Page 39 of Delta
Straightening, I reach out and rest the tips of my fingers on the worn leather book. It’s soft beneath the tips of my fingers. Familiar.
So why can’t I even bring myself to open it?
Something rubs against my leg, so I glance down. Emma’s cat is purring and arching his back as he rubs on my leg.
“I miss her too, buddy,” I say as I kneel down and lift the animal. I never considered myself a cat person, but this guy—he’s okay. “I need to think of something to call you until she gets back, don’t I?” I shift my gaze to Delta. “What do you think, bud? What should we call him?” His tail thumps on his dog bed. I switch my attention back to the cat. “How about Foxtrot? You’re fluffy. It fits the theme of animal names around here.”
He continues purring and rubs against my chest.
“Foxtrot it is.” Taking a deep breath, I set him down onto the floor, then glance back at the Bible. “I’m going to bring her home, okay, bud? Even if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Any idea where she is?” Freshly showered, I step into Tucker’s house around ten o’clock at night.
Bradyn and Riley are already here, both of them standing in the kitchen, alongside Tucker and Alice. All four of them turn to look at me, and I already know the answer: we still have no clue where she is.
“The adoption records are a bust. There were no birth parents listed. The only name in the file was of a nurse who gave a statement that she found the baby in an alleyway behind the hospital where she worked. She couldn’t keep the child due to her own circumstances, so Emma was put up for adoption after a search for her parents never turned anything up.” Tucker sighs. “I’m sorry, brother.”
“What about the names? We get an address with those? We have first and last names.”
“Nothing,” Tucker replies. “They’re ghosts.”
“Which means they’re probably not upstanding citizens,” Riley comments.
I cross my arms. There has to be something we can do. “Then let’s go talk to the nurse. Maybe she knows?—”
“Can’t,” Riley answers. “She was killed in a hit-and-run last week.”
“Last week.” I look from Riley to Bradyn. “That can’t be coincidence.”
“That’s what we thought too,” Bradyn replies. “But so far, no digging has turned up any other explanation. According to witnesses, she stepped out into traffic without looking and was hit and killed.”
“Then someone is lying.”
“There were a dozen people who came forward, claiming they saw the same thing,” Tucker says. “I’m sorry, brother, but that’s a dead end right now. I’m still digging, but?—”
Bradyn’s phone begins to ring, the shrill tone cutting through Tucker’s words. He withdraws it, and after checking the readout, answers on speakerphone. “Bradyn Hunt,” he says.
“My name is Felicity Karver,” the woman says. “And I need you to trace this call. Quickly.”
Bradyn looks up at me.
Tucker waves us back into his office.
“Are you still there?” she asks.
“Yes. Why am I tracing this call?” Bradyn questions as Tucker takes a seat at his computer, and Alice sits at hers. Both of them begin typing furiously on their keyboards.
“You know why. Emmaline says you run a search and rescue?”
“Emma—is she okay?” I demand.
The woman hesitates. “You’re him. The one Gio spoke to.”
“Yes. Is Emma okay?” I demand again. Why isn’t Emma calling if everything’s fine? What happened?
“Right now, she’s all right. But if you don’t get her out of here, she won’t be.”
“What do you mean?” Fear tears through me at the mere thought of anything happening to Emma.
