Page 30 of To Have and to Hold

Forty-seven.

In one more hour, Emme would be missing for forty-eight. Time was crushing, compressing into nothing the more minutes ticked by. We had a window, our chance, to narrow down where Emme was or who had her, and now that opening had shrunk to the size of a pinprick. The person who planned this and took her left nothing behind to let us know why or how or whom. No ransom, no note, no demands. Nothing. Almost as if Emme was the endgame.

He got her, and that was all he required.

It had to be someone in her life, either deeply entrenched or a person Emme affected in such a way that she became permanently imprinted on his mind. It didn’t matter how—she could’ve just said “Thank you,” as she was receiving change from a cashier with a secret fetish for non-consensual bondage. What Emme thought or how she reacted was never at issue for this guy. It was what he decided, how he saw Emme and her perfect fit into his twisted amusement park.

Every hour and a half, I texted Knox for news. He would always respond, whether it be one word or four.

Not yet.

Keeping on it.

Pursuing leads.

Will let you know.

“…so you got that?”

My vision shifted back to the present. Nicholas and I were in a small conference room, file folders open and spilling their pulpy organs all over the table we shared. My pen was currently doing a spastic dance on Delilah Marks’s evidence photos, but the taps were starting to drive me crazy, never mind Nicholas, and so I flattened my palm over the urge to keep fidgeting.

“I was talking about our next witness,” Nicholas said, using that slow tone of voice that indicated this was at least his third reminder. “Delilah Marks’s housekeeper.”

“You can’t tell me it’s all going to come down to the housekeeper’s testimony.” I massaged under my brows, hoping my eyes—at least my good one—didn’t look as red and as cracked as they felt. “The cliché is palpable.”

Nicholas chucked his legal pad onto the spread of files. “Cerise Watts was supposed to nail it for us, but she’s clearly been bought off, so now we have to go with the obvious, as you so eloquently stated.”

Nicholas was feeling sassy. That wasn’t like him. Perhaps it was because it was almost eleven at night and we’d been going full steam since I entered the courtroom at 9 AM. But I was haggard enough to meet his pissiness with my own. “What makes you think she hasn’t been bought off same as Watts? Or that Marks’s driver also has a wad of cash in his pants? Or the weekend doorman? Or Marks’s mother for all we know? Torro has them all in his pocket. We don’t even have Marks, the victim, on our side. Our case is sinking, buddy. Not sure how long we have before this ship cracks in half.”

“Terrific,” Nicholas said. “It’s awesome that the first chair on this trial is so thirsty for a guilty verdict.”

Nicholas stood and knuckled papers and folders and stuffed them into his leather satchel.

I sighed. “Nick, sit down…”

“You know what?” Nicholas threw his bag on the table. “I didn’t think I’d have to remind you that this is the case of your career. My career. You may not think so, but we have one of the most notorious heroin importers in our crosshairs. Hell, we could put him away for twenty-five years! Yet here you sit, staring off at a clock like you got somewhere better to be, with zero interest in making these twelve hours we’ve spent pouring over everything we have worth it.” He pointed at me, a downward index finger inches away from my nose. “You made sure of that. As soon as you woke up this morning, you aimed to bring this case down in flames.”

“All right.” I held up a hand, ensuring that I smacked Nicholas’s fingers out of my face. “I was giving you your time to vent but now you’re approaching serious territory, my friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” Nicholas spat. “I’m your fucking equal, except you choose not to see it. You know I admired you before all this. I thought you were taking this Bureau by the balls and I would’ve done anything to get on a case with you, see these phantom moves everyone keeps talking about in the courtroom.” He scoffed. “Instead I get a washed-up twenty-eight-year-old who looks like he’s come out of a bar fight with nothing to offer this ongoing trial but fresh shit and old ideas.”

I stood with careful ease. “You’ve created a caricature. I am not full of magic potion; I do not shoot success out of my dick. I work like crazy and sacrifice goals and sleep and people. And I hope I shock the simpleton out of you when I say I have a lot of additional shit to cope with, outside of this trial and away from this department.”

“You think I don’t?” Nicholas shouted, his entire torso lifting so he could shout closer. “I’ve had a father who’s pushed me since I was ten years old, since that’s when he believes a kid should start acting like an adult. I have my own fucking life-altering matters, too!”

His outburst was followed by spittle, landing on my cheeks, but I didn’t brush it off. I remained with as much stoic calm as I could gather as Nicholas tossed failings my way.

“You’re right,” I said, and I obviously surprised him with my acceptance because he hesitated, apparently expecting sarcasm. “I’m so wrapped up in my own problems that I’m not seeing things that—can’t—matter as much. I’m unable to separate priorities. Not now.”

I walked around Nicholas, who tracked my departure by turning on his heels and watching me leave with a sort of dumbstruck horror. “Spencer, what are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done forty-seven hours ago,” I said as I opened the conference door.

I indicated the mess of papers on the table. “Congratulations, you're first chair on this case now.”

“Wha—”

I shut the door and took a fast pace through the hallway. Nicholas burst out of the conference room to follow me but I shook my head and shrugged him off. There was only one destination I had in mind, and he was currently enjoying a late dinner in his office a few floors up.

---