Beastly (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #3)

by Michelle Irwin

  “I wish I still had my camera, but I left it at home in my rush to get back to the States.” She stood at the end of the pier, holdin’ her hands up like a picture frame. “The lighting is different to the last time I was here, and I’d give anything to capture this.”

  She climbed up onto the rails that ran along the pier and leaned out over the lake.

  “Ain’t ya afraid of fallin’ in?”

  “No.” She jumped off anyway, twistin’ as she did so she landed in front of me. I reached out to steady her, and she lifted her gaze but only as far as my lips. Then she ducked her head and tucked her hair behind her ear before launchin’ into another story about Phoebe—this time about the day they snuck away from school durin’ a swim meet.

  I dutifully took my place at her side as she moved to the next site she wanted to visit, listenin’ intently to her every word. I coulda listened to her talk about Phoebe all day long.

  After lunch, we decided to head back to my house to get organized for an early start the followin’ day. It was already Thursday, and I didn’t wanna risk wastin’ another day at the Lake Restort. At least it woulda given Phoebe’s mama time to consider what we’d spoken about and maybe to speak to Phoebe’s daddy.

  Once I was packed, I decided to pay a visit to Cass. She didn’t deserve the silent treatment she’d received from me since we’d arrived at the Lake Retreat. Plus, it was so close to her due date—barely a couple of weeks—and I didn’t think I’d be back home before she was due.

  I found her midconversation with Joe. She was smilin’ and laughin’, and it made me feel a little less guilty about leaving her alone. When I asked whether she’d be okay when I headed back to North Carolina, she nodded.

  “Honestly, Beau, it concerns me more when you’re here and not doin’ all ya can to help. That ain’t you, Beau. You need to focus on your racin’ and on findin’ Phoebe. Nothin’ else matters.”

  “Thanks, Cass.” I drew her into my arms. “If ya need anythin’ from me, anythin’ at all, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Joe and Mitch are keeping a good watch on me. Ya don’t have to worry about a thing here.”

  I cupped her cheek. “If I don’t see ya before it happens, I gotta say good luck.”

  “Thank you.”

  By the time I got back to my house, Angel was already in her room. I didn’t blame her; we had an early start and a man to convince of my innocence.

  THE SUN wasn’t even up when Angel carried her small suitcase from the guest bedroom to the livin’ room the followin’ mornin’. I collected it from her before she could carry it out to the car. Unlike Phoebe, she was a little more willin’ to let me take control of these things. They were so similar, but there were also so many li’l differences between them, and I was gettin’ to know each one.

  Once I packed up my bag as well, she tossed me the keys.

  “What’re these for?”

  “I’d put money on the fact that you’ll put your foot through the floor if you’re a passenger while I drive.”

  “Why?”

  “First, you guys drive on the wrong side of the road over here.”

  A chuckle slipped past my lips. “No, y’all have it wrong over there.”

  She laughed with me. “Plus, the way Phoebe talks, you’d think I can’t drive at all. I don’t know why though. I’ve only caused three accidents.”

  I blinked at her before tossing the key in the air and catching it again. “Okay, that’s settled then. I’m drivin’.”

  “Better to have that set from the beginning than have to pull over halfway.”

  We hit the road before light, sneakin’ past the paparazzi before many were awake.

  Durin’ the drive, Angel and I swapped stories. It was amazin’ to think there was anythin’ left after the day before, and yet I was enjoyin’ learnin’ more about Phoebe from the one who knew her best—probably better than her own parents. Our stories branched out, coverin’ past relationships, school, everythin’ but Angel’s family—at least her biological one. She spoke about Phoebe’s family as though they were her own.

  Like it had been the day before, it was a nicer, and healthier, distraction than the Fireball bender had been. The only down point was when the song “Roller Coaster” came on the radio and I had to pretend my eyes weren’t filled with tears as I drove.

  It was a little before lunchtime when we arrived back at my apartment. I pulled up behind my truck and climbed from Angel’s car. Before I could disappear though, she convinced me to go see Phoebe’s daddy sooner rather than later.

