I turn into the driveway, gravel crunching beneath my tires as the house comes into view. The last of the daylight drains from the sky, settling low on the horizon. The place lights up automatically as I approach. I ease the car into the garage and cut the engine. A familiar unease crawls up my spine. I brush it off—it’s just the result from a day spent at Headstone.
Still, my hand stays close to the pistol in my jacket as I get out of the car.
The front door unlocks at my touch, and I step inside. It’s quiet. Fucking silent, actually. I stay still for a moment, listeningfor the shower running or her feet walking along the floorboards upstairs.
“Kat?” I call out.
Nothing.
I slowly shut the door behind me as unease crawls up my spine. I scan the room. Everything is exactly as it should be. There’s a faint coffee smell in the air. Must be left over from when the band were here earlier.
“Kat?” I call again, louder this time.
No answer.
My jaw tightens, and a thread of tension winds tighter in my gut. Something’s not right, she always answers.
“Kat!”
I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, my feet barely touching the steps as my heartbeat hammers in my chest. The bedroom door is open, and the light is on.
I push the door open, cautious hope rising as the room comes into view. It quickly disappears when I see Freddie curled up in the center of the bed, his chest rising and falling with sleep. Panic ices through my veins. He wouldn’t sleep through noise. Kat would never leave him alone like this. Never.
Unless something forced her to.
“Kat?” I call again, louder and sharper.
My eyes sweep over the room. Everything is just as I left it. Nothing is out of place. Nothing wrong. And that’s exactly why my blood turns to ice in my veins.
I’m already running back downstairs before my thoughts catch up, pulse hammering through my ears as I reach the kitchen. I see it immediately.
Her phone.
Sitting on the island, face down. Exactly how she would have left it if she were in the middle of something.
My world tilts on its axis, and I freeze. She never goes anywhere without it. Never. It’s her lifeline. I slowly cross the kitchen and pick it up, the screen lighting at my touch. No missed calls. Nothing. Just her lock screen photo of Freddie sprawled across her lap. The image vanishes quickly as the screen dims again.
My gaze flicks around the large room, settling on one thing. The cameras.
I sprint to my office, slamming the door against the wall as I stride inside. The ice in my thaws, replace by red hot rage that courses through my body as my computer boots up. I open up the camera log. I impatiently tap my index finger on the desk as the software buffers. Everything is too fucking slow.
The footage appears, and I skip through the day. Kat in the kitchen this morning, making coffee with Freddie at her feet. Her friends arriving. They sit in the living room for hours and nothing happens. They leave, she hugs them goodbye, and then—
Static.
“Fuck,” the word rips from my throat as my heart slams violently against my ribs.
This was deliberate. Someone planned this.
The image returns, and the porch is empty. The front door is closed. But Kat isn’t there.
Something in me fractures. My heart beats out of my chest, and I feel it almost splinter in two. I pull out my phone from my pocket, shaking as I dial Cain.
“Boss—”
“Get here. Now,” I say, my voice cracking. “Bring Gareth. Bring fucking everyone.”
I hang up before Cain can respond. I drop my phone onto the desk, still gripping Kat’s phone in my other hand. Useless.
