I look up at everyone waiting expectantly in the doorway.
“He’s got Brooklyn,” I say, crying hysterically. “He’s got Brooklyn.”
What follows is a night of complete chaos.
Fits of anger.
Calls with Garrett.
Pacing with worry.
Calls with my family.
Uncontrollable crying.
A call to B’s dad.
As if I wasn’t already feeling guilty enough, his dad flat-out blamed me.
Yelled at me.
I tried to explain, but it didn’t matter.
And it doesn’t.
He’s right.
It’s all my fault.
By three in the morning, Damian and Peyton have fallen asleep on the couch, Aiden is pacing across the living room floor, and I’m sitting in a chair across from Cooper trying to convince him that I should do exactly what Vincent wants me to do: go home.
My phone rings with a call from Garrett.
I quickly grab it off the coffee table and answer with, “Did you find him?”
“No, we haven’t. I’m sorry,” he says.
By this time, I’m done crying. I’m just straight pissed.
“How am I supposed to believe that you’ll be able to keep anyone I care about safe?”
“I can only do so much, Keatyn. Brooklyn refused security the whole time he was in Malibu. And, believe me, we tried to talk some sense in him. We even did as you asked and watched the house and followed him wherever he went.”
“Were they watching him today?”
“Sort of.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Brooklyn called the cops on them a few hours before he left for dinner. My men were at the police station getting things sorted out.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Did the two of you fight?”
“Yes. He was really upset when I told him I wasn’t coming there.”
“You were planning to?”
“Yeah. He wanted me to go with him to meet his mom. When we found out about Kiki, I called him. Begged him to reschedule. Told him it wasn’t safe. He wouldn’t listen to me. Then I suggested that it could be a set up. That’s when he hung up on me.”
“We located his mother and interviewed her.”
“So it wasn’t a set up?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
“That they talked. That she was so excited to see him but that it was more awkward than she imagined. I think she had grand images of the little boy she left rushing into her arms.”
“Do you know the real story?”
“Brooklyn’s father said she’s bipolar. That, back then, the disease wasn’t as widely understood. They diagnosed her with depression but she wouldn’t take her medicine. When she didn’t, she was all over the place. Crying for days, then, the next, getting dressed up and maniacally shopping. She’d have fits of anger, too. In one of those fits, she pushed B down the stairs. He was fine, just a broken wrist, but that’s when his dad knew he had to do something. He had her charged with child abuse, filed for divorce, and got the court to issue a restraining order.”
“That’s sad. But I can see why his dad just let him think she left. It was easier than trying to explain everything else. We have to find him, Garrett. As soon as I get off the phone, I’m heading to the airport. I’ll see you soon.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I won’t see you?”
“Keatyn, would you like me to use every resource I have available to search for Brooklyn?”
“Yes.”
“Then I need you to go back to Eastbrooke.”
“I can’t go back there.”
“Yes, you can.”
“But everyone knows who I am. I’m still the one Vincent wants. I can’t put Eastbrooke in that kind of danger. I can’t go back!”
“We successfully kept everything off social media. Vincent would’ve already gone there if he believed you were there. It’s safe. That’s why we sent you there in the first place. And I can’t do my job if I’m worried about you. I need all our manpower focused on finding him.”
“But you have the police. I sent you the screenshot.”
“Keatyn, the screenshot doesn’t really prove anything. You didn’t get any photos of Vincent. Had you recorded the call it would be a different situation. We would have some proof. All we have is a photo of a young man lying on a mattress. It doesn’t prove he was kidnapped. It doesn’t tell us who kidnapped him. It helps that his dad believes you and reported him kidnapped, but since there is no proof of that either—”
“What kind of proof do they need?”
“They interviewed the staff at the restaurant. No one saw a struggle. No one saw anything or anyone remotely suspicious. The police see a young man who is upset with his father and didn’t come home. Now, the fact that his motorcycle is still at the club helps us a little, but the police work at their own pace.”
“I thought you had guys following Vincent. Where the hell is he?”
“We don’t know.”
“What the fuck, Garrett? How can you not know?”