The Search for Skylar

by J. R. Tate

  “I’m completely safe. Get back to work and call me later, okay? I can talk longer once I finish this.”

  “Finish what?” Mary looked at her phone and the call had ended. “Finish what?” she asked again to herself. What in the hell was he doing? She couldn’t panic. If she flew off the rails, she could mess something up for him. But what if he was in danger and she didn’t do anything?

  She had to get her mind off of it. It was like her hands were tied behind her back. Slipping her phone in her pocket, she ran her hands over her hair and took a deep breath. She had to get through this shift. Past that, the future felt uncertain.

  ***

  Charlie made sure the lights on his truck were off. The street was dark, except for a light at the intersection and one a block down. He parked where he did that morning before confronting the man at the address, but tonight he stayed in his truck, in the shadows, hoping to see something happening.

  He had been there a little over twenty minutes and nothing suspicious went on. The front porch light was on, and a glow from the TV cascaded in the front window. The small car was parked in the driveway, and no one had come or gone. Were Charlie’s instincts wrong?

  It had only been twenty minutes. Patience was the name of the game, and Charlie fished out a double espresso drink he had picked up at the gas station on the way over. He was exhausted from his night in jail and longed for his soft bed. His eyelids were heavy, and he took a long pull off of the caffeine, feeling an instant jolt of energy.

  He had to make sure to check in with Mary later. She was a nervous wreck and he tried to empathize with her. How would he feel if she was the one staking out a house alone? He would never let her do it.

  Not only did he have to watch the house, but he also had to make sure the detectives weren’t tailing him. He needed an extra set of eyes in the back of his head for everything he felt he needed to be aware of.

  A light flicked on in the yard. Charlie sank low in his seat, though there was no way the person would see him. Bile gathered in his throat and his pulse pounded so hard that it felt like his veins would pump right through his skin. It was the man he had talked to that morning - The big mastiff of a man with his thick beard and his chilling eyes. Charlie couldn’t allow his physical appearance intimidate him. The handgun in his console helped his confidence.

  The guy was talking on the phone, pacing down the sidewalk and back up to the door. Charlie couldn’t hear him, but his body language spoke volumes. His hands flailed in different directions and he continuously pointed his index finger, like the person he was talking to was in front of him.

  What was he mad about? Did Charlie screw up his plans? Did he know Charlie was onto him?

  Charlie sat up some, adjusting his weight. The man ended the call and acted like he was going to throw the phone. It definitely wasn’t a peaceful chat, and Charlie felt himself smile. Even if it had nothing to do with Skylar, he felt some satisfaction because of how much of an ass the guy had been to him.

  The man went inside, but it wasn’t long before he came back out. He dashed straight for his car and backed out. It was a good thing no one was coming down the street, because he definitely would have plowed into them. Charlie put the truck in gear and eased away from the curb, keeping a safe distance, but close enough not to lose the guy. He was speeding through the residential area, and Charlie hoped they wouldn’t run into a cop. With his luck, he’d be the one to get pulled over, ruining his chance to follow him.

  He wasn’t good at tailing someone. Wouldn’t the guy realize it was the same truck behind him? He only ever saw this happen in the movies, and the person doing the following was a master at it. He felt like a sitting duck, or like an arrow was pointed down at him, broadcasting him for the world to see.

  The man didn’t speed up or slow, but kept a steady speed once they hit a main road. Charlie felt the moisture on his palms, and second-guessed what he was doing. He was a stalker – there was no way to get around it. But his strong instincts were not letting up. This man was involved with Skylar, and though he wasn’t sure how just yet, he would hopefully find out soon.

  He couldn’t let his frustration and impatience get in the way. It’d cause him to make a stupid mistake, and one mistake meant Skylar was gone for good, almost like he was reaching for her two seconds too late, and she slipped from his grasp forever. It made his heart flutter at the thought.

