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“Hi there.” The tall man extends his hand, but my gaze falls to his beefy bicep. I’ve met quite a few of Sam’s Navy friends in the past, and none had the physique of a bodybuilder.
“Sage, this is Max.”
A bit groggy, I’m slow to react, but he doesn’t seem to notice as his meaty hand swallows mine and he gives it a polite shake.
“I brought some food over from the barbecue,” Max says, his gaze now on Knox, whose back is to us as he opens the freezer and shakes an ice tray. “You’re welcome to it.”
Max snaps a red lid off a clear plastic bowl that is sitting out on the counter.
“Did I keep you from going somewhere?” I ask Knox while peering into the plastic bowl of what appears to be shredded char-grilled chicken.
Knox waves a hand dismissively as he pushes a glass of ice water my way. “Nowhere I wanted to be.”
Still a bit dazed, I sit on one of two bar stools next to the narrow kitchen island with a glazed white tile countertop.
“You know, I knew your brother,” Max says. In a nanosecond, his facial expression says it all. He’s sorry for my loss but isn’t sure what he should say about it.
Knox slides a plate over the tile. Shredded chicken, potato salad, and sliced cucumbers in what appears to be a vinaigrette fill the plate. “From the barbecue,” Knox says as an explanation. “They always make too much.” He crosses his arms but doesn’t make a move to fix a plate for himself. “Did some research on Sloane.”
“And?”
“July twenty-fourth is the last time her credit card was charged. Almost two weeks ago. But the auto payments she’s got set up are still going through. No subscriptions were canceled or paused. No cash withdrawals to indicate she planned to go somewhere. Last cell phone location is in the Cayman Islands.”
“How’d you get her credit card information?” I couldn’t have told him what kind of credit cards she had, much less where she banked.
“We have resources.”
Sam’s emergency duffel comes to mind. Alternate passports and identification. Resources, indeed.
“I can’t get over you driving cross country,” Max says. My stomach becomes unsettled, and I rub the area. “You just…your first thought was to drive to Knox?”
Knox glowers at Max.
“It’s okay.” I set the fork down and rest my palms on my lap. “I must look like a lunatic. It’s just…when someone broke into my house, Sam’s instructions…they were all I could think of. Everything Sam told me came flooding back.” He didn’t just tell me once. The instructions were in the last letter I received from him. A letter I memorized. Splattered pasta sauce covers one corner of the creased stationery.
“How’d you escape?”
I swallow down rising bile, remembering the cramped cabinet. “I hid.”
“And when he left, you what? Loaded up and drove here?”
“I waited until morning.” My voice sounds weak. My hand over my belly is doing nothing to settle the queasiness.
“No one closer?” Max asks. I don’t miss the finger movement he sends Knox’s way, a hand signal to hush and let him talk. Or rather, ask the questions.
“I have some friends in Asheville.” My best friend Jimmy lives in Asheville. He possesses a torrid hatred of guns and a passion for bookstores. “No one who would know what to do.”
“The police?”
I probably should’ve gone to the police. Should’ve called 911. But then they would’ve asked me questions and left me alone in the house. And if that guy was still around, I’d be a sitting duck when he returned the next night.
“Do you not trust the police?” Max presses. “Do you think they’re involved?”
“No, nothing like that.” I don’t actually know any police officers. “I just…” The man in black wore hiking boots that thudded on the floor. I can still hear the rhythmic plod. It’s as if moments pass where I’m trapped in a movie or television show. “My sister’s missing. When I ran…” All I could hear was Sam’s voice telling me to go to Knox. “I just… I followed Sam’s instructions.” I force my gaze on Knox. In some ways, I barely knew Sam’s best friend. In others, I knew him well. I’d met his parents. Didn’t miss a single one of his high school soccer games, home or away, except for when I’d been in the hospital. Followed his progression through the Naval Academy and later, the Navy.
I wasn’t top of mind for him. I don’t fool myself about that. I probably never crossed his thoughts. Coming here might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Why would I expect Knox to help me? Why would Sam? He was probably thinking I might need a guy to give me advice on buying a car or a house. Sam probably never imagined I’d drive all the way to California. But no, Sam specifically said danger. A man breaking and entering my home with a gun and not stealing anything? That qualifies as danger.
Knox’s sinewy hand covers mine, dwarfing it. Thick veins cross the back of his hand, leading up to his knuckles. Healthy veins that would be easy for a needle to puncture to draw blood. Short, clean nails with healthy nail beds. But it’s the warmth I feel. The heat travels through my center and pulses into my extremities.
