There's nothing here to tell me anything, so I go to the next album. This is the holidays. Christina and her parents. They look like a nice couple. I can see they love her like crazy. There's a lot of laughter in these photos. Big smiles. Corny Christmas sweaters. I always wanted a family like this.
Still no clues. The next album is a birthday party. Again, there's Christina, the center of attention. There are even pics of her baking her own birthday cake. It's beautiful. For a young girl, she did a great job, even piping the icing in swirls. Photos of people with slices on plates, giving a thumbs-up. I'm getting a clearer picture of this woman. Someone with a lot of love in her life.
Then something changed. There's another album of her. Just her. No friends. Just a bunch of photos somebody took of her. She looks thinner. Tired. In a few photos, she's holding her hand up like she wants to shield herself. She doesn't want her photo taken. But the person behind the camera insisted.
It had to be him. This was after she met him.
I look back at the albums, knowing there have to be photos of him in here somewhere. I have to see him. I need to look at him, know who I'm after. Hopefully I can find something that will tell me where he might take her.
There they are. It has to be him-she told me he was her only boyfriend, didn't she? He has his arms around her, hers around him. They're young, fresh-looking. Big smiles on their faces. Was this before or after he hit her the first time? Is she full of hope? I wish I could go back to that girl and warn her about him.
And him. He just looks like somebody I'd fucking hate if I met him in person. I've known enough bullies in my day to recognize one when I see them. Thick, burly. He has a smile that's more like a half-sneer. Blond, curly hair in a tight cut. Beady gray eyes. He likes to hit women.
And they're standing in front of a tower. Just like he talked about in his text.
I go through more photos, realizing these are pictures of them at college. Where is it? I look at the name, plug it into another browser tab. It's about five or six miles from here. I go to the website. Sure enough, here are photos of a tower on campus. That's where they "fell in love." That's where he's taking her. So that's where I need to be.
How much of a head start has he gotten? I look at the time. Hopefully not more than a couple of hours. If I move fast enough, I can hopefully catch up with them in time to stop him from doing anything crazy.
I stop to put some food in Blue's bowl. "Be back soon, buddy. I hope. And I'll bring her with me." There's no other way this can end. I have to bring her back. I open the door.
Flashing lights off in the distance. Shit. Here they come. I run to my bike, deciding to ride through the woods instead of taking the main road. They can't follow me there.
I have to dump the bike. How else can I get to Texas? Steal a car? Right, and give them another reason to chase me down. What, then?
Adam. He's my only shot. Nobody else will speak to me or even see me. Why would any of them care, anyway? They don't know her, they've never met her. Adam at least has. I hope I can appeal to him, remind him of her. Tell him she's in danger. He's the only one I can turn to.
I turn the bike in the direction of his house, hoping he's not too drunk to listen to reason. Otherwise, there's no way I'll make it to Christina.
Chapter 31
I ride to Adam's, taking the back way through the woods. I can't risk being caught by the police. It's not easy navigating through the trees in the dark. It's better than the alternative of being taken into the station, though, leaving Christina to fend for herself.
I try not to visit these woods unless I have to. It's hard enough living on the outskirts of them, waking up every morning to see them outside my window. The woods where my wife died.
I remember the first time I met her. It was at a party. I'd only started hanging around with the club, looking for a way in. Adam had noticed me sort of hanging around the fringes, had pulled me aside to ask me what I was doing there. I told him I wanted to part of the club. He'd laughed, throwing his head back. I'd been embarrassed, but I hadn't backed down.
When he saw I was serious, he got serious, too. "You know what you're getting yourself into when you join this club?" he'd asked, looking me straight in the eye. "Once you get in, you can't leave. Not ever. It's like a mafia, kid." I'd been impressed by him, though he was only a few years older than me. He was confident, cocky. He struck me as a guy who had seen things. I'd wanted to be just like him.
He had decided to sponsor me, so to speak, vouching for me with Frankie. He brought me into the party, introducing me around. "This is my kid sister, Marissa." She was so pretty. Like an angel. A halo of golden curls, an easy smile. She was funny, too, and tough. We spent a long time talking.
I was hooked from that first night. The way they lived. Hot girls, plenty of booze, dancing. Living it up. The image was too tempting to resist. Nobody told me that was just a good night, a celebration. Life wasn't always that way. Normally it was gritty, rough, even a little scary sometimes. A member never admitted to being afraid, of course.
Once I met Marissa, though, there was no question of whether or not I wanted to join. I only wanted to know how to get on the fast track to a patch. If she wanted to be part of this world, so did I. I'd go anywhere she went.
Look where it got me.
I finally reach the clearing. Adam's house is only a mile or so up the narrow dirt road. The area back here is considerably less built-up than even where I live. I wouldn't be surprised to find a few shacks back here. God only knows what went on in the places nice people didn't like to talk about.
Adam's house is mostly dark, only one light on. The kitchen light. I know he's sitting in there, probably drinking himself into a stupor at the table. He was always a heavy drinker, but back in the day, he could handle his liquor. That time has come and gone. Now he's gained at least twenty, maybe thirty pounds. He looks flabby, fleshy. Not the man I used to know.
Then again, I came close to falling into a dark hole after Marissa died. I know how easy it would have been to crawl into a bottle and never come out. I spent weeks nearly unconscious once the questioning was over and it was agreed there was no evidence that could make charges against me stick. After that was over, I started drinking and didn't stop for an entire season. I missed a whole summer, either drinking, passed out drunk or hungover before getting drunk again.
I'm not sure what stopped me. I sure didn't have anybody in my life to offer me support. A parent, a sibling, a friend-one of them might have helped me. They could have shown me a better way, sent me to a doctor. Anything. I was all alone.
It's all hazy, the day I decided to stop drinking. I woke up in a whorehouse on the other side of the town's outskirts. The shady area, near where I grew up. A dirty, windowless place where girls with track marks on their arms would do just about anything for money. I hadn't gone for sex-even though I'd hit rock bottom, I still had a shred of common sense. I just wanted to drink and be left alone. They'd serve me there. The bars wouldn't once I got past a certain point.
I woke up one morning in a puddle of my vomit. There were girls on the floor, girls on couches. One girl was sleeping on the sticky bar. And me. The place reeked. A few girls were moaning, having just shot up. What the fuck was I doing with my life? That was enough to turn me around.
I find it hard to believe Adam hasn't hit rock bottom yet. Maybe he has and doesn't know it. Regardless, I need his help and hope he's in the right shape to give it to me. I knock on his door. Almost a minute passes before I hear him shuffling toward it. His face appears in the window.
"Hey, man. Please. Open up. I have to talk to you." He shakes his head. "Please, I'm begging you. It's an emergency. I'll tell you about it but please, open the door. I'm on the run. I can't let them find me. They can't see me standing here."
"What do I care? As long as I don't open the door, they'll leave me alone. Get off my property!"
"Please, Adam. I need you. We can have this out tonight, but after that I need you. It's life-or-death."
It looks like he's thinking this over. Finally, I add. "I'll tell you everything you want to know." It's the last thing I want to do, but I know it's the only thing that will make him trust me.
"Everything?" His voice just barely makes it to my ears.
"Yeah. Please, Adam. I need your help. I'll tell you everything, anything."
The lock flips, the door opens. "Come in."
I hurry inside, shutting the door behind me as fast as I can.
"Where's your bike?" Adam slurs, turning on one of the lamps in the living room before flopping onto to the couch. The room is dark even with the light. Dank. Dirty. Bare walls, secondhand furniture. What happened to him?