“That sounds like a challenge.”
“It is.”
We spend the next hour talking about the employees. Just those that work in the outer buildings—the garages and the stables. The landscapers. The gardens. The barns. All the places that she doesn’t see on a daily basis.
When I glance at my phone, I realize it’s been an hour. I send Brek a text asking him where he’s at. No answer.
“What’s wrong?” Jessica asks.
I shake my head as I call him. The phone rings and rings and rings before going to voicemail. “Nothing,” I answer.
“Brek home?”
“No, but he should be. An hour ago, when he texted, he said his ride was already there. It’s been three times the time it takes for him to get from his office home.”
“So call him.”
I meet her eyes, frowning. “I did, sunshine.”
“He didn’t answer.”
“No, I’m sure everything is fine.” Even as I say it, I continue to text him and wait. I call and wait. I allow another thirty minutes to go by before the knot in my stomach is too big to ignore.
“Where is he?” Jessica asks.
“I can find out, but don’t ask questions. Now isn’t the time for that.”
She certainly doesn’t like that answer. Her lips press together tightly, but she doesn’t say anything. Only nods.
I tap through my apps until I find the one where I can track Brek’s phone location. There’s a very long list of people I can track, and I turn them all off except Brek. Then the map comes up. It takes eight very long seconds before his dot shows up on my screen.
He’s moving in the wrong fucking direction. West on route 40 instead of east. Away from Van Doren Estates, and he’s been heading that way for a long time.
“Where is he?” Jessica repeats.
The dot is on the move. Traveling at sixty-eight miles per hour.
“I’m going to find out.” I drop the phone into my pocket and get to my feet. I take Axl from Jessica and head for the nursery.
“I’m going with you,” Jessica says as she follows me down the hall.
“Fine. Keep calling him.” There’s a nanny in the nursery, just as I knew there’d be. I hand her Axl. “I need to go. Don’t let anyone take him. He’s due for a feeding in an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” she answers.
“Thanks.”
I don’t bother telling anyone where I’m going as I stop in my room and grab a shirt. Then, I’m racing down the stairs to my car with Jessica on my heels.
The phone goes in the cradle, and I have the map up. The dot has moved from the highway, going about ten miles an hour slower. We speed down the road after him in silence.
Jessica continues to place call after call to Brek. Her phone isn’t on speaker, but I can still hear the ringing before it’s interrupted by the click of his voicemail.
The dot stops moving. I continue to speed toward it.
By the time we pull into the parking lot of a truck stop, I feel sick and panicky. “Keep calling,” I instruct as I throw the car in park and grab my phone.
Jessica remains on my heels as I zoom in on the dot and move toward it. My heart races until all I can hear is my pulse in my ears.
