Page 48 of Irreversible

“Impressive,” I reply coolly.

“See, I feel you fail to appreciate the scope of my capabilities.” With a swivel of his foot, he grinds the glass into powder under the soles of his overpriced shoes. “I could, for instance, steal a high-powered lawyer from his penthouse suite,simply because his rare blood type matches that of an aging billionaire who needs his organs.”

Thinking back through the missing persons cases, I realize exactly who he’s referring to. My jaw clenches.

I knew it.

“Or I could acquire a particularly stunning would-be celebrity and use her to make beautiful babies for those willing to pay for the right genetics.”

There’s no sound from the other side of the wall—of course, there isn’t—but she’s there, listening.

“She should be grateful, you know.” He levels a cruel smirk at the wall, as though he’s looking straight at her. “I could have used her as a proper brood mare and sent men straight to her room.”

An unexpected protectiveness rises in me. “That’s enough.”

There’s an insidious twinkle in his glare, and I know I’m not going to like what’s coming.

“I could even take a pretty little musician off the sidewalk while she waits for a ride from a man who’s too obsessed with his work to show.”

The air empties from my lungs. “What did you say?”

“That one was disappointing…she ended up being useless to me.”

My vision tunnels, and through it, I see that night.

It’ll have been two years next week.

Sara slings her guitar over her shoulder, her favorite blue dress billowing out behind her as she breezes by. “You should come see me play. It’s been ages.”

I hit Send on a text to Tanner, arranging for him to join me for a witness interview, since no one wants me taking thelead on those. “Can’t get away tonight. You know how it’s been lately.”

The public was in a panic after a recent, high-profile break-in ending in a shooting and abduction of someone well known. The media were like vultures. I couldn’t afford taking time to watch a concert, even if my favorite musician was playing.

“I know those missing people need you, I’m just concerned you’re going to work yourself straight into a breakdown. One of these days, you need to take a day off. Normal people call it a weekend.”

“I’ve never been normal. Work is all I have.”

“No, Isaac.” Her face turns serious. “It isn’t.”

“Call me and I'll pick you up. I don’t care that it’s a few blocks; you’re not walking home after dark.”

She laughs. “You’re being a helicopter brother again.”

“Better than becoming a statistic. Promise me.”

“Fine. I promise.” Hoisting the guitar higher, she reaches for the door handle. “Love you.”

I toss a cheese puff, which she artfully dodges. It’s as close as I come to sentiment, but it’s fine; she gets me.

Before the door closes, her head pokes back in, giving me what I had no idea would be my last glimpse. “If you can get there by ten, I’ll save ‘Wild Horses’ for you.”

The hours flew by, and I put my phone down. Somewhere. By the time the owner of the venue called the department, concerned when they found her guitar case abandoned outside, I had four messages saying she was still waiting on that ride.

When I arrived, she wasn’t there.

She wasn’t anywhere.

“Then again, I suppose she wasn’t so useless, after all.” The man’s chuckle yanks me from the memory and back into the cellthat trapped us both. “She led you to me, didn’t she? Eventually. Andyouturned out to be worth far more.”

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