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“No,” I bite out.
“Why not?”
“Lay off it, Rafe.”
I can’t tell Dakota. She loves me. I’ve worried her enough.
He stares at me, then looks away. “We probably won’t find our guy anyway.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. And it annoys me that I cling to the thought like it’s a good thing. Rafe was right. I won’t be able to rest while he’s out there, and no matter how nice the officers I met were, I’m with Rafe on this: I don’t trust the police to catch him.
We don’t talk after that, and I switch on the stereo. I have a song list and I plug it in, letting the music wash over us. None of the DeathMoth songs, none with Dakota’s voice.
Not telling her bothers me enough as it is without hearing her sing.
I drive to the Walmart Supercenter first, cruise the parking lot. I don’t see the white sedan, and then I remember that’s not what we’re looking for. In fact, we don’t know what we’re looking for, or if he’s there at all. He could be in any of those cars, staring right at us as we drive by.
Chills run down my spine, but I force myself to go slow, to linger, to see if any car follows us.
But it’s a bust. Nothing happens, and after a while, I head out of the lot and drive toward the therapist’s office.
“What makes you think,” Rafe says suddenly, “that he wouldn’t find out your name and your address if he wanted you?”
I slam my foot on the brakes in reaction, then curse as I barely avoid a collision with the car behind us. “Christ, Rafe, give a man a heart attack.”
“You’re too young for that.”
I park at the side of the street. “Fuck. Didn’t think of him looking me up. Why didn’t I think of that? I need to go back home.”
“Hold your horses. Call Koko first. Finding someone online is not always that simple. Maybe he couldn’t find you even if he looked for you.”
Pulling my phone out, I hit call and wait, my heart about to beat its way out of my chest. Then I hear Dakota’s voice, and I slump in my seat.
“Zane, hey! We’re here with Kayla. Tessa tried on her wedding gown. It’s really pretty.”
The happiness in her voice makes me smile. I close my eyes, bask in it. “Good, that’s good. Are you at Erin’s?”
“At Audrey’s actually. Why?”
“Nothing. Will you be there for a while?”
“Yeah, we’re planning on baking some cake. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Stay there. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, sounding mystified.
Mystified is better than worried. I’ll take it.
“Love you,” I tell her.
“Love you right back.”
Rafe is watching me sideways, an arm folded behind his head, as I disconnect. “I take it everything’s okay?”
“Yeah.”
“My whole point was, if he wanted you, would he wait at your therapist’s office for days and weeks, like a psycho in a B-movie? I hate it when the bad guys are stupid.”
