Parisa came back on the line a moment later. "As Wyatt said, if you need any help, Bree, I'm here for a few more days. Call me or post a message in the forum."
"Thanks for the offer. You guys sound like you're having fun," she said wistfully.
"We'd be having more fun if you were here. We'll have to reunite at another time."
"Definitely."
"Stay safe. And this guy—Nathan? Be careful of men from your past. It's always better to look forward than to look back."
"I'll keep that in mind." As she set down her phone, she felt both better and worse.
It had been nice to talk to Parisa, but now she felt more alone than ever. She wished she could be with her friends, celebrating Jamie's life. She wished Hayley was home safe with her family and that a little girl named Emma had never been brought into this twisted game. Most of all, she wished she knew where her daughter was, and if she was still safe.
And she really wished she knew what to do about Nathan…
*
Bree, Bree, Bree…
Her face went around in Nathan's head all night. He tried to shake her with every toss, every turn, but he couldn't get her or the kisses they'd shared out of his mind.
He'd wanted to kiss her forever, and it had been far better than his best dream. What had really surprised him was the way Bree had kissed him back. There had been no hint of shyness or restraint—just passion and fire and need.
And when she'd told him she was tempted to invite him upstairs to her room, he'd been tempted to push the idea, to follow her through those hotel doors and make her see that it didn't matter what happened tomorrow when they had tonight.
But he hadn't done that.
Some age-old self-defense mechanism had kicked in, reminding him that this woman had stomped on his heart more than a few times.
At dawn, he gave up trying to sleep, threw on track pants, a sweatshirt and his running shoes and headed out the door. He ran down to the lake and then along the shoreline, hoping he could outrun his thoughts, but every mile brought new ideas.
What if he kissed her again? What if he took her to bed? What if he showed her what she'd been missing out on all these years?
But where the hell would that get him?
She'd eventually say good-bye again, and he probably wouldn't see her for another decade, if then.
It was just a fluke that she'd come back now. It certainly wasn't because she'd been dying to see him.
And he certainly hadn't been dying to see her. He'd gone on with his life. He'd put her out of his head. He had Adrienne.
Adrienne! He'd never called her the night before, nor had he answered any of her texts. She was going to be pissed that he hadn't met up with her and her college friend, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to go see them. Not after what had happened with Bree.
He'd never been one to fool around with more than one woman at a time.
And the fact that he could barely remember Adrienne now that Bree had returned was probably a sign that he needed to end things with her.
But was that the smartest idea?
Adrienne was easy, fun, light, bright. She came from a normal family. She didn't have dark secrets. She didn't carry emotional scars and still-healing wounds. She wasn't a magnet for trouble.
That's who he should want.
But, no, he had to be hung up on a woman who had always been a thorn in his side, who had almost gotten him killed. And it wasn't like the present was any different than the past. She was surrounded by danger and shadows, and he was getting tangled up again in her problems.
So, what was he going to do?
Walk away from Bree? Let her figure things out on her own?
Call Adrienne back and apologize? Meet her after work? Tell her he'd make last night up to her?
He picked up his pace and sprinted the last mile, hoping the right answer would come to him.
When he got home, he took a quick shower and got dressed, debating his next move—a move that didn't need to include either Bree or Adrienne.
He wanted to do his part to help Hayley, so maybe he'd go by the Jansens' house.
While Bree had dismissed the possibility that Hayley was her child, he still wasn't completely convinced. And since the Chicago FBI investigation team had decided to keep Bree out of the field, maybe he could discover something on his own. It was probably a long shot, but he was going to take it.
He stopped to pick up coffee and pastries from a bakery that he and Mark occasionally went to after a run and then headed to their house.
He was surprised to find the street empty and quiet. For the past two days, there had been tons of news vans and reporters. He hoped that didn't mean the media was losing interest in Hayley's story. But it was only nine a.m., so maybe they'd be arriving later.
When Mark answered the door, Nathan's first thought was that his friend had aged ten years in the past two days, with dark shadows under his eyes, pale, pasty skin, and desperate eyes.
He felt terrible that all he had to offer were sweets and coffee. "I wanted to drop these by, Mark. I thought Connor and Morgan might like the sweets, and I got you your usual coffee."
"Thanks." Mark took the coffee container out of his hand. "That was thoughtful. Do you want to come in?"
"If I'm not intruding."
Mark waved him inside and shut the door. "I'd welcome the conversation. Lindsay's parents took the kids to their house last night. I was glad to get them out of here. I thought I'd be happy with fewer people around, but now the silence is…terrifying."
"Is Lindsay here?" he asked, following Mark down the hall to the kitchen.
"I'm hoping she's getting some sleep now. She was up all night sitting in Hayley's bedroom, holding her stuffed animals and rocking back and forth. She's not doing well."
"I'm so sorry, Mark."
"Thanks."
Nathan sat down on a stool at the kitchen island. Seeing the boxes of donuts, pastries, cookies, and pies on the counters, he realized he'd had a very unoriginal idea. "Looks like you were already well stocked."
"People don't know what to do so they bring food. You should see all the casseroles in the refrigerator. And the irony is that I've never felt less like eating in my life. I will take the coffee, though. I was about to make another pot." Mark pulled one of the coffee cups out of the cardboard container and sat down across from him.
"Is there any news?" he asked.
Mark shook his head. "No. I don't know if you saw, but we made a public plea on the news last night. It generated some leads, but none of them have panned out. I spoke to both the police and the FBI this morning, and they assure me that they're still devoting every minute of every hour to Hayley's case. There's going to be another full-scale volunteer search starting in about an hour, expanding the grid that was searched yesterday. The last kid who was taken was found in an abandoned building so they're concentrating on properties like that." He ran a weary hand through his hair. "I can't bear the thought of Hayley sitting in the dark and the cold in some condemned building. But then, I can't bear the thought of anything that could be happening to her."
Mark's pain rolled off him in thick waves, and Nathan had never felt more helpless to comfort someone in his life. There was nothing he could say to make Mark feel better and trying almost seemed insulting.
But seeing Mark's grief also made him more committed to doing whatever he could to help find Hayley. "It sounds like there are a lot of people looking for your daughter," he said quietly, wanting to give Mark some reassurance, no matter how hollow it might be.
"The police have been good. Better than I expected."
"Why do you say it like that?" he asked curiously.
"I haven't found the cops to be too helpful in the past. We've had a lot of car break-ins on this street the last month, and they can't seem to catch anyone."