Bury A Friend // Billie Eilish

Jackson

Holly wasn't answering her phone. I called her the second I finished telling Brax about the the fucking Apple tag in my truck. I called her again when I stormed back upstairs and into my apartment. Nothing.

I walked in to find my mom was indeed spread out on my couch with a glass of something. Didn't look like water but I didn't ask. She rolled her eyes when I shoved the little device in her face, screaming what the fuck was going on.

"You know Jay."

That was her answer. But no, I don't know Jay. Because she's made sure I was scarce whenever he came around, kept me from finding out what she was really involved in. Together they created some kind of alternate persona for him so I wouldn't put two and two together. And I don't know Judge, the side of his persona that treated my girl like garbage her entire life, either. Not really.

I do know Holly. I know what that fucker has put her through. I see the scars. Not on her flesh. He was calculated enough to avoid marking her skin. I see every scar he's left on her soul. She's overcoming them, my badass girl. But that doesn't make what he's done okay. It's the exact opposite and I'm damn sure going to make the asshole pay.

I call Holly again. Still nothing. She often puts her phone on silent when she's working but I know she clocked in not that long ago. I figured she wouldn't have shut it off yet. Realizing this method isn't going to work, I decide to haul my ass over to her job to talk to her in person.

Right after I kick my mom out of my house.

Holly

I sit in the backseat of the car watching my dad as he paces in front of the water tower. He's frantic. Unhinged in a way I've never witnessed. Dad was always a land mine—ready to blow from the least little hair trigger. But this is different. More. Scary in a way I haven't been scared in the past. I keep my breathing steady, reminding myself that panic won't help. I need to stay calm if I'm going to figure a way out of this.

I don't even know what "this" is.

I know he sat behind me while I drove, eerily quiet. Holding a gun. Caressing it would be a better term now that I think about it. He'd ordered me to drive up this hill to the town's water tower using the back route, which meant through the neighborhood that gave Fallbrook Hills its name. The rich part of town where no one from his club were welcomed. I went to school with a few kids from this part of town, but they kept their own circle of friends so it's not a place I ventured. Most of the Richies, as we referred to them, went to Jefferson High on the other side of town from my high school, Miller.

None of the kids who lived in the hills would lower themselves to hang out in my part of town, the industrial slums with low income housing and drug dens. At least that's the impression we give off. Looking at my dad, probably strung out on something based on his crazy energy, I can see why that rumor is considered fact. Hell, there probably are more drug houses than I realize. I have a feeling there's a lot I've missed by keeping my head down and pushing through life. The least of which is the crime right in my own back yard.

Literally.

He'd instructed me to pull off to the side of this dirt plateau on the hillside about fifty feet from the tower. As soon as I stopped the car, he reached over the backseat and yanked the keys out of the ignition before I could. He ordered me into the backseat and watched with narrowed gaze as I climbed over the seats. Now he's twirling the keys on his finger as he paces the dirt in front of the car. The amazing view of the town below is astrange backdrop for what's happening in front of me. Which I'm still trying to figure out.

I wait in the car and watch. He talks to himself, pulls out his phone to check something, then shoves it back into his pocket. After about ten minutes of this on repeat, he stalks over to the car, yelling at me to roll down the window.

"I can't." I point to the keys. "The car has to be on."

He grunts and opens the door instead.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he yells.

My jaw drops. "What you told me. Sitting back here."

He pulls his phone out, then looks me over.

"Don't you have anything else to wear?"

I glance down at my scrubs then back up at him. "I didn't know there was a dress code." I almost add something about kidnapping protocol being out of my wheelhouse but bite my tongue before I let it slip.

"You're here to help talk him out of this. You're my kid. They won't do anything with you here. Verna dug this hole so you're gonna fix it."

He slams the door again and stalks away.

What the fuck is he talking about?

Jackson

"What do you mean she never clocked in?" I stare down the receptionist at the health facility waiting for an explanation. The scent of bleach and antiseptics burn my flared nostrils. "Holly told me she was coming in to work today."

