Page 175 of Corpse Roads
“What if he can’t be found?”
The resignation in Hunter’s voice is an unfamiliar gut punch. I haven’t heard that defeat in a long time. Not since we waited for the results from his auditory test and got word that he couldn’t hear a thing anymore without the aid he despises so much. Even now, he could still go fully deaf.
“We cannot give up, Hunt. Not now, not ever. Harlow needs us to see this through. It’s her life we’re talking about.”
“I know,” he replies tersely. “We will always protect her, but this bastard just slaughtered his own wife.”
“What?” I gasp.
“The positioning of the noose was all wrong. Too high, and it was knotted from the back. Pastor Michaels hung his own wife.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Yeah, exactly. He could be in bloody Timbuktu by now.”
“Then… we have to hunt his sadistic ass down and drag him back here to face punishment for his crimes. We owe Harlow that much.”
Hunter remains silent.
“Do you love her?” I ask him.
“What?”
“Do you love her?”
He hesitates before answering. “So much it scares me.”
“What about Enzo? Leighton?”
“I don’t fucking know, Theo. We would all do anything to keep her in our lives, no matter what it takes. What about you?”
With the phone pressed to my ear, I stare at Harlow’s slack face. Her hair is splayed across the sofa cushions, showing a hint of the growing bald patch beneath the layers.
I gently run a finger over her sore, swollen scalp. She’s stopped trying to hide it entirely now. The flight home was heartbreaking, watching the pile of hair in her lap grow.
Powerlessness is an old friend that I never wanted to be re-acquainted with. I couldn’t offer her any sliver of comfort that would be more appealing than the pain she was craving.
“I care about her,” I answer his question. “More than I thought possible after Alyssa. I want her to be okay. I want to be the one to make her happy, whatever form that takes.”
Hunter breathes down the line. “Then I guess it’s settled. This isn’t a dead end in the investigation. It’s only the beginning.”
“Well, there’s one more thing.”
“What is it?”
I clutch the phone tighter. “Harlow was mumbling a bit when we carried her on to the plane. She said that… she killed Laura. Strangled her so she wouldn’t suffer and die slowly.”
Hunter inhales sharply. “That can’t be right.”
“That’s all I know.”
“I’m sure she was just out of it and triggered by going back there. We can figure it out when the rest of us get home. Sounds like a meaningless ramble to me.”
“Alright, I’ll keep an eye on her anyway. Stay in touch.”
We wrap up the phone call quickly. Hunter’s dealing with local police and a media circus that have caught wind of our huge presence up north. He’ll fly back with Enzo in the morning.
Hearing the shower flick off upstairs, I tighten the blanket around Harlow’s shoulders and pad into the kitchen to heat up the lasagne Brooklyn dropped off for us this morning.
