“I need to talk to him.”
The elevator doors open after we come to a stop and Reaper flourishes his arm in a bow. “The concrete floor is yours, señorita.”
After one last, wary look at Reaper I step out into the sub-basement. The space reminds me of an FBI black site from one of the shows Jude got me binge-watching. It’s all metal and gray and, aside from Jack and now Reaper and I, empty.
Jack glances up from his computer a few meters away, a serious, somewhat threatening gaze set on his angular face.
“I brought you a gift,” Reaper announces as he strides past and hops up to sit on one of the empty desks.
“I need a favor,” I say to Jack.
Reaper sits up straight, excitement playing across his face. “Will it piss River off?”
“Yes.”
“I’m game.”
Jack stands up and crosses his arms. “I, on the other hand, am going to need a better reason than that.”
I tilt my head, analyzing him for a moment before going for honesty. “She’s my mother, Jack.” I don’t know Jack’s history, don’t know whether he’ll give two shits that she’s my mother. But it’s the only angle I have.
He watches me and I concentrate on the feeling of my boots on the ground to stop from squirming under the intensity of his gaze.
Finally, he dips his head. “Let’s go.”
“We, uh, need to make a stop first,” I say as he picks up his jacket.
Jack cuts me a look but Reaper just laughs, waving goodbye as we walk to the elevator. “You two kids have fun now!”
Fun, right. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be having much fun when River finds out where I’ve gone. But then why does a thrill run through me at the thought?
31
RIVER
“We’ve been putting up posters, asking any witnesses to come forward,” Harley’s dad, George, tells me over the phone.
I close my eyes against the visceral desperation in his voice.
“I know it’s not much, but it could help, right? It could help us find her?”
I splay my hand on top of Farrah’s glass desk. “Any information is useful,” I tell him because he needs to feel like he’s helping. The man’s daughter has been missing for eight days.
The line goes quiet. “Tell me you’re close,” he whispers. “Tell me you’ll find her.”
I stare out into the empty office, wishing I’d brought Freya with me. Even just having her here would help right now.
The truth is we’re no closer to finding Harley than we were eight days ago. The PO box ended up being a dead end. Zach paid for it in cash, and all of the relevant security footage was damaged beyond recovery.
Oz is spending an unhealthy amount of time trawling through every record of Zach’s online activity before he went off-grid, searching for the slightest clue as to where he might be.
Eli even went so far as to get in touch with everybody in Zach’s old class at school to see if he had any friendships we didn’t know about that he might be leaning on now. He got nothing, the general consensus being that Zach was a loner.
I drag my fingers through my hair and give Harley’s father the best assurance I have. “We’re doing everything we can.”
My phone buzzes with an incoming call. I don’t want to take it when I’m still talking with George but Oz’s name flashes up. He knows I was going to be talking with Harley’s parents. He wouldn’t interrupt unless it was important and my stomach hardens.
“I’m sorry, George, I need to go. I’ll call you back. I promise.”
