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The Jeep comes to a stop, and my heart does the same as I stare ahead. A single yellow caution tape, long forgotten, whips through the air, clinging to a wooden stake to the right of the hole in the ground.
A ping of relief runs through me. She’s not buried here. There is a chance that she is not buried at all. I’m jumping to the worst-case scenario.
“See, there are fresh tracks. There’s no way they didn’t search this area first,” Paxton says, hopping out.
I glance at the fresh tire marks and nod. He’s right. This is ridiculous.
“Stay here. I’ll just check it out real quick.”
You don’t have to tell me twice.
Been here. Done this. Twice. I was hoping to never come here again.
Paxton’s attention is stuck on the hole for a moment, and I watch him, expecting him to walk back. Instead, he starts cursing up a storm and takes his phone out of his pocket while he paces. My stomach sours, those chips working themselves back up my throat. I picture her body lying at the bottom of the hole. Dead. Paxton’s sympathetic gaze finds mine, and he shakes his head as he talks into the phone. What the hell does that mean?
It’s not what I think?
Don’t come look?
Is it what I think?
What?!
The unanswered questions are killing me, and I can’t wait anymore. I draw in a deep, confident breath and walk over, putting one foot in front of the other, wringing my hands in front of me until I freeze on the spot. Never mind, I can’t do it. Why do I even want to see a dead body?
“She had to see for herself,” Paxton explains into the phone. “Just get here and stop interrogating me. We’ll wait for you.”
Obviously he’s talking with Martinez. He groans with an eye roll as he shoves the phone back into his pocket.
“Is she…” I pause, still at a distance where I’m not able to see the bottom of the hole.
“No.”
My head jerks back in surprise. If she’s not down there, what is? Curiosity takes hold, clouding the fear, and I close the short distance between me and the hole in two long strides.
Bad, bad idea.
My knees buckle as the bastard takes hold of me with his words, twisting and tormenting from the comfort of his own uncaged life. I stare at the bright pink spray paint.
It’s your fault. You’re next. 3x
I point at it, my finger shaking so hard I can’t keep it straight. “Is that saying…she’s missing because of me?” I stutter. What, I found him a new hobby? It takes a few moments for my body to catch up to my thoughts. I curl my fingers into my fists and tap my head with them. “You motherfucker!” I scream at the top of my lungs. The guilt will eat me alive. He knows that.
I’m still his prisoner.
Paxton wraps his arms around me, and I dig my head into his chest. “We’ll get him.”
How can he say that? They haven’t yet. Even he knows that over fifty percent of violent crimes go unsolved. Those odds are not in her favor. Or mine.
Tires grinding over dirt pull our attention to the west. Two black SUVs in a line head in our direction, three local cop cars behind them. The black cars have a nice coat of brown mud halfway up their sides by the time they arrive.
Paxton doesn’t waste any time giving our statements, trying to get me out of here as fast as possible. “I’m taking her home. If you need anything else from us, you know where we’ll be.”
My mind spirals out of control. The darkness pulls on a frayed string in my mind, one that hasn’t mended yet, one that can unravel with just the right tug.
Tingles crawl up my leg.
“You need to stick around. Agent Martinez is on his way. He wants to talk to you both.”
