“Thank you. I’ll do anything to find her.”
“I do understand. If the PI finds anything, let me know.” She placed her hand over mine. “And I hope it turns out how it appears at the moment, and she comes home soon. If she does, please get in touch.”
Despite my irritation at their inaction, I thanked her and took the card she offered with the PI’s details on it. When I finished, I rang the PI and set up an appointment before driving to Richards Racing to spend some time looking through Phoebe’s stuff. There was nothing useful in any of it. At least, nothing that didn’t add to my certainty that there was something sinister going on. Despite that, I spent hours alone at her desk trying to sort through before I felt ready to return to Phoebe’s apartment and the “guests” there.
Eventually, I had to leave though. Angel might have been an adult, and in the States of her own volition, but I still felt responsible for her. And if someone was stalking Phoebe’s building, if something sinister had happened to her there, who was to say that Angel wouldn’t meet the same fate. The thought compelled me to my feet.
I only stopped to get some food, aware that it was likely that neither Angel nor Beau would have gone to get something.
The rest of the night was awkward and difficult, as I had to explain, once again, that the police weren’t going to investigate. When Beau offered to take Angel to Florida so I could continue the search for Phoebe and get the PI involved without worrying about her, I was selfish enough to agree.
I only hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
BEAU SWUNG BY Phoebe’s apartment the next morning to pick Angel up, letting me know he’d organised a cab to get them to the airport for the flight to Florida. When he arrived, I gave him the press release Alyssa had sent through overnight. As he read it, his frown grew and I could have sworn tears welled in his eyes. He’d shaken it off by the time he spoke though.
“I’ll make sure Dale gets this and informs the team as soon as we arrive.”
“Alyssa is poised to release it locally to news outlets back home and across her contacts here at one this afternoon,” I advised. Truth was, I expected something of a shitstorm once that happened—especially as the sponsors and staff woke in the morning in Australia. It was something of a relief that Angel would be away from all of that.
After Angel and Beau had left, I pushed the worries about what was to come aside for my meeting with the PI, Darnell Banks. Although I wasn’t sure what to expect, I was pleasantly surprised by the man who walked in through the door. Dressed in a sharp suit, he looked a consummate professional. The expression on his face was friendly, but solemn.
“Mr Reede.” He stuck his hand out.
I took it readily. “Please, call me Declan.”
He nodded before trailing his other hand through the curls of his tight afro. “Darnell.”
I showed him to Phoebe’s dining table, where the notes I’d been making ever since I arrived were laid out. We sat down and went over my notes. As we did, I gave him my shortlist of suspects. It covered everyone who might have wanted Phoebe hurt, everyone who had access to Phoebe’s apartment—or Phoebe herself—and was topped by the guy who’d hurt her and the two guys who each believed they’d claimed her heart. The list was longer than the employee list we’d received before Phoebe started—because it included all of them and more.
After we’d run through the basics of the case that we hadn’t discussed on the phone, he asked if he could look around the apartment. I gave him the tour and then he spent a little time walking around on his own, flicking through her paperwork, looking through the photos around the place, and just generally getting a feel for the life Phoebe had in the States. Although I knew he was ultimately helping, part of me wanted to tell him to back off and leave her privacy intact.
“Without knowing your daughter, I tend to agree with what you believe. It seems unlikely she would’ve walked away from the race scene. Not with the money and effort she’s gone to in order to prepare for it.”
I had no idea what exactly had convinced him of that fact, but I was glad he agreed with me.
“The next step is to pull her phone records, talk to the building super and her neighbours, and try to narrow down the names on your suspect list a little.” He explained a little more about what I could expect, where we’d go from there, and finally, exactly how much he charged.
“Money is no object,” I said. It might have been a dangerous statement to say to someone who could effectively write a blank cheque for their expenses and time, but there was something about Darnell that inspired my confidence. His track record spoke for itself, and there wasn’t a single lie in my words. Alyssa and I had been blessed early on, and we’d capitalised on that fortune over the years, but not one single cent of it was worth the safety of our children. “I just want her home.”
“I understand. Have you made any public appeals yet?”
I told him about the press release, explained that it would be coming out later that afternoon, and I spoke of the reasons Alyssa and I were holding off on announcing a reward for the short term. We wanted the focus of the investigation to be on cleaner leads. If nothing turned up soon, then we’d figure out what to do then.
We spoke strategy for a little longer, and then before he left he gave me reassurances that we’d find answers even as he warned me that the answers might not be the ones I wanted.
His warning was still spinning through my mind when I got the confirmation that the press release had gone out. I stared at my phone and waited. Less than five minutes after the release, my phone rang.
I did what I could to answer the questions with as little information as possible. It wasn’t quite a “no comment” but it was as much of one as I could get away with without alienating the source. The next few phone calls were all the same. Eventually, after hours of answering the same shit over and over, I turned my phone off and crawled onto the couch to lie down. It felt wrong to sleep in Phoebe’s bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the apartment to return to the hotel.
