“Right… yeah.”
Two more hours pass with nothing from Warren. I have a thought that I can’t seem to shake off. I tap Luke on the shoulder to get his attention as he stands in front of the microwave.
“Did you tell Warren where your dad’s place was?”I sign rapidly.
“Yeah, why?”Luke tilts his head.
“Like a rough idea or the exact location?”
“He knew the building when I described it. Why?”
“Okay. Can you give me the address?”I pull out my phone, ready to write it down.
“Forty-three Watford Ave. Apartment five.”
The GPS on my phone says it’ll be a thirty-minute walk, which isn’t so bad—but it will be longer in the snow, and I can’t bring Willow. I pick up my phone and hit call before my brain has fully embraced the idea of asking for help.
“Hey, Em, are you busy right now? I have a big favour to ask.”
“What’s up?” Emily turns down some background noise as she speaks.
“Can I borrow your car? And can you come watch Willow? Warren is MIA. There’s been some family drama and—”
“On my way.” Emily hangs up before I have a minute to thank her.
I turn to Luke, who is looking more and more confused by the second.
“I’m going to find Warren. I have a feeling he may have gone to talk to your dad. My friend Emily is going to come watch Willow. I need you to stay here, okay?”
“Yeah, okay… is Warren going to beat up our dad?”I hope not.
“No… I don’t think so. I’ll have my phone on me. I will keep you in the loop—okay?”
I rush upstairs and grab a warmer sweater and socks, ready to face the snow outside—unsure of where the rest of this day will take me.
Please let me find you, Warren.
CHAPTER FORTY
After I park Emily’s car, I pay the metre for an hour, locking it twice as I turn towards a dilapidated building—dirty moss and graffiti cover most of the brick; cardboard in almost every window. I take a deep breath in, cringing at the thought of Warren having to imagine dropping his brother off here.
I find the main entrance unlocked. The first floor only has three apartments, so I run up the first flight of stairs. There are distant sounds of a baby crying and a couple arguing. The whole place reeks of smoke and mildew.I approach the door of apartment five cautiously, then knock three times.
A thin man wearing an oversized grey T-shirt and khaki shorts opens the door.Not exactly weather appropriate—it’s freezing in here. I know it’s Warren’s father instantly; their brows and noses identical. Whatever warmth Luke has that Warren lacks is nothing in comparison to the coldness behind this man’s eyes—which are brown, unlike both of his sons. With a violent flick of his chin, he sends wisps of long grey hair flying from his face.
“What?” the man says.
“Hello, we haven’t met yet. I’m Chloe. I—”
The man scoffs, interrupting me. “He left a few hours ago.”
“Oh, okay.”Charming.“Any idea where…” I stop talking as Warren’s father walks away from the door, farther into his apartment and out of view down a long hallway. He leaves the front door open. I presume so I can follow. I text my location to Emily from the door before I step inside, just in case.
“Fuck!” His voice follows the sound of a metal object falling.
“Um, sorry… Mr. Davies?” I step through the doorway and down the dimly lit corridor, past an open door that leads into a bathroom that needs adeepclean—or possibly a detonator.
“Call me Al,” he shouts from the narrow kitchen at the end of the hall
