Will cocked his head. “That one’s easy, at least. Did you see the way he looked at us? I know some people aren’t fans of law enforcement, but he took that to the extreme.” He bit his lip, coming to the same question I had. “Do you think he maybe did something to his kid, and that’s why he doesn’t want us involved?”
“Unfortunately, when something happens to a kid, the first suspect is always the parent.”
“Wherever Landon is, at least he’s probably just hurt and lost, right? If it were… anything else, Alex would know, wouldn’t he?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t think every single person who passes comes to him.” Thinking of Alex reminded me of Ori and what they’d said, though, and I froze in the middle of typing. Ori had repeatedly said the paranormal community didn’t trust the police. Was it possible? Could that explain Jean DeVor’s reluctance to talk to us?
“But he told us that the ones who do are usually the ones who wouldn’t be found otherwise, and that sounds exactly like what’s happening with Landon DeVor. So if he hasn’t come to Alex, that means he’s probably not dead.” Will sounded so earnest, so hopeful, that I couldn’t bring myself to disagree. We were both experienced and trained, but sometimes blind hope was all that got us through our days. The desperate hope that, just once, the most unlikely theory would win and we’d get that fairy tale happy ending.
“I’ll call him and warn him about what’s going on, so he’s not surprised if Landon tries to reach out to him.”
Will sighed heavily, fingers drumming across the steering wheel. “I don’t think I’ve everhopedthat a kid ran away, but fuck, I hope that’s all this is.”
“I get it. I feel the same.” I scrubbed my hands across my face. So much for a quiet night at home with Alex, like I’d been hoping. “Let’s stop and grab some coffee on the way back. It’s going to be a long night.”
Chapter 15
Alex
HoursafterWillandDonovan had rushed out of The Taphouse, I sat alone on my living room couch with my phone in my hands and Louis purring against my leg. The TV provided some background noise, but not enough to hold my attention. With absolutely no idea of what had happened, my imagination was left to run wild and if there was one thing my brain was good at doing, it was catastrophizing.
At this late hour, the rumor mill in town wouldn’t be awake to churn out any information, so all I could do was sit and wait to hear from Donovan. If it was particularly bad, though, there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it home until the wee hours of the morning.
“Louis, this sucks,” I said to the sleeping cat, who didn’t so much as twitch. Even on his best days, he wasn’t the best conversational partner.
Grief spiked through my chest as I looked around the empty house. What I wouldn’t give to have Charlie or Aunt Lizzie here to talk me out of the doom spiral in my mind. Lizzie would have held my hand and probably keep me distracted by attempting to bake. She always said cookies could solve most problems, which might have been true, except her attempts usually came out more like charcoal briquettes than anything resembling actual food. We’d laugh and clean up the mess while Uncle David took over and made something actually edible and for awhile, their love and laughter would make my problems disappear.
Charlie, on the other hand, took an entirely different approach. He’d tease and snark and sass me, probably call me a drama queen, then make me put on some trashy reality show and watch it with him. It was nearly impossible to remain sad or upset with Charlie Taggert around.
How much of that had really been him, though? He’d never even hinted at what his life had been like before he died, and if I hadn’t found that notebook, I never would have known.
Thinking about the notebook immediately lodged it front and center in my brain, tempting me to look at it again. I hadn’t touched it since the day I’d read that first entry, but every time I passed that closed door now, I thought about it. It just felt wrong to read more after remembering how Lizzie had promised she’d never read it. I hadn’t made that promise, but digging deeper still felt like I was violating Charlie’s trust.
An alert from my phone paused the war in my brain and I looked down to see a text from Donovan.
Are you still up?
Yes. Come over?I immediately responded. Donovan didn’t keep me waiting.
Be there in 5.
Anxiety and relief fluttering in my stomach, I hurriedly got up and unlocked the door, dislodging Louis in the process. He meowed in response and rolled over onto his other side, but didn’t actually get up. Clearly, that was too much effort.
I saw the headlights of Donovan’s car pull in just a few minutes later, and I had the front door open before he’d even parked. The frigid wind cut through my sweatpants and hoodie like they were nothing and my bare feet instantly tingled with the cold, but I waited for him anyway as he trudged up the driveway and straight into my arms.
“Hey,” I whispered in his ear, hugging him tight.
“Hey.” He sounded worn out, and he leaned against me as we stood in the open door.
“Do you want to go to bed?” I finally asked when the cold got to be too much for me. I kept hold of him, though, and we did an awkward shuffle inside. Donovan must have used his foot to shut the door, because I heard it close, but he never let go of me, either.
“Yeah. I probably should have gone back to my place, but I wanted to see you. Did I wake you up?”
“I’m glad you came. I was still awake. I wanted to make sure you were alright,” I said. We had to step away from each other to make it to the bedroom without breaking our necks, so I kept my hand in his, leading him through the darkness to the bedroom at the back of the house.
“It’s been a long night. I have to head back in first thing, but I just need to sleep for a bit first.” His words were heavy, thick with weariness and frustration.
“Can I ask what’s going on? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I said quickly, just in case it was a rough one. I worked as I talked, helping him out of his clothes and leaving them on the floor to deal with later.