I check the time. She should have already gotten here. Where the fuck could she be? I look back up at the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with dark hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head. She's in the same blue floral scrubs that Holly wears. Her eyes are warm but the look on her face is too passive for the situation. She's not taking me seriously.

"I'm so sorry. Holly's taken some time off recently for personal reasons. She'll be back on duty soon." The woman looks back at her computer screen, a wordless dismissal.

Instead of telling her I know all about Holly's personal issues, or that I know all about her time off because most of it is spent in my bed, I turn and leave. The lady doesn't know where Holly is and I'm not wasting any more time here.

I pull my phone out and call Brax.

"We got a problem, man."

"Noted. I'm heading to over Grinder's place to talk with him and Frank all about it."

"No. Not the Judge tracking me problem. The I can't fucking find Holly problem. One I have a very bad feeling about." I'm holding the phone in a death grip as I struggle to keep myself together. I can't lose my shit. Not yet. Not until I have Holly in my arms.

"Dude. She's probably with her mom."

"Negative!" I yell, then grit my teeth. "She left for work this morning. Didn't clock in. Never showed her face. Gone."

"Call her."

"Do you think I'm an idiot? Of course I called her. No answer."

Brax curses quietly on the other end, otherwise ignoring my outburst. He knows what it's like to worry over his woman. I've heard the story of how Savanna was attacked by his gang member brother.

"I'll call Frank on my way. Meet me at his house."

I confirm with Brax before hanging up. My heart races. I feel sick. Twisted up inside. But Holly needs me. She's in danger. And that's not me being paranoid. I've felt off all morning and the fact that she's missing now is the worst confirmation of what I'd already known in my gut.

Judge found her.

***

I walk into Grinder's house to find him on the couch with his legs propped up and a pillow behind his head. He's got a shit ton of drink options and snacks next to him on the coffee table and a stack of motorcycle magazines. If it weren't for the scowl on his face and dark look in his eyes, I would think he's living the pampered life right now.

Brax stands at the end of the couch with his arms crossed. He looks almost as ominous as Grinder does.

"'Bout time you got here," Grinder says looking past me.

"Trust me, I got here as soon as I could," a deep voice behind me replies.

I turn to see a tall, dark haired guy a little older than me stride right in and take a seat next to Grinder.

"Talk." Brax leans forward urging the guy to speak.

New guy looks at me. "I'm Detective Frank Dimelio. I've been working in the gang violence division of our precinct for the last year." He reaches out to shake my hand. "Heard we have a situation on our hands."

I run my fingers through my hair. "My girlfriend is missing. Her dad is a Reaper-"

"Was a Reaper," Grinder says with a growl.

"Yeah, and we're pretty sure he's involved in some kind of drug trafficking. Definitely illegal bullshit, whatever it is." I add.

"What did you find out about the tracking devices I called you about?" Brax asks.

Frank pulls out a small notepad. Fuck, the guy is old school with a pencil and everything.

"Our tech guy is on it. I gave him the information you had, phone numbers, license plates, etc, but without actual devices in our hand it takes time."

"We don't have time." I'm holding back the rage because I need this guy's help. But I'm not holding off forever.

"I understand and our guy's good. The best in the county on this type of investigation. If anyone can locate her, he's it." He flips the page of his notebook, scans it, then looks up at me.

"Illegal tracking devices, placed without consent, are a felony in this state. Jail time guaranteed. That's point number one. If we can't find evidence of his illegal dealings, we can put him away for the tracking charges."

A small breath of relief fills me. Not enough, though. Holly's still missing.

"And if we can find evidence?"

"That's a big if. I've been looking into several smuggling rings this year, one for steroids and one for human trafficking. I've already nabbed the steroid smugglers."

I nod.

"We've followed a trail of falsified documents granting citizenship for border crossing purposes. Someone is creating these documents stateside, then smuggling them across the boarder illegally. The traffickers use the documents to move people across the border undetected. Without having to stuff them into truck trailers or the trunks of cars. Once they get these unsuspecting people here, they revoke the documents and hold them like prisoners."

"That sounds really shitty." I should care about the hell those people are put through. And I do. But I'm more concerned about Holly's safety right now.

