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“I-I thought she was home sick?”
It wasn’t lost on me that he hadn’t asked what the hell I was talking about or how I knew. He just accepted it because it was the truth. This was really happening.
“She was,” I said. “But Mrs. Torrence said she left the house earlier. I think she was set up, and now I think he has her.” Acid rushed up my throat, and I swallowed hard, forcing it down. “I think I know where she might be.”
He glanced around, but looking for what, I didn’t know. “Come inside. I need to make a call.”
He wanted to make a call, a fucking phone call? We needed to go and look for her right now, but before I could protest, Mr. Torrence ushered me into the house.
“Geary? Evan? What are you doing here?” Her eyes searched for answers, her face paling when she sensed the mood. “Oh God, what’s happened? Where’s Becca? No, no, no, what’s happened to my daughter?”
“Melinda, go into the kitchen and make some tea please.” His voice was unnervingly calm. A stark contrast from the man outside only seconds earlier, devastated by the news his daughter was missing. “Evan, will you help my wife please?”
What the actual fuck?
His eyes were stony with resolve, something I hadn’t witnessed before, and it occurred to me that Becca never told me what it was her father did for a living. From the murderous look on his face, I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
I nodded, following Mrs. Torrence into the kitchen. Her hands quivered uncontrollably as she began making tea. She didn’t speak, and I didn’t try to console her, the reality of the situation weighing heavily on us both. Finally, she was the one to break the silence. “What’s going, Evan? I… I thought she was going to Lilly’s.”
“She wasn’t going to Lilly’s, Mrs. Torrence,” I said, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice. “Kane… I think he has her.”
“W-what? Oh God, no,” she wailed. “Not my baby. Not my Becca.”
She was so quick to write me off as unworthy of her daughter, but she hadn’t thought to question Becca leaving the house unannounced? If only she’d stopped her.
Shit.
It wasn’t her fault. Deep down, I knew that. Becca was stubborn to boot. One way or another, she would have found a way to slip out unnoticed. Mrs. Torrence didn’t deserve my anger, but with every minute that passed, I felt Becca slip through my fingers.
Why the hell were we still here when we needed to call the cops and get out there looking for her?
“This is bullshit, Mrs. Torrence. We need to—”
“Melinda, Evan.” Mr. Torrence reappeared, his lips pressed together in a flat line. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, and my heart sank.
“You were right.” His voice was directed at me. “Kane Larson boarded a train this morning. I don’t know how he got under our radar, but he did. He’s here.”
My thoughts couldn’t process everything quick enough. Train? Radar? There were so many things I wanted to ask, but a high-pitched shriek pierced the air as Mrs. Torrence started crying hysterically. Her husband pulled up a chair and tried to comfort his wife. I felt like an outsider invading a private moment. There were clearly things I still didn’t understand about this family, about the secrets they kept.
“Son.” His voice cut through the tension pressing down on us. “I need you to sit tight. Can you do that for me?” I sensed it wasn’t a request. Was he kidding?
“No,” I said. “We need to be out there looking for Becca, right now. We need to call the cops, and we need to go.” The chair scraped across the floor as I pushed back and stood.
“Evan.” There was his calm voice again. “I know you’re scared—I am too—but we can’t call the cops. Things are…” His face flashed with indecision. “Complicated. Let me handle it please. As her father, I’m asking you to let me handle it.”
Handle it? What the fuck did that mean? He was terrified. I saw it in the depths of his eyes—eyes that reminded me of Becca every time I looked at him—so why was he doing this?
“Geary, you can’t let him hurt her.” Mrs. Torrence pulled her head out of his chest, her eyes already swollen from the force of her tears. “You can’t let her…”
“Shh.” He crushed her to him again, and I jammed my fingers into my hair, scraping my scalp. This was messed up on so many levels. Fire burned through me, a restless energy that refused to let me sit by and do nothing while Becca was out there.
“I can’t just do nothing. Not while she’s—”
“Evan…” His voice trailed off.
I finished. “I love her. I can’t just do nothing.”
A knock on the front door silenced us. Mr. Torrence patted his wife and left her draped over the table, sniffling into her arms, while he went to answer it.