  The man turned down another residential area on the other side of town, and Charlie eased up on the gas pedal. He made sure to stay far back, since the guy was only going about twenty miles per hour now. He pulled into a driveway of a much older and dated house. The front yard was hard to see, but the gutter on the garage was falling down, and there was junk in the yard that made it look like a rummage sale was going on.

  Should Charlie turn his lights off? He turned the knob, but kept the engine running. It gave him a better vantage point and he leaned forward, unwilling to even blink in fear that he would miss something.

  Mr. Gentry, or whoever the guy was, stood on the porch. He didn’t knock or attempt to make contact with whoever was in the house. Instead, he paced and pulled what looked like his phone out of his pocket. Or maybe it was a gun. Charlie couldn’t tell, and wished he had parked a little closer to get a better view.

  The front door finally swung open, and another man joined him. He looked a little rougher around the edges. He wasn’t dressed as nice, and he was skinny – he looked a lot like what Cassie had morphed into. Now Charlie was certain something was up with this guy. Why would a man like him be associating with a crack head, unless he was up to no good? It didn’t confirm that Skylar was involved, but it was enough to make Charlie continue to pursue the situation.

  The man yelled at the skinny guy, his body motions much like what had happened back at his place when he was on the phone. Charlie cracked his window to try and hear, but they were being careful. He constantly pointed at the house, waving his hand, and shaking his head like he was in disbelief. Damn it, to be a fly on the wall right by them. Charlie would have to continue to rely assumptions.

  After about ten minutes of arguing, the Gentry guy hurried back to his car and sped off, leading Charlie right back to his place, where he parked, went inside, and turned off every light in the house. Had he seen Charlie? Did he know he was being tailed the entire time? Charlie couldn’t answer those questions, and had to hope that he had been completely incognito the whole time. He was no professional spy, so he probably should’ve just rolled his window down and waved.

  Now he really couldn’t let his guard down. If this man knew Charlie was one step behind him, and they had Skylar, she was in danger now more than ever. He had to move fast, but he didn’t even know where to begin.

  Grabbing the handgun from the console, he slipped the magazine from the grip and made sure it was fully loaded. Fifteen rounds, ready to go, and the heavy steel in his hand boosted his confidence for a few seconds. Sliding it back in, it clicked tight and he holstered it under his shirt, the heavy weight of it reminding him that if he needed to use it, he had fifteen bullets that would do the trick. But he really hoped it wouldn’t go that far. The last thing he wanted to do was use it on anybody, but for Skylar, he’d do it.

  He kept his eye on the house for a few more minutes. There was no movement so the guy probably went to bed. Or he was watching Charlie from his second story window. Pulling out into the street, Charlie retraced the steps back to the shack on the other side of town. If he was going to take this guy down, he had to make sure Skylar was there, otherwise Detective Garza would just pin another charge on him. He needed proof, and come hell or high water, he was going to get it.

  This time, he pulled right up to the curb in front of the house. Getting out, Charlie took a deep breath. The whole place had sketchy written all over it. He wondered what he’d find on the other side. Were other girls involved? If Skylar was there, what kind of hell had she been going through?

  No more wasting t
ime. If he got there and realized this had nothing to do with his daughter, Charlie would think of something, hopefully. He couldn’t worry about what ifs until it was time to cross that bridge.

  He knocked on the door as loud as he could. The damn junkie was probably looking through the peephole at him from the moment he heard the truck rumble up to the front of the house. Charlie smoothed his hand down his side, and rather than take a chance on getting shot, he pulled the gun out, but held it out of sight.

  He checked the doorknob. It was locked. Shit. Just as he was about to step back to kick it in, it swung open, the hinges squeaking. The man from earlier, the skinny looking drug addict, stared back at Charlie. He immediately noticed the man was not armed, which gave him the upper hand.

  “Who in the fuck are you?” the man asked, his teeth so decayed that it hindered his speech.

  “Charlie Wright. Where in the fuck is my daughter?” His voice shook and he lifted the gun. He had no intention to shoot the guy, but it would serve as good intimidation.