After a shitty night of sleeping on Phoebe’s couch, I returned to my hotel room just long enough to pack all my shit up and check out. As I cleaned out the room it struck me hard that part of me had been hoping the whole time that it would come out that we’d been wrong. Even if I hadn’t admitted it to myself, I’d been hoping that it would be like the time Brock had hidden in the back of the walk-in robe and Alyssa and I had panicked before he’d popped out to let us know he was okay. That Phoebe was fine and there was just a misunderstanding along the way. Leaving the hotel room to make Phoebe’s apartment my base of operations was the final admission she wasn’t just going to “turn up” somewhere.
Sometime around midday on Thursday, when I was back in Phoebe’s apartment, I checked my messages and emails again. Among everything else was a message from a news outlet down south. I didn’t know the name, but that didn’t matter. The email header asked, Do you have any comment on the attached?
I opened the email to see what I was supposed to be making a comment on, and found a series of photos with Angel and Beau. In the first, they were hugging. Then there was one with her holding his arm. Another where they looked like they were about to kiss. As I flicked through the photos, I tried to remind myself Angel had always expressed herself with her touch—at least she had with Phoebe.
When that didn’t work, I tried to remind myself of the times I’d been caught out with photos that were innocent but looked incriminating.
No matter how many times I worked to convince myself otherwise, the photos hinted at something more happening. Putting that out of my mind, I returned to the email and read the body of the text. It spoke about an anonymous tip saying the two of them had been spotted cosying up together. The story it told was one of a predator who went from young woman to young woman—just like I had when I was young and stupid. Except I’d never tried to make anyone fall in love with me. I’d never promised them the world and then delivered hear
tbreak.
The evidence grew more damning the longer I read.
Beau was a fucking psychopathic womanizer.
And I’d sent Angel away with him.
The last line was the biggest blow. Apparently an anonymous source had come forward to the news outlet stating they’d seen Phoebe at the Lake Retreat the Sunday after her feature.
Unresponsive.
In Beau’s arms.
Fuck!
How had I let the fucker convince me of his innocence? I dialled the number of the reporter and demanded to know every detail they’d been told. They refused to reveal their source, but seemed convinced of the authenticity of the information.
I told them I’d be in contact with them again as soon as I could, and then called Darnell to pass the information on to him. Lastly, I called home. It was early morning, but Alyssa was awake—or at least she answered my Skype call without delay.
“Did you see my email?” I asked without any greeting. The conversations between Alyssa and me had grown more stilted and to the point with every day I’d been in the USA. We both wanted me to be on my way home, and both knew that wasn’t going to happen until we had answers.
“Give me a second.” A moment later, it was clear she must have had the email I’d received from the press on her screen. “What are these photos with Angel?”
“They’re saying that Beau is trying to seduce her. That he’s worked his way through a number of girls and did something to Phoebe when she got too clingy.”
Her eyes moved back and forth across the screen as she read the rest of the email. “Is all of this true?”
“I don’t know. Some of it definitely fits. It matches the timeframes we know, and this Cassidee girl is definitely pregnant. The PI is looking into the links there, to find out if there’s more to it. I just don’t know what to think.”
“Do you trust him?”
“I don’t trust anyone here. Everyone has a reason to lie. There are hidden agendas everywhere, and those who don’t seem to have anything to hide are just apathetic toward Phoebe.”
“And Angel’s with him now?”
“Yes. I . . . don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether she’s safe. I know she’s not stupid, but . . . fuck, I just feel like she’s my responsibility over here.”
“She is an adult.”
“But?” I could hear in her tone that there was one.
“But I remember what Hunter was like before he showed his true colours. He had me convinced that he was just a sweet guy. If Beau is as bad as you say and had Phoebe convinced . . .”
“Angel could be too,” I said as Alyssa’s concerns struck me. Angel could be drawn into Beau’s web. If that happened, and he had hurt Phoebe . . . who was to say that he wouldn’t do the same to her. If he did, it would be my fault because I’d let her go with him.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get a ticket down to Florida and have another chat with him.” Leaving North Carolina when I was just starting to get somewhere was the last thing I wanted to do, but I didn’t see what other choice I had. “If I don’t like what he says, I’ll bring Angel back with me.”
“That sounds like a plan. Just keep your cool.”
“I’ve been doing a pretty fucking good job of that so far if you ask me.” Especially considering the bullshit I keep facing.
“Well, I haven’t seen any rap sheets yet, so you must be doing something right,” she teased. “Did you want to hang on the line and I’ll get everyone up to talk to you?”
We’d done so much of our communicating too late at night or early morning for them, so I hadn’t been able to speak to the rest of my family as often as I’d have liked. I waited patiently as Alyssa rounded up the kids one by one.
Beth was the first to come in. Still in her pyjamas, with wild hair and rubbing her eyes, she wandered into the study.
“Hey, Bethie,” I said as my heart clenched. God, I missed them all so fucking much.
She perked up instantly. “Daddy! Have you got Phoebe now?”
