He knows exactly how to chill the blood in my veins. Dismissing Alver, I growl, “What do you need me to do?”
“Good. Let’s think . . . Yvette is mad about this morning, blames Zoey, so she kidnaps her. Why not you? You’re the money man,” he theorizes.
“I’m also a bit bigger than Zoey,” I remind him. “Not as easy to kidnap. Ransom?” I suggest, figuring if Yvette can’t get money one way, maybe she thought she’d try another.
Barnes shakes his head. “Whole county knows Zoey as Drop-Dead Gorgeous, knows about her supposed curse. And they know she’s basically poor. County don’t pay big for the coroner. Hate to say it, but there’s no one who’d pay a ransom for Zoey.”
I would. I’d pay anything for her to be safe and sound, down in her morgue talking to cadavers, even if she’s still mad at me.
That, I could handle. This, I cannot.
Alver makes a spitting noise over his shoulder like just talking about the curse might make him a target. Barnes rolls his eyes in exasperation.
“What are we missing?”
“Don’t matter now. Just need to find her,” Alver adds uselessly as he sits in a nearby chair, crossing one leg over the other like he’s setting up for a long break.
“That’s what we’re trying to do!” I’m losing it again, any semblance of chill, calm, and collected gone like smoke at the thought of what might be happening to Zoey while we’re sitting here doing nothing.
“Not Zoey. Yvette. You both are focusing on the why, supposing this and that. Ain’t important now. If Yvette Horne took Zoey, where’d she take her? People go where they’re familiar when they’re under stress, so there are only so many places Yvette can go. Kenny’s checking the house. Where else?”
Maybe Alver’s years of service did teach him something because that’s actually helpful. Barnes must agree because he clicks around on his computer. “Yvette owns the house with Richard. So that’s all hers now. They’ve got two vehicles, her car and his pickup. Richard’s got a share in a duck blind, but that’s hours away and I’m betting Yvette’s never been there.”
A dead end, hopefully not one that leads to Zoey being just as dead too.
“What about make-out points? Everybody knows where those are,” Alver suggests.
“Where are those?” I ask.
Barnes talks to the radio at his shoulder instead of me. “I need someone to check out Mayfield’s pastures and someone to go up to Overlook Drive.”
The static clears and a voice says, “Unit One’s got Mayfield’s.”
Another voice comes through, “Three’ll take Overlook.”
Barnes nods. “Okay. Familiar places covered. Who is Yvette friendly with? Reckon she’d have help?”
“Sebastian, the dog trainer. That’s who she’s sleeping with.” I pull out my phone and open my TikTok app to show Sebastian’s account. “This is him with my dog, Chunky.”
“You see this dog trainer too?” Barnes asks.
“I did once . . . as part of our investigation,” I explain.
“Yours and Zoey’s, you mean?” Sheriff Barnes looks like the very idea gives him heartburn. I suppose considering where we’re at now, with Zoey missing, I can understand why. My chest hasn’t stopped hurting since I saw that mop bucket lying on its side.
“Yeah, he’s kinda social media famous. But weird . . .”
“Weird, how?” Barnes demands.
I think back to my training session with Sebastian. “He comes off as this charming, gym bro, dude type, but then he’d blink and be furious. A second later, it was like it never happened. He was just weird.”
“And he’s sleeping with Yvette,” Alver summarizes. “I don’t like it.”
Barnes does a bit more computer searching and then reads from the screen. “Sebastian Turner, last known address is in town. Let me call in a drive by for his place, but it’s an apartment. Not much on privacy, not where I’d take a prisoner.”
He picks up his phone and calls the police department in town while that word—prisoner—ricochets around in my head, leaving carnage in its wake. After a short conversation, he hangs up. “They’ll call back when they get an all-clear.”
I look from Barnes to Alver, lost and not sure what to do. I want to run right out the door, go find Zoey, and gather her in my arms, checking every inch of her to make sure she’s okay, then smack her ass as punishment for believing for one second that I might be lying to her or using her. And then kiss it all better, pour myself into her so she never doubts me again.
Doesn’t she feel this?
How can she not feel the power of this?
I pull at my shirt over my heart, trying to ease the fear and pain.
“Let me see that invoice that got everyone all up in arms,” Barnes tells me.
“I thought you didn’t want to see it?”
“That was before Zoey went missing. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the DA’s case or any temper tantrum they might throw when Zoey’s out there and needs my help.”