“What were you looking for?” she asked again, irritation in her voice.
“I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Just something to help me get more information about what went on between him and Beelzebub: maybe a phone we didn’t know about, a picture, more messages, something.”
“But you didn’t find anything?”
“No, not before you woke up.”
She stopped talking for a moment, wishing she’d gotten that drink after all. “So, you were just trying to distract me when you kissed me?” she asked finally, not able to look him in the eye.
He was silent for a moment, she could hear his breathing. Finally, he said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I couldn’t tell you the truth about why I was there.”
“Oh.” She forced the word out of her mouth, though she felt like all her air was gone. “Right.”
He placed a hand on her knee. “I don’t regret what we did, Peighton. In another time, in another life…I would be chasing you down. That night wouldn’t have been enough for me. Sitting here…so close to you that I can smell you and not being able to touch you…that wouldn’t be enough for me.” He pulled her chin up so that he could look her in the eye. “But in this life, this time, it has to be enough. I can’t chase you.”
She stared into his blue-green eyes, so bright she could’ve been looking into the sea. Her eyes traveled to his lips for a split-second before looking back up. “I didn’t exactly make you chase me.”
“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” Their eyes were locked together and neither spoke for what felt like an eternity. Everything seemed to stand still, the air around them growing thick, and being close to him was all she could think of. Finally, he blinked, looking away. “But you should. You should run away from me, Peighton.”
“Why?”
“Because we aren’t supposed to do this. You’re grieving and you’re vulnerable, and I took advantage of that. And, even more than that, our spouses’ deaths are linked. Everything about us is just messy.”
Before Peighton could answer, her phone began to ring in her pocket. She pulled it out, staring at the screen. “Hold on, it’s Frank.” She stood up, walking away from the couch. “Hello?”
“Peighton, is Kyle with you?”
“What do you mean is Kyle with me? Is he missing?”
He groaned. “When I woke up this morning he was gone. I thought maybe he’d gone out with his friends or something, but he isn’t answering my calls. I can’t get ahold of him.”
“How long has he been gone?” she asked, panic filling her. Clay was suddenly beside her.
“I don’t know. He was here last night. I woke up a few hours ago and he’s not here.”
“Why are you just now calling me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you for no reason. I figured he’d show up eventually, but it’s been a while. He should’ve been back by now. Or at least answered my calls.”
She was pacing the living room floor, nervously rubbing her hair. “Okay, I’m coming there right now.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine, Peighton. Don’t panic yet.”
Too late. She hung up the phone quickly, rushing toward the door.
“What’s wrong?” Clay asked her.
“It’s Kyle. He’s missing,” she said without turning to face him. “I have to go to Frank’s.”
Grabbing the keys from the coffee table, he rushed out the door, taking off in a dead run to the truck. “Let’s go.”
Twenty
FRANK
Frank threw open the door to his apartment as he heard the hurried footsteps approaching. He was surprised to see the cop following behind Peighton. She was frazzled, biting her lip like she so often did when she was worried about something. He hugged her stiffly as she walked into the room, shutting the door behind them.
“Have you heard from him?”
“No,” he answered. “I’ve called him twice more since I talked to you last.”
“Yeah, we tried calling on our way over here. He won’t answer my calls either. Were you fighting? Did something happen? Did he say anything to you?”
“No,” Frank insisted. “Everything was fine. He’d been out with his friends throughout the day, come home for supper. He seemed okay. Then I woke up this morning and he just…wasn’t here.”
“Is his stuff still here?” Clay asked.
“Some of it is. His bag and a few clothes are missing,” Frank told them. “His cell phone too. Most of his stuff is still here though.”
“That makes it seem like he’s planning to come back,” Clay said, looking at Peighton. “That’s a good thing. Had anyone else been in the apartment? Any of his friends?”
“No,” Frank said. “Just Kyle.”
“If he was planning on returning, why hasn’t he? You don’t think anything has happened to him—” She stopped, covering her mouth as tears began to form in her eyes. “Frank, I can’t bear to lose him.”
Before Frank could respond, Clay put his hand on her arm. “We’re going to find him, Peighton.”
Frank nodded in agreement. “I was thinking we could start going to some of his friends’ houses, maybe a few places he likes to hang out. Someone has to have seen him.”
“Should we call the police?” Peighton asked, looking at Clay rather than him.
“You mean you didn’t already?” Frank asked, gesturing toward the officer.
“No,” Peighton said, a slightly embarrassed look on her face. “No, we were already together.”
“Jesus, Peighton,” Frank said exasperatedly.
“It wasn’t like that—” she began to defend herself.
Clay cut in. “We don’t have time to argue right now. Frank, you should stay here and call the police. Tell them what’s happened. We’ll go out and try to find him.”
“No way in hell. I’m going with Peighton. You can stay here,” he said gruffly.
“I don’t know enough about Kyle to stay here. He went missing while in your care. They’ll want to talk to you.”
“Then Peighton should stay too.”
“No. She knows where he would be better than anyone. If he’s planning to run away, we need to get started searching for him before he can get too far. We’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, pulling Peighton out the door. “You have her number. Call us if you need us.”
Frank watched the door shut, fear and frustration filling him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing 911. Before he pressed send, he stopped himself, erasing the number and dialing a different one instead.
“SecureHome Security, this is Paul. How can I help you?”
“Paul, it’s Frank,” Frank said to him.
“Oh, hey boss. What’s up?”
“I need a tail.” He could hear Paul typing as he spoke.
“You got it. On who?”
“Clay Nealson and Peighton Claiborne. They’re leaving my apartment now, probably headed downtown.” He walked over to his window, looking to the street for her SUV. Instead, he watched them exit the building and climb into a black truck. He read the plate number to Paul. “It’s a newer model Ford F-150. Black with chrome wheels.”
“I’ll send someone there now,” Paul said confidently. “Anything we need to know?”
“Just tell them to protect Peighton at whatever cost. I don’t trust this guy,” he said, everything in his gut screaming at him to follow her himself.
Twenty-One
PEIGHTON
Clay drove like a madman through the streets, taking the turns Peighton directed him toward. At some point during their drive, he’d taken her hand, but Peighton couldn’t remember when. She held tightly to what Todd had jokingly called the “oh-shit” handle above her head in the truck, her eyes darting wildly around the town.
She dialed his number for the fifth time in their thirty-minute drive through Pawley’s Corner, leaving him another message. “Kyle, please, please call me back. I just want to hear your voice, son. I need to know that you’re okay.” She put the phone into the cup holder to her left, biting her lip. Where in the world could he be? She touched her free hand to the cool glass of the window, watching the condensation gather around her hand. “Why wouldn’t he be answering our calls?”
“I don’t know,” Clay answered softly.