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I glance at Zane who’s staring at me, mouthing, “Who’s that?”
“Probably,” I say. I should pass the phone to Zane but for some reason I don’t. “What’s up?”
“What’s…?” Wesley produces a sound like a strangled parrot. “You do know I am a police detective, Mr. Vestri?”
“Yeah, I remember. You also said there was nothing you could do for this case. See? I remember fucking everything.”
“This isn’t a joke Mr. Vestri. I wouldn’t call if this wasn’t serious. This boy you mentioned to me. Could his name have been Tyrese? Tyrese Weir?”
I frown and turn toward Zane. “Hey, Z-man. That boy who vanished from Kenneth’s house when you were a kid… Could his name have been Tyrese Weir?”
All blood drains from his face so fast I’m rushing toward him the moment the words leave my mouth, certain he’s about to pass out.
“Fuck!” Asher grabs him, pushes him forward until his face is between his knees. “What the hell?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I mutter, my heart hammering. “What did you find out, Wesley?”
“It’s Detective Logan,” he says stiffly. “The records say that Tyrese Weir vanished from the house of Kenneth Shaw at about the time your friend Zane Madden was there. The time he claims the abuse took place.”
“Good.” A growl is rising in my throat and my hands are clenching. “Anything else?”
“You know that it’s common that kids take off from foster homes if they aren’t happy.”
“No, I don’t know. Where are you going with this?”
“Kenneth Shaw reported that this boy, this Tyrese, ran away and never came back. Social services waited to see where he’d turn up.”
“And?” I swear, I’m disconnecting if he doesn’t tell me something interesting in the next five seconds.
“He never turned up. Tyrese Weir vanished from the map. He may have left the state, or changed his name. We can’t know for sure. It’s a big country.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I mutter, but I feel chilled to the bone. “Wesley. Detective Logan. What aren’t you telling me?”
“We’re going to get a warrant to search the house in Wausau where Kenneth Shaw lived at the time. But meanwhile… Don’t go anywhere near him.”
I lick my dry lips, watching as Zane straightens, reassuring Asher that he’s okay. “And why?”
“We have your friend’s report. And a missing child from the same time. That’s enough for social services to push for an investigation. The man could be dangerous. Just keep away.”
I disconnect the call. “Well, fuck.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Megan
Zane looks as if he’s seen a ghost, and Rafe looks like he’s about to murder someone, or maybe his phone.
He wanders back to us and perches on the armrest of the sofa next to me. He places a heavy hand on my shoulder and I lean into his solid strength and warmth.
“That was the police,” Rafe says and his tone tells me this is serious. “That boy, Tyrese Weir. He’s been missing since you last saw him, Zane. Since you filed your report and realizing that boy never appeared again, social services are now pushing for a search warrant for Kenneth Shaw’s house in Wausau.”
“Jesus, fucker, do you think…?” Zane chokes on the words. “Kenneth killed Tyrese?”
Oh God.
“It’s possible. Either that, or Tyrese died from the abuse. Hell, man, you…” Rafe swallows thickly. “You’re damn lucky to be here, aren’t you?”
The reality of what they’re saying is slowly sinking in, sharp claws digging into my mind. Zane could have died twelve years ago. Other kids may have died in that house.
