Visions (Cainsville 2)

"We can go check it out," Ricky said. "You've got your gun, and you've got me. I don't think whoever's doing this is expecting either."

"You don't have to--"

"You think I'd let you handle this while I go back to sleep?"

"We'll take my car," I said. "I want to explain more on the way."

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

While Ricky drove, I navigated and told him about Ciara, which wasn't easy, piecing the hole-ridden cloth into a plausible story. I told him about the body in the car, but I skipped the "head in the bed." That's where it seemed to cross the line to a potential legal issue for Gabriel, given that I'd had photographic proof and we didn't report it.

When I finished, Ricky just kept driving, despite me telling him to make a left. He got turned around and back on course before speaking.

"So someone put this girl's body in your car, wearing your clothes, dressed as you."

"And then, while I was inside waiting for Gabriel, the killer took away all the evidence. Which sounds completely crazy, so you can't blame him for thinking I was imagining things."

Ricky glanced over. "I'm sure Gabriel knew you weren't. I'm sure he told you to keep it quiet. I completely agree, and I'd expect him to do the same as my lawyer. I'll buy whatever story you sell me, Liv."

"I--"

"I know there's more to it. There are things about my life I can't share, either, because they could put you in jeopardy. I have secrets; you have secrets. I'm here for anything you want to tell me, but I'll never push. Fair enough?"

I nodded. "Thank you."

"So clearly that corpse was a warning. Clearly Gabriel is concerned, which explains him getting you that security system. But if you were in serious danger, something would have happened by now. Instead, it's do as I say or this Macy girl ends up like Ciara. Meaning he needs something from you. Something you can't give if you're dead."

"Presumably." I looked out the window. "Any idea where we are?"

"You're the one with the GPS."

"Yes, but I haven't seen a landmark for almost ten minutes."

We were in the countryside. That much was obvious. On a dark, empty secondary highway. About a half hour outside Chicago, if I'd calculated the distance properly.

"There's a town ahead," Ricky said. "Big one, judging by that glow."

I checked my phone GPS. "Looks like we're going to turn off before we reach it. Take the next right. We're getting close."

Two more turns and we were there. Wherever "there" was. We passed a laneway leading into a golf course. It wasn't one I recognized. I'm not much of a golfer, but James is, and this didn't look like a course we would have played. It was meant for locals who wanted to knock a few balls around a half-dozen times a year. At three in the morning, it was pitch-black.

The GPS led us past it to a laneway with gates. Huge gates, adorned with Keep Out and Private Property and Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted. Also, massive padlocks.

"Let me out here," I said.

Ricky did. I went up and checked the gates. Chains looped them shut, but the locks were unfastened. I peered through. The lane led to a group of dark buildings surrounded by empty fields. Hell of a place to drive into. Anyone watching would see us coming for a quarter mile.

I jangled the chains, then called back to Ricky, louder than necessary, "Seems to be locked tight."

He could see damn well that the chains weren't secured, but he said, "Think the call was a prank?"

"Maybe." I made a show of squinting through the gates again. "Let's drive around."

I climbed back into the car.

"It's too open," I said as he backed onto the road. "But if Macy's captor is listening, which I presume he is, I didn't want him to think we were taking off."

"You're pretty good at this stuff."