Page 49 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

Georgette Riley and the mysterious Jacqueline. Two girls only connected in Kimberly’s head. What if…? Hold on.Ihadn’t been drinking. How could I even contemplate that she was telling the truth? Ghosts? That was crazy talk.

Psychics and mediums and clairvoyants—they all belonged in the asylum Kim claimed her mom had been locked up in. Several years ago, the Montgomery County PD had a captain who was a little odder than most, and when a medium called to offer her services on a murder case—for a fee, of course—he’d actually taken her up on it. She’d led half a dozen officers on a wild goose chase through a forest only for an escaped dog to unearth the kid’s body in a neighbour’s backyard. Like I said, crazy.

Except Kim hadn’t asked for money. In fact, she hadn’t even wanted to discuss Georgette and Jacqueline—I’d had to pry the information out of her with the assistance of alcohol. What did she gain by telling me? Nothing, only my utter disbelief.

What time was it? Only seven o’clock. I picked up the phone and dialled an old friend in the Arlington County PD, not really sure what—

“Brett? It’s Reed Cullen.”

“Long time no see. You hear anything from your sister, buddy?”

“Not for months, but that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Oh?”

“I have a question about one of your cases. Do you have a minute?”

“Shoot.”

“Georgette Riley. She disappeared almost two years ago now.”

“Have you picked that one up?”

“Her name was mentioned in connection with another investigation. Did you ever find out what happened?”

“It’s still open, technically.”

“What do you mean, technically?”

“I mean, she never turned up, but ten months ago, she started using her debit card every so often. Never buys much. Last time, it was a donut.”

“Any witnesses?”

“The first couple of times, we sent the locals to check, but they never found her.”

A chill ran through me because I was all too familiar with that scenario. Except with Emma, it was different. She’d called me after she left. Only once, but I’d sure as hell recognised her voice when she sobbed out her story about Wyatt Banks and another girl. A little of the tension seeped away.

“So you’re not actively investigating?”

“I shouldn’t say this, but no. Before she disappeared, she told a friend she’d had enough of living with her boyfriend, and she hated the idea of moving home since her father always seemed more interested in the animals than her.”

“Animals?”

“Horses, cattle, chickens. The family’s got a ranch. Why all these questions, Cullen? Have you found something?”

“I’m not sure. One more question, though—did anyone spot a black Mercedes near the scene of Georgette’s disappearance?”

“How did you know that? We never released that detail to the public.”

“I can’t say right now, but if it comes to anything, you’ll be the first to hear.”

Well, shit. I hung up and stared at the phone. How had Kimberly known about the Mercedes? The options were limited.

Either she’d been there, or someone had given her the information. A cop? Tim himself? Or…she was being truthful and Georgette had communicated from the afterlife.

For Pete’s sake, Cullen. Have you been smoking something?

Next, I typed “Jacqueline” into the search engine, together with the name of the nightclub she’d disappeared from. Studio Nine, if I recalled correctly. Sure enough, there she was. Jacqueline Springer, a pretty redhead whose hobbies included ballet dancing and playing the flute, according to the tearful statement her parents had given. Her father was a pastor in Falls Church, and the evening she’d disappeared, she was paying her first ever visit to a nightclub for a college friend’s bachelorette party. Sometime after midnight, she’d gone outside to get some air, and apart from a doorman who thought he glimpsed her talking to a blond guy on the other side of the parking lot, nobody ever saw her again.

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