"What do you mean?" Diana said.
"They're looking east of town, far away from where she liked to ride. But it doesn't make any sense. Who would kidnap someone out in the middle of nowhere like that and then drive the person they kidnapped so far away and just dump the bike like they were throwing away a paper cup? Would you do it that way?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"I mean that people are creatures of habit, right? They do the same things over and over again because it's easy or because it's safe or because they like it. Right?"
"Right."
"So the Foley girl rode her bike on the same route all the time, out there in the middle of nowhere on County Road 600. And that's where someone took her. But we're looking in the other direction just because we found her bike out there. But why would someone who lived east of town be driving around on County Road 600? Why? It doesn't make sense, does it?"
"You're saying that whoever took her probably lives out where the Foley girl likes to ride?"
"Of course. And the bike was dumped east of town to throw us off. It looks like it was planted, right there on the side of the road. Do you know that the woman who found the bike is eighty-five years old? A retired schoolteacher with cataracts and she can see the bike on the side of the road. Maybe it was meant to be found."
"I don't know," Diana said. "Think of all the stupid people and the stupid crimes they commit. Maybe it happened exactly the way they think it happened."
"But what if it didn't?"
Diana shook her head. "You know what? I don't care. I'm out of this business. If you think it happened that way, you should do something about it. I'm not a cop anymore. It's not my game. What do you think I can do?"
Jason grunted out of frustration. "I don't know, Diana. Just...don't give up on it. We'll figure something out."
Diana looked away. She let her eyes wander up to the sky where the stars were scattered and distant. She still felt a dull ache at the base of her neck and slight fatigue. The vision hangover. The two had to be related, she thought. She'd gone years without one, and then when Kay Todd shows up and muddies the waters, the visions start again. She didn't want to live that way. She didn't want to be that person. Dan was right. She had to stop chasing ghosts.
"I'm sorry, Jason," she said. "I just can't do it."
He looked sad, like a little boy, and Diana wished she could take him in her arms and bring him inside with her. They could spend the night together and hold each other and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist. But it did. It always came knocking. Better to limit the complications and false hopes before they grew too unwieldy.
"Are you sure?" he said, taking his last chance.
Diana started backing away.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
*
While she went up the stairs to the second floor landing, she heard Jason's car door slam and his ignition start. She felt a mixture of sadness and relief but told herself it was for the best. Telling herself that was easy, believing it was something else entirely. But she decided to work on that tomorrow. She wanted to go to bed, close her eyes and forget, although even the prospect of sleep scared her. She didn't trust her mind, didn't know what journeys it would take if left to its own devices.
But when her apartment door came into view, she froze.
Something sat on the ground just outside the door. A foot high, colorful.
Flowers?
"No," she said. "Oh no."
She hustled to the door and bent down. Sure enough, it was a tidy bouquet of wildflowers in a cheap glass vase. With a card from Carter Florists on the south side of town.
Diana found the small envelope with her shaking hand.
You can just throw them away. Ignore the note. Ignore the whole thing.
But that was just it—she couldn't. Whoever sent them—Kay? Jason? A psychopath?—knew she couldn't walk away either. She had to open that envelope. She had to know.
So she tore it open, right there outside her door.
Diana—Keep going. You'll find the girl in the woods.
She took the flowers in her hand, vase and all, and threw them as hard as she could out into the parking lot. They arced through the sickly glow of the streetlights and then shattered against the pavement, sending a spray of glass through the night.
"Fuck you!" Diana screamed. "If you want something from me, ask for it! Otherwise, fuck you!"
Her neighbor's door opened, the retired postal worker next door who never spoke to Diana, but slinked past her when they saw each other as though he thought she would bite. He stuck his head out, a turtle peeking out of his shell.
"What?" Diana said, venom in her voice.
The man pulled back in, shutting the door and locking it behind him.
He had the right idea, Diana thought. Stay the hell away from me.
Part Two:
Recoveries
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR