“Yes, I have her phone because someone planted it in my car. They’ve been sending me cryptic messages ever since. Think, Priya. Catherine Kelly was the fifth girl in the photo. Turns out she is now Cat Jones, a journalist who works with Anna, is married to the dead man on the floor, and owns this creepy fucking house. You’re right, there is no such thing as coincidence, so where is Cat Jones now?”
She hesitates, but then her face twists out of shape again.
“Please drop the weapon, sir.”
If this situation wasn’t so deadly serious, I would laugh at the fact she is still calling me “sir.” I know the killer is still out there, and I know Anna is in danger, but I can’t see a way through this. Then something catches my eye. Something light in the dark, and I’m sure I see someone move in the distance outside the window. I try to get closer and Priya snaps.
“Jack Harper, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence—”
“There is someone outside. I can see them through the trees.”
“It’s probably backup—”
“We both know they wouldn’t have got here that quickly. I’m aware how this looks, but I’m telling you the killer is still out there. Anna is in danger and I’m going to try and save her. You can shoot me if you want to, or you can help me catch whoever did this.”
She shakes her head and looks so sad.
“I want to believe you, but I don’t think I can anymore. I don’t think you know what you’ve done, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t do it,” she says.
“You do know me, Priya, and deep down I think you know I’m telling the truth.”
She doesn’t lower the gun, but I can see her eyes filling with tears. I take a step toward the door, unable to tell which way this is going to go. All I can think about is Anna. I let her down before and I can’t do it again.
Priya flinches just as I am about to pass her. I’ve been trained for situations where a gun is being pointed in my face, and I know what to do. I just didn’t want to have to do it. I grab Priya’s wrist so fast she doesn’t have time to react. She pulls the trigger, though, making a hole in the wall before I slam her into it. I step back as she slides down onto the floor. Her eyes are closed and I can see she has hit her head, but she’ll live. Backup will be here soon and they’ll take care of her. There isn’t time to wait.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, before leaving the house, and heading into the woods.
I love the woods at this time of year.
The sounds, the smells, the screams.
Especially in the dark.
Everyone has a place they run to when the world gets too loud; this is mine.
There is nothing more satisfying than crunching over dead leaves, breathing in cool country air, and knowing that you are on a journey from one moment in your life to the next. Sometimes I think where you are going is far less important than the fact that you are going somewhere. You have to learn to enjoy the ride, not just the destination.
People frequently talk about what it is like to have “made it,” but it is far better to be on your way than to have arrived. If you succeed too soon, or arrive too early, that just means there is nowhere else left to go. Success is like love—it’s not something everyone can appreciate, even when they have it. And life is about moving forward and moving on. Never look back; that way only leads to feeling lost.
Which is how I feel now, because I’m running out of time to find her.
Things have mostly gone according to plan so far. I dumped Rachel’s car here a couple of days ago. It was fun to drive, and this seemed like as good a place as any to hide it. I’d never driven a sports car before. It made me think of all the other things I haven’t done, things that some people probably take for granted. It was tough financially when I was growing up, and I had to work for everything I’ve got. It was hard but I think it made me stronger.
Now I just have to finish what I started, which means finding her before anyone else does. She was supposed to be dead by now.
Finding people is surprisingly simple once you know how, even those who do not wish to be found. Police and journalists use a lot of the same tools to trace people. You’d be amazed how easy it is, not just to find someone, but to find out everything about them. All the things they would rather nobody knew.
My job made it almost too easy.