  Drivin’ my truck for an easier escape, I followed Angel, understandin’ exactly what she meant about the way she drove as I watched her dive in and out of traffic and nearly cause a dozen accidents in the short drive. After I found a parkin’ spot, I prepared myself to see Phoebe’s daddy.

  My heart smashed against my ribs hard and fast as I walked to the elevator—poundin’ ten times durin’ each step I took. It woulda been easier to run away again, but Angel was right that it wouldn’t do anythin’ to help Phoebe. Only by workin’ together with her daddy, no matter how much he might hate me, would I have any chance of findin’ her.

  Waitin’ for the elevator doors to slide open on Phoebe’s floor was like standin’ in a death row cell preparin’ for the moment the warden would come to take me away. Angel’s hand slipped into mine just long enough for her to give me a reassurin’ squeeze. Her hold dropped away as soon as the elevator doors parted.

  The hallway seemed to stretch to be at least three times longer than it was. Each door along the way to Phoebe’s loomed over the space—as if each one hid a paparazzi lyin’ in wait.

  “Can ya give us a couple of minutes?” I asked Angel before she could knock on the door. Although she was on my side, and probably could help convince Mr. Reede of my case, I needed to talk to him alone.

  She squeezed my arm and nodded. “Take all the time you need.”

  She moved up the corridor a little until she was near a window; then she pulled out her phone and pretended to be interested in the screen.

  I lifted my hand and knocked on the door, then swallowed down the panic risin’ from my stomach and stiffened my back.

  He was talkin’ on his cell phone when he answered the door, the cell tucked between his cheek and his shoulder to keep his hands free. One hand rested on the door handle, the other held some paperwork. When he spotted me, he narrowed his seafoam eyes and his lips curled into a snarl.

  “I’ll call you back,” he muttered into the speaker. In one smooth move, he dropped the cell into his hand and then tossed it onto the sofa. “You’ve got some fucking nerve talking to my wife. And even more coming here.”

  “I know why ya think that, but I need to help. If I can’t . . .” I trailed off, unwillin’ to admit what the alternative was. It was just lucky that Angel had arrived when she had and forced me to get up off the sofa and get sober. “It’s killin’ me that she’s still missin’, and it’s hurtin’ even more that I ain’t able to help.”

  “Why would I let you hinder the investigation?”

  “Sir, look into my eyes and tell me ya honestly believe I could ever intentionally harm your daughter.”

  Even though he didn’t meet my eye like I’d asked, a sigh slipped from him. “I can’t rule anyone out.”

  “Ya can’t. But by lettin’ all the focus fall on me, you’re riskin’ the real culprit escapin’ unpunished.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. “You think I haven’t fucking run through the list of suspects over and over again and tried to come up with any possible reason for them to have taken my little girl?” By the end of his spiel, he was shoutin’ so loud I was surprised the neighbors hadn’t come out to find out why.

  “Course ya have. Just like I’ve spent every wakin’ minute thinkin’ who, and why. And regrettin’ that I didn’t make one simple choice to come back here with her. If I had—” I pressed my teeth together, closed my eyes,
and breathed through my nose. I wouldn’t break down in front of him. “We mightn’t be havin’ this conversation.”

  “Mr. Reede, please, you need to listen to him. I can’t go home to Australia with you two at each other’s throats,” Angel said, moving back to my side from her spot down the hallway.

  I coulda argued that I wasn’t at no one’s throat, but I understood her sentiment.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked, directin’ his question quite clearly at me.

  “I don’t know what I can say or do to make ya do that. All I can do is whatever it takes to bring her back safe.”

  “You think she’s still alive?”

  The breath was knocked from me that he might think she wasn’t. “Don’t you?”

  He didn’t respond, just stared at me.

  “I-I can’t . . . I can’t consider any other option.” I wouldn’t give her up for dead until I had somethin’ irrefutable to prove she was. Not again. Please don’t let her be dead. “I’ve gotta have faith.”

