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Unable to breathe, he held her tighter.
Hope hazarded a glance across the interior of the car at Rafe, the man she loved. He was lost in thought, lines furrowing across his forehead as he stared straight out the front windshield.
She checked the rearview mirror, then tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she accelerated past traffic on the way up I-45.
After they’d somehow found their senses in front of Noah’s house, Rafe had helped her to her feet. Police cars left in silence, and he said he wanted to go to his cousin’s lake house. She’d offered to drive.
As she’d accelerated away from the metro area, they’d held hands across the center console, and he’d shared the horrible details of Lillibet’s disappearance.
But as they’d navigated through traffic near the Woodlands and the highway lined by miles of pine trees, he’d lapsed into silence.
She was grateful Skyler had put Rafe on speakerphone when he’d called the office earlier that afternoon. Hope had heard his every word, and his sincerity had been an ice pick that carved through the protection she’d wrapped around her heart.
Then Celeste insisted he was suffering, right before she’d provided an update on the Lillibet situation along with Noah’s address.
When Rafe had left the house, he’d stood on the porch, crestfallen with sorrow. And then, when he saw her… Her throat had swollen. His eyes had lightened as the demons had been vanquished.
The sound of a chime, followed by the disembodied voice of the navigation system, indicated she should exit the highway.
“Sorry.” Blinking, Rafe glanced her way. “I was thinking about my dad. What to tell him.” He pressed his thumbs to his temples. “When to tell him.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Words were inadequate, so she settled for brushing a finger across his knuckles.
His phone rang with an update from Celeste. The police had entered the lake house and hadn’t found Lillibet. A search of the property’s two acres was underway.
Without saying goodbye, he dropped the phone to the console, then reached for Hope’s hand.
Within ten minutes, she braked to a stop near the Richardsons’ house, across from an ambulance and several police cruisers. Rafe pocketed his phone before they exited the vehicle.
“I’ll wait here,” she said after he dropped a kiss on her forehead.
He brushed a fingertip across her lips. “If you change your mind, text me and I’ll come get you.”
Halfway across the street, he stopped and looked back. “Thank you.”
She gave a half-smile, the best she could summon under the circumstances.
At the gate, he showed identification, and the police officer stationed there waved him through.
Hope remained where she was, the suffocating heat making everything difficult, including breathing. Somehow, that seemed appropriate.
Half an hour later, a uniformed police officer began cordoning off the area with yellow tape. Shortly afterward, a white SUV bearing the words Crime Scene Unit braked to a stop nearby, and two technicians began unloading equipment from the back. Hope wrapped her arms around herself as her heart broke—for Rafe, his father, for a young woman who’d been a pawn in some evil game.
Hope climbed into the car then leaned forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel.
It took another hour for Rafe to walk around from the back of the house. His steps were short and deliberate, and his shoulders were slumped. Rather than waiting, she exited the vehicle to meet him.
He embraced her, holding her tight, as if he’d never let go. “God. Damn. She loved him. At some point, for her it had stopped being a charade.” His voice broke. “They were going to visit Casablanca.”
Hope had a dozen questions, and she didn’t ask any of them. For now, it was enough that she was here for him, that they were together. The rest could be sorted through over time.
When he pulled back, his features were strained with grief. “I need to tell my dad in person.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Go with me?”
The request stunned her. “Isn’t this something you’d rather do alone?”
“I don’t want to be apart. At least travel to Florida with me.”
