Page 17 of Rescued By the SEAL

I glance around as I take my seat to check that no one is watching me, but of course everyone in the office is busy, as always. This isn’t the sort of place where there is a lot of downtime. No one is interested in what I’m up to. That means I can search to my heart’s content. I start off with looking up Heather Buchan to see what I can find, but her social media accounts are pretty bare. She has them, but she doesn’t update much and there isn’t anything that will lead me to her. I need her pen name instead.

“Oh, wow.” Lola Rose leads me to her articles, which allows me to read some of the things she has written. I don’t go in too deepwith everything because I could easily get lost. There is too much at stake here. “Wow, Lola Rose, this is crazy.”

Her writing is amazing. She’s incredible at it, better than I ever would have thought she’d be. Not that I ever would have thought about her writing, to be honest, because I didn’t know that was what she wanted to do with her life. We were going to go to college together, but that was the most important part of it. We didn’t even think about what courses we were going to take as long as we were together. Now, I’m kinda glad that she obviously went down this route. It worked for her.

But of course, it doesn’t lead me to any information about her. Sure, I can work out where her office is, but I can’t imagine she’s anywhere near that building at the moment. It would be much too dangerous for her. Maybe I should focus on her father instead. If he’s such a famous police officer, then there will be information about him, right? I have to find something. If I can get his home address somewhere, then I can see if he has taken her there to keep her away from me.

God, I hate the way he looks at me. I hate being treated like a criminal by him. It’s soul-destroying. I don’t like being looked at like I’m on the wrong side of the law when all I really try to do is the right thing. It’s not nice at all.

But all I can find out about Officer Buchan are his endless achievements for his great work. He really is well-respected and definitely could get me locked away for life if he wanted to, no questions asked. It’s quite unnerving, actually.

No, I’m not getting anywhere here, which means I might need to focus on the criminals in the midst of this for a while, just to see what I can discover. But doing that at a computer screen feels pointless when I actually have an inside scoop. He won’t behappy to see me again, and I’m sure as shit not looking forward to visiting him again either, but if I can sort this out somehow, then I will. I’ll prove myself to Max and to everyone else too. God knows, people need to see something good from me.

I’m going to see my dad. Urgh, fucking marvelous.

15

HEATHER

“How is this possible?” I mutter to myself as I hear my dad’s car pulling back up in the driveway. “He’s been at work all fucking day long and I haven’t found anything. Who the hell is this Max? What’s this goddamn company?”

I thought that I would be out of here by now. That was the plan, anyway. I assumed that I would be on my way to being back under Landon’s protection, back in his arms, maybe even talking about running off into the sunset together, but I have nothing. I’m like a helpless teenager stuck in the house that I always hated with no answers whatsoever. This place has always been a prison to me because I was brought here on my seventeenth birthday to keep me away from Landon, and now that’s exactly what it’s doing for me again. Funny how things turn around and end up in exactly the same place, isn’t it?

Except it isn’t funny one bit and I’m getting increasingly pissed off with the idea that I’m just a kid once more.

“Keep it together,” I warn myself as I peek through the curtains to see Dad getting out of his car. “Don’t let him see you freakingout. Don’t let him know that you are going insane because of him. Act like everything is fine.”

I know that Dad wouldn’t have broken down to tell me his full story about my mother if he hadn’t totally convinced himself that he was doing the right thing. He wants me to know why he’s acting this way, going so full on, and it took that for him to do so. He’s kept that from me for so long, allowing me to believe that it was illness that got to her, so it’s massive that he told me.

I can’t let him worry that I’m going to end up the same as my mother. Somehow, I need to find a way to make this work.

“Hi, Dad.” I beam brightly as he walks in through the door. Maybe a little too brightly, but I don’t want to get bogged down in details and screw this all up. “I was just thinking about what to make for dinner. Is there anything you want?”

I gulp down the thick ball of emotion lodging in my throat. The last time I ate was at Landon’s house back when everything felt magical, like the whole world was going to work for us again. When will I stop living in that dream world? I’m clearly never going to be lucky enough to live in a world where I’m allowed to be happy. It won’t happen for me.

“I actually got takeout.” Dad looks a little shame-faced, and I wonder if he’s regretting his behavior today. Not that I can ever see him admitting that. He doesn’t like to accept that he might not always be right. “Chinese food. I hope that’s okay.”

“My favorite.” I’m actually a little bit touched that he remembers that. “Thank you, Dad. That’s awesome.”

I get all the plates and cutlery out and follow Dad into the living room. He didn’t used to like eating in front of the TV, insistingon the dining table instead, but I suppose now he wants to drown out any awkward silences between us.

“So, how was work today, Dad?” I ask him causally as he flickers the channel to some game show I know he loves. “Have things been busy? I know that you’re always busy, but you know.” My God, this is awkward. “Anything in particular.”

“The usual.” His face glowers, but I can’t quite work out what he’s thinking. “You know how it is. Work is always the same. Always got a lot of shit to contend with, never have enough staff to get things done, always fighting a losing battle. But I’ll win.”

“Sure, sure.” Really, I have no idea. I’ve never wanted to know too much about his work. “Okay, well that’s good. Better to be busy. I don’t think you would do so well sitting around all day long just waiting for something to happen.”

My God, I’m trying to give him a lot to get the conversation going, but I’m getting nothing back. Absolutely nothing at all. He’s barely even trying. How am I supposed to remain here in this prison if he won’t even chat with me? This reminds me of what Roger said about my dad being a bit of a cold-hearted asshole, and I can see what he means. I love my father, but he’s very hard work.

He has been through a lot,I try to remind myself.Think about how losing his wife must have felt. Try to imagine how it felt for him to find out that I had gone missing too. Try to imagine what his head must be like over all of this…

But that isn’t really something I can think about or understand, even though it kind of happened to me too. Sharon was my mother, but I still can’t get myself in a truly empathetic position. It’s just so much to consider. I guess it’s just good that Iunderstand him now and I can work on treating him better because of it. I don’t need to be harsh anymore.

I guess what I can do is just wait for him to go to sleep then continue on with my search because I still need to find a way out of here. I can’t stick around in this jail cell until something explodes, which it eventually will. Plus, I want to know what’s going on with Bill Ross and his situation. I have to be sure that no one else is after me. I don’t want the rest of my existence to have to keep looking over my shoulder, just waiting for the worst to happen. I need to know I’m safe so that I can live.

Finally, Dad is sleeping. It seems like it’s taken forever for us to get to this place, but he’s crashed out at last which means it’s time for me to resume my search once more. Only this time, I’m taking a different tactic. I need to get his cellphone away from him and find the phone number which called him earlier today. Max’s number. That way, I’ll be able to speak to someone. It might not be Landon or even Max himself, but I can pass on the message that I need help, can’t I?

Sure, I feel guilty as hell as I tiptoe over to the chair where Dad has passed out in front of the TV because I know that no matter what I end up doing, I’ll make him feel bad, but I kinda need something to happen here. I can’t takethis.

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