  “I don’t know how much medication she had left. And even if she’s got it with her, she might not be able to get it. Without that . . .” He trailed off.

  “So you’ve given up on her?” The words were out the instant they popped into my head. “You’re lookin’ for a body and not the beautiful, lively gal she is?”

  His jaw flexed as he stared at me. The color in his eyes was dull, lifeless. “I have to prepare for that possibility. It’s been almost a month without any word.”

  I snarled at him. “I was wrong to let Angel drag me back here. I ain’t joinin’ any hunt for a body. I’m lookin’ for Phoebe. Until there ain’t none left, I’ll be holdin’ on to whatever hope I can.”

  I stalked off back down the hallway as a stream of abusive words rushed from Phoebe’s daddy. The sound of somethin’ crashin’ echoed out of the room.

  “Beau, wait!” Angel called after me.

  “Just go back to Australia, where you’ll be safe.” I threw the words over my shoulder as I headed for the stairs. I didn’t have the patience to stop moving long enough to wait for the elevator. My feet took the steps two at a time while my hand fumbled in my pocket for my cell. Before I hit the bottom of the stairs, I had it in my hands and was ready to dial Jessica, the producer at the Racing Hub.

  As always, she answered with her name.

  “Jess, it’s Beau Miller. I need another favor.”

  “What are you thinking?” I could hear the excitement in her voice, no doubt hopin’ to get some juicy exclusive.

  “I’ve got an exclusive for you, but you’ve gotta get me on TV live.”

  “I don’t know if I can do live,” she started, and I felt my resolution sinkin’. “But I can probably arrange a small spot for you with a seven-second delay later tonight. It’ll be with a backup crew though, the rest are already in Vegas for the race this weekend. I can supervise. I’m not flying down until tomorrow.”

  “That’ll be perfect. Can ya meet me at Richards Racin’?”

  “Of course. What’s this about, Beau?”

  I was certain she didn’t care too much; it spelled a story for her either way. Still, I was certain my next words would make her salivate with the possible exclusive she mighta had comin’. “The whereabouts of Phoebe Reede.”

  She didn’t need to know that I didn’t have that information and would in fact be puttin’ out a request for it.

  “WHAT ARE YOU doing, Beau?” Angel asked from somewhere beside me after I’d arranged a time with Jessica and hung up the call. She stood in the open doors of the elevator, her emerald eyes wide and cautious. Despite the wait at the top, her ride down had clearly been nearly as fast as my race down the stairs.

  “I’m gonna offer a reward for anythin’ that leads me to Phoebe.”

  “You don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Reede have thought of that already?”

  I wanted to ignore her question, but I owed her more than that for bein’ there for me the way she had been. “Maybe, but I have something they don’t have at the moment.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Every media outlet lookin’ to me for a story. ’Sides, if the bastard who took her is at Richards Racin’, I’m sure they’ll take an interest in whatever I have to say. They might even accidentally show their hand.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “No, I ain’t, but I ain’t about to sit ’round here and give up on her either. She’s a fighter, Angel. She’s strong. She wouldn’t just give up.”

  “You don’t need to convince me. Honestly, I don’t think you need to convince Mr. Reede either, but he’s trying to be pragmatic. This isn’t easy on him.”

  “I gotta hold on to the hope, or I’ll be back on my couch in Georgia bein’ no good to no one.”

  She gave me a sad smile and reached for my hands. With her fingers entwined around mine, she said, “I know. I want her to be okay too. Now, I’ve got an early flight in the morning, so I might not see you again. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Are you?”

  Using her hold, she drew me closer and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her chest expanded against mine as she sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll be fine, but I’ll be better when you find her and make her safe.”

  “I’ll do everythin’ I can.”

  “You promise to stay off the booze?” she asked as she moved away.

  “Till I lose hope.” My mouth formed a wry smile.

