Jasper shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. His record is clean. He has no history of mental illness or trouble at school. Nothing to point in this direction at all.”
“Well, he did like to make people disappear. Maybe this was the ultimate disappearing act?”
Jasper frowns at the file. “Maybe. And the department did find proof that he was running the Collective. A few men have taken over, hoping to cash in on what he started. Now our focus is on finding out who they are.”
“Good work,” I say. “Hopefully soon the Collective will be no more.” I blow out a breath as I look at those pictures once again. “Jasper? Anita, Embry, and Shelly—they’re all wearing jewel-tone cocktail dresses and they’re talking to men in these pictures. I think there’s a very good chance these three women all took part in the Collective.”
“I think you’re right.”
We unearth several newspaper articles about the girls’ disappearances, and at the bottom of the stack there’s a note written that reads evil lurks among us. The time of the big reveal is at hand. I have all the evidence I need. Goodbye, TBM, goodbye.
Jasper and I exchange a look.
It feels as if Julian himself has plunged us right back into the icy depths of confusion.
“What does this mean?” I whisper.
Jasper shakes his head. “What does it mean, indeed?”
Chapter 16
The Saturday of McKenna and Caleb’s wedding, the sun shines bright, the birds are chirping, and the fall foliage is just hitting its stride with a citrine rainbow of colors. The wall of evergreens to the left stands tall like emerald soldiers that showed up to see that McKenna’s big day goes off without a hitch. But it’s the majestic cobalt blue Atlantic that steals the show here at the bluff. It creates a dramatic backdrop that makes this entire affair feel—for a lack of a better word, magical.
Archie has wrapped the entire gazebo with sunflowers and mums, strings of fall leaves, and miniature pumpkins. It’s an autumn soaked dream. The oversized planters he brought over have been encircled with a bed of small pumpkins and a pom of peach roses is attached to the white ladder back chairs that line the aisle.
A string quartet plays classical music as Zeke escorts Michaela down the aisle. Zeke looks dapper in a light gray suit, and with his copper-colored hair he looks like a doppelgänger of his brother, the groom.
Michaela looks like an angel in mint green, her blonde curls waterfalling over her shoulders. Next up is Archie as he links arms with Caleb’s sister.
Finally, two pint-sized cuties make their way down the aisle, Caleb’s nephew and niece, Dakota and Mimi.
“Oh, Jasper.” I give his hand a squeeze as I drink in the adorable duo. Dakota has on a miniature gray suit, matching the groomsmen exactly. His dark blond hair is slicked to the side and he has a shy smile and yet a wily gleam in his eyes.
Jasper leans in. Ten bucks says he pitches a few of these pumpkins off the cliff after the wedding.
I nod up at him in agreement. “As he should for letting them stuff him into that suit.”
And little Mimi is an angel in her teal dress with its full tulle skirt. Her golden hair is in an updo with a trickle of curls coming off the top. She giggles as she freely tosses handfuls of pink rose petals to the left and right, and soon the entire runner has been sprinkled with color.
Sherlock lets out a whisper of a bark as Lucky and Misty take their positions at the edge of the aisle.
Pay attention, Fish. Sherlock nudges my sweet cat’s tail as I hold her. This will be us in a week.
“A week?” I mutter to myself, and Jasper dots a kiss to my temple.
Don’t worry, Bizzy. Everything will fall into place. As long as you and I are there, nothing else matters.
I shoot him a look.
Easy for him to say. He doesn’t have to get a dress, or decide whether to wear his hair up or down, or choose a nail color and lipstick. And have I hired a photographer yet?
McKenna has two videographers and two photographers. I’ll be speaking to all four before we leave.
I did it.
My mind picks up on a rather anonymous voice. It happens sometimes when I’m stressed. I’ll start picking up stray thoughts from who knows where. And the more stressed I become, the more thoughts I pick up on at once. Dear God, if that happens during my wedding, I will strangle Mackenzie Woods with my bare hands for putting me in this transmundane predicament to begin with.
I’ll be celebrating at the reception, all right, but it will have very little to do with the bride and groom.
The mysterious internal voice goes off once again, and it’s too hard to decipher if it came from a man or a woman. When I’m too far away from the mind I’m inadvertently reading, the inner voice tends to sound a bit androgynous.
The string quartet ups the volume a notch and starts in on the traditional “Wedding March” just as every guest on the bluff stands to their feet and turns toward the back.
Lucky and Misty are next up, and the entire crowd gives a collective coo.
“Look at that,” I whisper to Fish and Jasper. “Lucky has a top hat on, and Misty has a little veil and a string of pearls!”
I’m not wearing pearls, am I? Fish looks up at me in horror. Sherlock will swallow me whole if he sees a string of miniature balls tied around my neck.
“Good point,” I whisper.
Lucky saunters proudly with his thick black and white peppered coat and his daring blue eyes sirening at the crowd. There’s a tiny heart-shaped pillow dangling from his collar and tied
