He looks up, his eyes widening slightly at my approach. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Millie Harper. She’s here to see Liam Bennett.”
Henderson types something into his computer. “She was here,” he confirms, not looking up. “She left about ten minutes ago. A taxi picked her up.”
A taxi. She took a fucking taxi. My jaw clenches. Why wouldn’t she wait? I told her I was on my way. I told her I’d come get her. Frustration coils in my gut, hot and sharp. She should have waited for me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Did she say where she was going?”
The deputy shakes his head. “No, sir.”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to unclench my fists. “Okay. Can I see Liam?”
Henderson finally looks up, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t authorize that. Only the sheriff can grant visitation rights right now.”
“And where is the sheriff?” I ask, my patience wearing thin.
“He’s in a meeting,” Henderson says, his gaze dropping back to his screen. “With the mayor and the captain.”
“Fuck,” I say again, the word a low growl. Of course. The one time I need to talk to him, he’s playing politics with the big shots. I’m hitting a wall at every turn.
“Is he okay?” I ask, my voice softer than I intended. “Liam. How is he doing?”
Henderson hesitates for a moment, then seems to decide I’m not a threat. “He’s okay,” he says, his tone confidential. “A bit pissed off, but he’s okay. Got a few bruises, a sprained wrist. Nothing too serious.”
A bit pissed. That’s an understatement. Liam’s probably seeing red. I know him. He’s probably blaming himself for everything, for Millie, for his father, for the whole damn mess.
I nod, a sense of helplessness washing over me. There’s nothing I can do here. Not now. “Thanks for the information,” I say, turning to leave.
“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Henderson calls after me.
I wave a dismissive hand over my shoulder and push back out into the cold. The snow is coming down heavier now, fat white flakes that melt on my heated jacket. I pull out my phone, my fingers numb from the cold. I need to know if Millie went to the café or straight home. I need to hear her voice.
I dial Maren’s number, my heart pounding in my chest. It rings twice, then a familiar voice answers, but it’s not Maren’s.
“Hello?” It’s Aunt Dee. Her voice sounds tired, strained.
“Aunt Dee, it’s Maddox,” I say, my breath fogging in the cold air. “Is Millie there? Is she okay?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “She’s not here,” she says, her tone gentle but firm. “We told her to go home and get some rest. To come by tomorrow.”
“So she’s home?” I press, a wave of relief washing over me.
“Yes,” Aunt Dee confirms. “She’s home.”
“Okay,” I say, my mind already made up. “Thanks, Aunt Dee. Tell Maren I’m thinking of her.”
“I will, honey,” she says. “You be careful out there. The roads are getting bad.”
“I will,” I promise, hanging up.
She’s home. The words repeat in my head, a mantra that both soothes and agitates me. She’s safe, but she’s alone. After a day like today, she shouldn’t be alone.
I straddle my bike, the leather of the seat cold against my jeans. I pull my helmet back on, the world narrowing to the small rectangle of my visor. I should respect her wishes. I should give her space. But I can’t. I need to see her. I need to know for myself that she’s really okay.
I start the engine, the roar of the motor a comforting sound in the quiet of the falling snow. I pull out onto the road, the tires slipping slightly on the slick surface. The ride to her place is a blur of white and gray, the snow swirling around me in a dizzying dance.
My mind is a mess of conflicting emotions. I’m worried about Millie. I’m angry at Liam for losing control, for putting her in danger, for getting himself arrested. And I’m angry at myself for not being there, for not being able to protect her from all of this.
