Page 7 of The Guilty One

“Well, where is he?” Ryker is insistent, clearly annoyed at the lack of answers. I just don’t want to break it to them yet. I have to hold on to hope, and if there’s even a sliver of a chance that Tate will come home, I don’t see a point in scaring them.

“We don’t know. We don’t think that anything bad happened, but he’s just…away for a while.” Tate’s mom begins to cry silently, leaning against Lane’s chest. “I’m sure that he’s fine, sweetheart, but right now we all have to be very brave while we try to figure out where he might’ve gone and wait for him to come home, okay?” I take another breath as the words choke me, blowing it out slowly. In front of me, Finley’s little chin has begun to quiver. “Can you do that for Mommy? Can you be brave?”

“Can’t you just call him?” Ryker asks, his little brows drawn down, searching for a solution that doesn’t exist.

“Well, no.” I run a hand over his cheek, wishing more than anything it was that simple. “I’ve?—”

“Why not?” he demands.

“We’ve tried that, sweetheart. I’ve tried. He’s not answering his phone.”

“What does that mean?” Finley asks. “He always has his phone. He takes it to the bathroom with him.” His lips upturn with a hopeful smile that shatters me.

“I don’t really know.” I snuggle him closer to me. “I wish that I did, but I don’t. All I can tell you is that we’re going to do everything we can to find him, okay? Mommy is going to do everything she can. And I’ll tell you everything I can, but right now, we really don’t know what any of it means. We don’t know why he isn’t here, but I know he wants to be. I know he’d never leave you, and I know he’ll be home soon.” Wishful thinking, perhaps, but I need to believe it as much as I need them to.

“Did Dad run away?” Ryker asks.

“Is he playing a game?” Finley adds, a hint of hope in his voice.

“I wish I knew, boys. We all do,” I say, my voice sounding so small and frail it’s practically a whisper. “But we aren’t giving up on him, okay? We’re all going to work so hard to find him, starting tonight. I’m going to take you home, and Grandma and Grandpa are going to stay with you while Mommy goes to look for him, okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want to come home?” Ryker asks.

I open my mouth to answer, but think twice, changing direction. “Why would you ask that?”

He fiddles with a piece of loose string on his shirt.

“Did Daddy say something to you that made you think he might leave?” I run a hand over his back cautiously.

He shakes his head. “What if he’s mad at us?”

The question shatters me, and I can’t answer. I can’t say anything.

My mom takes over, pulling Ryker against her. “Honey, your daddy loves you more than anything. I’ll bet you, wherever he is, he’s trying his hardest to get back to you.”

She looks at me over his head, our eyes locked, and promises me the same silently, though we both know it might be a lie.

CHAPTER FOUR

CELINE

Back at my house, I’ve finally gotten the boys down in bed. In the kitchen, the grandparents wait at the table, talking through an endless loop of ideas. Daphne is on the phone with someone. I don’t have the time to fall apart, so instead I formulate a plan.

As I reach the table, Daphne ends her call with a sigh. “That was Mary Ellen.”

I don’t recognize the name, but I don’t say as much. I can hardly muster the awareness to think, let alone speak. I sit down at the head of the table, sinking my head into my hands. I feel completely empty. Numb. More and more, I find myself bargaining with the universe to just wake me up. That I’ll do anything if I could just wake up from this nightmare.

“From my Bunco group,” she reminds Lane. “She hasn’t heard anything, but she’s the first to know anything that happens in this town, so she’s promised to ask around and keep an eye out.”

“Okay, we need to do something,” I say from behind my hands. “I’m going to call the detective on Tate’s case again. He gave me his phone number at the station and said I could call for updates.” I cross back into the living room and grab my purse from the couch, digging through it. I sort through snacks for the boys, a bottle of hand sanitizer, several pens, and my worn-out wallet before I find the card Detective Monroe gave me.

Holding the card, I type in his number and put the phone on speaker so everyone can hear the conversation.

“Monroe.” He answers with a single word.

“Um, hi.” My voice is shaking, and I hate it. “This…this is Celine Thompson.” Suddenly standing by my side, Daphne puts a hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring smile. “I’m calling to ask for an update about my husband’s case. Tate, um, Tatum Thompson.”

There’s a beat of silence before we get an answer. “Mrs. Thompson, thanks for checking in. As of right now, we’re still sorting through the evidence from your husband’s phone and work computer. I went down to his office right after we met to speak with his coworkers and get a clearer picture of his movements. I apologize for not getting a chance to call you sooner.”

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