Page 75 of Splintered Memories
My eyes flicked from him, over to that fancy white SUV. “Fine,” I said. “You can drive. But you have to follow my instructions if you’re coming. Can you do that?”
Tristan threw me a look of disdain. I had a feeling he wasn’t used to taking orders, but eventually he nodded. “Okay,” he said stiffly. “Let’s go.”
Foxtextedmetheaddress I needed. He hadn’t been happy that I had left the house without him, but the good thing about Fox was that he followed the orders he was given.
The tension in the vehicle between Tristan and me was thick and uncomfortable, but the drive was thankfully short. He pulled up in front of the house I indicated and threw the vehicle into park.
Tristan’s dark-green eyes flicked to the house. “Where are we?”
The place was a one-story ranch house. It was in need of some updating, but it was neatly kept, like the person who lived there took pride in his things but didn’t have much extra money for renovations.
“It’s the house of someone I need to talk to.” I opened the door of the SUV and glanced back at Tristan. “Stay behind me, and don’t say anything unless I tell you.”
Tristan didn’t reply as I hopped out of the SUV. I heard his footsteps behind me as I strode toward the house, my paces quick and purposeful. I knocked on the door hard and then rang the doorbell for good measure.
There was a doorbell camera, so he knew I was here.
Despite the early hour, it didn’t take him long to answer.
Detective Brandon Whize stared at me from inside the threshold of his home. His dark hair was disheveled, and he was in nothing but a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. He rubbed one eye with the palm of his hand as he frowned at me.
“What the hell are you doing here, August?” His voice was hoarse from sleep. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
His eyes caught on the man behind me, and his frown deepened. He looked between the two of us, recognition flaring in his eyes.
“I need you to tell me what you know, Brandon,” I said, my voice firm and demanding.
Brandon froze. His hand fell limp at his side. He looked at Tristan again, and I saw the pieces fitting together in his mind.
“You’re here about Emersyn’s case,” he said.
I tried to keep my body as loose as possible so he couldn’t read how high-strung I was. “You know something,” I said. “You know more than you’ve let on, and I need you to tell me.”
His face hardened, making my heart sink. “It’s an ongoing investigation,” he said, voice sharp. “I’m not authorized to give out information.”
I waited one beat, and then two. Then, I struck. I barreled over the threshold, locking one forearm against his chest and pushing him back against the wall in the entryway faster than he could react.
I leaned my body against his, pinning him there and putting every ounce of rage and fear into my expression as I stared at him. “I am not going to ask you again. I don’t care if you are authorized—you’re going to tell me what I want to know.”
“What the hell, August!” He scrabbled against my hold, but I had been too quick for him to fight me off properly. “You can’t just come into my house and assault me.”
“I don’t care.” All I cared about was Emersyn.
“What is wrong with you?” Brandon said, his anger surging.
“We just want to find my daughter.” Tristan’s voice sounded behind me.
I didn’t look at him; my only focus was Brandon.
Brandon looked over my shoulder at where Tristan must’ve been. His eyes widened. “Something happened to Emersyn?”
“She disappeared last night.”
Brandon stilled. He looked back at me, the expression on his face clearing with understanding. “You can’t find her. You have no leads.” It wasn’t a question. He could see the facts all over my face.
“I just…I needsomething,” I said, my voice on the verge of breaking.
He let out a heavy sigh. “Look, we don’t have enough evidence to make an arrest, but we were hoping to have it soon. We were building our case.”
