“We need to talk to Joey,” Luke says. I’m not so sure about that. Hell, I’m not sure about any of this anymore.
“Tomorrow,” I insist, knowing Luke is gunning to get to Joey. “We go in smart, not rushing in like?—”
“Like what?” Luke arches an eyebrow, half amused.
“Like you,” I finish, but I’m smiling.
Grant clears his throat. “All right. Agreed. We need sleep. Whatever’s happening tomorrow, we’ll face it clearer with rest.”
He’s right, and we all know it. Luke starts gathering papers, and I pull out my phone and text Emily, suddenly worried about her. I haven’t seen or heard from her today. Is she planning just to stay holed up in the inn, or is she creeping around an old church?
I stare at the screen, waiting for the little “delivered” notification.
“She’s not answering,” I say, the worry starting to creep up my throat. What if Joey has already gotten to her?
“She’s probably asleep,” Georgia offers, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “Or her phone died.”
“Or she’s already dead or in on it all,” Luke mutters, still shuffling papers together so that when his brother returns from my sister’s, they won’t know what we’ve been up to. Pretty sure he’s crashing there for the night because it’s way past my sister’s strict bedtime. Then again, I bet Bennett could keep her up.
“Luke.”
“I’m just rolling with theories.”
“You don’t like her, do you?” I ask.
“She stares.”
“She stares?” What is he talking about? He’s met her twice for about three seconds each time.
“Yeah, she fucking stares at your legs.” A burst of laughter leaves me. Luke does not appear amused, but I am, and I needed the laugh.
My phone buzzes. We all freeze. I look down at the screen.
Emily: i’m fine. i’m just tired. talk tomorrow?
I read it twice. Three times. Examining all parts of it like a normal girl does when texting a crush before I send it to them.
I don’t know. Something is off. The text is all lowercase. I don’t know why that stands out to me, but it does.
“See, she’s good.” Georgia tries to stay positive.
“What if it’s not her?” I ask, my voice dropping.
“Call her,” Luke says. I give him anAre you serious?expression. Not that I’m not calling her, but he was pissy about her a few seconds ago. “If it’s what can give my girl peace of mind, then yeah, call her.”
I do. It rings once, twice, three times. Then voicemail.
I hang up. Try again. Same result.
“Maybe she’s just—” Grant starts.
“Someone has her phone.” I cut him off, my voice shaking. “Or someone has her.”
The kitchen goes silent.
“We need to go,” I say. Where did I take my shoes off?
“Madeline.” Luke catches my arm, gentle but firm. “We don’t know where she is. The inn, maybe, but if Joey has her?—”
