Page 54 of Jett in Jeopardy

“What are the police doing now?” Sawyer asked.

“I’m not sure, exactly. I spoke to a detective before leaving the hospital. He thinks it won’t take long to find him. Eventually, Simon will use his ATM or credit card or something, even if he tries to leave Oregon. Then they’ll have him.”

“Good,” Grier said. “In the meantime, we know what this guy looks like now, so we can all keep an eye out for him.” He turned his attention to me. “You probably shouldn’t go anywhere on your own.”

“I’m not going anywhere except maybe to lie down.” I was sore, and despite the coffee, I felt like I could sleep for years. “I really didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m going upstairs to lie down.”

Grier stood with me as I eased myself to my feet. “Do you need help on the stairs?”

I shook my head. “No thanks, I got it.”

I hobbled up the stairs, and by the time I made it to my room, my bruised leg was aching, and a dull throb gripped my head. The urge to climb into my bed, pull the covers over my head and sleep the whole day through was great.

I didn’t, though. Despite the exhaustion weighing down my limbs, the coffee chased that muddled feeling away, leaving my brain frustratingly aware. I sat down on the edge of my bed and looked around the room.

It was strange being back here after nearly a month at Brody’s. I’d left it surprisingly tidy. Maybe that’s why the space didn’t feel like home. I suddenly missed Brody’s bed, the feel of his big body wrapped around mine, the heat from his chest seeping into my back, the weight of his arm draped over my middle when we spooned.

Heat stung my eyes, and I wiped away the gathering moisture impatiently with my good hand. I was just tired and sore and more than a little uneasy knowing that Simon was still out there, but I would have given anything for someone to wrap their arms around me and tell me everything would be okay.

I dug my phone out of my jeans pocket. No texts. No missed calls. No surprise. I scrolled through my contacts, passed Brody’s number, and hit dial.

“Hello?” My father always sounded tense when he answered my calls, as if he was waiting for bad news. Of course, in my gut, I suspected he was afraid I was calling because I wanted to come home.

“Hey, Dad,” my voice sounded raspy and strained, even to me.

“Do you need money?”

The question felt like another hit, catching me in the gut and stealing my breath. I squeezed my eyes closed. This was all we were to each other. He threw money at me to keep me from needing anything else from him, and I took the money because that’s all he had to offer.

I swallowed past the lump swelling in my throat. “No, I’m good. I’m calling… um… because I was just in the hospital, and wasn’t sure if anyone had called you as my emergency contact. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Nope, no one contacted me. So, no need to worry. Everything is fine.”

Everything is fine?I was sitting alone on my bed with two broken fingers and a broken nose. The hospital kept me two nights because of a concussion, and my body had so many bruises I looked like a walking Rorschach test.But no need to worry. Everything is fine.

He hadn’t even asked what had happened or if I was all right. He hadn’t asked if I wanted to come home for Christmas, even though it was just days away.

“So, listen.” My father’s voice broke into my thoughts. “I was just on my way out. We’ll talk soon.”

“Sure, Dad.”

If he noticed my flat tone, he gave nothing away. Instead, my father ended the call, and I placed my phone on the night table next to the bed.

I’m going to kill you, and no one will even give a shit that you’re gone.

Had Simon been right? If he’d succeeded in beating me to death, would it have mattered to anyone? Maybe Alistair and Grier and Sawyer, but they would have gotten on with their lives, just like Brody had gotten on with his. Hell, my father might have even been relieved. Then he could have put all his efforts into his new family and not have to put so much effort into pretending I didn’t exist.

I leaned back on my bed, then curled onto my side. I knew I was feeling sorry for myself, giving in to the exhaustion, pain, and fear. Still, when my eyes stung this time and I felt tears trickling down my cheeks, I didn’t bother to wipe them away.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Brody

“Whatthehellare you doing?” I looked up at Daniel standing in the doorway of my office, arms folded over his broad chest, his normally affable expression replaced with an uncharacteristic scowl.

I turned to the computer in front of me, then back to Daniel. “Payroll?”

His eyes narrowed. “Youknowwhat I mean.”

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