“June,” Maeve said, her voice cracking. “Yeah, June Haver was my sister.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Detective Rodriguez said.
She sounded like she meant it, but there was something else there too, a thread of fresh suspicion.
“Thank you,” Maeve said.
Remy walked them down and the rest of us stayed rooted in place until he retuned. “What the actual fuck?”
“It was Ethan,” Maeve said. “He’s pointing the finger at you.”
50
BRAM
I stood on the balcony,inhaling the cold March air, hoping it would help me clear my head the way it did for Poe when he came out here to meditate. Stripping off my clothes was a bridge too far, but I had to admit the fresh air helped, although it wasn’t quite as peaceful as my spot in the woods.
I’d thought about walking there, tromping through the snow, sitting on the concrete platform where the bridge crossed over the little river.
But that spot wasn’t just mine anymore. It was where I’d told Maeve I loved her, where I’d made her come with my fingers before I’d brought her home to my bed. It belonged to both of us now. I didn’t want it to be the place where I thought about that motherfucker Ethan Todd.
And Todd was pretty much all I’d been thinking about in the three days since the two detectives had shown up at the loft to question us about the missing girls.
I wasn’t worried. We were covered, we’d made sure of that, along with Stacks, the Blades’ CPA who advised us about our money, and a team of lawyers who were mandated by law to keep our affairs confidential.
But none of that was the point.
Todd had sent the detectives to the loft. To the home we shared with Maeve.
He’d brought the battle to us, and I just couldn’t let that stand.
Couldn’t let it lie.
Except what other choice did I have? After Apex, Todd had disappeared into the ether again, no trace of him beyond the two videos he’d posted, during which he’d spewed his usual toxic bullshit, alone and with the callers who phoned in to his show to commiserate about all the people who were responsible for their miserable lives, which not coincidentally were always women.
The thought of it teased something in my brain, and I tried to grab hold of the thread, tried to make it more than just a whisp of an idea.
Two minutes later I stomped into the living room, an emotion flowing through my veins that, if not excitement exactly, was at least the hint of possibility.
“We can call him.”
Remy was reading while Poe played a video game. Maeve was on her computer, probably reading the comments on Todd’s latest video or chatting with other women who hated Todd as much as she did.
We were all dealing with our helplessness in our own ways. Aloha was still digging into Todd’s phone, and while he’d uncovered a few interesting nuggets — including more of Todd’s known associates, a circle of rich, powerful men who were less than altruistic — none to it brought us closer to Todd’s whereabouts.
“We can call who?” Remy said without looking up from his book.
“Todd,” I said. “We can call into his show.”
Poe paused his game and Remy set down his book.
“What would be the point?” Remy wasn’t asking to be a dick. He wanted to know how it would move the needle, because there was no point expending time and energy to scream at Todd just because it would feel good.
And next to setting him on fire and grinding his bones to dust, screaming at Ethan Todd definitely held some appeal.
“He brought the fight to us,” Maeve said, clearly getting it. “We’re either going to take it or we’re going to bring the fight to him.”
“And calling in to his show is the only way to bring the fight to him when we don’t know where he is,” Poe said.
