AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t know. The guy sounds like a tool, to be honest.” I abandon the stain and move on to the few dishes sitting in the sink. “I spoke with her last night, and she was on the way to this club his dad owns. He has her working bottle service on top of a double at the restaurant.”
“Hey, it’s Friday night. Make that money.”
“I’m overreacting, aren’t I? It’s just… I put money in her account so she doesn’t have to work like that.”
“You said she wanted an adventure. She’s out there making one. She’s strong. She’s resourceful. She will be fine.”
I nod. “I know.” I just can’t make myself believe it. I cast a glare at Heather before tossing my cleaning rag at her. “Fuck you, though. You’re supposed to be on my side. Pretend to be concerned, please.”
Heather laughs. “I side with your mental health. Free your worry. Breathe in with me,” she takes a breath, her arms raising dramatically. “And breathe out.”
“You’ve got to stop watching all those self-help videos on YouTube.” I sigh. Maybe Heather is right. Heather startsgrooving to the music again while folding the bathroom cloths into little seashells.
“So, what are you up to tonight? Hot plans with that hot man of yours?”
I laugh. “Speaking of mental health. I let that one go.”
“Let him go? Like you fired him?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “Like pink slip on the door, leave your key under the mat.”
“Ouch.”
“It was just a difference of opinions, really. See, I wanted to go get sandwiches from Mo’s after work on Tuesday. But he wanted tacos from Monica’s. With Mallory, his Tinder date.”
Heather makes a face. “Yikes. I’m guessing they didn’t bring you any.”
I shake my head. “Not a single fucking taco.”
“Wow. Well, I’m sorry. Lots of fish in the sea and all that jazz.”
Grabbing the mop, I shove the housekeeping cart out into the hall. “Your sympathy is on point every time. See? This is why I like talking to you.”
Heather laughs. “Sympathy? Shit.” She pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “Where can I find that? Does DoorDash deliver it?” She frowns. “This is your phone. I forgot I still have it. Here,” she slides it down the kitchen counter toward me. “You have a million missed calls. Maybe Mr. Wrong decided to swipe left on taco chick.”
I shake my head. “Maybe he realized I kept his set of Xbox Pro controllers for the inconvenience.” I scroll through the call log, frowning as my confusion builds. I set the mop down and pull a stool out from beneath the breakfast bar to sit. “Theseare Florida numbers.” I tap on my voicemail and put it on speaker.
“This is Detective Phillips with the Pelican Beach Police Department. I’m trying to get a hold of Skylar Matthews about a matter concerning her sister, Paige. Please give me a call back at this number at your earliest convenience. Thank you.”
I tap my fingers nervously on the bar beside my phone, glancing up at Heather. “A Detective. What do you think she did? Do Detectives call family members over drunk tank lock-ups?”
Heather walks over, pulls out the stool beside me, and sits down. “I don’t know, but now I’m invested.”
I pull in an unsteady breath and dial Paige’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. I leave her a message and send a text. Returning to the Detective’s message, I hit redial and leave it on speaker for Heather to listen in.
The line rings twice before a male voice answers roughly, “Detective Philips.”
“I think I received a call from you earlier. My name is Skylar Matthews. You said there was an issue with my sister, Paige?”
There’s silence on the line for several seconds, and I begin to wonder if the call dropped. “Yes, Ms. Matthews. I’m afraid I have some information about your sister. Has anyone contacted you before now? Or have you been watching the news?”
My eyes narrow, and I glance over at Heather. “No, no one has called me. Paige is my only family. And I live in California, so I don’t exactly get Florida local news.” Heather pulls her phone out of her pocket and starts scrolling.
“Okay. There was an incident with Paige last night, andwe’re trying to figure out exactly what happened. All we know right now is that Paige ran over a young woman on a bicycle sometime around eleven. A passing officer saw the accident and pulled over to help. Paige panicked, returned to her vehicle, and backed over the responding officer as she drove away. There was a chase across town as other officers responded, and she went over the East Inlet Bridge.” He pauses. “We have search and rescue boats canvassing the area, but we haven’t found her yet.”
I swallow hard, struggling to digest everything he just said. “Went over… like she drove off the bridge?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
