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Irush down the corridor, my heart lodged in my throat. I'm heading to Hunter's office.
He messaged a little while ago letting me know he got some news about Layla.
I called him straightaway, hoping we could talk, but he said it was best we speak when I get home.
Paige and I were already on our way back from the craft fair, but since we got stuck in traffic, this was the soonest we could make it back.
All day, I've tried to calm myself, but every time I thought about Layla, I felt like I was going to turn inside out.
Hearing that Hunter found some information should have comforted me, but it’s only heightened my anxiety. Usually when people want to talk face-to-face, that's not exactly a good sign.
He also said I shouldn't contact my father, which I thought was weird and made me worry even more.
The anxiety I feel reminds me of those weeks before my mother died. Everything was on the edge, including her.
A week before her death, she left home to stay with Aunt Bessie. The next time I saw her, she was dead.
I'll never forget the night when I found her in the bathtub, lifeless and cold. That memory continues to haunt me, and I pray with everything inside me that I don’t suffer the same heartache with Layla. My heart couldn’t take it.
I reach Hunter’s office and find him standing by the window.
His back is turned to me until I enter.
My heart is thumping so hard in my throat, I have to gulp some air to clear the sensation.
"What did you find out, Hunter?"
He moves closer and touches my face, caressing my cheek. His fingers on my skin are an attempt to calm me, but I don't want to be calm when I don’t know what's going on.
"Let's sit over there and talk. There's a lot I have to tell you."
My skin suddenly turns cold and clammy, but I allow him to guide me to the sofa, and we sit. When he stares at me, I can see it in his eyes that whatever he's about to tell me will hurt me.
"I haven't found Layla yet," he begins, "but my friend came back with some information that suggests your father has been trying to cover up her whereabouts."
My lungs burn and I stare back at him as if he just slapped me. "What are you talking about? That doesn't make any sense."
"All of Layla’s Facebook and social media posts are fake," he says. "And they were posted from your father's house."
The additional news sends a tremor of shock through me, and my hands fly up to my mouth.
I shake my head, not understanding and not wanting to believe.
"There must be some mistake."
"No, there’s no mistake. I was also given this."
He hands me a picture of Dad and Layla sitting in a park.
"That is surveillance from France four months ago," Hunter explains.
My gaze flicks up to meet his. Four months ago? Dad saw Layla four months ago, but he's only ever told me he's spoken to her, not met with her. I take the picture from him, but my hands are shaking, and I still can't believe what Hunter is saying to me.
"Are you sure this isn't a mistake? Maybe this is an old picture. My father wouldn't do this. He would have told me if he saw Layla."
"Your father is not the man you believe him to be. He's a world-class liar who only wants the best for himself."
My throat dries. In all the time I've known Hunter, I've never heard him speak about my father in such a way. I'm so shocked by his words that I'm momentarily stunned to silence. Nothing makes sense to me.
