Page 29 of Knotted Laces

The lead we were investigating was a bust, and everyone’s headed down the mountain to enjoy the long weekend.

I need to do the same, especially with the dark clouds in the distance coming in.

But…

I take one more deep breath, stare out at the blue waters of Lake Tahoe, and hold tight to this quiet moment. Then I release a long exhale, get in my car, and start driving home.

I’m just ascending the mountains that lead out of the valley when my cell rings.

“Lex,” I say, answering the call with a jab at the screen that will send it blaring through my car’s speakers. “Hey.”

“You’re up in Tahoe right?” he asks without preamble.

I frown as I navigate a hairpin turn. “Yeah. Why? Did you find something with the case?”

“No.”

Disappointment weaves through me, but I tamp that down. “So, what’s up?”

“It’s Cam.”

That disappointment is displaced with worry and I have to pause before I speak so my voice is steady. “What’s wrong with Cam?”

Lex sighs. “He’s up there, just outside the basin, but incommunicado. I’m sure he’s fine and just licking his wounds, especially after his asshole coach put him on blast on social media.”

I wince.

Even though I don’t follow sports blogging, the post with the video of the Eagles head coach, Peter Auclair, lambasting his players—but most especially Cam—has gone viral enough that even I’ve seen it.

And add his attitude with Cam on the bench in the playoffs.

And the pain in Cam’s eyes at the end of the season, after losing that game.

And—

“Asshole,” I mutter.

“Yup,” Lex agrees and I can picture him leaning back in his chair, balancing it on its two rear legs. “Cam’s a tough kid, has to be considering how far he’s gotten, so I’m sure he’s fine. But Martha’s worried and frankly, it’s not like him to not get in touch.”

I frown as I pull into a turnout and park so I can properly focus on the conversation. “How long has it been since she’s talked to him?”

“A few days. He was texting back until yesterday, but then stopped replying to everyone—including me.”

My frown deepens.

Definitely nothing like the youngest Jackson.

“I can check in on him,” I say before he can ask. “You’ll send the address?”

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

“Already did.”

Despite the concern writhing through my insides, I can’t help but smile.

Of course he has.

“Let me plug this into my map,” I say, pulling out my phone and pasting the address into the app, hitting the button to pull up the routes. “I’ll update you when I make contact with him.”

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