Too quiet.
I saunter past the staircase and take a right into the kitchen. Immediately, I see Tristan and Elena sitting at the dining table in front of a set of arched windows with a view of the expansive circular driveway. Elena hums happily as she dips her spoon into her cereal bowl while Tristan eats his and plays the Switch at the same time. They are accompanied by a few of Elena’s stuffed animals placed in the other chairs.
She does that when Cam, Bren, and I can’t have breakfast with them. Not a morning goes by where seeing our seats filled doesn’t bother me. But two other people are missing from the table.
I wander to the coffeepot, take a mug out of the cabinet above, and pour a glass, observing as my two younger siblings immerse themselves in their sugary breakfast.
By themselves.
They shouldn’t be alone.
I approach Elena and press my lips to her hair like I do every morning if I can return to the house. “Where’s Miss Taryn?”
Her response is immediate. “Running,” Elena says innocently with a mouthful of cereal.
My muscles tauten.
I tilt my head, clenching my jaw. “Miss Taryn is running?”
Elena scoops up a spoonful of fruit loops and bobs her head. “She wanted to go on a run. She said to eat my cereal while she’s gone, and then we’ll play with my stuffed animals when she gets back.”
Adrenaline shoots through my bloodstream, reaching a dangerous level. “Where is Jess?”
She shoves a spoonful in her mouth. “Sleeping,” she answers around the silverware.
My focus finds Tristan, who is flicking around a couple of Honey Nut Cheerios floating on the surface of his milk.
“Did she take Rossco, Tristan?” I ask.
He nods.
“When did she leave?” I push harder.
He shrugs. It’s always simple reactions and answers from him. “A little while ago.”
I doubt the twins know since they left around six this morning for a meeting at the packaging headquarters located off the property.
Whipping out my phone, I navigate to our tracking app for her microchip. The little blue dot slowly moves across the screen, down the long driveway. She’s near the big bend in the road near the cliff—the mile mark for the orchard before it drops to the Columbia below—where it continues through the forest to the front gate.
Fuck.
Looks like Little Ghost is finally going to receive her punishment from me for disobeying the rules. My hands itch in anticipation, but my cognizance reminds me why I shouldn’ttouch her. It takes one taste—only one touch for an obsession to grow and eat away at you.
My features harden, and Elena scans my facial expression. “Is she in trouble?” she asks softly.
“You know how sometimes I say I’ll spank you if you aren’t listening or if you talk back?” She nods nervously. “Well, Miss Taryn isn’t listening.”
Her little blue eyes expand so large I’m afraid they’ll pop out and float in her cereal bowl.
I remove my truck keys from my pocket and point at Tristan. “You two stay here. I’ll be back.”
They both nod as I place my mug on the table and march out of the kitchen and through the hallway to the back door. Before I know it, I’m heading straight for my driveway, focusing on the black Ford I bought last year.
I climb in, not bothering with the seat belt as I throw it into reverse. When I get it turned around, I slam on the gas, taking the road around the hill and the side of the house where it intersects with the main driveway.
Dust billows behind me, the speedometer reaching thirty miles an hour, pushing the pulse in my neck even harder. My truck breaks through the threshold of the orchard, apple trees lining each side. My eyes are locked on the blue dot on the phone screen in my hand.
“When I find you, Little Ghost,” I growl, shaking my head as I get closer.
