Infuriating - Onley James Page 0,76
Wyatt. “He says this boy, Day, means something to you. So, he means something to us. We’re all here until we find him.”
“You always show up for your family,” Calder said. The others bobbed their heads in agreement.
Jackson swallowed the lump in his throat, looking at Donnelly. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Australia on mandatory vacation?”
The burly former boxer shrugged. “Wyatt caught me at the airport. Figured this was as good a use of my vacation time as any.”
“I appreciate you all coming, but I don’t even know where to start. All we have is one grainy sketch and Day’s cell phone.”
Wyatt scrambled across the table. “Do you know his access code?”
Jackson frowned. “It wasn’t locked.”
Wyatt smiled. “Give it to me.”
Jackson frowned harder but handed the phone over, grateful he didn’t give it to Jimmy when he’d asked for it. They all watched while Wyatt went through Day’s phone, scrolling far faster than Jackson could have managed. “No pictures of the guy or the location. No phone calls. Hah,” he cried. “Look, he tried to text you, Jackson. He never got a chance to hit send,” he added, his voice not nearly as excited anymore.
“What’s it say?” Shepherd asked.
“Ser.” Wyatt now sounded deflated. Jackson didn’t blame him. What the fuck was he supposed to do with S.E.R.?
“Is it a code of some kind?” Calder asked in his slow southern drawl.
“None that I understand,” Wyatt said. “Only the first letter is capitalized. Could it be a name? A place?”
Jackson racked his brain to try to understand what Day might have been trying to spell and why he’d suddenly been interrupted. Was he still alive? Was he still breathing? “Fuck. I don’t know. He had a friend. A girl. Sarah.”
“Maybe she’s his stalker?” Charlie asked.
“She’s dead,” Jackson said, voice dull. “She died when Day was seventeen.”
The room went quiet, eyes downcast, nobody speaking. Jackson understood, though. There was nothing to say. They had no leads. No evidence but for a grainy photo of a man who meant nothing to any of them. Any of them except Day. Day who couldn’t tell them anything because he was gone. Snatched right out from under Jackson’s nose. Was he scared? Was he alive? Was he hurt? Was that fucking piece of shit hurting him even now while Jackson sat there, useless? Why hadn’t he just taken Day back to the office first?
“We’re gonna find him,” Webster said.
There was a sharp exhalation of breath from Wyatt and a strange almost moan of dread that chilled Jackson to his core. “I think maybe he found us.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Jackson snapped.
This time, it was his own phone that Wyatt held up. He handed it to Jackson. “I subscribed to Day’s OnlyFans account the day we met at the office. It just sent me a notification that he’s planning on going live in an hour.”
All eyes looked at Jackson, and all the stalker’s taunts about Day staying untouched, about the stalker intending to take Day’s virginity, came rushing back. Hands shaking, he handed Wyatt back his phone.
“What’s that mean?” Robby asked. “What’s OnlyFans?”
Robby was the most naive of the group, a preacher who rescued kids and animals on his little farm up north. Charlie leaned close enough to whisper in Robby’s ear. The color drained from the boy’s face. Jackson was sure his complexion was ashen. He dropped down in the conference room chair. What did they do now?
Webster began typing on his laptop. “I’m going to try to find an IP address. The guy clearly seems to be unraveling. Maybe he’ll make a mistake.”
The man already made a mistake as far as Jackson was concerned, and as soon as Jackson found him, he wasn’t going to put him in jail. He would put him under it.
The scent of rot permeated Day’s nose, causing him to cringe away before his eyes were even open yet. He wanted to open his eyes, but it was almost like he couldn’t. It couldn’t be from the taser. His brain felt foggy, his tongue too big for his mouth. The rot stench got closer as Day realized he was on a mattress. Was that the smell? A finger with a jagged nail traced along Day’s cheek and the scent of musty earth made Day recoil. He recognized the smell immediately, and he tried to keep the contents of his stomach down when chapped lips wormed over his.
Carl. Why? How could this be happening again? Day laid there, eyes closed,