One second, I’m storming inside, ready to do shit, and the next, she’s moving like she owns the goddamn place. Her voice is sharp and steady: “Does she have a phone?” she asks, turning to Bridger.
He blinks at her, clearly thrown by the sudden demand. “Uh… yeah. But she left it here. It’s in her bedroom.”
Marlowe doesn’t hesitate. “Okay, go get it. Go through her recent calls, texts, whatever. Call her friends. See if anyone has talked to her or knows where she might have gone.”
Bridger looks at me like he’s waiting for me to shut her down, to tell her to back the hell off. But I don’t—because as much as it pisses me off, she’s not wrong.
Grumbling under his breath, he stalks off toward Mom’s bedroom, disappearing down the hall.
Marlowe barely gives him a second glance before she turns to Cody. “When’s the last time you saw her?”
Cody rubs a hand over his face, looking wrecked. “Last night. I put her to bed. She was in her pajamas when I last checked. Sound asleep.”
Marlowe’s eyes narrow. “Did she say anything weird before she went to bed?”
Cody lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “You mean,besidesthinking it was twenty years ago?”
Fucking hell.
Marlowe straightens. “She thought it was twenty years ago?”
Cody nods. “Yeah. She was talking like she still worked at the school.” His jaw tightens. “Kept asking if Damian hid her car keys again, she didn’t want to be late for work or for us to be late for school.”
Fuck.
Marlowe nods, thinking, processing, already piecing things together like she’s done this a hundred times before. “Okay, then she probably left thinking she needed to get to work.”
It’s such a simple thought, something that should have been obvious, but I was too fucking angry to ask the right questions and get there on my own.
Marlowe looks at me then, her lips pressed together, chin slightly lifted, eyes steady and unflinching. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing, just a sharp focus that makesmy skin itch. It’s the look of someone who’s already three steps ahead, waiting for me to catch the hell up. “So, where’s the school?”
I grit my teeth. I hate that she’s here. I hate that she’s taking charge. I hate that she’s making me feel like I’ve already failed before I even started.
But I hate even more that she’s probably right.
“Not far,” I mutter.
“Then that’s where we start.”
She’s already moving, already heading for the door, and somehow, I find myself following her.
What thefuckjust happened?
Chapter Fourteen
MARLOWE
Damian throws himself into the driver’s seat. I barely have time to jump into the back before he slams the door, the engine roaring to life. Bridger climbs in beside me, Cody taking the passenger seat up front. No one speaks.
The air in the car is tense, humming with unspoken words, with frustration, withfear. They’re barely keeping it together.
The road stretches ahead, dark clouds rolling over the sky, thick and low. The heat still lingers, clinging to the earth, but the pressure has changed. I feel it in the air, the heaviness, the weight of something inevitable.
Then the skies crack open.
The first drops hit the windshield like tiny pebbles, then more, harder, relentless. Within seconds, it’s a monsoon, rain slamming against the glass so hard the wipers can barely keep up. Water streaks down the side windows in frantic, messy patterns, blurring the outside world into nothing but a smear of gray and motion.
But Damian doesn’t slow down.
