Page 16 of Loch
“You’re not sleeping.” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t feel the need to respond. Besides, anything other than a yes wouldn’t have been believable. “Reagan…” he breathed out. I stepped back and grabbed the still half full glass out of his hand.
“Thanks for cutting the grass. It’s nice of you.”
I turned around and did what I do best. I ran and hid. Well, it was more of a brisk walk. I didn’t want to go into it and I knew if I stayed there one more second, looking into his pleading eyes, I would have cracked. I would have spilled my guts and maybe even broken down in front of him. If that happened, he would look at me differently. I felt like I would die if I ever saw pity for me in his eyes. If I told him everything I’d been through and everything I was scared of, there would have been no going back.
And that was something I wasn’t ready for. Hell, I didn’t think I would ever be.
CHAPTER NINE
Loch
I watched as Reagan scurried into the house. She was running. From me. From whatever was going on in her head. From something in her past.
I wiped my damp hands on my jeans then pulled out my phone. I sent Bocca a message, knowing if there was anything to be found that he would be the one to dig it up.
Me: Need to know everything you can find on Reagan Turner.
Bocca: Give me two hours.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and continued my work. The grass didn’t really need to be cut; it could have waited another few days. I knew it was a stupid reason to try and see her. I had been gone all weekend, unable to get her out of my head. I had been back a day and I avoided the bar like a grumpy old man.
I woke up that morning, like an addict, needing to see her. I knew she had the night off from the bar. I had a feeling she would lock herself away inside if she didn’t have anywhere she needed to be. It was stupid and childish of me. But it worked. I almost smiled when I saw her walking towards me. My eyes squinted, wondering if I was slipping into some kind of daydream. A heat-induced mirage. But it wasn’t, and she was right in front of me, chest heaving and sweet smelling. It took everything in me to fight the urge to pull her into me and claim her mouth with mine. I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be able to resist.
I’d noticed the exhaustion and stress before, but right then in the bright daylight, it looked worse. Her cheeks were starting to lose their fullness and I could see hollow now. I wondered if something happened while I was gone. I knew she wouldn’t tell me. She kept herself locked up tight and it was frustrating as fuck.
I finished Ethel’s yard, then mowed my own. I took a shower and decided I needed to shave. I’d let it go over the weekend, and while I didn’t mind a little scruff, I wasn’t trying to have a beard. It was too hot for that shit. After I was finished and dressed, I hopped on my bike and rode over to the clubhouse.
I found Bocca in his room, still deep into whatever was on his computer screen. I knocked on the door frame and he shifted his gaze to me. With a chin lift from him, I entered. He pointed to a stack of printed out papers on the edge of his desk. The stressed and grim look on his face was enough to make me feel uneasy. Without words, I knew there was something major I was missing. I picked up the pages and flipped through them. He laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back in his chair.
“First of all, she moved around a lot,” he started after he blew out a long, heavy breath. “She’s worked at whatever she could get. A few bars. Mostly restaurants and motels. A place called Fluffy’s Gentlemen’s Club in Dallas.”
The thoughts of her stripping made a deep growl escape me. I hoped that it wasn’t the case.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, agreeing with my wordless discomposure. “Couldn’t find out what she did there. The place looks a little upscale, though. Checked out their website, there’s a hot, little Asian I wouldn’t mind seeing. Anyway, Reagan worked at a diner on the outskirts of Seattle for a while then a law firm around the same area. Looks like she was a receptionist or something. That’s where she’s been the last couple of years.”
“So, why would she leave?” I asked, scratching the back of my neck. There had to be more by the look on Bocca’s face. My gut tightened as I waited for the fucking ball to drop.
“From what I can tell, she lived with another girl that worked there. Reagan doesn’t have any social media accounts. She only has an email that she used for job purposes and to keep up with Ethel every few months. But her roommate has a Facebook and a love of posting every-fucking-thing. Found a bunch of pictures of them together on it. Then about six months ago the pictures and posts of the two of them faded away. Replaced by pictures of this guy the roommate was dating.” He pulled out one of the papers and showed me a picture.
The girl in the picture had long black hair and I would have put her around Reagan’s age. The guy standing next to her had his arm around her shoulders. His face smashed against hers. He looked like he came from money. Or was at least trying to give off the appearance that he did. Something about the look in his eyes made me raise a brow. He was smiling, but there was no light there.
“You see it too, huh? I’m trying to find out anything I can on this guy.” Bocca shuffled the papers around and handed me another one. “So, Reagan’s roommate, Liz as she liked to be called, was pretty active on social media, but then it all ceased one day. Nothing. Not even a check-in. Hasn’t been anything in a while. Around the time your girl showed up.” He pointed to the paper. It didn’t slip by me how he called Reagan my girl. It also wasn’t lost on me how it made me feel inside. But it wasn’t the time to think about that.
I scanned the sheet Bocca pointed at. It was an article on Elizabeth and Reagan. The police were looking for both of them, calling them missing. I flipped through the next few pages, only about four articles from different news sources in all. It didn’t seem like much to me. The last one I read stated that there was no indication of foul play in their apartment. So the police were leaning towards the idea that the girls had taken off on their own. But the parents of Elizabeth were pleading with people who might know anything. Insisting that their daughter wouldn’t have just taken off like that.
“Any idea on where the roommate is?” I asked, my mind going a million different directions. I had more pieces of the puzzle but it wasn’t enough to show me the picture.
“No. And before you ask, they questioned the boyfriend. According to the police report, he stated that he hasn’t seen her and has no idea where she might be. He told them that the last time he saw her was three nights before she stopped showing up to work.”
“Bullshit,” I mumbled as I sat down on the edge of his bed. Something was off and I’d put my money on the boyfriend. There was something about him that sat like a heavy boulder in my gut.
“Is she in trouble?” Bocca asked, raising a concerned brow. I knew the two of them were friendly, so I could sense the concern was genuine.
“Yeah, I think so. But she won’t say a damn thing to me. When I first saw her she had bruises all over her face and neck. They were fadin’ so I’d say they were a few day’s old at the time. A week at most.” I sighed, thinking back. I knew the more information I could give him, the more it would help in his search. “She said she got jumped at a rest stop, but I could tell it was a lie.”
“I’ll keep looking. Let you know if I find anything.” I nodded thanks to him before heading out of his room.
I found Brandon half asleep on one of the couches in the lounge area. Most of the lights were off and the TV volume was down low. One foot was propped up on the coffee table and his ball hat down low over his eyes. I sat down beside him and he jerked alert.
