Page 318 of The Heart You Kept

“She hasn’t taken off,” I snap. “She’s been taken. There are fucking male footprints in the back garden.”

He gives me a condescending smile. “With all due respect, Mr. Prescott. There has been no indication that this is the scene of a crime, they could be a gardener’s or anyone’s. She hasn’t even been gone for twenty-four hours; she may have just left under the cloak of privacy to get away from your guards.”

“She wouldn’t do that.” I shake my head. “And if this isn’t the scene of a crime, why was her phone under the fridge?”

His eyes hold mine.

“Why were things knocked over in the fridge as if there was a struggle?”

“We have forensics checking everything now and I’m sure she’s going to turn up fine.”

I glance into the kitchen to see them combing the space with dusting powder.

Thomas is out the front with the guards, they are calling everyone in search of her.

“Is there anyone who may know where she is?” he asks. “Anyone who may have a grudge against her?” He is scribbling down notes. “Anyone that may have an idea of what has happened here?”

“I don’t think—” I cut myself off.

“Who?”

“Um….” My hands are shaking, my mind is fried. “I’m….”

“I know who you can ask,” Thomas says from behind me.

“Who’s that?” the policeman asks.

“Edward’s ex-girlfriend, Princess Hermione of Switzerland.”

The policeman’s eyes come to me. “Anybody else?”

“Her father, King Volter.”

Three days, seventy-two hours, 4,320 minutes….

It’s a long time to hold your breath, to pray with every cell in your body for a miracle. To miss someone so much that it physically hurts.

Alora hasn’t accessed any bank accounts; my worst fear is coming true.

I stare through the window and out over the marina down below.

Where are you, my love?

We’ve exhausted every lead possible, every person who’s ever hated me. Every business deal gone bad. Pascal, Hermione, and Isadora…. Checked the video footage from their homes.

Nothing.

Not even a scent of a lead. Every one of them can be accounted for.

Alora’s father and brother are downstairs, along with my brother and father. Theodore, Sinclair, and Thomas. It’s all hands on deck and even with all our resources pooled, we still have no idea how she just vanished without a trace.

The marina blurs and I swallow the lump in my throat. As the hours tick by, my dread grows. A twisted dark vine taking over my soul.

Where is she?

I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten…. I’m barely able to function. Clinging to hope is the only thing keeping me sane.

“Alora,” I whisper into the silence, her name an ethereal prayer.