Loneliness made him think of Raven, the private investigator he couldn’t push out of his thoughts. Not that he wanted to. Darren never stopped grinning when he was around Raven. What did she see in a forty-two-year-old ex-cop? The irony was he’d never had a serious conversation with Raven until her brother got them talking at the cookout. Before then, he’d looked sidelong at the former Harmon Kings gang member. Now that he’d gotten to know LeVar, guilt suffocated him for prejudging the boy’s character. He should have listened to Thomas after the deputy vouched for the teenager.
No sooner did Thomas pop into Darren’s head than the phone rang, the deputy’s name displayed on his screen.
“Darren, have you spoken to Raven today?”
“Not since yesterday at lunch. I was about to call her.”
“Well, she isn’t answering her phone or responding to texts, and she was supposed to pick her mother up for an appointment forty-five minutes ago.”
Raven had a strained relationship with Serena. But she supported her mother and wouldn’t forget Serena’s therapy session.
“Did you call her office?”
“I tried. It might be better if you call. Chelsey won’t answer the line if she sees my name on the screen.”
Darren paced from one window to the next.
“Let me try. Do you know what Raven was working on today?”
“I’m sure it’s the Damian Ramos case.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll check with Chelsey and get back to you. Thanks for the heads up.”
Darren glared at the phone after the call ended. He dialed Raven’s number and got her voice-mail. Outside, flames shot through the grates after the father added too much lighter fluid.
“It’s me…Darren. Call me back when you get this. Just checking in since your family hasn’t heard from you since morning. Talk to you later.”
He followed up the call with a text. Raven didn’t write back. His stomach roiling with a heavy sickness, Darren found the number for Wolf Lake Consulting. Chelsey Byrd answered.
“Chelsey, it’s Darren Holt at the state park. I’m trying to reach Raven. Her family can’t contact her, and I’m getting a little worried.”
“Raven was in Kane Grove this afternoon,” Chelsey said.
“Checking on Damian Ramos?”
Chelsey hesitated, and Darren knew she didn’t want to discuss the case.
“Last I heard.”
“When exactly did you last speak to Raven?”
“A little before one. She worked out at Benson’s Barbells in Kane Grove so she could monitor Damian.”
Darren was beginning to feel angry with Chelsey.
“And you aren’t worried?”
“Raven sent me a text a half-hour after her workout. She said Damian showered and drove home, and that she would clean up, grab a late lunch, and swing past his house before she quit for the day.”
That explained why Chelsey brushed off Raven’s disappearing act. But the story didn’t compute. Raven never mentioned taking Serena to therapy in the text. She was too organized and responsible to forget family obligations. Had Raven written the text, or did someone have her phone?
“Has she messaged you since?”
“Well, no. What’s this about, Darren?”
Chelsey liked to hide behind a tough girl persona. But Darren caught a tremor of worry in her voice.
“It might be nothing. If Raven’s vehicle broke down and her phone died, she wouldn’t receive our messages. But I want to be sure. You think this Damian guy would hurt Raven?”
“Let’s not assume a worst-case scenario. I’ll drive past Damian’s house and look for Raven.”
“Thanks, Chelsey. I want to stay ahead of this situation, so I’m calling the sheriff’s department. I’d rather feel embarrassed for overreacting than regretful if something happened to Raven.”
Silence followed, and Darren pictured Chelsey at her desk, frozen with indecision.
“Okay, I’ll call you after I arrive in Kane Grove.”
“Perfect. And Chelsey?”
“Yes?”
“With the sheriff’s department getting involved, you need to work with Thomas should he call.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Because this is bigger than the two of you.”
“Raven’s my best friend,” Chelsey said, snapping. “If you think I’d let anything happen to her…”
She lowered the phone and sobbed.
“Chelsey?”
He gave her a moment to compose herself.
“Sorry for yelling. I’ll find her, Darren.”
Darren slipped the phone into his pocket and yanked the closet door open. He kept a go bag packed for emergencies. Unzipping the bag, he tossed his LED flashlight and binoculars inside and strapped on his shoulder holster. Butterflies winged through his chest, and his heart hammered as it had when he’d entered unsecured buildings during his police career. Now someone he cared about was in danger, and that ramped up his anxiety as he loaded his gun. Tonight, Darren didn’t care about rules and regulations. He wasn’t a cop anymore, and if he was honest with himself, he was nothing but a vigilante. If Damian Ramos harmed Raven, Darren would force the truth out of him.
On his way to the truck, a baseball cap slung low over his brow, Darren dialed the sheriff’s department. He couldn’t sit still until he confirmed Raven was safe. And if she wasn’t safe, he needed to find her before it was too late.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Saturday, July 18th
8:50 p.m.
The jukebox inside Hattie’s blasted the same Deep Purple song someone had played a half-hour before. The ruckus of raised voices, clinking glass, and rock-and-roll gave Garrick Tillery a splitting headache, the kind that started behind his eyes, snaked down his neck and spine, and kindled pins and needles in his toes. When the headaches were this bad, he got confused. Forgot things he’d done.
His bottle tipped over, spilling beer into the stinging wound across his hand. He winced and cursed into his forearm, scrambling for napkins. As he dabbed the wound dry, the alcohol bit and seared his flesh. He wondered about the gash. Had he hurt himself with the fishhook as he told Suzanne and the sheriff’s deputy? He couldn’t recall much about Tuesday evening, except that he drank himself into a stupor at Hattie’s, somehow drove to the river without crashing into a telephone pole, and
