by K. Webster
“That seems completely doable. Is this like a gothic day care?” I question with a grin. “Would all the babies wear Metallica T-shirts and cuss? Would they take smoke breaks instead of recess?”
“Bite me.” She laughs and kicks some rocks from my driveway toward me.
I’m still smiling when a squeal of tires draws my attention down the road. Kasey flicks her still burning cigarette into the street and we both watch as a black SUV comes barreling down the street, headed our way.
“Slow down, asshole!” she yells and flips off the vehicle as it nears.
A screeching of the tires deafens me as it comes to a complete stop right in front of where I’m sitting beside the mailbox. The door is wrenched open, and I see black combat boots first before seeing who they belong to.
Flickering my gaze over to Kasey, I notice the nervousness on her face as she starts to take a step back. When I jerk my head back over to the car, I see why.
A big man, dressed entirely in black with a ski mask covering his face, is charging for her. It happens so quickly that I’m frozen with my ass planted on the earth and I can only watch what’s unfolding right in front of me. She lets out an ear-piercing screech as he runs for her. Kasey doesn’t make it far before he’s got his massive arms wrapped around her middle. Her long legs kick wildly around her as he drags her back toward the car. The moment her terrified gaze meets mine, I jolt into action.
“No! Stop!” I scream as I scramble to my knees when he passes by me. “Let her go.”
He grunts in exertion at her struggling but has the ability to meet my stare. The eyes behind the mask are wild and crazed. I’m trying to get a better look at the man when he raises his knee in the air. The bottom of his gigantic boot slams into my cheek with the force of a hurricane. Blackness explodes in front of me, blinding me from the man who is forcefully kidnapping my friend, and I fall back into the grass, slamming my head against the ground.
As I try to regain my wits, I hear a car door slam once as he shoves her into the vehicle. Another slam sounds after he climbs back in. The SUV screeches into drive and hauls ass down the road. A wave of dizziness washes over me but I quickly roll to my side to try and read the license plate.
Too blurry.
Too far away.
Another blanket of darkness clouds my vision and I black out.
I’m not sure if it’s minutes or hours later when I hear Donovan’s concerned voice and I slowly regain consciousness.
“Nadia, baby,” he murmurs as he cradles my head in his hand. “What happened?”
My eyes are fixated on the road where Kasey’s half-smoked cigarette rolls around in the wind, the cherry still red on the end. When I don’t respond, he slides his arms beneath me and pulls me into them against his chest. Normally, I hate Donovan but right now, I need him.
I need him to hold me like Papá would have.
To tell me everything’s going to be okay.
For him to assure me that Kasey and the man who took her were all just a silly figment of my teenage imagination.
“Selene!” Donovan hollers to Mamá. “Call 911! I think Nadia was assaulted. Her nose is bleeding and she’s disoriented.”
His dark eyebrows are pinched together in genuine concern and it comforts me.
“Kasey,” I murmur and blink slowly. A massive migraine is wrapping its evil claws around my skull and crushing in on me. “He took Kasey.”
His eyes widen and he darts his gaze back down the street as if to see the vehicle that’s now long gone. When he turns to look back down at me, he presses a chaste kiss to my forehead and then pins me with a searing stare. “Shhh. We’ll tell the police. But you’re safe now, Nadia. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” He then curses, “Jesus Christ, it could have been you instead.”
I want to feel comforted that it wasn’t me but I don’t. All I can think about is her terrified expression. The fact that someone took her. How, if the police aren’t able to find her and soon, she’ll never get to hold the babies at the day care like she dreamed about.
Someone could abuse her. Rape her even.
And what’s worse, they may kill her.
Kasey was right.
She has no future.
Donovan carries me up the steps of our house where moments earlier he was acting like a pervert and fondling my ass. It seems so miniscule in comparison to what Kasey is now facing—being taken by some twisted predator. While I was annoyed and creeped out over my stepdad, she’s probably scared out of her fucking mind in the clutches of a lunatic. I really am just a spoiled brat. A girl who doesn’t know how good she really has it.
