Page 16 of Catch
I barely heard the last part, because when he slid that 5x7 picture of Loxley across the desk, I saw that it was a glamour shot of the woman I had pulled over. Her hair was perfect, her face full of make-up, and her lips painted a bright red. She was on the red carpet for a music awards show, dressed in red sequins and high heels.
The woman I left that morning had her hair in a ponytail, one of the outfits on that I bought her at Walmart, and a clear face with pouty natural lips. She was just as beautiful as she was in that picture, maybe even more so because she was so relaxed as she poured herself coffee and assured me, she wouldn’t snoop around in my bedside drawers.
“According to her team, the car she was believed to be in had been returned to the rental car location. The driver said he picked it up near Harmony Haven after an anonymous call, but they don’t believe she would’ve stopped here. At least not willingly. And if someone else is involved, it’s doubtful they’d dump the car close to where they planned on keeping her. So, the odds are, she’s not going to come across our paths. However, to be sure…”
“Keeping her?” I interrupted, suddenly feeling like I’d been hit with a bucket of cold water. “Who thinks she’s being held against her will?”
“Why else would she disappear from her tour?” Captain Sullivan looked at me like the answer was obvious.
“Maybe she wanted to,” I suggested, though I knew it was exactly the truth.
“She hasn’t called anyone, and her phone’s not traceable. My gut is telling me this isn’t going to end well.”
Apart from me burning the pork chops and only serving her dry rice with a little bit of salt for dinner, she was perfectly fine. But should I tell him that?
No. I couldn’t. He’d be obligated to report back to whoever filed the report, then they’d know where to find her. I wanted to give her what I promised, which was a safe place to be for a while.
Then my mind went to those bruises on her wrists and I knew I was doing the right thing. Sam Moreno, her manager, was definitely the one looking for her. And when he found out she had walked away from the tour? I shuddered at the thought of what he might do to her. Every day she was gone was a day he was losing money. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but it wasn’t hard to piece it all together with a simple internet search.
“So, what do we do if she doesn’t want to be found?” That was the second time I’d suggested something along those lines and was worried I may sound too obvious.
“Hey,” he raised his hands and leaned back in his chair. “She’s an adult. That may be the case. But from everything in this report, I seriously doubt it. Like I said, this probably won’t end well. She’s got multiple stalkers, multiple social media threats, and no bodyguards. She’s a sitting duck, and it looks like someone found a way to get to her.”
He wouldn’t give me the full report, but gave me what he thought I needed to know, then sent me on my way. I was to spend my patrol with my eyes open wide, looking for Loxley, just in case she was around. But instead, I spent my patrol drivingaround in a daze, knowing Loxley was safe at my house, waiting for me to get off work to attempt another round of pork chops for dinner.
Chapter Nine
LOXLEY
I couldn’t rememberthe last time I spent the day alone, doing nothing. I’d always wondered how I’d use that time if I ever got the chance.
Most of the day passed in near silence, except for the soft scratch of my pen against paper as I jotted down lyrics whenever they felt right. I’d squeezed in a workout as well, if it could be called that. Miles had a gym, but I found an app that specialized in workouts you could do lying down, and that felt much more my style.
I also found the joys of ordering on Amazon. There were endless amounts of options, and I hit order on everything I saw. Bras, underwear, band t-shirts, jeans, shampoo. I even found a cute pink vacuum that I didn’t need but had to have.
Afterward, I created a profile on Miles’ Netflix account and finally binged the first season ofBridgerton. I’d always wanted to watch it but never had the time, or the privacy, to enjoy it. By the time I reached the last episode, I was both satisfied, and annoyed at myself for waiting.
Dusk was settling in when I heard Miles’ patrol car creeping up the rocky drive. My heart did a weird, annoying flip, and before I could stop myself, I ran from the front of the house tothe back, flopping onto the couch by the big window. I draped my arm over the cushions, feigning nonchalance. It wasn’t that I was lonely. Or that I was waiting for him. It was just…he promised me pork chops. And then burned them. He was supposed to redeem himself. And Ireallyloved pork chops.
And I was starving.
“Honey, I’m home,” Miles called out, his voice teasing as he came in through the kitchen door.
Laughing, I hopped up and skipped in to meet him, my subtlety abandoned. “Did you bring new pork chops?”
He lifted a bag and gave it a shake before tossing it onto the counter. “Fresh and ready,” he said, setting his keys and a manila folder beside it. “Let me get out of this uniform.”
I barely heard him. My attention had dropped to the way his arms stretched against the hem of his short sleeves, muscles flexing without effort. Then my gaze drifted lower, to the way his thumbs hooked into his belt, just above where his holstered gun rested against his hip. He leaned into one leg, easy and unbothered, like he had all the time in the world.
“You done?” he teased.
Heat crawled up my neck. “Shut up.”
He chuckled and walked off toward his bedroom. I huffed, grabbing the bag of pork chops hastily, causing the folder he had set on the counter to fall to the floor. The papers inside spilled out, and I looked down at the mess.
Staring back at me was a picture ofme. On the red carpet. A past version of myself, dressed to perfection, posing for the cameras at an awards show before the tour started.
My stomach clenched.
