She cackled. “That moron? Hardly. He’s a woman-hating piece of garbage who can’t write to save his life. He can’t be counted on for anything.” Iris’s lips curved. “But John said he was a good tool to keep making you pay in the short term.”
Fear and rage warred deep within me. John had always been a puppet master, great at pulling strings to get what he wanted. He’d do whatever he could to hurt me with whatever he had at his disposal.
Iris bent and unzipped the duffel. I half-expected her to pull out weapons. Instead, she removed audio recording equipment. Two microphones. Assorted wires. A laptop.
“The acoustics in here aren’t ideal, but good ole Steven’s just gonna have to deal. Right, Steve?” she asked.
He went pale but nodded slowly.
“You gonna keep your trap shut if I take that gag out?”
He nodded again.
Iris crossed to him and jerked the scarf free.
Steven sucked in several ragged breaths. “Water?” he rasped.
Iris rolled her eyes. “So dramatic. But I guess we can’t have our star host dehydrated.”
She crossed into the kitchen and toward a case of bottled water.
I glanced in his direction, whispering. “Were you working with her?”
“No,” he hissed, his voice low. “I’d never seen her until that day at your coffee shop. She stopped by my cabin and said she had a tip for the podcast. She drugged my damned coffee.”
I couldn’t read any deception in his words, but I wasn’t about to trust the jerk. “Does anyone know you’re missing?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. My lawyer should realize it tomorrow when I don’t make our meeting.”
But tomorrow would be too late.
“She’s fucking crazy,” Steven bit out.
“I heard that,” Iris singsonged. Turning around, she glared at Steven. “It’s not nice to call me crazy. Not when I’ve been so kind to you. I’m going to put your silly little podcast on the map.”
“I-I appreciate that,” he stammered. “But I’ll have to be in town to upload. There’s no Wi-Fi up here.”
It was a smart play. Maybe Iris was unhinged enough to take the bait.
She tsked at him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Steve. We need to record our episode first.” She turned to me. “It’s your first interview. Feeling nervous?”
I swallowed hard. “Not really feeling like an interview.”
Iris’s gaze went hard. “Well, I’d get in the mood. You’re going to finally admit every single thing you did to ruin John’s life. You’re going to help set him free.”
The way she said his name turned my stomach. It was like a physical caress.
“You know John well?” I couldn’t hide the slight tremor in my voice.
A dreamy look spread across Iris’s face. “Of course, I know him well. We’re engaged. When he gets out of prison, we’re going to get married.”
Oh, shit.
That dreamy look vanished, replaced by pure hatred. “But you have to admit all your lies for that to happen.”
Sweat trickled down my spine. “I didn’t lie, Iris. I don’t know what John has been telling you—”
The slap came out of nowhere, so hard the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
“Shut up, you whore! He warned me. Warned me you’d try to talk me around to your lies. But I’m stronger than that. I’ll never believe you. You’re going to tell the truth.”
Iris pulled a knife from the waistband of her jeans. The blade glistened in the streaming sunshine. “I’d be happy to motivate you if you need it. It would be my pleasure.”
49
ROAN
The Brew and the back alley teemed with people. Evidence techs from CRPD and the county were combing every inch of the place, but they weren’t saying anything helpful.
Nash looked up from his phone. “Mom and Dad are getting Cady from school.”
My gut twisted. Cady. How could I face her? What the hell would I tell her?
Lawson seemed to read my mind, squeezing my shoulder. “One thing at a time. We don’t need to tell Cady anything just yet. Hopefully, Aspen will be home before Cady knows anything is wrong.”
That grinding sensation was back along my sternum like the gears of a bike that hadn’t been properly oiled. “We have no clue where she is. Who took her.”
“I’m getting the camera feeds now,” Holt said. “We’ll see if anything’s there.”
Nash nodded. “There has to be something. It wouldn’t make sense for the perp to wait in the alley all day. There’d be no guarantee Aspen would go out there.”
“They had to be in The Brew,” I said quietly.
“Or keeping a close eye from outside,” Lawson agreed. He turned to Holt. “Did you put anything in on the front of the building?”
Holt sent him a withering look. “Do I look like an amateur to you?”
But there weren’t enough cameras in the back—just one that caught Aspen heading for the dumpster. And then nothing. Whatever had happened was just out of sight.
“Okay,” Holt said. “I found when Aspen goes into the kitchen and heads for the back door.”
I crossed behind him, watching the feeds from several cameras at once.
“We need a list of folks who leave in the next sixty seconds,” he muttered as he watched it play out.
There was only one figure who slipped out the door.
“Who’s that?” Nash asked.
My back teeth ground together. “Her name’s Elsie. She’s a regular. Aspen said she’s a photographer taking nature pictures of the area.”
Holt looked up. “She’s a tiny thing. You really think she could take Aspen down? The other victims?”
“If she had the element of surprise,” I said.
“I’m gonna run her. You know her last name?” Lawson asked.
I shook my head. Why the hell hadn’t I asked when I met her?
“We’ll get it. You know where she’s staying?”
I thought back, trying to remember if Elsie or Aspen had said anything. Then I stilled. “She had a Cedar Ridge Vacation Adventures pen. She’s either staying in one of their rentals or went on one of their trips.”
Lawson was already hitting a contact on his phone. “Hey, Jordan. Need your help. We’ve got a suspect in a missing persons case. First name, Elsie. She had one of your pens.”
There was a pause. “Thanks, man. She at one of your rentals?”
Another beat.
Lawson motioned for Holt’s computer. “Driver’s license would be great.” Lawson typed letters and numbers into a database. “Appreciate it. Call me if you hear from her.” Then he hit end on his phone.
We all waited in silent expectation.
“Elsie Jones went on a private hiking trip with Noel. Said she wanted to scout some spots for photos. They make copies of the driver’s licenses of all trip participants.”
Lawson hit search on the database, and a little swirl of color appeared on the screen as we held our breaths. Then an error box appeared.
This license is not valid.
I cursed. “A fake.”
“Hold on,” Lawson said. “He texted me a photo. Let me make sure I didn’t get it wrong.”
He pulled up the image, reading off the numbers. It was a match.
My stomach plummeted. “This was planned.” For way longer than we ever knew. Because Elsie was a staple at The Brew before I even met Aspen.
“What the hell is going on?” Nash muttered.