“Hello?” A very sleepy-sounding Celeste answers.
“Celeste, it's Griffin. I don't want you to be alarmed—”
“Griffin, what's going on?” Celeste sounds terrified.
“She's not here. It looks like Selena has run. I think she might only be wearing a pair of pajamas, and she's also wearing a very expensive diamond necklace on loan from a jeweler, and I'm worried about her mental health.”
I am so close to tears. I've never cried. It's one thing I can say legitimately, I have never shed a tear, and now I am close to having a full meltdown, ugly tears and all.
“Oh, my God, Griffin. Oh, my God...” Now Celeste is losing it. “When we got home last night, my mom told me that Landon is missing. Nobody knows where he is. His piece of shit girlfriend is trying to find him; she's frantic. Apparently, he sold his car and bought a van.”
“Fuck! I knew it. I fucking knew it. That fucking piece of shit! I'm going to end his fucking life.” I suddenly realize I'm standing in front of police officers, and I dial back a little bit. “Where do you think he could be? What are his haunts? I've got the police here.”
“He just bought a farm and proposed to the girl he cheated on Selena with. Oh, my God, Griffin—what if Landon has her? He blames her for everything.”
I'm in fucking hell, and now Celeste is so hysterical she can't continue talking.
“We’ll find her. I have connections. Can you tell me a little bit more about the van that he bought?” I need Celeste to calm down so I can get information and relay it to my Christopher Street Society private detectives, who will be able to find Landon in a matter of hours. “Have somebody go to his property, and please text me the cross streets. I also need his parents' phone number or any other contacts; his girlfriend, anyone.”
“Yes, Griffin, I will do it immediately. We'll get search teams out here looking for her.”
I spend the rest of the morning calling the private investigation firm CSS uses. I've called Beckett and Scarlett. I called Cayden and Marcel, letting them know that Selena ismissing. I sit in my office and design the world's most predatory acquisition contract for a nice old man who just wants to do good for the world.
Then the emotions hit, and I start crying. I can't lose Selena. I don't want her to be away from me ever, not today, not tomorrow, not twenty years from now.
Also, I don't want to fuck over an old man at the end of his life and leave a legacy of bullshit behind him. While I'm waiting for Selena, I rip up the contract that I spent hours negotiating last night and write a new one that supports his family and gives his legacy lifelong wealth. I'm not taking his company from him. I'm going to run it ethically. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm doing something good, and while Selena is not here, it's one hundred percent because of her.
By late afternoon, the detective believes they may have found a match for a print on the door frame. I have a lot of staff in and out of the loft, but the police officers don't seem to be concerned about that. This means they've found someone of interest… and I know it’s Landon.
28
SELENA
Everything hurts. My body is heavy, and it's hard to keep my head up, so I leave it resting against the metal wall. It’s sweltering, and what little liquid is left in my system drips out in beads of sweat that randomly drop from my body. We’ve stopped again, and I wonder what time it is. We must be near Iowa. The back doors fly open, and I’m assaulted by the brightness of the sun. I can’t talk anymore and actually can’t move.
“Finally, you’re awake. You slept all night and most of the day. That is not going to be acceptable, Selena. You have to do better.”
I just stare into nothing. My body is limp, my lips are dry, and my arm goes hot and cold. I’m shivering, but I can’t stop. It’s not cold, but my body shakes.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Doctor,” I move my lips, but barely any sound comes out. “Dying.” I’m able to get some power behind the word. “I’m dy…” I need to throw up again, but I can’t stop shaking.
“Fuck.” Landon backs up, and the doors close.
The van is moving again, and I’m shaking violently. We stop again, and I hear a siren, but I’m too busy convulsing to think about how to get their attention. I’m losing feeling, I’m losing sight. I’m dying?
Suddenly, the doors open again. The lights are blinding. Landon is carrying me out of the van.
“My wife was asleep and woke up like this.”
I’m in a hospital; he took me to a hospital.
“How long has she been in this condition?” someone asks. “Where is all this blood coming from?”
“I accidentally shot her...” He sounds really scared.
Over the loudspeaker, I hear, “Code Sepsis. ER, Code Sepsis.” Then there’s frantic movement, and someone lifts me out of Landon’s arms.