  “Your daughter?” The man smiled and his yellow teeth stuck out in different directions. It made Charlie’s stomach churn.

  “Don’t play stupid with me, now back up!” He wanted to get the man inside. He didn’t want to be on the porch and risk someone seeing this. There was no telling how many people were involved. What if there was more than one house on this block? Someone could be parked down the street like he was, watching his every move.

  He motioned with the gun, stepping forward to edge the man back into the house. The guy did as asked, and Charlie kicked the door shut behind him, the thud so loud that it echoed against the paper walls of the shack.

  “Look mister, I think you’re making a mistake. I don’t have your daughter.”

  “Keep your hands where I can see them, you piece of shit.” Charlie gripped the gun tight and his knuckles ached. There was so much to think about. Did he need to search this guy to make sure he didn’t have any weapons? How many other people were in the house?

  “What makes you think I have your daughter?”

  “Turn around and face the wall.”

  He nudged the junkie with the gun, turning him on his heel. With his free hand, he patted him down, finding a small handgun in his back pocket and a knife on his belt. He put the weapons in his jacket pocket.

  “You sure are heavily armed for just a night at home. I’m gonna ask you again. Where is my daughter?”

  The addict smiled. “There’s danger in frustration, Charlie Wright. You think this through before you decided to come into my home and try to take me over? You do your homework first?”

  “I did enough to know that you are involved with Skylar’s disappearance. So is that big guy with the beard.”

  Charlie grabbed his shirt, pulling him down the hallway. He kicked in every door he came across, his stomach sinking each time an empty room was exposed. The place was filthy – roaches scattered when lights turned on, and piles of mouse shit lined the baseboards. This was not a place normal people were living. The rancid stench burned his nose. Each time an empty room stared back at him, Charlie wondered if he did in fact, make a mistake. What if it was just a crack house?

  “Who is Mitchell G.?” Charlie stopped at the far end of the hall after checking behind every door in the place.

  “Ah, you did do your homework.”

  “Who is he?” Gritting his teeth, Charlie pushed the barrel of the gun in the man’s chest.

  “Me. I’m Mitchell G.”

  “Explain to me why you were messaging my fourteen year old daughter.”

  “It ain’t against the law, Charlie Wright. There’s nothing wrong with talking to people.”

  The thought of this man touching his daughter made Charlie almost double over and hurl what little he had in his stomach. Fighting the burning acid, he stood strong. One sign of weakness and this man would take advantage of him.

  “You begged her to meet you. Gave her an address and everything. You must be what, at least twenty-five? She’s fourteen, you perverted asshole.” It was hard to tell the guy’s age. The drug use could have easily put ten years on him.

  “Again, I didn’t break a law.”

  “Yes you did, because you have her.”

  “You see her here in this house?” He spread his hands, motioning toward their surroundings.

  “Take me to her. Take me to her or I’ll blow your head off. I don’t need you. I can go back to the address you sent her. There’s other people I can talk to.”

  “We’re not going anywhere. I should get the cops on the phone. You’ve been all over the newspaper. One call and I tell them you have me held up with a gun and you won’t get a breath of fresh air again. Assault with a deadly weapon. The judge won’t let you out this time.”

  Charlie took a deep breath. Who was this guy and how did he know so much about him? “How’d you know about that?” His recent arrest hadn’t hit the media yet.

  He smiled, exposing his rotted teeth again. “You can’t be that stupid, now can you?”

  “Cassie.” Charlie whispered it, almost taking the gun off of him.

  “Got that right. I played her like a fucking fiddle. Confiding in me about her relationship with you, about how you’re a complete asshole, and how her life is just falling apart. We started seeing each other before the divorce was even final. I had my eye on her while you were still living with her. We were probably fucking her at the same time.” He laughed, his gaze on Charlie eerie. “I figured I’d start getting her high. She’d depend on me for everything just to get a fix. She hung on my every word. And she led me right to your beautiful daughter. Skylar has a face for exactly what we need. She’s a looker, Charlie. She’s gonna make us big money.”