  “Even then, you shouldn’t do it. It’s too easy to get caught in the trap. Ask Mr. Reede, he knows about the siren call of alcohol.” Her face was pale and her eyes downcast.

  It seemed like an odd thing for him to have talked to her about, but I wasn’t gonna pry for no more information from her. She’d told me the stories she wanted to share, and I had things I needed to arrange. I grabbed her hand and brought it to my lips, brushin’ a kiss across her knuckles. “Keep yourself safe.”

  “You too.”

  She stood watchin’ me until I climbed into my truck and then gave me a wave.

  I drove straight to Richards Racing. Because it was only a couple of days before Vegas, most everyone was gone. It was exactly what I needed, ’cause I didn’t wanna have to explain my meetin’ over and over.

  As soon as I reached my office, my phone rang. Dale’s name showed on the caller ID. Obviously someone I’d passed had let him know I was at work.

  “I can’t believe you missed the race last Sunday, and that you’re not here already,” Dale started. The echo that surrounded his words indicated he had me on speakerphone. “I’ve come to expect this sort of nonsense from Cash, but you’ve always been the one I could rely on.”

  “I’ve been sick,” I said as I flicked through the track notes Jackson had left on my desk. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Your damn right it won’t. If it does, you’re off the team. The vultures are already starting to circle on your career, Beau, don’t give them a carcass to chew on.”

  “Thank ya for your concern, Dale, but I can guarantee that after this weekend I’ll be at every race, but only for the races. Anythin’ else’ll have to be done without me.”

  Dale started to bluster, but I just waited him out.

  “It’s fine by me,” Jackson’s voice interrupted. “There’s nothing that I can’t organize without you.”

  I nodded in appreciation, not carin’ that he wouldn’t see it. “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to need another team manager though,” Jackson said. “I can’t handle two cars alone for long.”

  “We can discuss some options once we’re through with this weekend,” Dale added.

  “Agree. We’ll set something up when you get back,” I said. “Well, if we’re finished I got the Racing Hub comin’ here at six for an interview.”

  “I’ve explained this to you before. All official communication for the team has to come through me,” Dale repeated his feeble command.

  I turned my back
on the phone. “I guess it’s a good thing it ain’t official communication then, ain’t it. This is an interview with me, just me, talkin’ as a man who lost the woman he loves the day after we found each other ag’in.”

  “Beau, I—”

  “I think under the circumstances, it’s understandable if he does what he needs to,” Jackson said, talkin’ over the end of Dale’s bellowed sentence.

  “Is everyone on the team out there with ya?”

  “Everyone who needs to be. Except the two drivers who were supposed to be running the cars this year.”

  I sank down into my chair and rubbed my eyes as I ended the call.

  The ups and downs of the situation—the need to be active and do somethin’ to find her—kept burnin’ through my reserves. I was tired of fightin’ everyone and of the not knowin’ where she was or even if she was okay. I clasped my hands together, closed my eyes, and said my first prayer in over seven years. I had no idea if anyone was listenin’, but I said the words I needed to free—to keep Phoebe safe and to bring her back to me and to her family.

  When I’d finished, I left my eyes closed and buried my head in my hands. It’d felt good to be doin’ somethin’, and now I was back to waitin’, to wishin’. Each time I was left with nothin’ helpful to do, I risked fallin’ to pieces.

  My phone rang again. Thinkin’ it was probably Dale or Jackson again, I snapped it up and barked out a, “What?”

  “Beau, can I talk to you for a moment?” Xavier’s voice was the last one I needed to hear.

  Buryin’ my head in my free hand, I mumbled out permission for him to continue.

  “Some of the guys were talking. And they said you’ve been saying you were together with Phoebe the night before she disappeared.”

  I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips. The news got around Richards Racing faster than shoulda been possible, considerin’ the small number of people I’d confided in. It wasn’t the way I’d wanted Xavier to find out about Phoebe and me, but I couldn’t deny it either. Not when confronted about it so plainly. I sighed and found my explanation.