Page 97 of We Can Stay
After we hang up, I pace the living room, Cat weaving between my legs. My hands ache from clenching them, and I force myself to flex my fingers, working out the stiffness. The yarn I’d been planning to skein sits abandoned on my swift, a deep teal that now makes my stomach turn.
Teal. Like the cashmere she sent.
Through the window, I spot Sebastian’s car turning onto my street fifteen minutes later. I grab my purse and meet him at the door, not wanting to waste a second.
He’s still in his scrubs, a smear of something that might be blood on his sleeve. His hair sticks up at odd angles like he’s been running his hands through it. But his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—are steady and calm as they find mine.
“Come here.” He opens his arms, and I fall into them without hesitation.
His embrace is solid, grounding. I breathe in his familiar scent, my racing heart slows a fraction.
“It’ll be over soon,” he murmurs against my hair. “The police will find her.”
I pull back enough to look at him. “What if they can’t? What if she’s already left the island? What if?—”
“Hey.” He cups my face gently, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. “One step at a time. First, we tell Detective Harlow what you know. Then we go from there.”
I nod, drawing strength from his certainty. “You’re right. I’m just...”
“Scared. I know. Anyone would be.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Ready?”
The drive to the station passes in a blur of Sebastian’s steady presence and my jumbled thoughts. He keeps one hand on mine the entire way, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my palm. I focus on that touch, letting it anchor me.
Detective Harlow meets us in the lobby, his expression serious but kind. He’s younger than I expected when I first met him—maybe early forties, with prematurely gray temples that make him look distinguished rather than old.
“Ms. Patel, Dr. Blum. Come on back to my office.”
The small room smells like coffee and old paper. I settle into the worn chair across from his desk, Sebastian taking the seat beside me. Our hands stay linked.
“Tell me everything,” Detective Harlow says, pen poised over a fresh notepad.
I pull out my phone, showing him the message history with Jenna. My voice wavers at first, but grows stronger as I explain the pattern—her excessive enthusiasm, the personal details she somehow knew. How the timing of blocking the account lines up with the package.
“She bought my Sunrise Dreams colorway six times,” I say, scrolling through order histories. “I thought she was giving them as gifts or maybe reselling, but now...”
“Now you think she was collecting them,” the detective finishes.
I nod, my throat tight.
Sebastian squeezes my hand as I show Detective Harlow everything—every message, every order, every interaction I can remember. The detective takes notes in neat handwriting, occasionally asking clarifying questions.
“This is excellent work, Flick.” He sets down his pen. “With this information, we should be able to track her down quickly. I’ll need copies of all these messages and her shipping information.”
“Whatever you need.” I forward him screenshots as we speak, my fingers steady now that we have a plan.
“In the meantime, continue taking precautions. Don’t go anywhere alone, keep your cameras active, and call immediately if you see or hear anything suspicious.”
“She will,” Sebastian says firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Detective Harlow’s lips quirk in what might be approval. “Good. I’ll be in touch as soon as we have something.”
Walking out of the station, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Not safe yet—but hopeful. The afternoon sun warms my face, and I tip my head back to soak it in.
“Feel better?” Sebastian asks, watching me with soft eyes.
“Getting there.” I squeeze his hand. “Thank you for dropping everything to be here.”
“Always.” He checks his watch. “I need to head back for afternoon appointments, but let’s get you home first. I’ll come by tonight as soon as we close. We’ll make dinner, watch terrible reality TV, pretend everything’s normal for a few hours.”
