Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Ren thought back. “Maybe I mentioned the five-and-dime,” she admitted. “I think I told him about Corey Cove.”
Gloria took a long, deep breath. “All right. Thank you for your honesty.”
Ren leaned into her mother’s arms. “I feel so stupid.”
“None of that.” Gloria helped her up and turned them toward a small blue rental car parked down the street. “Let’s go pick up your dad and get you home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
EDWARD
Edward wasn’t generally a guy who panicked. He’d learned early in life that there were two human emotions that served no purpose whatsoever: worry and regret. But when six o’clock rolled around and he hadn’t heard anything from Ren, he felt the cold tendrils of unease take root at the base of his spine. They’d hit the road early; he’d dropped her off just after ten in the morning. That was nearly eight hours of silence, and even if she’d forgotten that he wanted her to keep him updated, and even for someone who wasn’t used to calling and checking in, it didn’t feel right. Unfortunately, he couldn’t track his phone without his iPad or laptop, and he didn’t have either of those things right now. So he kept calling. He would call and the phone would ring and eventually go to voicemail, and he’d leave yet another message.
But the first time it went directly to voicemail—indicating that it’d been turned off or the battery had finally died—was the moment unease morphed into true panic. He had no way to reach her, no way to know whether she was safe.
At seven, blood heavy with anxiety and dread, he headed to the lobby, deciding to wait for her there. With every car that pulled into valet, he’d think, Maybe that’s her in a cab. Maybe that’s her father dropping her off.
An hour went by, and still no sign of her.
He approached the check-in desk. “Have you seen a woman, early twenties, about this tall?” He held his hand about chest high. “Very, very long blond hair?”
It was at that description that the woman’s face relaxed. “Can I get your name, sir?”
“It’s Edward. Edward Fitzsimmons.”
“Thank you. Yes, she left several hours ago with an older couple.” The woman bent, opening a drawer, and then set his phone on the counter. “And she left this for you.”
Edward took the phone, numb, and walked in a daze to the elevator. Back in their room—nope, his room, he thought bleakly—he lost track of time, staring at the floor, trying to sort through every possible scenario.
Older couple could have meant Gloria and Steve, but he didn’t know how they’d find Ren here. It could mean Christopher Koning and his wife, in which case Ren might have opted to stay at their house for the night. But then why not call?
No matter which way he broke it down, something wasn’t right.
And the only place he knew to start was at 1079 Birchwood Terrace.
The street was so different at night. Or maybe that was just his mood, reading everything with suspicion. To an anxious mind, what looked like utopia during the day looked like a neighborhood that could easily mask darkness, could effortlessly let an innocent twenty-something vanish.
There were lights on inside; they were warm and soft, and from the porch he could hear music. Closing his eyes, he took a slow, deep breath.
Calm down, Edward. There’s an explanation. You’ll find her.
He lifted his fist and knocked. The sound of small footsteps pounded on hardwood, and the door swung open, revealing—holy crap—a tiny Ren in pajamas and slippers.
Golden hair spilled down over her shoulders. Wide green eyes gazed up at him. What felt like a spear passed through his chest. “Hi,” he said, offering a friendly smile.
“Mommy, there’s a man at the door!” she yelled in response and ran back down the hall.
A woman leaned through a doorway in the distance and gasped, “Oh! Emily! Wait for Mommy or Daddy before answering the door!” Wiping her hands on her apron, she approached, calling back over her shoulder, “Honey, someone is here!”
In the other room, a male voice murmured something, and Edward caught only “Sweetheart…door…always…me or Mommy…safe.”
Edward’s heart was a roaring beast in his chest. This didn’t feel like a house of shady abductors. But it also didn’t feel like Ren was there, either. She would have come out at the mention of a man at the door, he knew she would.
The woman met him at the doorway and smiled. “Hi, can I help you?”
Edward tried to smile warmly, to take the edge of hysteria out of his eyes. “Hi, yes, I was wondering if a Mr. Christopher Koning lives here?”
The woman’s expression stuttered. “Yes, that’s my husband. Let me—” She stopped, looking back and seeing him already coming down the hall, and said, “He’s asked for you.”
The man in front of Edward looked just like the printed photo that Ren brought with her—blond hair, green eyes, hopeful smile. But the resemblance to his daughter was even stronger in person. Ren had his nose: narrow and gently turned up at the end. They shared the same coloring, the same arch of their brows. But there was something else, some undefinable aura about him that felt like Ren, too. Whether it was the kind eyes or the patient smile that said he was in no hurry for Edward to put his words together, he wasn’t sure. Edward’s head was spinning.