Scouring the Pine Bluff police department’s website and Facebook page, monitoring the news and police scanner. Ever since finding out about Sabine, I’ve been pinging back and forth between the two sites, watching for news and waiting.
Sabine’s funeral is later today, a service at First Baptist that’s expected to be standing room only, followed by a private burial at Memorial Park featuring her husband, her lover and her sister, none of whom are getting along. Ingrid is suing Jeffrey for the money in Sabine’s bank accounts, and Jeffrey is countersuing to keep it. Trevor doesn’t want the money but a couple of personal effects—the photographs off her computer, a ring she was wearing when she died, an antique vase they bought on a clandestine weekend getaway. In response, Jeffrey sued him for $1.5 million in damages, blaming him for ruining their marriage. My heart pinches for Sabine, who would be horrified at their ridiculous bickering.
I pause at an uptick in chatter on the scanner, a break in the drone of the mundane shoplifting and suspicious person sightings, suddenly shifting to something much more frenetic. Another body found, a man shot in the head in a downtown alleyway, according to one of the voices a drug deal gone bad. I relax somewhat, carrying the laptop into the bathroom, balancing it on the edge of the sink and turn on the shower.
I’m smearing conditioner through my overprocessed hair when I hear it, your name and badge number, the dispatcher calling you to the scene, and my hands pause on my hair. I swipe the curtain aside and stick my head out, listening for your voice, but it’s another one that crackles on the scanner. That cop buddy of yours, jumping in on your call.
I rinse and towel off in a hurry.
I knew when I left Pine Bluff you would find me eventually. Finding people is what you do, and I’ve left enough clues to make it—well, if not easy, then definitely enjoyable. I picture you speeding in your car east to Atlanta, congratulating yourself on hunting me down like I knew you would. As long as I’m alive, you’ll never let me go.
I sling my bag over a shoulder and take a peek outside. All clear.
You told me I was stupid, that I was helpless without you, and for a long time, I believed you. But I’m a lot smarter than you think I am. Sabine taught me that. I know that every check-in to a website leaves a ping for Jade to find. I know as kind and forgiving as the Reverend is, he has reported the stolen money by now. Police reports mean clues, charges involving a woman with a fake name, a fake ID with a picture of me, yet another ping. And I suspect you’re no longer in Pine Bluff, at least according to the scanner. You might even be here already. If I close my eyes, I can feel your breath on my neck and your teeth snapping at my back.
And when you get here, I’ll be ready.
With my new phone, I navigate eighteen miles to the north, to a park overlooking a bend in the Chattahoochee River. I walk to the edge and stare out over the water, and the sight is both familiar and disappointing. The river you and I grew up on is a wild thing, with dangerous, unpredictable currents and banks that encroach on yards and farms at the slightest hint of rain. Unlike that one, this river is lazy, a gentle stretch of brown water trickling across rocks and lapping at the red clay shores. A fallen tree angles across the stones, stretching almost to the other side.
I slide my old cell, the last of the burners I bought in Pine Bluff, from my bag, look down at the dark screen. I didn’t have to come all this way. I could have tossed it in a dumpster on the opposite side of town, or handed it over to a bum like I did with the other three. I kind of liked the thought of sending whoever’s tracking it on a wild-goose chase, but just like insisting on a McDonald’s for my meeting with Nick, it seemed fitting to give it a watery grave. This chase started along the banks of a river, and it will end at one. Symmetry.
I rear back with an arm, but an unexpected wave of nostalgia sticks my cell to my fingers. This device is the last thing