She’s staring at the window, her hand still pressed against the glass. Every few seconds, her eyes dart away and then return to the window. Then it dawns on me. Even now, she’s not sure she’s really seeing him or seeing his ghost that’s lived in her head for the past year. She still can’t decide whether he’s that brazen.
But he is.
I lower my rifle, still leaning against the trunk of the pine, and shift my gaze to Bowen disappearing into the trees on the south side of the property. I glance down at Pony, still posted up at my heel. His brown dog eyes track Bowen until he’s gone, and then he looks up at me. I give him a scratch on the side of his face and push off the tree.
I was planning on shutting him up in the cow barn further back in the forest, but when it came down to it, I knew I couldn’t do that. Ideally, he’d still be at the house with Brett, but Bowen doesn’t have any qualms about killing someone else’s dog. Especially mine. No, it’s better that he’s out here with me, another pair of eyes and a nose that works better than mine.
The rest of the morning is uneventful. Bowen’s going to give Brett a few hours to doubt herself some more and then I’m sure he’ll make another appearance. It’s what he loves to do. It’s what gets his dick hard. But this time, Brett knows it’s him.
I sink down onto the bed of pine needles, my back against a ponderosa, and pull out my phone to monitor the camera feeds. Bowen’s staying out on the southern edge of the property at the bottom of the slope whereas I’m on the west side where the forest begins climbing the mountain in a series of plateaus.
I’ve watched him from ridgetops no more than 30 yards away at some points. When I’m not within eyeshot, I have cameras throughout the forest, hundreds of them strategically placed by Alex, Sergei, and I.
As I’m watching him slink back off into the brush, I get a call. I’m pleasantly surprised—it’s Agent Tammy Moreau. I’ve spoken to her far more often than any other member of law enforcement, so she’s grown on me. I don’t like law enforcement in general, for obvious reasons. I prefer the more clandestine operations—people who lack bureaucracy and conventional politics in favor of getting shit done. But she seems like someone with integrity and character. She seems invested, whether it’s because she cares or is trying to make a name for herself makes no difference.
“He-llo?” I sing into the phone.
“Colson!” she chimes, “Is it a good time?”
I plant the butt of my gun on the dirt next to me, “As good a time as any.”
“Good, because I need to talk to you about some things right away. I’ve already spoken to your parents, but there have been a few developments. First of all, Callen Fisher lied.”
“Who the hell is Callen Fisher?” I ask while I scan the trees around me, making sure to stay abreast of my surroundings.
“Bowen’s friend who gave him his alibi the night Evie disappeared. Turns out he couldn’t have been with Bowen during the time he stated because he himself was busy being arrested.”
“For what?”
“Drunk driving in downtown Columbus.”
Moron. At least he made himself useful.
“His parents posted bail,” Moreau continues, “but not until 2:00 the next morning.”
“What does Bowen say about it?”
“Not much. We tried to bring him in for questioning, but the entire family lawyered up. We did, however, bring Hannah Bailey in for questioning, talked to her for about nine hours on Monday and brought her back in Tuesday for a polygraph. She failed miserably. Afterward, she finally started talking and admitted to telling Hildy about Evie’s abortion—”
“Come again?” I cough.
There’s an awkward pause before Moreau continues, “Yeah, so…I’m guessing you weren’t aware. Apparently, Evie confided in Hannah, who then told Hildy, and Hildy ultimately told Bowen about it. Hannah alleges that Hildy did it to get back at Evie for taking Sydney Van Doren’s side over some altercation that occurred in the weeks leading up to her death.”
Oh, shit…
A barrage of images flash through my mind, seemingly unrelated until this moment. Aiden, Sydney, Jay, Hildy…now Hannah, Bowen, and Evie…all people who crossed paths in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. And how could Evie have known what would happen? How could she have become the biggest casualty in all that?
“Jesus Christ…” it’s all I can say after such a revelation.
But Moreau’s not done, “Did you also realize whose property you were on when you found Evie?”
“No,” I give the trees another scan, “I just knew it wasn’t the park anymore.”
“Turns out it still belongs to the residence of one Captain James Rhinehardt of the Canaan Police Department and his wife, Amber,” she replies with a hint of smugness.
“What?” I knit my brow in confusion, “No one ever said anything about that.”
“Depends who you ask,” she continues, “and where they want their property line to reach depending on the circumstances. It’s all about how you tell the story, isn’t it?”
Officer Jay motherfucking Rhinehardt and his family of goons…
Trespassing, my ass…no wonder the search radius didn’t extend that far. They kept it to public land and Bowen knew Evie would never be found. Except he didn’t anticipate my nightmares and premonitions that I still can’t explain.
“Whether Hannah had an inkling of what would happen between Bowen and Evie that night, I don’t know,” Moreau sighs, “but apparently, she still harbored a lot of guilt about it. Bowen threatened to implicate her as an accomplice if she told anyone Evie met with him.”
What do you know—Hannah has feelings…
“OK,” I’m done talking about Hannah’s too-little-too-late, “so she’ll testify against him?”
“Not exactly.”
“Why not?” I growl through my teeth.
“Because she’s dead.”
I arch my brow and blink a few times. I can’t say I saw that one coming.
“She stopped answering texts and calls, so some friends went to check on her yesterday and discovered she’d died by suicide.”
