Page 58 of My Bloody Valentine

The thought makes my blood boil. Someone is helping her hide.

“That friend she mentioned.” I grip the counter. “The artist.” The woman I texted the day I took Maya, pretending to be her in the texts. “I’ve got her phone number in Maya’s phone. It’s out of battery, but we can get a charger easily enough.” I pass it to him.

“Yeah, the phone will help me find her. I found references to an ‘Amelia’ in her social media, but everything’s locked down tight now. No last name, no address.”

I lean over his shoulder, scanning the screens. Maya’s entire digital footprint is laid bare before me. Work history, reviews, and photos of her at food events. But nothing about this Amelia.

“Keep digging and use the phone.” I straighten, already formulating plans. “She can’t hide forever. And when I find her...”

“Adrian.” Gabe’s voice carries a warning.

“Just find her.” I turn away, unable to look at Maya’s smiling face on the screen any longer. The anger inside me writhes, demanding satisfaction. She thinks she can run from me? I’ve marked her. Claimed her. She carries my taste on her tongue, my darkness in her veins.

“Nothing on the police bands,” Gabe says, fingers flying over his keyboard. “No encrypted reports, no emails between precincts. Radio’s quiet, too.”

My shoulders relax a fraction. At least my little critic hasn’t betrayed me completely. Yet.

“She could be laying low before making a report,” I say, more to myself than Gabe. “Or they’re keeping it off the books.”

“Possible.” Gabe glances up at me. “But unlikely. You know how these things work. Even if they tried to keep it quiet, there’d be chatter. Detectives would be assigned, evidence logged, and witnesses interviewed. Can’t hide all that paperwork, even digitally.”

He’s right. I’ve monitored enough investigations over the years to know the patterns. Law enforcement’s bureaucracy isboth its strength and weakness. Nothing moves without leaving digital footprints.

“So she’s running scared.” I trace my finger along the rim of my coffee cup. “But not scared enough to seek protection.”

“Or...” Gabe hesitates.

“What?”

“Or she’s protecting you.”

The thought sends a surge of pleasure through me. Even after fleeing my bed like a thief in the night, Maya keeps my secrets. Perhaps the darkness I sensed in her runs deeper than I imagined.

“Keep monitoring,” I tell Gabe. “If she goes to the police, I want to know immediately.”

I slide into the passenger seat of Gabe’s black Audi, my fingers drumming against my thigh. The leather seats still hold the chill of the morning air.

“Her apartment first,” I say, pulling up the address on my phone. “She’ll need clothes and toiletries. Basic necessities.”

Gabe navigates through early morning traffic, the car purring beneath us. “And if she’s there?”

“Then our hunt ends quickly.” I adjust my cuffs, ensuring my shirt sleeves lay perfectly flat. “Though I doubt we’ll be that fortunate.”

We park across from her building, a modest brownstone with window boxes full of withering winter plants. I know her apartment is on the third floor, second window from the left. I’ve watched her silhouette moving behind those curtains enough times.

“Stay here,” I tell Gabe. “Watch the exits.”

The lobby door opens with a simple credit card trick—amateur security for such an expensive neighborhood. Her apartment door is more challenging, but I didn’t become Chicago’s premier chocolatier without learning useful skills.

The scent of jasmine hits me as I enter—her signature perfume. Everything is neat and organized. A half-empty coffee mug sits in the sink. The bed is still made, untouched. She hasn’t been here.

“Clear,” I tell Gabe over the phone. “Let’s try her office next.”

The food magazine where she works is housed in a sleek downtown high-rise. We park in the underground garage, and I straighten my tie.

“What’s the play here?” Gabe asks.

“I’m a potential advertiser looking to speak with their star food critic about an exclusive spread.” The lie rolls off my tongue smoothly. “Stay in the car. This requires finesse.”

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