Why do I feel a little guilty?
The downside to it all is that I haven’t found the statue. I don’t think it’s downstairs. We all painted the walls a much softer shade of green. Then Sawyer’s had me on cleaning duty. I’ve looked in every single inch of the back room, but nothing.
Which means it’s upstairs.
If it’s here at all.
Koda said Tagar has looked through the mother’s house while Jane’s been in the city. I know the man looks like a supervillain, but as far as Ivan’s goons go, he’s pretty harmless. He wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he had to, no matter how much pressure Ivan puts on him.
He turned that house upside down, and nothing. It was relatively empty save for a few things Jane had kept. Which means it’s here.
Or he threw it out.
I can just imagine the veins popping out of Ivan’s skull if that ends up being the case.
I was going to ask Sawyer’s if I could see his place the night of his failed date, but he’d been through enough. What reason would I even have to want to go upstairs?
I look through the windows and I don’t see anyone. It’s about nine now, and he’s usually down here. Maybe I made a mistake. He said Friday, right? He did.
I walk around the building and find a flight of stairs, and slowly walk up them.
Maybe he meant to cancel and forgot.
I walk up the rickety steps and find the back door then look in the window. No movement that I can see. I knock, but even after a minute no one comes to the door. It’s weird. Something feels off.
I go back downstairs and grab the keys he gave me to open the bakery. Maybe he left a note for me.
I don’t find one, though, as I walk through to the back.
I go to the kitchen and find the door leading upstairs to his apartment. I walk up them, feeling a bit out of place, and try the handle. It opens.
I feel weird about this but I’m worried.
I open the door and step into the small apartment, and I can instantly feel that something is off. The open concept has a kitchen and living room separated by a counter. I look in and see dishes piled in the sink. There are clothes strung about on the couches, with pillows and blankets on the floor, and there are a couple of mugs and a bowl sitting on the coffee table.
It’s silent in here, but the silence is not an empty one. My pulse thuds so hard I swear the walls can hear it. There’s one door off the living room, and I look inside to see it’s empty save for a few boxes.
I should look inside them, but first I want to see if he’s here.
If not, I’ll search this apartment for the elephant. I’m already here after all.
I close the door and walk down the hallway. There’s the bathroom, door open, and two closets in the hall. I open them up and glance inside quickly—no elephant—then I find the last door sitting ajar a few inches. I push it open.
Sawyer is sprawled out face down on his bed wearing only a pair of black briefs, the broad lines of his back rising and falling as he sleeps.
Shit, was I not supposed to come today? Maybe I did fuck up the days. I need to leave either way. I’m standing in this man’s house without his permission. I came to see if he’s okay, and he’s asleep.
Before I can step out of the room his alarm splits the silence.
I jump so hard my hand slams against the door frame, then I freeze as he groans into the pillow, arm flailing blindly to stop the piercing noise.
Is he hungover?
Finally, he smacks the phone, sending it to the floor. “Shit,” he murmurs, rolling onto his back.
Then he sees me.
His eyes widen.
