Page 65 of Fractured Hearts

“Excuse me for a moment,” Darren says when his phone rings. He frowns at whatever he sees on the screen and steps away to answer. I’m lost in thought about what the fuck I should be doing right now when Darren returns, holding his phone out to me. “It’s for you,” he says, and the confusion on his face tells me it’s not Maverick or Ezra.

“Hello?”

“Jo. Where are you? The cameras are down and Ezra isn’t answering.”

“Gavin?” How the hell did Ezra’s dad get this number?

“Yes. Did you hear anything I just said?”

“How the hell did you know I was with Darren?” I ask, but I’m already moving. I use a spare shirt I found in my bag to get most of the glass off the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t. Darren and Martha were the only two people in your phone who aren’t the core group, and I know where all of them are except for you three. I called Darren first. Martha was next.” Great. I love knowing he hacked my phone so easily.

“Darren, I need your car,” I tell him, already buckling my seatbelt.

“Martha’s around the corner. Call her phone when you’re done with whatever you need to do.”

“Thank you,” I yell out the smashed remains of the window and peel out onto the road. “Can you track Ezra or Maverick’s phone?” I ask Gavin.

“Of course I can,” he says, sounding insulted. I roll my eyes, knowing where his son got his attitude from. “All three of your phones are showing the cliff house. Yet you’re not there, so I believe it’s safe to assume they aren’t either.” Panic eats away at the hurt and anger I was feeling towards them.

“I’m ten minutes out.” Darren and I didn’t get that far before he pulled over to talk to me. Which he probably thought was safer than driving while having that conversation. I’d laugh at the irony if I had that ability right now.

“I know.” It takes more willpower than I knew I possessed to not hang up on this man. I don’t think he gets enough human interaction. I also don’t know what I’m walking into and might need him. Unfortunately, that means him staying on the line and huffing about how long it takes the full ten minutes.

“I’m turning into the drive now.”

“Park there, cut the lights, and walk hidden in the trees.”

“No,” I say, stepping harder on the gas and gritting my teeth against the sounds Darren’s car is making when it hits all the bumps in the dirt.

“Jo! We need to do this strategically⁠—”

I don’t let him finish before I’m hanging up the phone and shoving it into my pocket. If Ezra and Maverick are in danger or hurt, I’m not taking the time to walk over a mile up a dirt and snow-covered road.

I barely manage to stop the car in time and almost collide with the front porch. I throw it in park, grab the gun, and run into the house.

“Ezra! Maverick!” I shout, but there’s no response. I click off the safety and hold the gun out in front of me with two hands, like Ezra taught me. Checking every room tells me what I already knew. They’re not here. I grab my phone from my bed and make my way back downstairs, keeping the gun securely in my hands. I freeze in place when I see something on the kitchen island. I didn’t notice it at first. It’s not a person, so my brain must have bypassed it.

Sitting on the island, leaning against the blue-flowered plant Ezra bought me for my birthday, is a Polaroid. My eyes dart around, the gun held in front of me, but I’m the only one here. In the picture are Ezra and Maverick. They both seem unconscious, with their hands, legs, and mouths bound with duct tape. It looks like they’re lying in the bed of a truck. When I pick up the Polaroid, I notice the stick in the plant with the name on it.

Forget-me-not.

I’m really fucking done with the irony today. I take Darren’s phone from my pocket and call Gavin back.

“Patrick has them. Tell me what to do.”

sixty-four

JO

Wait. That was what Gavin told me to do. It might be a little easier to do if I wasn’t so acutely aware that time is not on our side in situations like this. Every case we’ve covered on our podcast or a simple internet search will tell you the probability of them being found alive decreases by the second. The only hope I’m clinging to like a lifeline is that Patrick took them to get to me.

“It just doesn’t make sense!” I scream in frustration.

“What doesn’t, dear?”

I’ve been pacing the ancient floor of the bed-and-breakfast for the last hour. Gavin told me I needed to leave the house since it was clear Patrick could bypass the security there. Although, I’m still not convinced he didn’t get lucky. Ezra had that place on lockdown.