“Please help me find her,” I beg him with tears in my eyes.
He stares at me for a long minute, a frown tarnishing his otherwise handsome face. When he eventually snaps out of whatever thought held him, he nods. “I’ll do what I can, baby. I swear to fucking God, I will do everything in my power to find her.” The intensity in his vow to find a random girl who is a stranger to him shocks me. A newfound respect for him begins taking root deep inside me.
In this moment, I realize Donovan might not be so bad. The glimmer of the man he’d shown me earlier is making a reappearance. I see the promise in his penetrating gaze—a promise to make me happy. To indulge his little girl.
And if sucking up to Donovan is what it takes to find Kasey, then that’s what I’ll do.
I have to save her.
I swear to God, I’ll find and save her somehow.
She’ll have her future.
Her happy ending.
I’ll make sure of it.
Nearly ten years later…
Hate.
A four letter word that has consumed nine years of my life.
Nine fucking years.
It’s dictated my every thought, my every action, and my every move. I’ve faded into a ghost of the person I was before and gladly taken on a new image. A new persona.
I’ve become a nightmare.
Sure, you could call me one of the good guys. But I know better. Despite my career choices and the way I carry myself for all to see, I’m something dark and bitter beneath the surface. Beneath the lopsided grins and cocky exterior, I’m a hell storm of fury and rage.
My fire burns for one person.
So bright and brilliant—exceedingly hot.
I crave to decimate everything in her path, including her.
I’ve made it my life’s mission to destroy hers. I don’t want to kill her. Nah, that’d be too fucking easy for the bitch. Instead, I want to take every single thing she cares about and ruin it. I want her to watch as I rip and tear her entire life to shreds, only to then stomp what’s left into the dirt.
She needs to pay for being a stupid, useless cunt.
“You still coming by on Saturday for the game?” Rhodes questions from the doorway of my office. “Ashley was pissed she made pigs in a blanket just for you, only for you to not show up last weekend. You know how emotional her pregnant ass gets, Ghost.”
I smirk at him and shrug my shoulders. Jason Rhodes and I go way back. All the way to our high school years. He’s one of the few guys at the station I actually like and don’t mind hanging out with. “I don’t know, man. You know how it gets this time of year. Everyone wants shit built so they can enjoy it for spring. I’ve already done two decks and a gazebo and we’re only two weeks into November. If I’m free, I’ll stop by.”
He shakes his head. “You work too much. What, being lieutenant and Chief’s bitch isn’t enough? You just have to spend all your free time building shit too?” His radio beeps and he responds that he’s en route. Before he turns to leave, he flashes me a mischievous grin. “Ash said Cassidy will be there. She’s been wanting to get back on your cold dick since you porked her at my thirtieth birthday party last month.”
“Blow me, Detective,” I grunt, grabbing my dick. “Don’t you have better shit to do than worry about my sex life?”
He chuckles and saunters down t
he hallway leading away from my office and calls over his shoulder, “Just think about it. Blow-jobs, lil’ smokies, and a lot of beer. What better way to spend a Saturday night?”
When he’s gone, the smile falls from my lips and I flip the file closed I’d been working on. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. Just like always, my mind flits to her.
The bitch.
The one responsible for my sister.
Gut-churning hatred filled my insides.
With a huff, I open my eyes and start slamming files into my drawers. My shift ended a half hour ago and I’m tired as hell. I just want to go home, do a little research, and pass the fuck out.
Once my desk is cleared, I pull my drawer key from my pocket and open it. Inside is one single file. A file that I’ve obsessed over ever since I joined the Aspen Police Department five years ago. At the time, I thought it held answers to the questions that plagued me. I assumed I’d unravel the mysteries nobody else had been able to.
Instead, I found her statement.
I found her pictures.
I found her high-dollar lawyer’s business card and her stepfather’s information. Fucking Donovan Jayne of all people.
But nowhere did I find any clues about the prick who took Kasey. The stupid bitch simply watched while some sick fuck stole my sister and did nothing. Absolutely nothing. She watched as he—the man who was dressed all in black wearing a mask—shoved Kasey into his black SUV—no make or model—and drove away.
