Decay (Phoebe Reede: The Untold #3.2 Declan Reede: The Untold Story #6)

by Michelle Irwin

  “Good?” It was clear the response was more a question than anything else.

  “Lys?”

  “Well, it’s all going as good as I would expect it to go without the CEO at the helm. I can only trust what I’m being told.”

  “We have a good team.”

  “We do,” she said.

  “We just have to trust they’re good enough. At least until we find Phoebe.”

  “Dec, have . . .” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Have you considered that you might not find her? It’s been so long already. Do you think she had enough medication to last? How long are you going to stay there if you can’t find her?”

  “I worry about that every fucking night. I don’t want to give up too soon though. What if I do go home and something happens that my being here could help?”

  “I know, and it kills me to say it, but I think we need an end date.”

  As much as I hated her saying it, she was right. Phoebe had been missing for more than a month and I’d already been in the States for three weeks. How long should I wait? How long could I? How many weeks should I leave my family fatherless and the team without their CEO? “You’re right. I think the team should be okay for the first race of the season,” I said, hoping I was right. “But I’ll have to come home after that.” It felt like admitting defeat already.

  The sorrow that weighed down the corners of Alyssa’s lips confirmed she felt the same way. “I’ve got to go, but think about what I said about Beau.”

  I WAS in the middle of a discussion with Darnell when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Angel, I moved to answer it.

  When I saw the wannabe cowboy from Georgia, I muttered a dismissal to Darnell and threw my phone onto the couch.

  “You’ve got some fucking nerve talking to my wife,” I said. The more I’d thought about what Alyssa had said on the Skype call, the more pissed off I’d become that he’d gone behind my back to try to worm his way back into the whole thing. “And even more coming here.”

  Standing a distance behind him, pretending to be busy on her phone, was Angel—clearly meddling again, just like she had with the Skype call to Alyssa.

  Once more, Beau pled his case and I felt myself relenting a little. What would it hurt to have him help out? It wouldn’t stop me from having Darnell investigate him still—it would just make it a little harder to get the information from him if Beau was ever in Phoebe’s apartment with me.

  “I can’t rule anyone out,” I said in response to his pleading.

  He brushed his hand through his hair. “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?” I snapped as the thoughts that had been running around my head were echoed in his words. “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?”

  Angel and Beau both continued the argument that I should let Beau in on the information, for far too long. I needed to cut it off.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” I asked.

  Beau sighed and glanced toward Angel briefly, as if trying to find the answer from her. She wisely chose to stay silent. “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 question rushed from me in response to his statement—issued so soon after discussing with Alyssa that we had to face reality that Phoebe might no longer be safe. For the past couple of days after the Skype call with Alyssa, I’d grown more convinced that it was impossible Phoebe could still be alive—especially after a similarly frank warning from the police. It was an odd sensation, mourning the loss of someone while still wanting to hold on to the hope that they could still be alive.

  His eyes widened and he blew out a sharp breath. “Don’t you?”

  The strength of his reaction—of his shock and clear disgust that I might think otherwise—left me unable to speak.

  “I-I can’t . . . I can’t consider any other option.” His voice was earnest and urgent. “I’ve gotta have faith.”

  His blind faith made me feel like shit and sent justification for the way I felt to my lips. “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 . . .”

  “So you’ve given up on her? You’re lookin’ for a body and not the beautiful, lively gal she is?”

  “I have to prepare for that possibility.” Couldn’t he understand that I didn’t want to think that way? I had to be a realist. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be where I was, professionally or personally. It was rare for a person missing for so long to turn up alive, and that was without Phoebe’s medical complications. “It’s been almost a month without any word.”

  Beau’s lip curled up. “I was wrong to let Angel drag me back here,” he snarled. “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.”

  Before I could say anything else, he stalked away.

  “Fucking arsehole!” I shouted after him. Only, it wasn’t directed at him as much as it was at the realities he was making me see.

  I was her father—I should be the last person to give up on her.

  Regardless of how long it had been, I should have been holding out every ounce of hope I could, until we had something definitive.

  “Fuck! Shit!” I spun and grabbed the nearest thing to the door, a small photo frame, and hurled it at a wall opposite.

  Angel rushed off after Beau, and I slammed the door shut to catch my breath. Trailing both hands through my hair, I paced around Phoebe’s apartment for a good ten minutes. Then I threw open the door, wanting to chase after Beau and give him a piece of my mind.

  I made it as far as the elevator. When the doors slid open, Angel was inside on her return trip.

  She gave me the stink eye. “Well, that could have gone better. Have you really given up on Phoebe?”

  “You know her condition. What do you think the chances are that she has enough medication on her to get through a month or more? Besides, if she was able to access her medication every day, wouldn’t she be able to contact us somehow?”

  “I can’t give up on her. I won’t.”

  “What do you want from me, Angel?”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure you and Beau were going to get along. If you’re divided, it’ll be that much harder to find her.”

