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Emerson’s not a solitary person in the world. He has brothers. I’ve met them. Sinclair more than once. The number I find for him online is for an office in LA. It’s been disconnected.
“Well, fine,” I say to my phone. Will wanted to help me, anyway. He asked if I wanted the game that we were playing. I did. Now I need something else from him.
I open an anonymous browser and type in the name Will LeBlanc. It brings up a page on a private equity firm website. There’s a photo of him. Younger than Emerson. A little more angry than him. The eyes are the same, though. Both of them deep blue and green like the sea.
There’s a phone number next to his photo. I breathe through the pinched feeling in my lungs and dial, pacing by the window.
“Mr. Leblanc’s office. How can I help you?” The voice is feminine and crisp. I picture someone in stiletto heels and bright red lipstick, someone outrageously competent at her job.
“I need to talk to Will. To Mr. Leblanc.”
“Of course I’ll see if he’s available. Can I let him know who’s calling?
I hesitate. “Daphne Morelli.”
“Oh. Just—just a moment, please.”
There’s a click, and hold music plays.
It lasts about two seconds, and then—
“This is Will.”
“It’s me. It’s Daphne.” Awkward.
“Yes, I know.” He sounds tired. Suspicious. “What do you want?”
I wasn’t expecting a tone this sharp from Will. Not the man from that night. “I wanted to know—I wanted—” Jesus. Put a phone in my hand, and I can’t speak. Take Emerson away, and the world collapses. “I don’t know how much Emerson told you about what happened. Or if he told you at all. But I’m worried about him.”
“I know what happened.”
“Do you know if he’s okay?” There’s a long pause, and my heart tries to climb out of my mouth.
“He’s fine.” Will doesn’t trust me. Fine doesn’t sound true.
“Did he go back home?”
“Why would I tell you that?” He’s not just suspicious. He’s not just tired. He’s angry. It didn’t end because Emerson swam away, or because Leo took me home.
“I don’t want anything to happen to him. That’s why I told him to leave. But I have no idea where he went.” I have no idea if he’s safe or scared.
A heavy sigh. “I’m not telling you where he is.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” I can feel him bristling through the phone. “What’s your plan for that information? Tell the rest of your family so you can hunt him down like an animal?”
“I wouldn’t do that. Will. Please. I’m trying—I’m trying to fix this.”
“I don’t think you understand what you broke in the first place. The two of you don’t think until it’s too late. He’s not acting like himself. He’s fucked up over this, and for what? Some magic pussy. You were pretty but not worth his goddamn life.”
Hot tears slide down my cheeks. “Do you have a way to talk to him?”
Another grudging pause. “Yes.”
“Can you give him a message from me?”
“What message?”
