Page 113 of Long Gone

Instead of answering, I downed a couple of ibuprofen tablets with my coffee, then walked out the back door to check out my apartment and change.

In the light of day, it was obvious my door wasn’t the only thing that needed to be replaced. The railing around the porch was splintered. The intruders had been using a high-powered handgun with ammunition that wasn’t meant to just wound. For a moment, I let myself consider what would have happened if they’d found me in my parents’ house or had managed to shoot me on their way out of my apartment.

I could be dead right now, and it would have been because of my own sloppiness.

After I climbed the stairs, I got a good look at the damage. The door was shut, but there were multiple large holes close to the doorknob.

Stepping around debris on the porch, I pushed the door in and surveyed the room. I expected it to be trashed, but everything looked in place except for a few pieces of the door on the floor inside. My laptop was missing. I wasn’t surprised, but it seemed to confirm they were looking for something related to Hugo’s death. They were going to be sorely disappointed, because there was no way in hell they’d ever crack my password. But now I’d need a new laptop. Great. There went a portion of the five thousand dollars I’d been saving for my practice.

The first thing I did was brush my teeth while I started my espresso machine and made a latte. I rinsed my mouth out multiple times before I took a sip, sighing with satisfaction. Taking my cup with me, I went into the bathroom and stripped, staring at my bloodstained, bandaged body in the mirror. I was lucky. I could be dead right now.

Days ago, I would have been okay with that, but today…

Today, I was grateful to be alive. Something had changed. Maybe finding myself at death’s door and surviving had given me this newfound desire to stay alive.

But I’d also be lying if I refused to believe it had something to with James Malcolm. If he considered me worth saving, maybe I was.

After washing off the blood with soap and water using a washrag, I patted my skin dry and then wrapped a towel around my body so I could grab some of my own clothes to wear. I half expected Malcolm to be in my apartment, waiting for me to come out, but the room was empty.

After grabbing clean undergarments, a pair of slacks, and a button-up shirt, I changed in the bathroom and brushed my hair with my good arm. I planned to pull it back into a low ponytail, but the stitches in my chest strained when I lifted my arm, sending a fresh round of throbbing through my upper body. I’d have to leave it down, because I sure wasn’t asking Malcolm to pull it back for me.

After putting on a pair of flats, I made a fresh latte for myself and a macchiato for Malcolm, then headed back to the main house.

I half expected him to be in the attic searching without me, but he was still at the table in front of his laptop, an open spreadsheet in front of him.

I set the macchiato down next to him.

He glanced down at the cup, then back up at me. “Is it poisoned?”

I released a genuine laugh. “So suspicious.” I set my cup down and took a sip from his drink, watching him over the rim, before lowering it and grabbing my own again. “We need a plan for the day. We started discussing it before we got sidetracked.”

He picked up his mug, lifted it under his nose, and then drank. “Obviously, checking the attic is priority.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” I sat in the chair next to him. “As paranoid as my father acted last night, if he had anything up there, I feel like he would have come home to make sure it was still there.”

“You don’t think he did?”

“No, because I left soon after he did. I went to his house, but he wasn’t there, so I came straight back here. I suppose he would have had enough time to check, but I don’t think he did. The attic staircase was sticky, like it hadn’t been opened in a while.”

“So you don’t want to go up to the attic?”

“I still do, but I guess I’m saying we should temper our expectations.”

He took another sip of his drink. “I take it you have a plan for afterward?”

“I need to talk to my father. He should be at work. He won’t be able to run from me at the office. At least, not without drawing suspicion, and my father has always preferred to fly under the radar.”

“Even when he was mayor?” Malcolm asked in surprise.

I leaned back in my chair as I considered his question. I hadn’t really given much thought to my father’s job back then. He’d been the mayor for twelve years at the time of Andi’s kidnapping—almost my entire life back then, so I hadn’t known him any other way. He was mayor for a couple of years after her death, but his heart hadn’t been in it. “My father is an affable man. People like him. He’s not full of swagger and arrogance. He has a quiet authority…or at least that’s how I remembered him as mayor. But I was a kid.” I shrugged. “So my recollection is probably skewed.”

He sat in silence for a moment. “Okay. That works.”

“But you can’t come with me.” I felt like I was stating the obvious, especially given the way my father had run scared from Malcolm last night, but it had to be done. “I know part of the reason you’re sticking with me is to make sure I don’t keep anything from you, so you’re going to have to trust me on this.”

He gave me a smirk. “Trust that you’ll tell me sensitive information regarding your father that could get him in trouble?”

“I get your point, but you can’t come in and I’m not wearing a wire or carrying my phone in on mute. You’ll just have to trust that I’ll tell you anything I think you need to know.”

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