"We just had a break in the case. One of our undercover guys got some intel from an accomplice. Hanging out at the bar with her, she got drunk enough to spill some incriminating details. We're following up on that right now. Her associate is spiraling now that he knows we're onto him."

"Congrats," I say flatly. Again, I don't care about this right now.

"Holly's dad is the associate. Your mom is the informant."

"You should have led with that."

Detective Dimeleo's insinuating stare is clear. He thinks Judge is trafficking people. Fuck. Does that mean my mom was involved? What kind of woman does that?

Frank's phone rings. He answers without hesitating and walks into Grinder's kitchen.

"I can't do this," I say. I can barely stand still. I need to find Holly.

Brax walks over and cuffs my shoulder. "I know the feeling. It's shit. But we've got good people on our side who know what they're doing."

Frank walks back into the room, phone at his ear as he addresses us.

"We've got a lead. Her phone has been pinged in the hills."

"Which hills?" My heart races as Frank turns away from us with a finger raised for me to hold my thought, listening intently to whoever's on the other end.

I bounce on my feet as he talks louder than before. "Are you sure about that?" Pause. "Water tower, got it. Remote. Makes sense."

He might have said more. I'm not sure. Because I'm already out the door. I have to get to her.

That's what I'm going to do.

Holly

Ten minutes go by as my dad cracks his neck and mutters more curse words. I remain in the back seat of the car feeling like a kidnap victim. Looking at the facts, I have been kidnapped. By my father.

A rumble sounds from around the bend. Seconds later an old school chrome grill surfaces from the bottom of the hill followed by dark tinted windows and a burnt orange paint job. A tricked out low rider with chrome spokes and neon under lighting stops across from where I sit. It feels like a horror movie, the car giving me murderous vibes. I think I saw an old Stephen King movie with a car that murdered people, that had the soul of a serial killer.

This car could have played that part.

The motor cuts out and the driver's side door swings open. An older guy with greying slicked back hair gets out, eyeing my dad. They have a verbal exchange of some sort. It's the first time in my life I've ever seen my dad grovel. That's the only word for what he's doing.

Oh, he's still standing up straight, showing that he doesn't give a shit about whatever is going on. But I can see the edge of fear surrounding him. The way he rolls his shoulder over and over, the clenching of his jaw. His fingers flex a few times too many. Dad is usually the picture of detachment. Never fidgeting or flinching. But right now, he's practically buzzing. I'd relish the moment if I weren't in fear for my life.

And this old guy is giving me those fears. He's looked over toward me too many times, a leering gaze aimed right at me. I wish this car had tinted windows, but it doesn't. He can see me clearly at this time of day.

After a few minutes of tense conversation, my dad walks calmly in my direction. My heart races. This can't be good. When he reaches me, he pulls the door open and grabs me by the arm, yanking me out of the backseat. Then he shoves me in the direction of the creepy guy hard enough to knock me onto my hands and knees.

Behind me, I hear a door open and shut. The engine starts almost instantly after that. I hardly have time to turn my head back before the car is making a wide turn around where I'm crouched and back down the hill. Leaving me.

I look up to see the creepy old guy looking at me. The look in his eyes sends my stomach reeling. No one needs to explain what just happened. I already know.

My dad sold me to a pimp.

Well, that took a dramatic turn! And I'm sorry for the cliffy but...not really. I kind of love it! It's spurring me on because I can absolutely visualize what happens next.

If you're in the mood for monster romance of all types and levels of spice, be sure to add the Monstrous Love anthology to your library! 35 Creators wrote original short stories for the month of February! Mine is included! Beyond the Fog is a spinoff of my Fantasy/Folktale mashup, Charmer. See teaser below.

Songs...didn't have one for this chapter already pulled out, so I snagged one from My Bloody Valentine's playlist (again because we abandoned that story even though it slapped-as the kids say) Thanks to Billie for her brilliance in Bury a Friend. Again this is less about the lyrics and more about the vibes. Although, I'm sure Jackson would like to bury Judge...

https://youtu.be/HUHC9tYz8ik

Beyond the Fog teaser