“No, sweetie, she’s still missing. But I’m getting closer. I’ve got someone who is going to help us, and it’s his special job to find people who are missing.”
“Do you think she doesn’t like us anymore?”
“I promise you, Phoebe loves you all very much. Whatever happened, wherever she is, she’s missing us all as much as we’re missing her.”
Parker walked in just as I was reassuring Beth.
“Hey, Daddy.” He looked as tired as Beth. I wondered whether it was a good idea, Alyssa waking them all up early. They were likely to be tired and cranky by the end of the day. Before long, Alyssa returned with Nikki.
“Brock can’t drag himself out of bed to speak to you.”
Despite the situation, I laughed. I remembered what I was like at his age. The only thing that could force me out of my bed was either race day or the promise of seeing Alyssa.
The five of us talked a little about Phoebe, a little about what I’d been doing in the States—at least the version I could talk about with the kids, about Angel and seeing Phoebe’s interview—and then they spent some time filling me in on what they’d been up to. It was nearly half an hour before we disconnected the call.
When we had, I felt a little better. It was amazing how cathartic talking to my family could be. With my decision set on what to do about Angel, I booked one flight to Florida the following day, and two flights back, and a hire car for the time I’d be there. It was only a maybe that Angel would even come back, but I didn’t want to risk being down there and unable to fly back together. With all of that set, I checked my emails again.
I was midway through when the police called. My heart was in my throat as the officer I’d last spoken to greeted me. She asked me to come back into the station when I could. Not wanting to delay a single thing, I agreed to head straight in.
Within an hour, I was at the police station. Unlike the last few times I’d visited them, I was ushered straight inside. Everything was urgent and rushed. It could only have been a breakthrough of some description.
“Did the Be On the Lookout get a result?” I asked, thinking that might be the reason she’d called me.
“No. I’m afraid there’s been no word on that front, but I wanted to let you know we’re opening a case.”
My heart leapt. “Not that I’m complaining, but why now?”
“We’ve had some additional information come to light in regards to her disappearance.”
“Like what?”
Although she couldn’t discuss most of the details with me, what she did say—about someone coming forward to say they’d seen Phoebe in Georgia the day after the interview—pointed in one firm direction.
Beau.
“We’re putting the information you provided us into the case file, but I hope you don’t mind answering a few other questions?”
“Not at all, Officer. Anything to help bring her back.”
“We’ll do everything we can and will work with Georgia as well.” She went on to suggest Phoebe might already be dead—without saying it outright.
By the time I’d finished with the police, I was more convinced than ever that I needed to rescue Angel from Beau. Only, I couldn’t warn her because her phone wasn’t on roaming, and I didn’t want to tip him off to my arrival before I got there. If it was as bad as I thought it could be, I didn’t want him doing anything to her.
More than anything, I was ready for a drink or twenty, but with my early flight the following morning, I couldn’t go there. Instead, I texted Alyssa to let her know the police were finally opening a case and then I found my way onto Phoebe’s couch again to try to get some sleep.
WHEN MY FLIGHT landed, the first thing I did was check my phone and tune in to the gossip rags. They were all singing the same song as the first email I’d received. News of Beau and Angel together—as a couple—were splashed around everywhere.
The list o
f links the PR team compiled with references to Phoebe grew almost by the second, and a number of them showed footage of Beau leading Angel out of the hotel with an arm around her waist, before guiding her back inside.
It was enough to push me over the edge.
Not only had that fucker seduced and then possibly hurt my daughter, now he was trying to work the same fucking magic with Phoebe’s best friend. It convinced me of one fact: Beau Miller was a goddamn fucking arsehole, cut from the same sort of cloth as my old enemy, Hunter Blake.
As far as I was concerned, the sooner the police found the evidence of what Beau had done to Phoebe, the better. They could lock him the fuck up and keep everyone safe.
Until then, the best I could do was to keep Angel safe from him. To take her away from him and back to North Carolina. There was no need for a discussion like I’d originally planned. No need for any talk at all. Talk would only lead to my fists in his face and a risk of destroying the case before the police started to investigate it.
When I saw that I had a missed call from him, I figured he was just trying to make up some sort of excuse—like he had every other time one of his lies had started to unravel. The psychopath had a fucking answer for everything, but I wouldn’t let him try to talk me around again.
On the way from the airport, I rang the manager of the hotel where they were staying and called in a favour—in exchange for a greased palm—as an attempt to get in and out without the paparazzi getting in the way.
The manager met me in the basement, and I thanked him for the help.
As soon as I bid him farewell, I called Beau’s mobile number. Before he could try to feed me any bullshit, I spoke. “I’m in the basement of the hotel. You have five minutes to get Angel down here or I’ll come up there and make your life a living hell.”
“What?”
I clenched my jaw to hold back the stream of curse words I wanted to utter. “You heard.”
Before he could respond again, I disconnected the call and checked the time. It wasn’t like I was going to count down to the second, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with any bullshit either.
Decay (Phoebe Reede: The Untold #3.2 Declan Reede: The Untold Story #6) Page 8