“I don’t remember.”
“I don’t know.”
Those two phrases were used more times than I could count in her report. But that’s a lie because I did count. In fact, I highlighted every single time she didn’t remember. All twenty-six times. And all eighteen times she didn’t know.
The rich bitch went on to have a fucking fabulous life.
Meanwhile, my little sister was probably dismembered and at the bottom of some fucking lake right now.
With a roar, I slam my fist on my desk, causing my cold cup of coffee to slosh and splatter onto the file. I flip to the back and run my fingers over the last date recorded. The last time I had eyes on the dumb bitch. She’d gone to college for a few years in LA. Then, she’d come back to Colorado to work at the Aspen Pines Lodge at the top of the mountain with Donovan. I thought it would be my chance. That I could finally seize the opportunity to make her life a living hell. I’d even put plans in motion to make that happen.
But then she fucking vanished.
For three goddamned years.
And I’ve been trying to locate her ever since.
My phone buzzes and I see a text from my mother which causes the stale coffee in my stomach to sour.
Mom: I miss you. Come see us at The Joint.
Rolling my eyes, I ignore her text and shove the file back into my desk. Once it’s locked up, I shoot her a reply.
Me: Maybe. Is asshole there?
I stand from my desk and stretch before swiping my keys from the corner. I’m not in the mood to see Dale today but I know Mom will just harass the fuck out of me until I come visit, so I decide to drop by for a few minutes to get it out of the way, on my way home from work. Before I leave my office, I do a cursory sweep to make sure nothing is out of place. Rhodes makes fun of me, says I’m a sociopath or some shit, but I pay him no attention. It’s that observant nature that makes me a good detective and what got me promoted to lieutenant at the early age of twenty-nine last year. My attention to detail is a trait of mine that has served me well in this life. I’d like to teach that bitch a lesson or two about paying fucking attention to important details.
I’m about to leave the room when I notice that the nameplate on my desk has been moved. With an annoyed grunt, I adjust the metal so Lieutenant Kasper Grant is perfectly straight. Whichever fucking asshole did this, I’m going to hurt. A smile plays at my lips knowing it was probably Rhodes. I’ll get the prick back later.
I shut my office door and lock it before striding down the hallway. As I pass Chief’s doorway, he calls out to me.
“Ghost, can you come here a second?”
With a sigh, I turn and stride into his office. His face is contorted into a frown as he stares at his phone. I wait patiently until his features relax, and then he regards me, a brilliant bullshit smile on his face. He thinks he can fool me along with everyone else. But he forgets that I’ve known him forever. I know his shiny smiles and easygoing personality are anything but genuine. They’re forced. All a part of what comes with his prestigious job as police chief. Who the hell am I to judge, though? People change. Apparently Logan wants to be someone nicer now. He’s got the whole town fooled, so I guess he’s doing a pretty damn good job.
“You headed home?” he asks as he tucks his phone into the breast pocket of his white button-up dress shirt. The pin on his shirt that displays his name, Chief Logan Baldwin, sits neat and straight. It’s one of the reasons I get along with Logan. He too sees the value in the details. Together, we’ve brainstormed on some tricky-ass cases and had found answers many of our detectives have overlooked. I may not believe his plastic smiles, but he’s a damn good cop. That I can respect.
“I’m going to head up to The Joint and visit Mom for a bit,” I tell him as I run my fingers through my overgrown, almost black hair. I need to get it cut but ever since I fucked Regina over the product bar of the salon after hours a couple of weeks ago, she’s been clingy and downright stalking my ass. If I go in to get my hair cut, she’ll want to suck my dick or who knows what else. And quite frankly, she wasn’t very good at it the first time. I’m not eager for a second go. I’ll just have to take my ass to Quick Cuts or have Ashley do it next time I visit.
