I didn’t get much information since I had to slip out of class to go to his office. He only told me it’s Murphy, but no one can know until they get a positive ID. He also said she’d been dismembered. I pretended to be shocked.
“Watch it, Locke. You’re in my lane.”
“Your lane? You couldn’t hit the net even if you had a GPS,” I shoot back at Caleb.
Grant laughs from the far circle, winds up, and fires a puck that bounces off the glass near Caleb’s head. “GPS wouldn’t help. He’d still miss.” I let out a low chuckle.
“Fuck off, Grant,” Caleb says, but he’s grinning.
Someone on the bench hollers, “Caleb, my grandmother shoots harder than you!”
“Your grandmother’s in my DMs,” Caleb yells back, making the guys groan and laugh. They’re all idiots, but honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Caleb actually killed Coach Murphy.
We get ready for another drill. I push off hard, trying to focus on the play and its rhythm. I circle back toward the boards and glance down the ice. Like always, my eyes drift to where the Ice Crew stands.
She’s gone.
I look over to the benches, the tunnel, and the far corner. There’s no red jacket anywhere.
“Locke!” Coach’s voice cracks. “Let’s go!”
I ignore him, skate to the end of the rink, and bang on the glass to get Kory’s attention. She looks left, then right, like she thinks I’m calling for someone else.
“Where’s Madeline?” I shout.
“She said she had a headache and took off.”
“Luke, we’re practicing here, not keeping tabs on your new fuck toy,” Lana sneers.
“The fuck did you just say?” I growl. I watch her swallow hard. “You really think this glass will keep me from getting to you?”
Her face tightens. “Are you threatening to hit me? I’m a fucking girl.”
“I don’t give a shit. You need to learn to keep your fucking mouth shut. Telling people I stuck my dick in you.” I make a disgusted expression. “You’ve been warned,” I tell her then skate away. I don’t have time for this. I’m sick of her bullshit. I don’tmiss the other girls trying to mask their laughter, not wanting Lana to turn her ire onto them.
I skate to the bench, tugging off my gloves as I go.
“Get back out there!” Coach yells after me. I step off the ice, legs heavy and chest tight. I have to find her.
I hit the locker room at as fast of a pace as possible on skates, pulling my jersey over my head as I make my way there. My pads are next, along with my skates and whatever other gear I can get off so that I can head out. My fingers pad clumsily on my shirt buttons as I try to dress quickly. I call Madeline, but she doesn’t answer. Voicemail. Again.
I let out a frustrated growl. Never in my life have I felt this type of worry.
The tracking app finally loads. Her dot is moving steadily toward town. It’s no coincidence that her current location is awfully close to the bed-and-breakfast Grant mentioned Emily is staying at during lunch.
I grab my keys, tossing the rest of my clothes on.
The drive is a blur. I pull up to the Victorian house, a crooked sign swinging, the location dot pulsing inside. I kill the engine, fix my shirt, and head up the steps.
The door opens before I touch it.
A woman stands there, gray hair pinned up, apron dusted with flour. She smiles like she’s been expecting me. “Afternoon, young man. Tea starts in ten minutes. You’re a bit early, but come in, come in.”
I step inside, scanning past her. The foyer is all dark wood and doilies with some floral smell choking the air. Then I see my Madeline. I have momentary relief.
She’s perched on a velvet bench, laughing at something, a teacup balanced on her knee. She catches my eye and freezes for half a second, then her smile widens, too bright.
“There you are!” She stands and sets the cup down. “I was just telling Mrs. Halloway about how I stumbled on this place. Isn’t it adorable?”
