Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“This is on your heads, both of you. Whatever happens next, I’m not taking it out on her. I’m taking it out on you for letting her do it.” He pulls his cell from his pocket and taps out a message, shaking his head the entire time. “I’m sending Trent after her. At least I know he’ll get the job done.”
“Negative,” Griffin immediately responds.
“Sorry, that wasn’t up for debate. It is what’s happening.”
“We’re going with him,” I announce, tipping my head to the side when he glares at me. “We’re not sending him on his own. We know her better than he does.”
A murderous look flashes over Mason’s face. “I don’t want to know what that means, so do yourself a favor and don’t tell me.”
“We’re going with him, end of story.”
“You know what?” he asks as he throws his hands into the air. “I don’t give a fuck. She can get herself killed for all I care now.” I know he feels like he means it, but he doesn’t. It would devastate him if anything happened to his sister. He would blame himself—if not right away, most definitely once the dust settled, and he was in his right mind. I would hate to see that happen. He’s already gone through enough blame. She’s the only sibling he has left.
That and so many other things weigh on my mind as we wait for Trent to join us. He doesn’t keep us waiting, arriving at the apartment within five minutes. Part of our training. We have to be prepared at the drop of a hat, the way firefighters are sometimes called to go from a dead sleep to getting on a truck.
“This is a three-man job?” Trent asks, wearing a smart-ass smirk. “Or are you boys afraid of her?”
“Enough with the fucking jokes,” Mason growls. “I want her found. Brought to me. Straight to me,” he adds, like there’s any question of that. He’s about ready to blow his stack. I can’t say I’m sorry to be leaving.
I’m glad to see Teagan emerge from the bedroom before we go. I doubt Mason will suddenly calm down thanks to her presence, but he does seem to lose a little of his murderous scowl when she approaches and touches a hand to his shoulder. “I’ll make us something to eat,” she offers. “This is going to be okay. They’ll find her.”
I have no doubt that we will. I just wish I could be as confident when it comes to the ultimate outcome.
“This is where we started.” The house looks the same as it did before: empty. Unused and practically forgotten. Trent insisted on tracing our steps since, in his words, “If she knows you’ve already been there, it might seem like the safest bet. Why would you revisit someplace you already checked out?”
He has a point. I doubt he’s right, but he has a point. Natalie isn’t the type to retread old ground, and while she was never exactly forthcoming over what drove her to leave in the first place, I believe she was looking for her mother. Beverly could be here.
It doesn’t look like she is, though, since the house is just as dark and quiet as it was when Griffin and I first visited. “I think this is a waste of time,” Griffin mutters while Trent takes the lead, the three of us crossing the lawn in the last predawn moments of the morning. There are a handful of windows up and down the street that are now lit as people get ready for work and school. This is the only house with no signs of life inside.
Once we enter, Trent turns in a slow circle, looking things over. “How much did you explore?” he asks.
“Most of it. It was just as empty as it is now,” Griffin explains. He’s in the kitchen, his voice echoing off the hard surfaces.
“I’m just asking because…” Trent sniffs the air, his eyes narrowing. “Do you smell something? I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s an odor.”
Now that he’s mentioned it, I notice it, too. It’s nothing I can immediately identify, but it’s out of place. What’s more, it’s new. I didn’t notice it before.
Griffin joins us, walking slowly, sniffing the air. “Maybe an animal got in and died? Maybe it’s a mouse in the wall.”
“No, it’s too strong for that.” Trent jogs upstairs to search while I walk around the first floor, looking for whether there’s an area where the odor is more intense. As soon as I open the door leading down to the cellar, there’s no question about it. “It’s down here!” I call out. Though what I’m smelling is clearly dead, I get the sense I might be glad to have my Glock in hand.
The basement is as bare as the rest of the house, and as dark. I can’t find the source of the smell—there’s nothing immediately visible—but the further I walk, the stronger it becomes. “Here. Help me with this.” Griffin takes one end of a workbench, and I take the other, and once we move it back from the wall, I see what he noticed: a door. And now that I think about it, looking around, the basement doesn’t seem as large as the first floor. It’s not as deep.