called my name.
All I heard was the one that stood above me as my eight-year-old hands clutched the only birthday present my mother had ever scraped enough money together to buy for me.
“Whaddya got there, girl?”
“It’s my unicorn, Daddy.”
He kicked it with his boot. “Looks gay as hell. Where’d you get it?”
“Mama gave it to me.”
“She did, huh? Your mama should learn her place. I make the money around here. I say how it’s spent. And I don’t spend my money on shit like that.”
I held it close. “Daddy, please…don’t.”
He leaned close, his breath reeking of beer. “Gimme that horse, girl.”
I cried. “No, Daddy, please.” Prying my fingers open, he took it out of my hands and grabbed me by the arm, dragging me behind him. “Stop, Daddy! You’re hurting me!”
“Shut up, girl. You need to learn respect.”
Dragging me outside and across the trailer park, he took me to the neighbor’s fence. It was a place Chloe and I were forbidden to go because of the Rottweilers that had already attacked a boy down the street. As I watched in horror, he tossed my unicorn over the chain-link fence and laughed as the dogs mangled it.
I screamed, and he yanked me against him until we were face to face. “Remember those dogs, princess. Remember respect. Princesses can fly over fences too.”
“Phoebe!” I vaguely recognized Julian’s voice as I struggled against his grasp. Visions of dogs and trailers faded as my kitchen came back into focus. I blinked rapidly, desperate to clear the memory from my mind.
As Julian held me down, the only thing that resonated was my father’s hands on me. Violently shaking, I worked my way out of Julian’s hands and into Jaxon’s arms. My head told me I was being irrational, but fear twisted logic. Jaxon reluctantly held me as I calmed, and I snuck a small glance at Julian. He stood where I’d left him, jealousy burning hard across his face. I hated myself for seeking comfort from another man, but he’d pushed me out of his life. He’d started this. I refused to be the sole blame holder.
“Phoebe?” Jaxon leaned away from me, capturing my eye. “Do you recognize that stuffed animal?
Nodding, I relayed the story I’d just relived. Some of them grimaced, Agent Hyatt openly wept, a few shook their heads. Julian leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. I couldn’t blame him. I knew what ran through his mind. That same monster had our daughter.
As I took in their stoic faces, bowed heads, and down-turned mouths, I realized what most of them thought.
Iris was dead.
They weren’t looking for her. They were hoping to recover a body. They didn’t have to say the words. Their lack of activity said it all.
Chloe’s text from last night ran through my head, and immediately, I knew what I had to do. I’d given the LAPD and the FBI long enough to find my daughter. They’d had their chance. Their time was over. No one knew the man who had Iris like the one who’d bested him once already.
“I’m calling Predator Confidential,” I announced, suddenly standing.
