Page 90 of The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Jamie’s phone went to voicemail for the fourth time, and I still couldn’t hear his ringtone. I wanted to punch the damn wall as frustration ate away at me, but I couldn’t. I refused to let him down again, like when I almost hurt him in my room. Fuck, that killed me to think about, and it probably always would. It was my cross to bear; my penance for being a broken piece of shit too scared to embrace what was right in front of me. I would spend the rest of my life begging for his forgiveness.

“Voicemail again. I say we start by the runway entrance and work back. There must be another exit somewhere in here, right?” I turned to look at B and nearly blinded him with my flashlight. “Right?” He shrugged and followed behind me as we swept our phones in an arc, looking for any sign of him, but there was nothing. What the hell? He wouldn’t have left without me. He’d have called or texted me to let me know if he was going to leave, that much I was sure of. The space was empty apart from a few chairs in front of dressing tables and the odd empty box. I glanced at them before moving on, not seeing anything.

“Uh, Dillon? Come ‘ere.”

“What is it?”

“Just fucking get over here. Now.” Buchanan stood by one of the chairs, the hysterical edge to his voice making me rush over. “Here. Look at these.” His voice wavered as he passed me four Polaroids.

“What the fuck?! What the hell is this?” I looked at him wide eyed.

My chest felt so tight, it was like my heart was on the verge exploding as I flicked through them. A photo of Jamie on the runway, one of him with me, and two of him backstage.

My hand covered my mouth as bile seared a path up the back of my throat and coated my tongue. I scrunched the photos in my fist as anger and fear pulsed through me. This was a fucking pile of shit. I tucked them in my pocket in case we had to call the police if we couldn’t find him. I refused to accept that outcome.

Jamie was fucking mine! No one took what belonged to me and got away with it. Fuck that shit. I’d burn the world to the ground before I lost him again. Five years without him was like being stuck on death row. I refused to contemplate another stay in that hellhole.

“Where did you find them?”

“Here on the chair and on the floor. Uh, hang on.” He dropped to his knees and pulled something out from under the bowl of water. “Got it.” Buchanan handed me a card.

I’ve found you!

“Fuck. What does this mean?” My knees buckled and collapsed underneath me. I braced my hands on the floor and dry heaved with each gasping breath, but couldn’t stop rereading the damn message as it stared up at me. A hand landed on my shoulder, and I flinched as my mind spiraled.

“Pull yourself together, Dillon. You’re not going to be any help to him like this.” B sighed as he straightened, pulling me up by the collar of my shirt. He grabbed my jaw and forced me to look at him, his face swathed in shadows. “Look, we don’t know what’s going on, but we will find him. Focus on that and get your head in the game.” He pushed his forehead into mine. “Focus, Hargraves.”

Focus? I wanted to kick the shit out of something and make some fucker bleed. Instead, I grunted and pulled away, stalking to the corner we hadn’t searched yet and using my phone to search the area.“Oh shit.” My heart froze mid-beat, and every muscle in my body locked up as tight as my eyes snagged on Jamie’s bag. My feet moved of their own volition, and I tore through his bag before realizing what I was doing. I yanked out his phone, tapped the screen, and saw seven missed calls. Four from me and three unknowns.

“Can you hear that? That buzzing?”

I couldn’t hear much above the ringing in my ears. B dropped down next to me and emptied the contents of Jamie’s bag on the floor while I shined the light from my phone on it. Papers, books, makeup, and an old-style phone skittered across the floor.

“I’ve got it.” The illuminated screen went dark just as I grabbed it, but it started to ring again immediately. I glanced at the screen to see who it was, but it was a withheld number. Thankfully, there was no password or face recognition; all I had to do was press the green phone button.

I pushed it and held it to my ear. My heart throbbed behind my ribs and blood pounded in my ears. “Thank fuck, Jamie! Where the hell are you? I need to get to you right now! He’s there. Jamie?—”

“Who the fuck is this?” I growled as my stomach lurched. Why was another man calling Jamie? He sounded older, powerful. Was my little crow…? Tears stung my eyes. No. He wouldn’t cheat on me. He wouldn’t! I sunk my teeth into the bottom of my lip as I tried to make sense of what the hell was going on.

“Where the hell is Jamie?”

“Shut up, asshole. I asked first! Who are you, and how do you know Jamie?” The phone slipped from my sweat-slicked hand, but I caught it before it hit the floor. “Fuck.”

“...again. I’m FBI agent Daire Whitlock, Jamie’s uncle.”

“Jamie doesn’t have an uncle!”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, punk. He has a whole damn family. Now tell me where he is, or I’ll arrest you for wasting police time.” Uncle, family? Jamie had all these people in his life and didn’t tell me? How could he keep this from me after everything? I thought things were good between us, but it seemed my little crow still had skeletons in his closet I didn’t know about.

I licked my dry lips. I didn’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him. I wasn’t going to give him anything easily. “W-who’s he?” I knew what he was going to say before he took a breath. But fuck me, I wanted to believe a beautiful lie right now, because the truth was going to be a damn hard pill to swallow. And I didn’t want to, because that would make everything real and meant my little crow was in serious danger.

“That’s between me and him.” Agent Whitlock said with no room for argument. “I don’t know who you are. You could be a stranger on the street or working for…”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m Dillon. I’ve been his best friend since he was eight.”

“Until he left and stopped all contact with you.”

“Yes, but?—”

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