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CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Joe paced the length of his kitchen. Again. Frustration, worry, and self-loathing warred within him. “Where the hell could she be?”
Sitting at the kitchen table, Quinn pushed a bag of chips in his direction.
He shook his head, nausea turning his stomach. The last thing he needed was to puke all over the floor. “I’ve called everyone I can think of, and no one has seen her.”
“Your pacing isn’t going to make Roxie come back any faster, you know.”
He shot Quinn his middle finger. “I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should, Sheriff. Maybe you should get up off your lazy ass and get a group out to look for her.”
Quinn’s jaw clenched. “Fuck you, Buchanan. I’ll let that one slide because I know you’re really worried about her, but don’t push your luck, asshole.”
Joe knew he wasn’t being fair to Quinn, but dammit, he needed to see her. Needed to see with his own eyes that she was safe. Because his gut was screaming that she wasn’t, that something was horribly wrong.
Grabbing Roxie’s phone off the counter, he held it up. “When was the last time Rox ever,everwent anywhere without this damn thing?”
Quinn nodded.
Joe fumed. “That’s it? You’re just going to fucking nod?”
“What do you want me to say? Huh? Yes, I can’t remember the last time Roxie went anywhere without her phone glued to her ear. And yes, that fucking worries me. But you know what, Buchanan? I also don’t recall the last time she got her heart ripped out because some dumb fuck she was dating also happened to be dating someone else.”
“Holy fuck!” Joe exploded. “How many times do I have to tell you that it wasn’t a goddamn date?”
“You can keep saying it until Roxie walks back through that damn door. Then you can keep on saying it untilshefucking believes you.” Anger radiated from Quinn as he rose from the table. “You fucked up. So don’t stand there and play the damn victim in—”
“Quinn, stop,” Alex said, her voice calm but firm. She rested her hand on her husband’s arm, and he flinched. “Look at me,” she murmured, moving her hand to the side of his face. When he finally met her gaze, she said, “Stop. Sit. And breathe.”
The big lug did as he’d been told, and the tension visibly drained from his muscles. Alex turned her death glare on Joe, who’d watched the couple’s interaction in awe. Now that he was the one snared in the woman’s gaze, however, he flinched.
“You’re both being stupid,” she said, knotting her long, wavy hair on top of her head. “I get you guys are both worried about Roxie, but stop blaming each other. Roxie’s impulsive. You both know that. She probably just went for a walk to clear her head.”
“In the dark?” Joe scoffed. “Without her phone? Without letting anyone know? That’s completely—” Reckless, hasty... impulsive. “Fuuuck!”
“There’s nothing you guys can do except wait. Bickering like eight-year-olds isn’t going to do anyone any good.” She sat primly on Quinn’s lap. “It only makes me irritated.”
Joe knew Alex was right, but dammit. “I just can’t sit here.”
She nodded. “Who did you call?”
“Nina, Sheila, June, my dad, Cade, and Gavin.”
“And?”
“And nothing. Nina and June haven’t seen her. Sheila and Gavin didn’t answer. Nothing from my dad or Cade, either.”
“You went by the café?” Quinn asked.
His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck do you think?”
Alex groaned. “Boys, boys... stop already.”
“Don’t blame me, sweetheart,” Quinn said, hands raised in innocence. “He started—”
A cell phone rang.
Quinn’s expression sobered as he glanced at his phone’s display. “Sheriff O’Conner.”
