“What’s going on? Where’s Douglass?”
“Thanks for finally asking.”
I glare at his profile as he white-knuckles the steering wheel. “Don’t be an asshole.”
I’m not at all prepared for him to say, “Natalie’s house burned down.”
He says it so robotically, so very different from before when he was yelling at me.
My heart literally skips over a few beats, and I lose the ability to breathe. “Was Douglass…”
I can’t say it. I have to believe she wasn’t there when it happened. How could she be at Natalie’s when she was at the house? Wasn’t she? I should have taken the time to find her before I left with Danni.
“She’s fine. Mason, Harp, and Chase are with her.”
“Chase?”
As soon as the charge bar says five percent, I press the pad of my index finger to the back to unlock it and immediately notice the dozens of text and voice messages from Harper and Mike. But nothing from Douglass. I scroll through to make sure.
“That’s where I’m taking you. She’s at Chase’s.”
Hitting the call button for Douglass’s contact, I put the phone on speaker and listen as it rings and rings, then clicks over to her voice mail. I try again. Same result.
Texting her this time, I say to Mike, “Explain.”
There better be a damn good reason why there are no messages from her and why she’s at Chase’s and not at home. Because the Hammond Estate is her home. With me. Not Chase.
Mike’s head turns my way, then turns back to the road.
“I don’t know the full story, but Harp says she’s staying at his place tonight.”
I reel in the explosion of curse words that want to erupt.
Calm down. There has to be a good explanation. Natalie’s house burned down. Douglass needs you.
I wipe a weary palm over my face as I wait for Douglass to read and reply to my text telling her I’m on my way.
I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. It’s a sad pattern I keep repeating. My focus was on helping Danni, and I neglected to check my phone. Ironically, it wouldn’t have mattered since the damn thing was dead.
“How’s Danni? You going to fill me in on what happened tonight?”
I stare at my phone, willing Douglass to call me back. Text a thumbs-up emoji. Anything to let me know she’s alright.
Adjusting the seat back to recline at an angle, I look out the window into the bleak darkness made hazy with a sheen of low-level fog that obscures the ground.
“She’s not in a good head space right now,” I reply. “She, uh… she said some stuff to me tonight. Stuff I wasn’t aware of and don’t really know how I’m going to handle.”
Mike slows down at the railroad crossing that demarcates the boundary between Woodspire and Hopper Springs.
“She drinking again?”
“No. God, no. At least, I hope not. It’s one of the reasons I took her to AA tonight and dropped her off at her sister’s. I didn’t want to leave her by herself, alone, in her apartment.”
“Not going to tell me what she said to you that freaked you out?”
Mike pulls up to a large, two-story, white-washed brick house. I can’t make out the finer details, but it’s nice. Harper’s wagon and Bennett’s bike are parked in the driveway in front of the double bay garage doors.
“Can we shelve it for now? Is this his house?”
