“The cabin doesn’t officially exist,” Vance said. “It was built decades ago, probably by one of his relatives, on state property. Unauthorized, of course. If anyone ever finds it, they’ll either tear it down or repurpose it.”
Austin frowned. “Someone built a private cabin on state land?”
“It’s not unheard of out here,” Tucker said. “There are some folks in rural areas who don’t recognize land taken in imminent domain for state parks as no longer being theirs. It’s kind of a private feud with the state. And like Vance said, this was decades ago. There could be a dozen similar buildings out there that no one’s even noticed, other than the families who built them and still use them.”
“That’s still good information, though, that he had no property in his own name,” I said. “Eamon told me back then that Silas basically subsisted on odd jobs, and that he lived with a girlfriend with most of the time.” I shrugged as Davey returned with a tray of beer. “That’s about all I know.”
Other thanpreciselywhere he’s buried.
“Girlfriend’s name?” Austin had the notepad open on his phone, his thumbs poised over the keyboard.
“I don’t know. Cammie, maybe? I can…” I exhaled and took a step back, so I could sit on the edge of the nearest table. “I can find out.” Not in anypleasantway, but Icouldfind out.
“So, wait.” Bishop dipped a corn chip into the communal bowl of salsa. “This Silas dude lived nowhere, squatted on state land, at some point was infected, then just…what? Decided to kidnap Charley and bite her? Out of nowhere? Why? What the hell gave him that idea?” He crunched into the chip, then spoke around it. “I mean, people don’t just wake up psychotic one day, do they?”
I had no answer for that.
“It’s a valid question,” Austin said. “He clearly had a plan when he took Charley, and it sounds like it actually went pretty well for him. Which means there’s every possibility in the world that he tried this before he took her. And maybe it didn’t go so well that time. I’m going to look for previous kidnappings with a similar MO. Hopefully we’ll find one where the victim got away and can be interviewed.” He closed the notepad on his phone and pulled a laptop from a bag beneath the table.
“What about his family?” I aimed my question at Tucker, who had his own laptop open. “Not the girlfriend, but blood relatives.”
“I’m looking,” Tucker said. “But this is probably going to be a deep dive. He wasn’t on any socials, so that information is likely locked behind a pay-wall. I’ll have to search for birth certificates.”
“Got your business expense card?” I asked.
He nodded without looking up from the keyboard. “Had the numbers memorized for years…”
“Okay, do your thing. I have an idea of my own.” I picked up an untouched beer and took a big gulp. “Gonna need a couple more of these, though,” I said as I stood.
“I’ll bring them to your office,” Davey offered.
“Don’t bother. I’ve got the good stuff upstairs. Can you guys lock up?” I added, when I remembered that Billy had already gone home.
“Of course,” Vance called after me.
I’d finished my beer before I got halfway up the stairs.
I stared at the phone for twenty minutes before I managed to pick it up. It took another five before I could make myself open the list of contacts.
I’d considered deleting Eamon’s phone number at least a hundred times. I’d memorized it years ago, so that would have been a symbolic gesture, at best, but I’d almost made that gesture more times than I could count.
Yet the number was still in my phone, and it was still emblazoned upon my brain as if it had been burned in with a cattle brand. Try as I might, I couldn’t get rid of him. Even with him living all the way across the country.
I tapped on his name, and the ringing began on the other end of the line, but I didn’t pick the phone up until he answered. On the fifth ring. One more, and it would have gone to voicemail.
“Charley?” His voice sent pain through my chest, like he’d just shoved his hand between my ribs and given my heart a good squeeze.
That wasn’t nostalgia, nor any other kind of affection. He’d killed everything that was between us long ago. He’d murdered our love and cremated the corpse, and what was left—what hurt me at the sound of his voice—was the memory of what once was. It was the ghost of my first love, haunting me from beyond the grave.
“Charley? Is that really you?”
He hadn’t deleted my contact information either. Or maybe he still had my number memorized.
“Yeah.” To my utter relief, I sounded perfectly normal.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you…ever, actually.”
“Yeah, well, there are pigs taking flight right outside my office window at the moment, so…”
