“Dr. Buchanan’s name is Dorian Gray Buchanan.”
“Wasn’t Dorian Gray a movie?” Finch asks.
“It was a book by Oscar Wilde.” I nod. “And also a movie.”
Dan shakes his head. “Wouldn’t he be listed as DB if it was him?”
My shoulders slump. “Probably.” Not giving up, I stand up to find the actual journal. When I can’t find it, I look at Dan. “Where’s the journal?”
“Captain’s got it.”
What? “Why?”
Dan shrugs.
I’m up and out of my chair in a second and in front of the captain’s door in five more. Knocking, I listen for him to tell me to enter. When he finally speaks, I open the door and step inside. “I need the journal.”
“Why?”
Wow, okay.“I’ve got a theory.”
With a sigh, he opens his desk drawer and withdraws a pink leather-bound book. “Bring it back. Her father’s concerned Kara’s personal thoughts are going to get out there.”
Ignoring him, I take hold of the journal and tug it from his hands.
What is it with the captain and Kara’s father?
Back in the conference room, I slide back into my seat, open her journal to page one, and read.
* * *
Openingthe door to my house, I’m tempted to pronounce, “Honey, I’m home,” but I don’t. I sniff the air, hoping she’s cooking again, but smell nothing new or delicious.
Not only that. It’s quiet. Too quiet.
“Daisy?” I say loud enough that if she’s in one of the bedrooms, she’d hear me. When I get no response, I walk past the kitchen and down the short hallway to the bedrooms and bath. Peeking into the spare room, I see it’s empty. The bathroom door is open, so I know she’s not in there. Pushing open the door to my bedroom, I hold my breath, hoping she’s already in my bed. Preferably naked. Sadly, that’s not the case. My bed is still made from this morning and empty.
“Daisy?” I say again just for the hell of it.
Then I remember the deck. She could be out there. Moving out of my bedroom, I walk through the kitchen to the back door. Opening it, I step onto my wooden deck that overlooks a decent-sized yard. “Daisy?”
Still nothing.
In the kitchen, I spot a note. I hold my breath again, worried it’s going to tell me she’s leaving—a goodbye note. Reaching out, I pick it up and slowly bring it close enough for me to read.
Gage,
I’m running errands. I’ll behomeback later.
Daisy
Relief washes over me except for one thing. The way she crossed off “home” and replaced it with “back” bothers me. A lot.Why can’t this be her home too?
Which reminds me. Captain Billings asked me point-blank today if I’d dealt with the Daisy issue. I merely nodded.
“Good,” he said, then walked away.
Yes, I lied to my commanding officer. But it can’t be helped.
