Page 68 of Irreversible

I look down but there’s no one, and no bottom in sight. My vision tunnels, spins. There’s a distant awareness that I’m dreaming, but I can’t open my eyes. Can’t make it stop. And I just…keep…slipping…

Tap, tap, tap.

“Tanner.”

My eyes fly open, met by a half-finished text I’d started before nodding off. For the third time.

Shit, I hope I’m not too late.

One of the newer officers, Livingston, is headed to a local prep school on a tip an administrator called in. The son of a billionaire known for his questionable moral compass wasoverheard bragging about his father pushing the boundaries of big-game hunting. Then it got disturbing. For some reason, witnesses got the impression an upcoming expedition may involve human prey, and they swore thepighe mentioned didn’t sound like wild boar.

Hackles were raised, along with a few red flags. Likely nothing more than a kid running his mouth, but worth a brief interview to see if further questioning is in order, knowing a mess of lawyers will follow.

It’s probably unrelated…

But if there’s one thing Isaac Porter taught me, it’s to trust my intuition, and when I heard a couple of rookies discussing it in the break room earlier, the hair on my arms stood on end. Been nagging at me all morning. Though it’s technically not my assignment, I’m tempted to exercise my senior detective liberties and ride along. Question this boy myself.

A throat clears, drawing my attention upward. The imposing figure of Chief Nelson fills the doorway, a gleam of fluorescent lighting reflecting off his bald head. Months ago, the pursed lips and furrowed brow would have been a signal that I needed to wrangle my partner before the shit hit the fan. But I’ve been a lone wolf for a while now, and lately…

Well, let’s just say, he’s started dropping subtle hints that it’s well-past time to get my head back in the game.

His fingers drum a rhythm on the frame. “Did you get that email?”

“I’ll check.” Truthfully, I can’t even remember when I last looked at my email. I snatch my phone off the desk, hoping I’m not too late to catch Livingston. “Can I get back to you in a few? Just finishing something up.”

He doesn’t budge.

Right.

With his stare burrowing into my skull, I barely glance at the phone as I finish the text—which I can only hope is intelligible—hit Send, then open my laptop. Skimming past a couple dozen untouched subject lines, I locate the email he’s referring to, sent two days ago. My neck heats several degrees.

Striding into my office, my boss skims thick fingers over a pile of neglected paperwork. It’s obvious he’s biting his tongue.

“Say what you’re thinking, Chief. I can take it.”

“All right.” An amused spark surfaces in his eyes, but there’s a deeper concern there, too. “I know there’s been a recent vacancy, but I never expected you to take up the mantle of problem child around here.”

Ouch.

Hopefully, he was at least half-joking, but there’s enough truth that I flinch inwardly. “Just had a lot going on lately. I’ll take care of it.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives me an appraising glance. “When’s the last time you slept?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale, all too aware of my disheveled hair and rumpled dress shirt with one too many buttons undone at the top. Between Dana serving me with divorce papers and my best friend disappearing, it feels like weeks. “Plenty of time for that when I’m dead. Until then, I’ve got shit to do.”

“Listen, I know you’ve been through a lot lately, and I get that you’re concerned about Porter—believe me, I do. But it’s not a crime to be missing, especially for a guy like him.” The look of pity he gives me borders on uncomfortable. “I’m?—”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” I finish, so I don’t have to hear him say it. “Just off somewhere doing what Porter does.”

Sulking, obsessing, isolating—the usual nonsense. He always comes back. I know that’s what everyone’s thinking. But they weren’t at that table in the back corner of the club on Delancy.They didn’t see Isaac’s face when I broke the news that the justice he’d spent his life serving had turned its back on him.

On Sara.

He looked at me like I’d ripped the entire world out from under him. Like I’d taken a hammer and smashed his last hope to smithereens. Like he’d been betrayed. Then he left me with a pretty stripper in my lap and disappeared.

I don’t think he’s coming back this time. What’s worse is the deep, gnawing feeling that hecan’t.

What would Isaac do if it were me?

---