  “You still believe he’s innocent?” In truth, even I was starting to believe that might be the case, but in the face of the surge of adrenaline in my system, I needed to argue.

  “I’m more convinced of it than ever. He loves Phoebe like no other man ever will. There is no way he hurt her.”

  “What about the trust?” It was clutching at straws.

  “Cass means something to him that has nothing to do with her baby. That’s why he did it. If you want to know what, you can ask Beau. In the meantime, I’m going to do some washing. I’m tired, and I have a long journey that starts in the morning.”

  Despite the situation, I had to smile at how much she’d come out of her shell around me. She’d never been one for being backward about coming forward, but there had always been a layer of mistrust there that had been stripped away.

  “I’ll lay off Beau,” I promised. “I’ll do what I can to include him, but I reserve the right to an ‘I told you so’ if it turns out I was right.”

  “If it turns out you were right, I won’t be around for an ‘I told you so.’ I’ll be too busy castrating the bastard.”

  I chuckled. After the stresses, it felt good to let something out.

  “He is doing what he can to find her. I think he’s going off on his own to make a public appeal,” Angel announced.

  “What?”

  “He
was speaking to some bird at a TV station about going on TV tonight.”

  It was either going to be the greatest thing or the worst possible outcome. Either way, I couldn’t change it, only watch it unfold. “What time?”

  “Tonight. That’s all I know.”

  We spent the next few hours talking about the things she had learned while in Georgia—at least what she was willing to tell me about it. The more she spoke of Beau, the clearer it became that he’d wormed his way under her skin somehow. Was it because of their shared love for Phoebe? The qualification she’d put on her statement about him loving Phoebe more than any other man could hadn’t escaped my attention.

  AFTER SERVING UP some dinner, I headed for a shower. I was in the middle of washing my hair when Angel banged on the bathroom door with an unexpected urgency. All I could think was that the police had found her and called. Ignoring the shampoo in my hair, I slammed off the water and grabbed a towel to wrap around my waist.

  “What is it?” I asked when I threw the door open.

  “It’s Beau,” she said. Her eyes were wide and wild, an excitement shifting in the emerald tones. “She called him.”

  What? I didn’t ask for the phone, just grabbed it out of her hand in my urgency. “She called you?” I asked hime.

  Angel stood nearby, straining to hear both sides of the conversation.

  “Just now. She said she’s okay, but I couldn’t get anythin’ more. She tol’ me to stop lookin’ for her. Whoever has her, he was with her.”

  “Why didn’t she call me?” I wondered aloud. If she had access to a phone, wouldn’t she call me? Although, would she have known I was in the States? She had to assume I’d come after the last call she made.

  He let me know he’d put a trace on the call with the phone company and I promised to pass the information along to my contacts at the police and to Darnell. Then he told me he was planning to offer a reward. Although Alyssa and I had discussed and dismissed the idea early on, and part of me still had reservations over whether it might do more harm than good, I wasn’t going to stop him.

  As I hung up the phone, my heart beat a rapid rhythm against my ribcage.

  She’s alive.

  A smile burst across my face at the thought. That small confirmation was more uplifting than I ever could have imagined.

  “She’s alive,” Angel said, the relief in her tone palpable. She rushed forward and grabbed me around the waist to celebrate before realising I was only in a towel and leaping away again.

  “Can you do me a favour and bring up Skype?” I asked. “I’ve got to rinse this shit off and a couple of quick calls to make, but Alyssa needs to know.”

  After quickly rinsing off in the shower, I spent the rest of the evening juggling phone calls to the police, to Darnell, and to Alyssa. There was a renewed energy buzzing through me. The confirmation that Phoebe was alive ignited every nerve ending and synapse.

  There was a lingering doubt in the back of my mind that maybe it suited Beau’s needs to convince me she was alive, that the timing seemed too perfect and it wasn’t as if I’d received the confirmation myself, but I told that voice to shut the fuck up. I needed the fire and if Beau was doing it as a trick, it would backfire on him, because it gave me exactly what I needed to push harder than ever to find her and get justice.

  When I told Alyssa, she held her hand over her face as tears flooded her eyes and a smile beamed on her lips. That look was further encouragement. If that’s all she needed to smile again, I couldn’t imagine the joy I would bring her when I could tell her I was bringing our daughter home.

  The next morning, it was time to say goodbye to Angel. Despite the fact that a week earlier, I would’ve placed her on the plane myself just to get her out of harm’s way, I found the moment a little bittersweet. The time she’d been down in Georgia with Beau had given me a taste of what I would soon be facing while I continued to follow every lead and liaise with every contact alone.

  I wasn’t looking forward to being alone, because I’d never been much good when left to my own devices. My inner demons liked to come out to play when I was alone.

