Noah could feel it, his chest squeezing tighter and tighter. Was this what a heart attack felt like?
Amputees complained of pain in their missing limbs, phantom pain that no pills could deaden.
He wondered if it was similar, the empty place in his heart slicing agony through his body, a vacuum that nothing but his curly-haired niece and her beautiful nanny could fill.
At least Delaney was safe. The cop who’d taken her to the airport had returned an hour before, saying they’d had no trouble. She was probably already in flight.
He hadn’t even asked her where she was flying to. Did Portland have an airport, or would she fly to Boston or Manchester? He had no idea.
His mind didn’t have room for that kind of information right now. Even so, he itched to text her, to check on her. To tell her…something.
But there was no news. There was nothing to share.
He’d been sitting in his living room, listening to Mason coordinate with other officers, watching Richard refresh news websites incessantly, enduring Jasper’s increasingly frantic pacing. Every tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway marked another second Charlotte was gone. Another second she was scared, alone, possibly hurt. He had todosomething.
He stood abruptly, drawing Mason’s attention from where he leaned against a wall, phone pressed to his ear.
Noah grabbed his wallet and keys from the basket where he kept them near the front door and headed for the back.
“Where are you going?” Mason’s voice followed him onto the patio.
Noah turned. “I need some air.”
“I think you should stay?—”
He froze and faced the cop. “Am I not free to leave my own house?”
Mason stiffened. “There’s nothing you can do to find Charlotte that we’re not already doing. If you have an idea?—”
“I don’t.” Not one that he was ready to share, anyway.
“I need to know where you’re going,” Mason said. “For your own safety.”
This…this friend of Jasper’s might be wearing an official uniform and a gun on his hip, but Noah didn’t answer to him. If he learned anything, he’d reach out to Detective Norton.
For now, all he had was a hunch.
“I need to get out of here.” That was true enough. The walls were closing in on him, suffocating him. “I’m just going to go for a ride.” Also true, mostly. “I’ll be back in an hour, and I have my phone if you need to contact me.”
Mason’s gaze was suspicious, but he didn’t have the authority to stop him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
He’d do whatever it took to get his niece back. He hurried to the carriage-house-turned-garage, slipped inside, then started his car’s engine before pressing the button to lift the door.
He’d backed into the garage, as usual. As soon as the door was up, Noah accelerated down the driveway and careened onto Magnolia Street much faster than was safe.
A couple of reporters scrambled for their vehicles, but he had a head start. He took the first right, then another, weaving through the residential streets until he was certain he’d lost anyone trying to follow.
Noah drove through downtown Driftwood, glancing at the park where the event celebrating Noah’s ancestor had been held the night before. The rental tables and chairs were already gone. The only remnant from the festivities was the bandstand. It’d looked fancy the night before, draped with banners. Now, stripped of all its adornment, it looked empty and pathetic.
Sort of like the Aylett family. All window dressing. No substance. Not since Mom’s death.
All Noah had wanted to do was preserve what his parents and their parents before them had built. Was it such a sin? A sin that required this level of punishment?
Father, please. Whatever I’ve done to deserve this, forgive me. Don’t let Charlotte pay the price.
If Delaney were here, what would she say? That this wasn’t his fault. That bad things happened, and there was often no explanation.
Even so, he couldn’t help but think that if he’d kept the nanny at arm’s length, if he hadn’t given in to his feelings for her, none of this would have happened.
