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“No,” I wave that thought away, focused on Chloe. “It’s a student of mine. She reached out to me for help and now she’s missing.”
“You’ve contacted her parents and they’ve gone to the cops, right?” Isaac’s tone tells me he knows the answer before I give him one.
“Her parents are dead.” I scan the hotel parking lot as if she’ll suddenly appear and this nightmare will be over.
“Okay, and how do you know she’s in a hotel?” Isaac asks suspiciously.
“She asked me for help, so I got her the room.”
It sounds innocent enough framed that way. Well, not really, but it sounds as innocent as it can for what the situation is, and I’m not ready to give him the whole story. Isaac curses under his breath and I brace myself for a lecture.
“Remember, you owe me one for that night in Vegas.” I feel like an asshole for calling inthatfavour, but I need him to do this for me. I need to know what happened to Chloe.
“Fine. Consider it done.”
Isaac’s tone cools considerably, and I wince. We’d agreed never to speak about that day again, but here I am, using it against him. I know his wife would probably divorce him if she ever found out about the night Isaac almost took a stripper back to his room. He’d been drunk, she’d been persuasive and interested in his money. I saw what was happening and stepped in to stop him from doing something I knew he would regret.
“Thanks, Isaac. I appreciate it.”
* * *
At home,I pace back and forth in the quiet, empty house. I can’t relax because everything feels wrong. What if she’s on the street somewhere? Or worse, what if something has happened to her? I want to get out there and try to find her, but I want to be here in case she shows up at my house.
Pouring myself a whiskey, I sit down and try to settle my nerves, but I find myself staring at the glass rather than drinking the amber liquid. I keep going over in my head every interaction I’ve had with Chloe, searching for clues. Did I miss something the last time I saw her, something that might give me an indication that she might walk out of my life for good?
A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts and relief fills me.
It has to be her.
Though I wouldn’t expect her to knock; breaking in seems more her style.
Maybe it’s Isaac—it’s that same, loud cop knock he’d employ.
I rush to the door and pull it open to find a guy I don’t know standing there. He’s dressed in a cheap suit, around my height, with slicked-back hair and narrowed eyes that take in everything. Who the fuck is this guy? I’ve never seen him before in my life but he sure as fuck has my guts twisting up into a knot.
“Mr. Sam Reed?”
I nod, swallowing hard and trying to figure out what’s going on. He pulls out a huge Manilaenvelope from his side and presses it toward me. I take it, confused as he starts to speak.
“You’ve been served.”
“What?”
Shell-shocked, I stand there, staring at him as he turns around and leaves. With the envelope in hand, I walk back into the house. Locking the door behind me, I hold the envelope out like it’s a bomb about to explode in my face, then I carefully prise it open. My eyes scan the page and then I let out a laugh. Leave it to Marissa to know instinctively when I’m off balance enough to fall before serving me divorce papers, demanding I relinquish all rights to my daughter. Angry, I pull out my phone and call her.
She answers on the fifth ring, like she wasn’t sitting there, waiting for me to call.
“What the fuck is going on?” I bark.
“We’re getting a divorce.” Her snarky, matter-of-fact tone pisses me off even more.
“What happened to giving therapy a go?”
Therapy is the last thing I want, but I thought it would at least buy me time. Fury has my hands shaking and I sit down in my office. I want to wring Marissa’s fucking neck. I want to hear her gasp for breath, to know true fear. I want her to beg me not to hurt her—not that I’m fucking psycho enough to actually do anything to her.
“As if there’s any point. Besides, I thought you’d be happy having Kelsie off your hands. It will give you more time to fuck your students,Mr. Reed.”
How the fuck does she know…
