Ink and Bone(61)
“I’ll think about it,” said Wolf. “Thanks.”
“You know we’ll do anything,” said Blake. Wolf knew that his old friend was one of the few people in the world who said it and meant it. But there was literally nothing anyone could do for them. Except . . .
“I wanted to ask you something,” said Wolf. He took the article he’d printed from the web and unfolded it, smoothed it out on the bar in front of them. “Hear anything about this?”
Blake put his glasses back on. “Yeah,” he said. “I heard about this guy on the news and then there was some chatter about it at the office.”
Blake was a criminal defense attorney, had lots of connections with other lawyers, cops, and detectives. He had been a huge help in dealing with the police, especially when they were tearing Wolf and Merri apart.
“What kind of chatter?” Wolf asked.
“Well, foul play is definitely suspected. The guy was like Mr. Nice, happily married, very successful, into his job, no debt, no affairs, not even a parking ticket. Not the kind of guy who typically takes off on his family. There’s no signal from his phone, which means it was probably destroyed. No credit card activity.”
Blake looked down at the article again. “The Hollows,” he said. “Where Abbey—I’m sorry, man. I didn’t make the connection.”
Wolf nodded quickly. “Jackson’s obsessed.”
“The news thing?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But it’s more intense than it’s been. He thinks the story has something to do with Abbey.”
“Why does he think that?” asked Blake.
“I don’t know,” said Wolf. He took a sip of his next beer, which was ice cold and tasted good. Usually, he tried not to drink when he wanted it as bad as he did right now. Because when he felt this bad, it all went down too easy; he drank too much, did stupid things, was useless the next day. It was the only thing that smoothed out the jagged edges of his inner life. But he couldn’t afford that kind of carelessness anymore. “I don’t think he even knows.”
Blake tapped a finger on the bar, thinking.
“I heard today that the guy had some kind of new technology in his car. If it’s tampered with, reported stolen, or damaged, it apparently sends off some kind of beacon to the leasing company. They can control the car remotely, render it inoperable, find out exactly where it is in the event that it needs to be repossessed.”
Wolf felt an unreasonable flutter of hope, in spite of himself. This was a symptom of Jackson’s PTSD, and it was contagious in a way because the shattered, hopeless mind reaches for any kind of hope, no matter how dim. Ostensibly, Wolf was only asking because it helped calm Jackson down. Once he realized that there was no connection between whatever news story and the fractured lives of the Gleason family, Jackson moved on. Of course, Wolf didn’t actually believe that this story had anything to do with Abbey. But still, wasn’t there just the faintest glimmer of maybe? “So—”
“There are channels that need navigating, some initial resistance to the warrant that was needed because there’s no real evidence of foul play,” he said. “It’s taking some time. They were talking about it today, privacy and legality issues.”
Wolf thought about the man’s family. How infuriating it must be to have a technology that could help you find your missing loved one and then not be able to use it. The delays for reasons of legality seemed inhumane to the point of being Kafkaesque when you were frantic with fear and everyone else was following rules. How many hours did the police spend grilling Wolf and Merri while Abbey’s abductor was getting farther and farther away?
Wolf ordered another beer, and a shot of tequila. Blake looked at him but didn’t say anything. Blake and Claire were real friends, and even if they didn’t, couldn’t, understand, they’d been there every step of the way. Blake had been in The Hollows hours after Abbey disappeared, advising them, supporting them.
“Will you keep your ears open about it, let me know if you hear anything so I can tell Jackson?”
Jackson’s doctor had advised them not to dismiss the kid’s fears, but to help him work through things. Help him to see that there were no patterns, no way to predict the future to prevent bad things from happening. Wolf wasn’t sure what good it did for him to know that, that no one had any control over anything, that life could spiral out of your control in a moment.
“Sure,” said Blake. “Want me to make some calls?”
“That would be great,” he said.
“I’m interested anyway,” said Blake.
The place was filling up, and the voices around them getting a little louder. They both zoned out on the game. During a commercial break, Wolf watched a preview of the weather. The first winter storm was on its way, and it wasn’t even Halloween. Snowfall in the city was going to be light, but it looked like they were going to get dumped on farther up north. The sight of that gray graphic over the upstate region gripped him with sorrow. Another winter coming without Abbey, and Merri getting farther away every second.
“You should go up there, man,” said Blake again, reading his thoughts. “At least bring her back before that storm hits.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Wolf.
A girl sat at one of the high-tops, surrounded by a crowd of coworkers, her blazer off, her sheer blouse revealing a cream-colored camisole. Her blonde hair was silky and a little wild around her face like a mane. She was smiling at Wolf, sweet and shy. She laughed at something, turned back to the young man beside her.