The bar was filled tonight, not for any special occasion except escapism. But that’s as good a reason as any in my book. There was a group that I didn’t know—not locals, could be bikers, could be gang members. We had that sometimes, travelers drifting through the area, looking for the right place to pick a fight, and they were directed here by some unknowing local. The fights that happened in our bar didn’t last long—although I couldn’t name the people next to me, although I had no idea what these people did with their lives outside this bar, they were my family. A family of misfits, lost loners, but a family no less. If one of us was to throw a fist, we all would join in.
I tried to watch the game, tried to bring myself into the intensity of the innings, but I couldn’t switch off the thoughts running wild in my head. The batter swung hard, throwing his entire bodyweight behind the hit. The people around me made comments about his possible steroid use, how he had bulked up massively since last season and that he had missed a drug test, but I just couldn’t bring myself into the game nor the gossip.
The thoughts of Millie had taken over everything.
It was no longer a case, it was no longer a job, it was a determined mission to save a girl’s life. One that I couldn’t bear to let anything happen to.
My mind was racing through the possibilities, but with three pints in me and less than thirty hours to go until the drop, the adrenaline coursing through my veins wouldn’t let my mind settle on anything long enough to figure out what was what. I was running on empty. Fueled now by nervous energy and fear. I didn’t mind admitting it, but I was scared. Scared something would happen to that young girl, something that I could never forgive myself for. There was no shortage of guilt already in my life and I didn’t need the death of Millie added to it. I guess that was selfish, in a sense. Although Millie’s wellbeing was my main concern, I was worried about my own sanity too if things went wrong. And it’s not like they’d exactly gone right so far anyway.
Mentally, I flicked from one potential perpetrator to the next. Kyle. Tanya. Ruby. Damon. Ben.
Every so often, Claire’s face floated into my mind and I shook my head hard to displace it. I couldn’t let my love for her affect my judgment. I needed to think clearly, to focus on the problem at hand.
Maybe it was too late for that. The doubts were coming back. Now thick and fast. I’d been through every scenario, checked out every suspect and what had I come up with? Nothing. Nothing of substance anyway. If ever there was a case I wanted closed, and for the right reasons, it was this one. I wanted to find Millie, to know that she was safe and well, and that she was back with her loving mother. At the moment I knew none of those things. For all I knew she could be dead. Or worse. I shuddered at the thought. It didn’t bear thinking about. However, I couldn’t ignore it either.
Maybe it was time to call the FBI, to utilize their unrivaled resources and manpower, even if it was against Chase’s wishes. The person who had hired me in the first place. I was good at what I did, I knew that, but at the end of the day I was just one man, albeit one man working with one hell of an assistant. Still, Casey and I didn’t compare to the investigative juggernaut that the feds were, for all their failings.
I didn’t care about what Chase was hiding in that apartment, whether it was money, or files, or plans to rip people off. That wasn’t my concern. I only cared about getting that little girl back safely. If the FBI wanted to nail Chase for ripping some people off, then so be it.
But I wouldn’t contact them.
I couldn’t.
There was too much risk. Another kidnapping in Florida had gone wrong with the FBI’s involvement. That didn’t look good, and it didn’t look promising. I couldn’t have a dead girl on my conscience.
What could they do anyway? I’d already looked at every lead, and they all led nowhere. They would show up, take over the case, and likely botch another money-drop. They didn’t have the delicate touch. They’d lose the money and the girl trying to follow their procedures. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. I had to find her myself.
“Hit it!” I shouted aggressively at the screen, my hand gripped tight around my glass. “Take a swing! Damn it!”
The people around me sat back, stunned by my sudden show of aggression. Usually, I was the calm one, the one that nicely brought other people back into line. They weren’t used to seeing me like this. I was agitated. Frustrated and angry.
“Cubs don’t have a chance.” The call came from one of the blow-ins on the other side of the bar. One of the guys dressed in black jeans, black t-shirt and leather jacket. Long black hair, tattoos running up his neck. He was shorter than me, maybe 5’10, but he weighed
