Vice(3)

My father looks up from his newspaper. “Her car’s still in the garage. She must have gone out for a run or something.”

I keep my doubts to myself. She wouldn’t have made her bed if she’d gotten up to run so early. And Laura hates running.

Hours pass, and still there’s no Laura.

I have a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know why, but I can’t get the feeling out of my head that something bad has happened. Something f*cking awful. I never should have let her walk home on her own last night. You can see our place from the Aubertin mansion, though. It’s literally a stone’s throw. She’s run across the back field and slipped through the small gate in our fence line a thousand times before without any trouble. Why should last night have been any different?

“If she doesn’t hurry up and get back soon, I’m going to miss my bridge game over at the O’Brien’s house,” my mother complains. “She promised she’d drive me so I could have a glass of wine.”

“Fuck, Mom. If a glass of Chardonnay is so important to you, I can drive you over there,” I snap. “Damn it, I’m going out to look for her.”

“You are being ridiculous,” Mom says in a sing-song voice. She kisses me on the temple. “Thank you, though. I really would appreciate the ride.”

I leave the house, slamming the door behind me. Fucking unbelievable. They really are callous bastards. I walk slowly through the gardens, my eyes sharp, looking for anything suspicious. My parents’ place is nowhere near as big or grand as the Aubertin mansion, but the grounds are still considerable. It takes me fifteen minutes to reach the tiny, hidden gate at the perimeter of the property, and I still haven’t seen anything that might give me an idea where Laura is.

Down the hill I go, over the massive back field Jamie and I used to run riot through as children. My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I get it out, and the man himself is calling me, the name ‘Duke’ flashing up on the screen. He hated the nickname he was given by our unit back in Afghanistan. He used to tease the shit out of me over the fact that he was ranked higher than me, though, so storing him in my contacts as Duke was just fair turnaround.

“Hey, man,” I answer, distracted, my eyes still scanning the land around me.

“Hey. I’m up on the roof. I can see you.” Jamie’s always loved hanging out on the roof outside his bedroom window. I look up, and sure enough there he is, a centimeter tall, sitting with his legs dangling over the guttering of the small, flat platform. “Listen. Shit, dude, I don’t even know how to say this,” he begins. “I have something to tell you. About Laura. I think I f*cked up last night.”

“I know. I saw the whole thing.”

He groans. “Fuck. You did?”

“Yep. It was like watching the Apollo mission explode midair.”

“Damn. Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. I can’t actually find her. She seemed all right when she left to go home last night, though.”

Jamie goes quiet.

“Don’t worry, man. I’m sure she’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, I hope so. Hey, stop a second.”

“Sorry?”

“Stop walking. Check your three o’clock. There’s something weird in the grass there. About fifteen feet away.”

I pivot, turning to my right, scanning the tall grass. I can’t see anything. Still holding the phone to the side of my head, I begin to walk. I see what he’s talking about after a few long strides, and my stomach falls through the floor. I freeze, not wanting to go any further.

“What is it?” Jamie asks. “It’s shiny. I can see something bright refracting the light over there.”

“It’s sequins,” I answer numbly. “Gold sequins.”

For a minute, it feels like the entire world is standing still. Jamie says something, but I don’t hear him. I’m looking at the bundle of clothes wadded up in the grass. At the small patch of dark soil, that looks suspiciously like it’s stained with blood. His words reach me finally, echoing inside my head.

“Don’t move, Cade. Don’t f*cking move. I’ll be right there.”

The line goes dead.

I can’t wait for him to find out what this is, though. I move slowly, dread sinking deep into my bones. It’s not a body, thank f*ck. Carefully using the toe of my sneaker to disturb the pile of material on the ground, panic shoots through me like a series of lightning bolts.

It’s her dress.

It’s her purse.

And worse…

It’s her bra.

It’s her panties.





And every single item of clothing looks as though it’s been cut with a knife.





CHAPTER ONE





NOW





A JOURNEY





Dirt. Dirt everywhere. Dirt for days and motherf*cking days, working its way into my helmet, getting in my eyes, into my ears, making my nostrils burn. Seriously. So much f*cking dirt. The sound of my brand new Yamaha scrambler snarling as the tires eat up the road beneath me. The universal smell of Subway foot-longs, gas station toilets, and leaking oil filters as I pass through small town after small town, trying not to notice the gaunt, starved-looking locals and countless shot-up signs, riddled with bullet holes. The language starts in English, quickly turning to Spanish when I cross the border. The gun holes get bigger.