“Do you know where she went?”
“I followed her until she got on a bus. But it went to Portland.”
“Then you think she’s in Portland?”
“Yeah, only, the way she looks in that camera and the fact that her phone isn’t working. I don’t know, man. Seems like she’s running from something or someone.”
From him?
But no. It didn’t make sense.
From whoever hurt her?
“Now what?” Gray asked.
“Well, I’ve been trying to work out if she’s using a credit card, but as far as I can tell she doesn’t own one. I just managed to hack into her bank account and she withdrew money in Portland a few days ago. My guess is that she’s holing up and paying cash. But whether she’s in Portland still or somewhere else, I don’t know. And my only lead is Jenner Knight.”
“You think she went back to her ex-boyfriend?” Why hadn’t she told him about Knight?
Because you told her so much about yourself. She didn’t even know that she could come to you when some fucker hurt her.
Jesse shrugged. “I mean, they never said they were together and he was quoted in one article calling her his friend. But even if she didn’t go back there, maybe he has an idea of where she is. Not that he’s likely to talk to you.”
“Oh, he’ll talk to me.” Gray would make certain of that.
“There’s some other stuff I found out. She ever talk to you about her stepdad?”
“No.” He didn’t want to admit that they hadn’t talked about anything much. “Does it have anything to do with her disappearance?”
“I don’t know. Her stepdad was a cop. Decorated and respected until he had some sort of psychotic episode and disappeared.”
It was weird. But he didn’t see how it had anything to do with what was going on right now . . . unless . . .
“Was the stepdad the one that hurt her? Is he who she’s running from?”
“Who knows? But he hasn’t been seen since. So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go make Jenner Knight tell me everything he knows. Can you find me his address?”
“Yep. Just give me an hour. Might be a bit of a challenge.”
* * *
The voices wouldn’t shutup.
Didn’t they know she was sleeping? Was it her mom? Who was she talking to? Why didn’t they ever get to sleep in at the camp? Didn’t these people know that teenagers needed a lot of sleep?
“I’m not getting up, Mom. I don’t care what chores need doing.”
The voices immediately quieted.
She sighed. That was better. She rolled over.
“Maeve?” a quiet feminine voice said.
She frowned. That wasn’t her mom. In fact, that sounded like . . .
“Immy? What’cha doing in my room? Please tell me the Deity doesn’t want to see me.” She was not up for that.