  Angel kept glancing at the door for the better part of the morning, no doubt waiting to see if Beau would come by to see her off—she sure as shit wasn’t waiting for Cora. A little more than twenty minutes before we had to leave for the flight, Beau texted me to say he’d been pinned down at home by the paps. The look of disappointment on Angel’s face when I told her made me want to bust his balls all over again. I wonder if he realised how badly it hurt her for him to not show.

  “I just thought I’d have one more chance to say goodbye, you know?” She dragged her suitcase from Phoebe’s room before taking one longing glance back in.

  It forced me to consider that maybe her words and the look weren’t truly intended for Beau. She probably figured a little over three weeks would have been plenty of time to find out what happened with Phoebe and spend some time with her before going home.

  Words of reassurance danced their way onto my tongue, but I didn’t let them free because we’d all heard them too often. Every time, they were uttered with the best intentions, but it grew too much very quickly. The trip to the airport was an almost silent affair; the air pregnant with the weight of Phoebe’s absence.

  “Please take care of Beau,” Angel added as I handed her suitcase to her so she could check in. “And let him take care of you too. If you pay attention, you’ll see he’s a lot like Phoebe.”

  I caught the true intention of her words. I’d lost count of how many times I’d heard that Phoebe was so much like me. “I’ll try not to kill him.”

  She laughed. “That’s the least I can ask.”

  I cupped her cheek the way I wanted to hold Phoebe’s. “If you need to get out of your house for a while, for any reason, our house is always open to you. That doesn’t go away just because Phoebe’s not there.” It was something Alyssa and I had expressed to her before, but it didn’t hurt to repeat it with Angel. Despite all her outward confidence, there was a girl inside who needed to be reminded of her worth after the job her mother had done on her over the years.

  Her hand came to rest over mine. “I know, Mr R. Thank you for letting me stay. Make sure you bring her home.”

  After a brief hug, I wished her a safe flight and then headed back to Phoebe’s apartment.

  Despite the phone call from Phoebe, nothing moved. The trace couldn’t be followed up for a number of days. The police couldn’t do anything more and had other cases to work on. Beau’s offer of a reward had increased the influx of information, but none of it was necessarily useful.

  At least not yet.

  All I could do was hold on to hope.

  “THANKS FOR COMING, Mr Reede.” The police liaison led me through to a room. She had called an hour earlier and requested I go into the station to talk about a development in the case.

  I’d rushed straight to the station, eager to find out more. It was Friday and I hoped for some good news heading into the weekend.

  “Normally, we would wait until we had more information before discussing this with you. However, due to the high-profile nature of this case, I don’t want to risk any gossip and rumours reaching you before we could talk officially.”

  Her tone, demeanour, and everything about the situation screamed at me that something wasn’t right.

  I couldn’t control the pounding of my heart. “What is it?”

  “We received an anonymous tip and when we followed it, we found a vehicle. It was burned out, but based on the information provided by the rental company, we’ve confirmed it was your daughter’s rental.”

  My hands shook. There was more. If that’s all there was, she wouldn’t have mentioned needing more information.

  “I’m afraid to say there was a body inside.”

  “But it’s not her?” I asked, desperate for her to tell me it wasn’t Phoebe.

  “I’m afraid we won’t know that until we get additional informa
tion.”

  It wasn’t a no.

  I needed it to be a no.

  “There is reason to suspect that it might be your daughter.”

  “No.” The word carried on the air that rushed from my lungs as every cell in my heart shattered at once.

  She kept talking, explaining a number of different scenarios and what would happen from there, but all I could focus on was her words that it might be Phoebe. I closed my eyes and pictured walking back in the door at home with that news on my lips—having to tell Alyssa that I’d failed, having to explain to our other kids that Phoebe wouldn’t be coming home. They all knew about Emmanuel, of course, but for them he was a story, not a living, breathing person the way Phoebe had been.

  By the time I left the station, the hurt had turned to shock and I was numb from head to toe. Nothing the liaison had said about timelines and what came next had sunk in. I needed to speak to someone, to voice the things that were running in my mind. I wasn’t ready to talk to Alyssa though—where could I even begin? How could I say the words—the false hope and the rising worry?

  Instead of calling my wife, I rang the only person I could think of who would want to know but who would also keep things tight-lipped and out of the press.

  When I hit his voicemail, I left a message and then pushed the call out of my mind. I stood in front of the police station and stared at the road, trying to forget the dreadful information. It was almost too easy to force it out of my mind and pretend I’d heard nothing at all. Without thinking through my destination, I hunted for a liquor store. After stocking up, I returned to Phoebe’s apartment.

  My mind was numb to it all.

  I set the three large bottles of whiskey down on the counter before cracking open the first bottle and pouring a generous shot into a tumbler. As I took my first sip, I glanced around Phoebe’s apartment. Every personal touch she’d added to the space was something for me to focus on to find hope, but my gaze slid by them all. My heart still beat and I kept on breathing, but otherwise I was unfeeling.

  I had to be.