DELIVER(85)

Scooting closer, she straddled one of his knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. He welcomed her with an embrace around her waist, holding her tight as he read.

When he finished the pile, he returned it to the drawer. “Where’s yours?” His voice was quiet and strained.

She reached in the back of the drawer and handed him the thin dossier. “My disappearance didn’t get the publicity yours did.” She offered a smile, but it quivered at the corners.

With a kiss on the crook of her mouth, he opened the file. They read the first article in silence.

Body of missing Texas girl found in Del Valle

Officials in Texas say that remains found in an abandoned house this weekend are those of a 17-year-old girl who has been missing fourteen months.

Austin police confirmed Monday that the remains were burned beyond recognition. Police said that autopsy results indicated they belonged to Liv Reed. A 9mm shell casing and two unfired .38 caliber bullets were discovered at the crime scene.

Reed’s mother, Jill, told KRPC-TV that roller blades were found in the house. Liv was wearing them when she disappeared from Fentress Airpark. Her class ring from Eastside Memorial High School was also recovered.

Austin Police Chief, Eli Eary, said it’s believed that Reed was shot and killed in the abandoned Del Valle house, and her body was burned to destroy any evidence.

Her eyes blurred, unable to read further. An old ache clawed through her throat. Regret for Mom having suffered through her death and the terrible frustration for not being able to prove she still lived. And searing the edges of that ache was a harrowing sadness for the nameless victim who died in her place.

He stuffed the documents in the drawer, closed it, and shifted her legs to wrap around his waist. His lips stroked across her brow, his hands rubbing over her back. He held her as if he’d never let go. She held him the same way, arms tightening, fingers curling into flesh and muscle.

“There are no articles on the other captives.” His tone was distant, somber.

A ragged inhale hitched through her. “There was no fanfare with their disappearances. Those who did miss them wouldn’t have involved the police. Kate’s brothers are criminals. Camila was a nobody-gopher for the cartel. The others came from crack houses or no homes at all.” She kissed his neck, inhaling his scent to chase away the toxicity of the conversation, and leaned back. “What now?”

He rose, lifting her with him and standing her on her feet. His jaw was hard, his eyes equally so. “Now, we wait for Mr. E to come looking for Van. Or for us. And when he does, we’ll be ready.”

Her pulse kicked up in approval. She wanted him to color his words and fill her mind with images. His images. “Ready to do what?”

“To trap him and beat the ever-loving crap out of him until he exposes Mattie’s location. Then we’ll slice his throat from ear to ear.”

Hope spun around her, curling her lips. It continued to lift her through the night as he led her upstairs, f*cked her, cuddled her, fed her, and f*cked her again.

They remained in the safety of the attic for two days, waiting for Mr. E’s text, closing the door only when they were sleeping, planning and…exploring. The latter was a new experience with whips and ropes and creative sexual positions. She only egressed for food, and her sentinel was always an arm-length behind her. They never emerged unarmed. He carried his mom’s .22 in his hand. She carried the LC9 in the waistband of her jeans, wedged in her butt crack.

On the third afternoon, she crept down the stairs and stopped. Her toes touched the bottom step, illuminated by a glow of light. Josh bumped into her back.

Her scalp tingled. The hairs on her arms stood on end. The kitchen light didn’t reach the staircase.

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck. She stretched her neck to peer into the sitting room. The lamp drenched the dated decor in a sickening yellow wash. She never turned that damned lamp on.

Her heart thundered in her ears. Mr. E hadn’t sent her a text. He always sent a text.

She spun and pressed a finger against his lips, shaking her head. His eyes narrowed, his body vibrated, and his stomach hardened to stone against her hand. She drew the 9mm from her waistband, flicked off the safety, and turned back. Choking on the thickening dread in her throat, she stepped into the hallway.

With a final glare at the silhouette of aggression vibrating in the staircase, she pointed a finger at him and strode toward the kitchen with the gun at her side.

She tripped in the doorway, her heart stumbling with her breath. A mannequin sat at the table, a naked woman with a head of hair, holding a doll. All the blood in her face dumped to her stomach.

She scanned the corners of the room for Van, unsure what to do with the gun. Raise it? Conceal it? Should she go for business as usual? She held it at her side. Where the f*ck was he?

Her eardrums throbbed, straining for the sound of footsteps. She positioned herself so that she could see behind the bar, the entrance to the sitting room, and the mannequin at the table. “Van?” She shouted loud enough to dissuade Josh from charging after her.

But what if it wasn’t Van? What if this was one of Mr. E’s games?

A few feet away, the brown marbled eyes of the plastic woman stared back at her. A painted red line connected one glass eye to the pink hand-drawn mouth. Propped on the mannequin’s lap, the doll was the size of a small child, clothed in a red checkered dress.

Liv’s scar tingled in her cheek, her muscles stiffening to the point of pain. Staring at the morbid reproductions of her and Mattie, she tried to keep the contents of her stomach from painting the floor.