“Ah, The Joint. Dale going to be there?” he questions, his brows furrowing. We both fucking hate Dale. Due to a conflict of interest, I’m not allowed to personally haul Dale in, being that he’s my stepfather and all. But, on the several occasions, when he’s whipped up on Mom, and she’s called me crying, I’ve had Logan handle the hauling for me. It’s one thing for your boss to know you’re the product of a white trash family. It’s a whole other thing for all of your subordinates to know, too. Most of these assholes don’t like taking orders from “the kid,” as some of them call me. If they knew about my fucked-up family, they’d be more than glad to hold that over my head and I’d lose any and all respect that I’ve worked my ass off to gain. So Logan steps in when I need him to and I owe him big for that.
“Probably. I’ll try not to kill him,” I joke. “What do you need?”
“Can you ride by Jimmy Salem’s building? He’s out of town on business. Called and said one of his neighbors told him she’d seen some kids trying to break in. Probably just that, kids, but take a look for me, will you? Jimmy and I go way back, so I told him we’d check it out. I’d do it myself but I have to deal with something rather urgent.” He stands and slides on his jacket.
“Sure,” I tell him as I turn to leave. “See you tomorrow.”
His desk phone rings and soon, he’s barking out orders to one of the uniforms. Leaving him to deal with the issue on his own, I stride out of the building toward my department-issued Camaro. Logan and I drive the only two unmarked police cars in the department, whereas the rest of the guys drive typical squad cars. When he’d handed me the keys to the black muscle machine, I nearly fucking died. I’d always heard police departments were lacking on funds.
Not ours.
Somehow, Logan manages to garner substantial support from the community. With his inherent charm and good looks, he smiles his way into some big-ass donations.
Hell, I’m not complaining.
I hit the button to unlock the vehicle and it beeps in response. As I climb into the car, my thoughts go back to her. The one who was too stupid to remember a license plate. Or to recall one tiny fucking detail that could have led the police to my sister. Anyfuckingthing.
Picking up my iPod, I flip through my music until I find “(Don’t Fear) The
Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult and then set off on my ride.
I wonder where the hell she’s been these last three years. I’ve stalked her social media accounts and even watched Donovan’s office at the lodge, hoping she might show up there one day. Nothing. She’s completely gone off the grid. I even briefly considered interrogating Donovan on her whereabouts, but I know he would only lawyer up and refuse to answer like he does with everything else. Then, I’d have Logan on my ass which I don’t need. If Logan knew I was still obsessing over this case from nearly a decade ago, he’d probably order a psych evaluation.
I don’t need a psych evaluation.
I just need my sister back.
I’m lost in thoughts of her while I make a pass through Jimmy Salem’s parking lot. A few beer cans litter the place, evidence of some kids having a recent party, but nothing looks disturbed. After a quick sweep, flashing my light to the dark corners of the building, I pull back on the road to head toward The Joint. My mind is numb once again as I contemplate where she’s gone.
As I slow at a four-way stop sign, something big and white comes barreling through off to my right, headlights bouncing as it nears. My eyes zero in on the big-ass Ford 250 which is speeding toward the intersection with no signs of stopping. It plows past me and as it flies past, I recognize the vinyl king’s crown decal on the back window that’s revealed under the red brake light.
No fucking way.
I pop my flasher on the dash and peel out after the vehicle. Sure enough, as I follow behind it, I recognize the truck to be Logan’s. Problem is, I know he’s driving the department issue Tahoe today, not his truck.
Did someone actually steal the police chief’s vehicle?
What a fucking moron.
Adrenaline surges through my veins as I speed after the truck. It doesn’t show any signs of slowing even though I’m tailing its ass with my red and blue lights flashing. I end up following it for a half mile before I realize that whoever’s behind the wheel is just driving faster and has no plans to pull over. Knowing there’s a curve coming up soon, I yank my wheel to the right and gas it past the truck. As we reach the curve, driving side by side, I start inching into the right lane. I don’t want to damage mine or Logan’s vehicle but I’m not about to let this person get away. When I barely bump the side of the truck, it jerks off to the right and sails into a ditch. Slamming on my brakes, I pull off to the side a little ways ahead of the truck and jump out of the car. Headlights blind me, so I draw out my 9 mm Glock and aim it at the vehicle.
