Page 16 of Something Blue

Dammit.

Fine.

Unzipping the top I yank the dress out but leave everything else.

I shake it out and toss it over the back of one of my dining room chairs.

Flopping onto my sofa I slide my phone open to check my messages.

So many friends have sent me their condolences - but I flip past those. I’m looking for clues, hints, trails, anything that might tell me what happened to Damion.

When my phone dies I plug it in and grab my Mac Air, sitting with my legs curled beneath me I go through his social media, his friends pages, his emails which are still open on my Mac from the last time he logged in to check them. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Nothing is weird or alarming or suspicious. He up and vanished into thin air.

“Oh shit.” I say excitedly. “I have keys to his apartment.”

In a split second my mind is made up. I have to go there. I’m convinced his parents, or his brother would have already checked it out, but I want to see for myself. There might be something they overlooked.

He lives only two streets away from me and there is a coffee shop in between us, so I decide to walk and stop for a take away on the way. Maybe something to eat as well because my stomach is settling.

The first few minutes of the walk aren’t too bad,but of course, I underestimate the determination of reporters - and now they are following me.

Running is the last thing I want to do today, but I have no choice as I move faster and faster towards the coffee shop which is now some kind of sanctuary ahead of me - I need to get off the streets.

Bursting through the doors, breathless and mildly panicked, everyone inside turns to glare at me in shock.

Reporters flock outside the doors. I don’t make eye contact.

Instead I head over to a table in the corner, sit down and pull out my phone so that I have something to do with my hands and somewhere to look.

My cheeks are glowing red.

I hate this.

I hate everything about this.

A sweet server comes over and greets me by my name, showing that she recognizes me from one article.

“Hi, Neve, what can I get you today?”

I pull my mouth tight.

“Coffee - and uh - a toasted cheese with bacon and that pesto type sauce you guys usually have.”

“I won’t be long.” She smiles, and I breathe a sigh of relief. No questions. No nosy poking into my business.

Because I have nothing else to do but wait - I start messaging people. Anyone I can think of. His friends, my friends, his work colleagues. Someone knowssomething.

And by the time my toasted sandwich arrives I have discovered that the night before our wedding Damion went out for a drink with a friend of his - they left the bar at the same time and that seems to be the last time he was seen.

After that no one heard a single thing. Not a message, not a phone call, not a whisper.

Maybe I should get a private investigator. The police will poke around, but apart from a distraught bride who got abandoned on her wedding day, there is no evidence of foul play -yet. His family is influential though. They will pull some strings.

I’ll have to call his mom later and find out what they are doing.

In the meantime I want to talk to my father and see if he’ll help me.

Something about this is wrong.

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