“You were quieter. More introverted. You took leave from the job you loved so much, and let the garden at our house grow messy. You stopped caring. I’d hoped planning a wedding would bring the spark back into your eyes, and it did…” He tilts his head side to side. “In a way. Choosing dresses and cakes and venues gave you direction again. Taking care of that ring—” His eyes drop to my hand. “It reminded me of how you would tend to the garden. After a while, you went back to the nursery, and even visiting your parents’ graves became less…” He exhales. “Taxing. Things were getting better. So much better. You kept our social calendar full and enjoyed hosting friends at the house. You got lonely a lot, so I made a point of decreasing my hours at the office, assigning my senior engineer to a managerial position. Which turned out for the best, really, because when you disappeared, I was able to put all my effort into finding you instead of worrying about work.”
“So, I was a depressed headcase before all of this?” I drag the ring off my finger and place it back on the table. “I was unhappy, and so I… ran away?”
“No. You didn’t run away, Rose. You didn’t leave. You weren’t traveling. That’s what I kept saying to the police. You weren’t depressed or broken or unfulfilled. You were grieving, which is entirely natural and normal and okay after the couple of years you’d had. But you were happy and healthy and excited for our wedding.”
The door swings open on my right, startling me straight in my seat.
I gasp when Ollie stops in the doorway. “W-what are you?—”
“What do you think happened to her?” His blue eyes, usually so kind, so sweet, so fricken perfect, burn with pain. Rage. Grief. His knuckles glow white, gripping the doorknob with a violence he’s never shown me. “You have a theory, Mr. Bisek. Despite the cops’ assumption that she was wandering, taking a sabbatical to work on her emotions, and her colleagues falling into line and suggesting the same, you’re adamant she wouldn’t do that. So what do you think happened?”
“Who…?” Darcy’s eyes flicker throughout the room. From Cliff. To Billy. To me. Then back to Ollie. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Oliver Darling.” He crosses the threshold and turns to shut the door, only for Ramone to follow him in and crowd our side of the room until we can’t fit anymore. He doesn’t stop behind me. Doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t even look at me. Which hurts more than I care to admit. He merely stares at Darcy, his jaw gritting tight and his arms coming up to cross his chest. “I’m the doctor who worked on Rose the night she ended up in my ER. The doctor who studied her CT and determined she’d suffered a traumatic brain injury.” His shoulders and chest bulge from adrenaline. Rage, maybe. Fear. “You’ve told us what youdon’tthink happened. I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m ready to hear what youdothink.”
“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, frowning and swinging his eyes back to me. “Well… there was this person you used to work with. A guy. He was always a bit of a flirt?—”
“Are you about to tell us she ran off with him?” Cliff snarls. “An affair with her colleague?”
“No!” Nervous, he drops his hand and shakes his head. “No, not at all. But he always had a bit of a thing for her. Always trying to be her confidant. You were friends.” He brings his eyes back to mine. “You were friends with everyone. It was easy, because you’re so damn likable. But I always suspected he thought it was more. And you…” He shrugs. “You’re too nice to realize not everyone is looking out for you. When your grandpa passed away, he became…” He considers. “I dunno.Clingy, I suppose. When your grandma went into the home, he wanted to be the person you cried to. When your parents died, he crossed the line, as far as I’m concerned. He tried to kiss you.”
My eyes flare wide, and without even consciously deciding to, my hand comes up, my fingertips pressing to my lips.
“You were furious. You shoved him away and really let him have it. It’s not often you allow your temper to fly quite so loud,” he chuckles. “Colorful, too. Surprised me when you told me what happened. But I never thought poorly of you.” He places his hand on the table, stretching it across like I might take it.
I don’t.
“I trusted you, Rose. Always have. Because you’re the most authentic, honest, amazing person I’ve ever known in my entire life. It’s easy to trust someone when that someone is you, so even when you told me the story of what had happened, and he had apparently said youwantedthat kiss, I knew he was lying, and his lie only cemented what I already knew about him. You were so mad. Sosad, because you truly considered him your friend, and losing him, after you’d already lost so much, was painful for your heart. But just a few days later, he came back to work and apologized. He begged you to forgive him. And you, being the remarkable person you are, accepted him at his word and insisted things go back to normal. Just friends.”
“And were they?” I question. “Normal?”
He nods, with gentle sweeps of his head. “They were. For a while, anyway. Then we got engaged.” His eyes flicker with sadness. “After that, he completely lost it. He was furious. He was jealous and possessive and weirdly aggressive. It’s like… before, he was living in this fantasy world where he would pretend he had a future with you. But after we announced our engagement, it was too much for him.”
“So what happened?” I rasp. “What did he do?”
“He dipped out again. Quit the nursery. No one saw or heard from him for months.” He scratches the side of his nose, sniffing and exhaling on asigh. “He came back again in January, and right after that, you both disappeared.”
“You think they ran off together?” Billy rumbles.
“No. I think he forced her away. He took you,” he murmurs, bringing his focus back to me. “I don’t know if he threatened you or blackmailed you. It’s possible he tricked you, or hurt you, or maybe you were unconscious and didn’t wake up again until you were already hundreds of miles away. I tried to tell the police what I thought had happened, but…” He firms his lips, shaking his head. “Turns out, the guy had an uncle for a detective, and the detective vouched for him. They told me to drop it and shut up about it, or else.”
“That’s quite a heavy accusation,” Ramone inserts evenly. “To assert that the police were covering something up.”
He exhales an almost chuckle. “So you can probably appreciate how nervous sitting here, telling you these things, makes me.” He sits back and glances from face to face. From one pair of eyes to the next. “I’m not saying you would do as the others did, and I’mextremelyhopeful the thousand miles between here and home means you’re not buddies with those cops. But I’m also not saying it hasn’t passed through my mind. I just think it seems quite coincidental that he came back, and then they disappeared at the same time. And a week or so after that, according to the interview I saw on the news, you were hit by a car and almost killed in the middle of nowhere. You were alone. Afraid. You were runningfromhim, Rose. You were not runningwithhim.”
“W-what’s his name?” I stammer.
But I know. I already know.
“Liam.” He licks his lips, his jaw flexing under the barest shadow of stubble. “Liam Porter.”
ROUND FORTY-NINE
OLLIE
“I have a headache.” Hours after we stepped into the police station, Rose settles her elbows on our kitchen counter and massages her temple with the tips of her fingers. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been so freakin’ tired in my entire life.”
I take out my plastic first aid kit and set it on the counter, then I open the lid and peruse its contents until I find a packet of ibuprofen.
