Page 81 of Falling Too Late

It never even occurred to me that she had died.

I had been out of prison for a month now and learned something new every day. I rolled my neck atop my shoulders; the tattoos were barely healed but the skin was still healing and itched. There was nothing to be said. I patted the top of the grave one more time before following the path out of the cemetery.

I remembered every detail of that day up until the moment they took me away. I still had nightmares of the screams that ripped through Wren when they pulled her out of my arms.

I had already been by the house on the corner. A different family lived there now. I walked by the apartments, which were all vacant. The parking lot had potholes everywhere and the weeds were overgrown. The place looked abandoned.

There was no trace of my life anywhere.

I had tried my bank card, but it was declined. My account had been closed. The only thing that saved my ass was Nikolas and his brother.

“Fuck.” This was only a minor setback though. Being cut off from the world for so long made me turn to some unorthodox methods to make sure I had something when I got out.

My cell phone rang. I answered, “Yeah?” Only two people had my phone number.

“Did you look at the file?”

“Most of it.” I opened the car I was borrowing from Ezekiel, sliding into the driver’s seat, tossing the documents on the passenger’s seat.

“We have eyes on her.”

I paused. “Where is she?”

“She just entered Aphrodite's Desires off 16thstreet. Looks like she’s going to be there a while.”

“Interesting.” I turned the car on and my phone automatically connected to the Bluetooth, Foster’s voice surrounding me over the intercom. “I think she has a friend who works there.” The redhead I’d met once flashed through my mind. “Must still be in contact with her.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Nothing. I’ll head that way.” I put the car in drive. “Just keep eyes on her till I get there. I saw the pictures and the medical records, what else is in the file?”

I can hear paper shuffling on the other end. “Troy Lawson and Gavin Hayes share an apartment together off of cherrywood. They still work for the same construction company.”

“What about Jonathan Smith?”

“He took over his dad's law firm as soon as he passed the bar exam. There is some paperwork showing ownership transfer.”

“What happened to his father?’

“I didn’t look in his direction, but I will pull some information on it.” I could hear something squeak in the background, like a chair. I hadn’t met Foster in person, but the PI was efficient. “The rest of that file has dates for when she sold the corner house, bought a house on the outskirts of town, and a gym she has been going to for the last four years.”

“Anything else? Is she married?” The words rushed out of me. That was the unknown information that had plagued me in prison. I was convinced that she managed to move on without me. That she’d met the love of her life, gotten married, and had a kid while I was rotting in prison. Living her best life without me in it.

That’s why she never wrote to me. Why she disconnected her phone, moved without a forwarding address.

“There’s no marriage certificate recorded in the courthouse, She’s not wearing a ring in any of the photos, either, but we can’t get a good idea on if she is dating anyone. There are pictures in there of her with two different men. They are in the file.” I pulled up to a stop sign and reached over, tossing the files I had seen to the floorboard until I found more pictures.

One picture was her with Jonathan. He had an arm around her waist, smiling down at her.

The other was a picture of her with a man I didn’t recognize.She was wearing shorts and a tank top, holding a water bottle while he stood with a hand on her shoulder. It looked intimate.

“Who’s the other guy?”

“His name is Mario Vitale. He works at the gym she trains at, and he’s also on the police force.”

The shop came into view. It was different from all the other buildings surrounding it. Painted black and a deep purple, it was obvious what it was. I parked across the street and stared at the building.

“Call your guy out of the area. I want more information on those men next time you call me.” I cut the call, pocketing my phone.

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