Page 47 of To Have and to Hold

She didn’t finish. Silence cut into her voice, and while every fiber of me wanted to sink into this phone and come out the other side to grab her, I took that precious time to open the record app, because the connection was still there. This person hadn’t hung up.

“Em? I’m here,” I said as I frantically tapped onto the screen to engage the recording. Becca wisely remained silent, though her lips were thinned to white.

By the time I got the phone back to my ear, Emme was crying. It was far away—she didn’t have the phone anymore—but it was close enough to have my guts ripping at the sound.

“Who the fuck are you?” I said, knowing full well who was listening.

Heavy exhales filled the space between our phones, a breathy sort of laugh that was neither male nor female, nearby or far.

“I could tell you,” the voice said at last, “but that would ruin it.”

“This isn’t a game,” I said. “You have a woman with you—she’s a daughter. She has a man she’s going to marry. A family she wants to start. She’s made a whole life. This is a person you’ve taken, a human being that you need to let go.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

I bit back the incredibly glorifying cussing-out I was about to unleash. “All right, you called me. So, what do you want?”

“I called to express my condolences, of course.”

That had me ready to pace through this place, tossing every hapless person who happened to cross me aside. “Is she hurt?”

“It’s not darling Emme I was addressing, Spencer.” The voice was amused, soft with anonymous arrogance. “I was only calling to say I’m sorry that gorgeous brunette is going to break up with you.”

I paused, almost knocking into a server as I stood in the middle of the aisle. “What gorgeous brunette?”

“The woman you live with, of course. Not the hot blonde across from you. Is that the new model?”

I motioned to Becca with one finger to stay there. Her mouth was frozen into an O, but her lowered brows were telling me she wanted to pull this phone from my face and scream into it. Before she could, I walked away, pushing people out of my path, scanning every expression. Emme.“If I’d known you were joining us I would’ve recommended the bacon extra crispy,” I said as I dodged patrons, some asshole standing dumbly in the middle of the walkway, a child screaming from his high chair. There. A man sitting alone with a phone to his ear in the far corner. “I could’ve given you a coffee pairing, too.”

Islammedmy palms against the laminate table, startling the lone man who was enjoying his newspaper and a pleasant cup of coffee. I grabbed his phone after his brief splutter, held it up to my other ear and said, “What the fuck do you want?”

“Hello? Jerry?”

It was a female voice on the other end, not even close to Emme’s huskiness. Damn it.

I tossed the phone back to the guy. He said, “Thanks, asshole,” but I was already headed to the back hallway where the restrooms were.

The voice said into my ear, “I’m long gone now, but I appreciate the effort with which you’ve tried to catch me.”

“Just let her go,” I said.

“No fun for me.”

“So, then,” I repeat, “what do you want?”

“To send a message.”

“To me?” I asked. “To Emme? Who?”

“They’ll receive it, believe me.”

I decided to switch tactics, though it pained me not to demand to speak to Emme again. To hear her, listen to if she was injured, figure out what to do. “How do I know if she’s still alive? Or if you even have her?”

“Excuse me?”

“You could’ve just recorded her voice. Or be one of the many insane fuckers that are calling in and trying to be a part of the news.”

“Do you want a picture, then? I warn you, she’s not wearing clothes. It might be a bit embarrassing for her if it goes to the police, or dear me, is caught by the press.”

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