Page 35 of On the Rocks
Hopefully, they can do something. As long as I don't have to see Michael I'll do anything they want.
11
Chapter Eleven
Noah parksin front of the house where we finally traced the car to. A greenish yellow two-story right on the water. The black SUV Butcher was driving isn't here, but I bolt out anyway before my brother even kills the ignition. If she's really inside, I've got to fucking get to her.
I don't bother trying the lock. Just kick the damn door in. "Trinity!"
Silence answers me back. Fuck!
Dried out eggs and bacon speckled with white gelled fat sit in pans on the stove. Shards from a broken blue bowl float in yogurt and fruit splattered across the floor. My gut aches as much as my chest. Trinity doesn't like raspberries.
Two places are set at the table. Crumbs sprinkle over one plate, while the other dish is almost full. Only a few bites missing out of the omelet. Someone ate while someone else wouldn't. Or couldn't.
I jog upstairs. All the doors closed except what appears to be the master bedroom. Son of a god damn bitch. A lamp lays toppled on the floor. White dust coats the floor from the hole in the drywall. Crumpled sheets hang off the mattress.
"I checked the other rooms. All of them empty and unused."
Fury rages through me from Noah's implication. They slept in the same bed. My wife laying with that motherfucking bastard.
"Looks like a scuffle up here too. Wonder what the fuck happened between them?"
My sunshine. All alone to battle that insane motherfucker. Damn it. We're so fucking close. Where the fuck is she?
"Boss? We've got a situation down here."
Weston's voice booms from below, and we race to the steps. An older woman in a long green dress stands in the doorway. Her eyes wide as she stares at my men and their guns. Her trembling hands wringing over and over the handle of her bag.
"Where are Mr. and Mrs. Wire?"
I try to keep my anger in check. Because I need her to talk, not cry. "Is that who was staying here?"
"Y-yes. For the week. On vacation. Mr. Wire hired me to cook and take care of things." She scans the mess left from her earlier service to them. "But Mrs. Wire, she...she wasn't well. Mr. Wire sent me to get groceries-"
"What do you meanwasn't well?"
I can barely speak through my clenched teeth. Pain searing my jaw from the outrage squeezing my head. Fucking Mrs. Wire.
"She was confused and couldn't find her phone. She started begging for me to help her, but Mr. Wire said she was just sick and would be okay. So I left like he told me to, but I kept coming back. No one was home but I kept checking. I didn't want them to think I quit. I wouldn't do that. I'm a good worker. I have impeccable references. I..."
The housekeeper rambles on. Worried about her reputation. But I don't care. I can't listen any more. Can't hear anything but the description of Trinity spinning around and around in my mind. Killing me from her agony. From her terror. That I still have no god damn fucking way to help her.
* * *
"Say cheese!"
I can't bring myself to smile. Too frightened to lift my cheeks. She takes the picture anyway. As instructed by the buzz cut policeman who's waiting with me for the social worker. We've been here for two hours. Yet he doesn't seem to be put out. Doesn't sigh or complain. Just scrolls through his phone. Looking up, just like I do, every time the door opens.
He nods to the girl, around my age but with so much more spirit. I wonder if I used to be that way. Energetic and optimistic. Rather than exhausted and afraid.
"Thanks Marissa. Get it sent out right away."
"Yes sir." She taps on her camera, fast fingers that fly over the keyboard, before smiling at him again. "Done!"
The sheriff turns back to me. "That way if anyone has filed a missing person report for you, we'll have a photo to compare."
Great. I think. Unless the people searching for me are like Michael. Then I'd rather stay lost.
