The Girl and the Unlucky 13 (Emma Griffin™ FBI Mystery) by A.J. Rivers (i have read the book .txt) 📕

One sapphire, two pearls.

Fifty-Four

This is the part of every investigation I hate the most. I feel held down, trapped in place and unable to do what needs to be done. There are still steps that need to be taken. Evidence that needs to be gathered. I don’t want to go through it. I don’t want to wait. Every second that passes could make everything so much worse.

I spend every one of them trying to push the investigation through. I need to put the final pieces into place. To ensure the excavation under the front porch of the farmhouse is complete. To get the results of the blood test on the mirror.

Friday the thirteenth dawns, and a heaviness settles over me. I’m not superstitious. That belief was even more grounded by the events at Arrow Lake. The date has never meant anything to me except for the times I would curl up with a bowl of popcorn and watch scary movies with Bellamy when we were younger.

Now it’s different. I can feel something crawling along my skin. Taunting me. The rain dripping down from the sky is too appropriate. Too on-the-nose. It makes everything feel more closed in.

I spend the morning fighting with the detectives and judges, trying to get them to release more information to me. Even with everything I already have, they won’t budge. There are steps that need to be taken, legal channels that have to be followed to get what I need. They’re right. I know they are. Some of the information I need will only be useful if it’s acquired through those legal processes.

But that means nothing to me at noon, when my phone rings and I hear Misty sobbing on the other end.

“She’s gone.”

“What do you mean she’s gone? What’s going on, Misty?”

“Ashley’s gone. I can’t find her.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll be right there.”

I don’t even remember the drive to the house. When I get there, Leona and Misty are in the front yard. Misty is holding her daughter by the upper arms, trying to keep her under control as the girl thrashes and cries.

John comes out of the house holding his phone. He looks at me, his face like stone.

“Leona, you need to calm down,” Misty says. “You need to calm down. We’re going to find her.”

“No!” Leona screams. “No. She’s not here. She never was. She’s gone!”

“Stop talking like that,” Misty says. “Everything is going to be fine. Daddy is calling her friends. She’s probably just out with Vivian and Allison. Everything is going to be fine. Do you hear me?”

Leona finally breaks free of her mother’s grasp and starts to run. She trips, crashes to the ground, and crawls through the mud before getting her feet under her again and running for her car.

“No!” Misty screams.

John scrambles down the porch steps, nearly falling. He’s still in his pajamas, his hair disheveled, as though he was trying to sleep the entire day away.

“Call the police,” I tell him. “Then call Dean. You have his number, right?”

“Yes,” John says.

I nod. “Call him. Tell him to have Xavier find me.”

I know Xavier still has the tracker on my phone. He’ll be able to locate me no matter where I am.

“Where is she going?” Misty asks.

“You need to tell me that,” I say.

She looks at me with a bewildered expression. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know exactly where Leona is going. And you know why. Why don’t you show me, so we can end this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Misty says. “Everything was fine this morning and then all of a sudden Ashley was gone and Leona completely panicked. She has been really on edge and hasn’t been able to accept that her sister is back. This pushed her past her limit. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Misty, this is enough. You need to stop now. The police and my partner are going to be on their way. You really don’t want either one of them to get to her before you do. This may be your only chance to save the children you have left.”

Half an hour later, I follow Misty’s car into the overgrown parking lot of an abandoned factory. As we drive past the broken, weather-faded sign, I can’t help but notice the name of it.

WiseAcre Inc.

We drive around in loops for a few moments. Misty is stalling. I don’t know what time she’s waiting for, but I’m not going to play her game anymore. I stop my car and get out, running toward the hulking remains of the factory.

 Misty follows close behind me, resigned to the reality that she isn’t going to stop me. She leads me inside through a collapsed door. We haven’t gone far onto the old factory floor when I see a figure standing in the middle of the room.

“Ashley!” Misty calls out.

Ashley whips around but says nothing. Even from a distance, I can see the tears streaking down her face.

“Honey, we were all so scared. What are you doing here?” Misty asks. When there’s no response, Misty starts to get visibly unnerved. The smile she plastered on her face is fading, worry filling her eyes. “Where is your sister?”

That’s all it takes.

“I don’t know!” The words explode out, filling the crumbling space. “I don’t know where my sister is. Maybe she’s in one of the machines. Maybe she’s in the river. Maybe in the dirt.”

“Stop it,” Misty says.

“Maybe she’s in all of them. Parts of her in the gears. In the vats. Do you think there might still be chemicals in them? That would help the process along, wouldn’t it?”

“Stop,” Misty repeats, her voice starting to unravel. “Stop it now. Tell me where Leona is. Tell me now.”

The scream of pure rage and agony that rips out of a girl too small and young to make that kind of sound rattles off the rusted machines. Her eyes burn into Misty, the tears flowing unchecked.

“That’s all you care about,