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The next morning, he arrived early for the meeting and had everything set up when the first detectives strolled in. Once they were all assembled, he laid out the details he knew about Emma.
“I need you to find this woman,” he finished. “As quickly as possible.”
One of the detectives lifted an eyebrow. “Can I venture a question?”
“Certainly.”
“What do you want with this… Emma? If we know, it might make it easier to track her down.”
“I love her,” Patrick said simply. “And I need to find her.”
There were a few chuckles at that, especially from the detectives who’d known Patrick for several years. A statement like that was the polar opposite of what they’d come to expect from him. Patrick had always been a man motivated by logic and profit margins and data, except when it came to his personal art collection. This was a new side of him.
But Patrick didn’t join in the laughter. He just smiled and repeated, “I need to find her.”
After the detectives dispersed, Patrick returned to his office. Just like after Emma had first disappeared, he had trouble concentrating on his work. But where he’d been filled with worry and heartbreak before, he felt only hope now. He had to find Emma. He had to know how she felt.
CHAPTER 19
EMMA
Emma stared at her clothes with something between amusement and despair. She was almost six months into her pregnancy and nothing fit anymore. The overlarge blouses and elastic-banded skirts she’d purchased to fit over her bump had now become uncomfortably tight. She was going to have to invest in actual maternity clothes — stat.
Still, there was no time to shop, at least not before class. Emma selected the only outfit that still fit her: a long maroon skirt and a white blouse. It wasn’t exactly her most flattering ensemble, but Emma wasn’t trying to look pretty. She didn’t have anyone to impress.
She quickly combed her hair and pulled it into the half-up, half-down style that had become her go-to. Then she smiled at herself in the mirror. This had been the extent of her beauty routine for a long while now. After the morning sickness and exhaustion of early pregnancy had passed, Emma had fallen into a more or less happy routine. She woke early, went for a morning stroll, then headed to the community college. A few days a week, she had her moms-to-be group in the early afternoon, after which she’d head back for more classes. She also had a standing coffee date with Francesca, a biology professor at the college, and went for a walk once a week with Eleanor, another professor. At night, she’d curl up on her couch with a book and a home-cooked meal.
Both Francesca and Eleanor (not to mention the women in the moms-to-be group) had encouraged Emma to try dating again — or at least to consider the possibility in the future. Emma had turned them down flat. Despite everything, she’d cared deeply for Patrick and didn’t think she could feel that way about anyone else. Plus, as she pointed out to each of them, she was six months pregnant and none of her clothes fit. It wasn’t the best time to start a new relationship, in her opinion.
Apart from romance, though, Emma was satisfied with her life. She had a job she liked teaching art, which also allowed her time to work on her own projects. She had a circle of friends whom she knew well and talked to honestly, although she didn’t mention her days as a corporate spy. And she was expecting a baby, a baby who she already knew she would love with every corner of her heart.
Sometimes, though, she glanced at the art safe that contained the Aurora, or saw a couple holding hands, or noticed one of a hundred other things she and Patrick had discussed, and her heart still felt fragile enough to shatter. She missed Patrick and still felt terrible about what had happened. She couldn’t help wondering if he thought about her sometimes, too.
She knew he probably didn’t.
Today, Emma needed to hurry to get to her class on time. She grabbed her purse and went on her way.
The walk to work was very pleasant. It was April and buds were unfurling into leaves as the world blossomed with spring flowers. There was a pleasant scent in the air, a scent of growth and new beginnings. Emma smiled. It was hard not to feel hopeful on a day like today.
Patrick would probably like it, too.
Emma put the thought out of her mind and focused on the sweet chirping of a small red bird overhead.
When she arrived at the classroom, she set everything up for the day’s class on impressionist painting. She had been looking forward to this for some time. While impressionism wasn’t her favorite style, it was fun to teach, especially to the professional types who usually attended these early classes. They tended to have fun stepping out of their comfort zones.
The first student to arrive was, as usual, Dwight. He smiled at her and glanced at her stomach.
“You look well,” he said with a kind smile. “Have you been feeling any kicks? My wife told me that she started feeling them around where you are.”
“I’ve felt a couple,” Emma admitted. She dropped a hand to the round dome of her stomach. The idea that an actual baby was growing inside was still hard for her to really grasp, but the kicks helped. She loved that gentle fluttery feeling. “Your youngest is ten now, right?”
“Right.” Dwight made his way around the room to his easel. “Are you planning to find out the sex? Or have you already?”
“Yes.” Emma grinned. She’d actually had her anatomy scan just the day before and was bursting to tell someone her good news. “I’m going to have a little?—”
Just then, a loud group of students entered and Emma cut herself off. As excited as she was, this conversation wasn’t exactly the best to have in her classroom. She gave Dwight an apologetic, talk-later smile and refocused on the class she was about to teach. Emma put a loose smock over her clothes and prepared to teach.
The hour flew by. By the end of the lesson, several of her students had produced truly gorgeous abstract paintings, while most had worked hard and come up with something pleasing, if not entirely professional. Dwight had painted a very un-impressionist house.