  Charlie tightened his hand around the gun. One pull of the trigger and the piece of shit standing right in front of him would be dead. One less pedophile pervert in the world. But he contained himself. If he shot him, he might lose the only person that might lead him to Skylar.

  “Does Cassie know you’re in on this?” Charlie hated asking, but he had to know. He knew she had been seeing someone, but he didn’t pay attention to it. Before now, it was none of my business who she was with.

  “Not a clue.”

  “Take me to Skylar. Now!”

  “I told you we’re not gonna do that, Charlie Wright.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. “There’s only one of you and you don’t have it in you to kill me. You’re not a killer. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” Charlie said, clenching his jaw.

  The familiar squeak of hinges pulled Charlie from his focus on the junkie. Unwilling to lower the gun, he glanced over his shoulder, and he shouldn’t have been surprised at who he saw.

  “Mr. Wright, we meet again,” the giant with the beard said, edging farther into the hallway. “You might wanna think about lowering that gun to save your energy. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mary wasn’t sure if leaving work was a good idea. She was willing to work a double just to stay occupied, but the bar was slow and no one was willing to give up their hours. After grabbing a bite to eat, she went home, her quiet house like a prison. Walking to the bedroom, she noticed that Charlie had left behind a t-shirt and a few personal belongings. Grabbing the shirt, she smelled it. It had a faint scent of his cologne and though it hadn’t even been a full day, she missed him.

  Fishing her phone out of her purse, she checked to see if he had tried to call or text her. There was nothing from him, and she wasn’t sure why she felt so disappointed about it. It was like they had backtracked, and she worried bothering him would just push him farther away.

  Something felt wrong. When she had talked to him earlier, he seemed panicked, like he was up to something that he didn’t want to tell her. Maybe she was overreacting, but she needed to check in. There was nothing wrong with that.

  Dialing his number, sh
e sat back on the couch and scrubbed her hand down her face. The phone rang twice and went to voicemail, but she didn’t leave a message. He always mentioned that checking voicemail was a pain in the butt. Did he ignore her call? She dialed it again and this time, it didn’t even ring. The line was dead, and the voicemail didn’t even come on.

  Ending the call, she stared down at her phone. What in the hell was going on? Charlie was a smart guy, but he was getting desperate to find Skylar. He’d do anything to protect his family, but what if he got in over his head?

  Grabbing her keys, Mary ran outside to her car and drove to his house. His truck wasn’t there and his side of the duplex was dark. She tried his phone again with no luck, so she sent him a text message asking where he was. He wasn’t the quickest with answering, so she couldn’t base his fate on his response time.

  She passed by Cassie’s place as well. It was the same story – the house was dark and no vehicles were there. Maybe Cassie had heard from him, so Mary called her.

  “Hello?” Cassie sounded groggy, like Mary had woken her up. It was a little after ten, so it was plausible, or Cassie was high.

  “Cassie, it’s Mary. Have you heard from Charlie tonight?”

  “No. Why the hell would I hear from him?”

  “I was just wondering.”

  “Ah, did you lose lover boy? He can’t be trusted, Mary.”

  Mary bit her bottom lip. To expect anything else from Cassie was stupid on her part, so she didn’t even bother to respond and hung up. She didn’t have time to deal with the petty bullshit.

  He wasn’t home. He wasn’t at the bar. And he wasn’t with Cassie. Where in the hell was he? Maybe he decided to get out of town for the evening. But that didn’t seem like him either, not with everything happening.

  Parking in her driveway, Mary sat in her car for a few minutes as worst-case scenarios shot through her imagination. Had Detective Garza found something else to arrest him on? He could be sitting in a jail cell. At least he’d be somewhat safe there, instead of Mary thinking he was dead in a ditch somewhere.