ME:
I miss you too
MARYANNE:
Call me tonight
I heart it then pocket my phone.
The hike alongside the creek is soggier thanks to the thaw already underway, and though the hip waders are cumbersome and hot to hike in, I’m second guessing my decision to leave them behind.
By the time I reach the place where I left off last time, I’m sweating a little, my boots muddy but my focus sharp with purpose. I drop my pack on a downed log and guzzle some water, the steadyshushhhof the creek running over the cobbles loud in my ears. And then I unpack my tools and get to work.
By late afternoon, I’ve surveyed almost the first mile, but the creek hits a high bank so I backtrack and sling my pack back on and cross to the gravel bar on the other side. A bird flushes from a cluster of cottonwoods, and I whip out my binoculars from the pouch attached to my waist belt just in time to catch the gold polka dotted wingspan of a common flicker before the bird banks left and melts into the forest. Birds are a good sign. It means the watershed isn’t completely bereft of nutrients.
When I lower the lenses to get back to work, a flash of color beneath a hemlock bough snags my attention. I focus the knob slightly, but my gut doesn’t need confirmation. It’s another one of those yarn weavings. My neck hairs bristle.
Who is putting these here? And why?
Slowly, I do a full scan of the creek basin with my naked eye. Though the weavings have nothing to do with the reason I’m here, I can’t shake the feeling that they’re important. But I don’t see any others, or anything else out of place.
I store the binoculars and walk up the gravel bar to get closer, thebig cobbles shifting beneath my boots. The hemlock is growing at an angle, its roots undercut by an eroding bank thanks to the flooding. If I hadn’t spotted the weaving from downstream, I would have missed it completely. Squatting down, I snap a picture of it. The yarn is brighter than the one I saw last time, like it’s newer.
I send the picture to CJ.
Have you ever seen something like this?
The send bar crawls across the top of my message app. Am I too far out of cell range for a picture? While I wait, Keith’s taunt about chasing rainbows flashes through my mind.Quit wasting time. I stand and stuff my phone back in my pocket. I’ll try CJ again later. Tonight, maybe I can ask Dad too.
I’m spinning around so I can return to where I left off when two men emerge from the forest.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When I stepinto the conference room, Annette Mills is adding names to the whiteboard where pictures of cult members are arranged in the shape of a pyramid. Jerome Wakefield’s name is written at the top, with a row of “true believers” below him, and “followers,” along the bottom. To the side hang pictures of several buildings I recognize—like the Elk Flats Diner and the shoddy dorm structures inside the compound.
I lock eyes with Everett, who is leaning against the opposite wall, a stern set to his jaw. “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Rowdy.”
“I came as soon as I could.” And I would have been here sooner if not for my unplanned visit to Scott’s office this morning.
First you tell me to take CJ along, and then you sideline him with a drug test? Why didn’t you check with me first?
I’m just following protocol.
Well your protocol stinks.
I’ve been in a tailspin since leaving Keo’s on Saturday. I reacted like a selfish, insecure dickhead, but her decision to foster Colton has brought up some old but very tender feelings. Eliza left us because weweren’t enough for her. And now, though the circumstances are different, the end result is the same. I’m not enough. No matter how much I try, I will never be enough.
This is why wanting something for myself is so risky. Because now it’s gone, slicing another hole in my heart in the process.
Then I find out about Linnea and CJ. Maybe I shouldn’t have come down so hard, but damn it—they’ve both been lying to me, and that stings. It still does.
“I thought you had a new recruit with you?” Zach asks from his spot at the end of the table as I ease into a chair across from Rex Rolland, who gives me a quick chin lift in greeting.
“He’s off today,” I reply as CJ’s wounded look flashes through my mind.
Next to Rex, Vera Perch offers me a serious nod. Luke sits on his other side with a man in a sheriff’s uniform who could be his burlier twin. Same inquisitive brown eyes, same chiseled jaw. Sure enough, the guy’s gold nametag reads “Sheriff Ballard.”
Annette taps the picture of Tolbert Browning in the row of “true believers” right next to Wayne Gilbert. “From interviews Sheriff Ballard conducted with Sadie Travers, most likely, Gweneth and McKenzie were abducted by this man. He likely had a woman with him.” She points to a woman in the same row with shoulder-length brown hair and a blank stare. “Someone the girls knew or even trusted.”